《The Game at Carousel: A Horror Movie LitRPG》


 Chapter One: Silas the Showman

    Chapter One: Ss the Showman


    My friends and I are definitely going to die here, but I''ll die more times than them, I think.


    I write this on my cell phone lying on the bottom bunk in a room hardly bigger than a broom closet. No one will ever see what I write, but if you do I hope you will heed my warning: stay away from the town called Carousel.


    I see the red wallpaper in my mind all the time now. At first, it was only a sh like the impression burned into your eyes after you stare at a bright light for too long. Now, it¡¯s a low burn¡ªa glowing light in the darkness of my mind. The redness swirls in a vague floral pattern. It¡¯s a mix of grey-red, blood-red, and a shimmering ruby color that highlights the edges of the florals. I¡¯m finally getting used to it.


    You need the red wallpaper to y the game at Carousel. Above me, my best friend from back in high school sleeps. I know he¡¯s asleep. The wallpaper tells me. When I look in his direction, a movie poster appears on the red wall in my mind. It is encircled in yellow lights and depicts a young man with dark hair in a sweater¡ªCamden¡ªreading through a stack of books as a hooded figure with an axe looms behind him. The poster is titled ¡°Camden Tran is <em>The Schr.¡±</em>


    The poster makes it seem like he is an actor in a scary movie, but really this is Carousel¡¯s cheeky way of telling other yers his name and character ss (called an archetype). Beneath the poster, I can see his stats, statuses, and tropes AKA special abilities. This section looks almost like the buttons inside a fancy old elevator. Instead of room numbers, there are words and lights that activate to tell you important information.


    The Game at Carousel uses five stats: Mettle, Moxie, Hustle, Savvy, and Grit. I¡¯ll tell you more about those as I go along.


    Camden¡¯s archetype is ¡°The Schr.¡± His status is Unscathed and Unconscious. Those are the only statuses with the light next to them lit up. There are no hit points in this game, but instead a range of conditions ranging from Unscathed to Dead. So far, Camden has not died.


    Around me, there are about fifty people each in their own beds in their own rooms, but since they are my allies, I can see their archetypes, stats, and the like. Almost all of them are Unscathed and Unconscious. A few remain awake like me.


    My other three friends are spread out around the lodge wherever there was a spare bed. They each have movie posters that appear in my head whenever I look in their direction.


    A poster depicting a pretty woman running with a shlight from the hooded axe murderer is titled ¡°Anna Reed is <em>The Final Girl</em>.¡± Another shows a Basketball yer being stalked by the same figure as he jumps for ayup: ¡°Antoine Stone is <em>The Athlete</em>.¡± A beautiful blonde woman stares terrified in the mirror as an axe cuts into the frame: ¡°Kimberly Madison is <em>The Eye Candy</em>.¡±


    Even I have a poster when I think about myself. A shaggy-haired young man in a red hoody is eating popcorn on a couch while presumably watching a movie. The axe-wielder approaches from behind. ¡°Riley Lawrence is <em>The Film Buff</em>.¡±


    Out of all the archetypes avable, I get stuck with a minor archetype that is literally designed to die early in the film. To be fair, I do watch a lot of scary movies.


    It¡¯s crazy to think that there are people sleeping in the lodge right now that I saw die earlier today. I¡¯ll probably see them die again.


    This trip was supposed to be a chance for me to turn over a new leaf. My first real college trip after three years in university.


    The car ride here seemed normal enough at first. I was in the back with the luggage in the tiny extra seat that Antoine¡¯s SUV had. There was no legroom, but I couldn¡¯tin. I never got invited to things like this. I was happy to tag along. They could have strapped me to the roof for all I cared.


    The radio went out about twenty minutes before we got to Carousel. Antoine flicked the scan button on the steering wheel to try to find a station. The radio searched and searched for a broadcast but only found one.


    ¡°It¡¯s RUN 41.1 Carousel Public Radio. We¡¯ve had a beautiful day here in Carousel. The city council has begun setting up for the Centennial Celebration so stay away from town square unless you like traffic. Our correspondent, Jeffrey Tethers, is at Lake Dyer with the fishing report, and we have Coach Boom in the studio to talk about Friday night¡¯s game. All after thismerc-¡°


    Antoine clicked the radio off. ¡°I¡¯m going to pass them on the next straightaway,¡± he said. He had been growing frustrated at the small car in front of us. They were creeping along the road at a measly thirty miles an hour. We had been behind them for twenty minutes but with the winding, heavily forested roads, there was no safe ce to get around them.


    ¡°Just be patient,¡± Anna said. ¡°We can¡¯t be too far off.¡±


    As she spoke, a green VW van approached us from behind. It had to slow down considerably upon reaching us. Its horn began honking almost immediately.


    ¡°Great, now we have cars behind us,¡± Antoine said.


    Oblivious to the conversation, Kimberly interjected, ¡°I have no signal. Does anyone have a signal?¡± She raised her phone up toward the sunroof to no avail.


    I checked my phone. I had no signal either. Camden had just sent a picture of a sign advertising a bed and breakfast that had the phrase ¡°closed fur renovations.¡± I chuckled at the typo. Must have lost signal right after that.


    It had been a long time since I had been a part of a group chat with Camden. Not since high school.


    As we crept around another corner, the VW van gunned its engine and quickly passed by Antoine¡¯s SUV and the little car in front of us. That must have emboldened Antoine because he followed suit and left the slow car in the dust.


    Ten minutester, after zooming around tight forested corners, the small backwoods road gave way to arge parking lot. It was so big I thought we must have been near an airport. There was no airport though. No football stadium either, nothing to justify the huge empty lot.


    There were maybe two dozen vehicles scattered about, but they were few and far between.


    What¡¯s more, there were no people anywhere. It waspletely abandoned. Except for us and the VW van which had been parked in the shade. The driver, a dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties, carried arge, overstuffed backpack along with a sports duffel. She wore a brown leather jacket and distressed blue jeans.


    Antoine parked next to her van in the shade. We got out and unloaded. There was only one road leading from the parking lot to Carousel and it had been blocked off. It had those removable metal poles that you might see on a college campus designed to keep cars from driving down the wrong street. They were locked into ce with padlocks. The rest of the way, we would have to go on foot.


    When we were invited, Antoine¡¯s brother had warned us of this. It was because of the Centennial Celebration. No traffic allowed in. It made enough sense to me. It didn¡¯t matter. We were there to bask in the sun at his brother¡¯ske house. I didn¡¯t think we would be doing too much in town.


    I had the least luggage of anyone in the group; just one duffel. As they were retrieving their things from the car, I went ahead toward the road leading to Carousel. The path was decorated on both sides with advertisements for the Centennial Celebration¡ªapparently, this was a big deal for the town.


    The woman in the brown leather jacket had slowed her pace and was taking in her surroundings. We weren¡¯t in town yet. There were no street signs here, no people. Just off the road was a single wooden building that had no signage except for a door that said employees only. It had a covered porch on the front and what looked to be a town map hanging against the side of the building.


    I debated whether I should try to speak to the woman. She didn''t look like she wanted to talk to me or anyone else. She was all business. The way that she scanned the building led me to believe that she hadn''t been here before either.


    I turned and waited for my friends to catch up. Antoine and Kimberly quickly joined me but Anna and Camden weregging behind staring at the cars in the parking lot. I walked down to them to see what they were so interested in.


    ¡°These cars have been here a long time,¡± Camden said. ¡°The tires are dry-rotted.¡±


    He was right. Every vehicle in the parking lot but ours had t tires. Their windshields were covered in dust. The paint jobs were faded. I didn''t know what to think of it.


    We all looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders and decided to move forward anyway.


    Just as we turned to walk up the road the littlepact car that we had passed on the way here finally pulled into the huge parking lot. We watched as it slowly drove its way to the front of the lot and parked beside Antoine''s SUV. Two people exited from the vehicle along with luggage. They were arguing.


    Well, the woman was arguing. The man was just kind of taking it.


    ¡°I just don''t understand why they would hold an event all the way out here in the middle of nowhere. Don''t they know it''s more sensible to hold it in a bigger city?¡± the woman spoke with a waver and a voice like a mouse whose tail had been stepped on.


    I wouldn''t say they became part of our group, but they definitely started moving with us as if they thought we were all supposed to be grouped together.


    ¡°You all here for the convention?¡± the man said. ¡°Names Bobby Gill.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t need to know your name,¡± the woman said. The red wallpaper wouldter tell me her name was Jte.


    Camden responded, ¡°We¡¯re not here for that. We¡¯re just going to theke.¡±


    The man started going on about a horror convention that he was supposed to speak at because he moderated a horror-themed message board online. I don''t remember what he said the name of the message board was but I was vaguely familiar with it. I had never heard of the convention he mentioned, he called it ¡°Carousel Horror Nights¡± or something like that. It didn¡¯t end up mattering.


    By the time I had walked back up to the building, the door that had said employees only was now open. The woman was peeking her head in as Antoine and Kimberly watched.


    ¡°Who opened the door?¡± I asked.


    Antoine answered ¡°No one did. it just opened.¡±


    Inside the building was dark. Little light managed to seep in and even the open door didn''t illuminate the shadows within. My heart started to beat quickly though. I could not say why.


    Then the music started to y. It was old-fashioned carnival music that came out too slow like it wasing from an old wind-up music yer in need of a tune-up.


    Next were the lights. Orange light bulbs illuminated the inside of the room. The lights weren''t hanging from the ceiling. No, they were all affixed to a machine that was about the size of an ATM. As my eyes adjusted to the orange light, I saw what the machine was: one of those old animatronic fortune tellers. You may have seen those at carnivals or on boardwalks. Every circus has at least one, and you might even find one in an arcade.


    Normally, the animatronic would give you a rolled-up fortune in exchange for a quarter. It might even be programmed to tell your future out loud. Often, they were dressed like psychics or traveling palm readers. This was different.


    The base was a red square box, and above that, a ss box contained the upper torso of a smiling mannequin. The mannequin was dressed like an old-fashioned usher that you might see at a movie theater. He wore a red jacket with brass buttons and a round usher''s cap with a chin strap, and in his hand, he held a shlight that flicked on and off along with all the other light bulbs attached to the machine.


    Across the top of the machine was a sign that read, "Carousel''s own Ss the Showman."


    In the middle of the machine, right below the ss case, was a red button with a receptacle underneath.


    For a moment, no one in the group said anything as the fortune-telling machine began whirring to life. I think Antoine might have cursed under his breath, and Kimberly gasped. Beside me, the woman, Jte, was pulling on her husband''s arm.


    After the carnival tune ended, the mannequin in the ss case began to speak. His little wooden mouth moved up and down with a slight ck of yellow teeth.


    ¡°Wee to Carousel, the town where moviese to life. The show''s about to start, and you''re in the front row!"


    ¡°What the hell,¡± I said.


    ¡°Come on up and get your tickets. The Centennial Celebration awaits.¡±


    No one moved.


    ¡°Are we supposed to get a ticket?¡± Anna asked, looking at Antoine. After all, he was the one who invited us.


    ¡°I have no idea. Chris didn¡¯t say anything about this,¡± he responded.


    As if to answer the question, Ss the Showman said, ¡°No admittance without a ticket. You don¡¯t want to miss the show!¡±


    Antoine shrugged his shoulder and approached the machine. He pushed the red button and the gears inside the mechanism turned, releasing threerge tickets into the receptacle underneath. Antoine retrieved them and began to read through them. Strangely, he didn¡¯t say anything as he read, but a puzzled look appeared on his face.


    Before I could ask what the ticket said, Kimberly had also pushed the red button and retrieved her tickets. Then the woman in the brown jacket, followed by Anna and Camden. The couple who had arrived in the small car each pressed the button after each other, though the woman absolutely did not want to from the look on her face. Finally, it was my turn, and I didn¡¯t question it. I don¡¯t know if this was a magicalpulsion or simply human nature. We were supposed to press the big red button, so our monkey brains pressed it, consequences be damned.


    I pressed the button, and three tickets slid out. As I picked them up and noted how heavy they were, how thick. They were printed on high-quality stock, and each was cool to the touch. Each of the tickets had a title, an illustration, an borate graphic design, and a text description.


    One of my tickets was blue, another green, and the one that interested me the most at first, for whatever reason, was silver.


    Still, no one said anything as we each reviewed our tickets.


    My silver ticket read:


    The Film Buff


    Minor Archetype


    You are the Film Buff¡ªmaster of the unwritten rules of horror movies. You¡¯ve seen every sher, spine-tingler, and creature feature; now we will see if you can survive them in real life! With your help, your allies may stand a chance against the nightmarish beings that lurk in the shadows of the silver screen.


    That is, if you can get them to listen to you before it¡¯s toote¡­


    Base Stats


    <strong>Mettle</strong>-For Feats of Strength and Offensive ability


    1


    <strong>Moxie</strong>-To make your performance convincing


    3


    <strong>Hustle</strong>-To be Quick, Deft, and to always hit your mark


    1


    <strong>Savvy</strong>-For Intelligence, nning, and Deduction


    5


    <strong>Grit</strong>-For Durability, Toughness, and Endurance


    1


    <strong>Plot Armor</strong>- Mastering all five aspects of Plot Armor will make you a master of horror.


    11 (total of all stats)


    The green ticket read:


    Cinema Seer¡ªSurvive


    yer Trope


    Can be Equipped to the Film Buff


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The film buff has seen every horror movie and can guess every twist and turn. When the film buff makes a clever prediction, all allies who hear it will obtain a boost in Grit and Savvy if that prediction is proven true.


    The blue ticket read:


    Trope Master


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to the Film Buff


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The signature ability of the Film Buff is their ability to understand how monsters and shers operate within a story. With this ticket, the Film Buff will have insight into which tropes enemies have equipped. This trope works best with high Savvy and close proximity to the enemy.


    With great poweres great bncing: during storylines where this trope is equipped, the Film Buff''s Plot Armor will be reduced by half. Hopefully, that''s all that will be cut in half.


    Shortly after I read the tickets, my vision became overwhelmed by the blinding red light that I eventually came to know as the red wallpaper.


    The curtains were up.


    The show was starting.


    The Game at Carousel had begun.

 Chapter Two: The Unanswered Plea

    Chapter Two: The Unanswered Plea


    I don''t know how long I stood there but when I heard someone talking to me and snapped out of the daze, I noticed that the door with the employees only sign was now closed and that the tickets I had been reading were safely secured in my pocket.


    ¡°Hello,¡± the voice called. It was a woman. ¡°Are you all looking for Carousel?¡±


    I looked down toward the road. Three people stood there expectantly. The person talking was a slender woman with ck hair. She might have been in herte twenties. Two men apanied her. One was a tall twig of a guy who wore a jester¡¯s grin. He might have been her age.


    The other guy was older¡ªmaybe forty-five or so¡ªand he did not look nearly as entertained to be there. He wore a gruff beard and tamed his slightly overgrown hair with a ballcap. He said nothing, but slowly smoked away at the cigar in his mouth.


    My friends had apparently been out of it as long as I had. Everyone started to snap out of it at once.


    Antoine spoke first. He cleared his throat. ¡°We¡¯re here to visit my brother. Carousel is just down this road, right?


    ¡°It sure is,¡± the tall skinny man said.


    The woman said. ¡°My name is Valerie. This is Todd and Arthur.¡± She gestured toward the tall man and then the gruff man respectively. ¡°We¡¯re here to guide neers to town and help you get all set up. Things are a little diff- ¡°


    She was cut off by the man, Arthur, ¡°Is your brother Chris Stone?¡± he asked. He didn¡¯t speak with the tone one might expect from the weemittee.


    His twopatriots seemed taken aback by his question. They quickly began looking intently at Antoine.


    ¡°¡­ Yes,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Do you know him?¡±


    Valerie, Arthur, and Todd look at each other. There was real concern in their faces. I had no idea why.


    ¡°Yeah, we know him,¡± Valerie said. The pep had gone out of her voice. ¡°You two look alike. We¡¯ll take you to him.¡±


    ¡°He has ake house on Dyer¡¯s Lake,¡± Antoine said, ¡°Is that down this way?¡±


    Todd started tough. ¡°Ake house?¡± he asked. ¡°I guess that¡¯s one way of putting it.¡±


    Valerie sent him a death stare. He stoppedughing.


    ¡°We¡¯ll take you to him,¡± he repeated.


    They gestured for us to follow them and began walking down the path toward the road.


    ¡°Actually the two of us are going to the horror convention in town,¡± Bobby said, putting his arm around his wife. ¡°Is that this way too?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Valerie said softly. She continued walking.


    ¡°That was weird, right?¡± Camden whispered to me as we grabbed our luggage and began following the three guides.


    I nodded enthusiastically.


    ¡°What kind of ce is Carousel?¡± Anna asked Antoine as we took to the road.


    ¡°Dude, I have no idea,¡± he answered. He must have been as confused as we were. Apparently, his brother didn¡¯t warn him about the weemittee.


    As we walked, my curiosity turned back to those strange tickets we had been supplied so generously by the creepy mannequin. I took mine from my pocket and examined them. Truthfully, they looked like they belonged to some sort of game. Was Carousel a fancy LARPer colony?


    ¡°What did you get?¡± I asked Camden, showing him my tickets.


    He showed me his.


    He had a gold ticket:


    The Schr


    Major Archetype


    You were always the smartest, cleverest, and most knowledgeable. Let¡¯s put it all to the test. When danger lurks at your door will you be able to outthink evil, n for sess, or solve the mystery?


    Study up! This will be the hardest test you have ever taken.


    Base Stats


    <strong>Mettle</strong>-for Feats of Strength and Offensive ability


    1


    <strong>Moxie</strong>-To make your performance convincing


    2


    <strong>Hustle</strong>-to be Quick, Deft, and to always hit your mark


    2


    <strong>Savvy</strong>-for Intelligence, nning, and Deduction


    5


    <strong>Grit</strong>-for Durability, Toughness, and Endurance


    1


    <strong>Plot Armor</strong>- Mastering all five aspects of Plot Armor will make you a master of horror.


    11 (total of all stats)


    His stats were almost the same as mine.


    He had also received a green ticket:


    The Right Tool for the Job


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to the Schr.


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Every monster has its weakness. The Schr must work to find it. When formting a n that incorporates the enemy¡¯s mortal weakness, receive a bonus to Savvy. When fighting an enemy and attacking it with its mortal weakness, receive a bonus to Mettle.


    Werewolf, meet silver bullet.


    His third and final ticket was blue:


    Eureka!


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to the Schr.


    Stat Used: Savvy


    In the movies, a character is often able to find the one line of text in a book that will help them solve the mystery or defeat the monster. It never takes more than a few moments of looking. When searching through volumes of text for needed information, you will be drawn to it quickly.


    ¡°What the heck are these things?¡± I asked under my breath as I handed the tickets back to him.


    At the time none of it made any sense.


    ¡°Maybe they¡¯re collectables?¡± Camden suggested.


    I shrugged my shoulders. I wondered if I could take a look at everyone else¡¯s but before I could even begin to ask, the three guides had stopped in the road and turned to look at us.


    ¡°We have to wait here for a few minutes. There is something that neers need to see,¡± Valerie said. She had regained some of themand in her voice.


    On the left side of the road at the ce we had stopped was a wrought iron fence. The gate was further down the road and wasbeled, ¡°Olde Hill Bed and Breakfast.¡± The gate was padlocked, and the entire fence was covered in those decorative spikes that can often be seen on fences surrounding expensive homes. It was a step up from barbed wire, at least.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait,¡± Bobby said. ¡°I knew this was supposed to be a fancy convention, but I have a feeling this is going to be great.¡±


    His wife didn¡¯t look so enthused. She clearly had a dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach. I think we all did.


    The guides were looking at their watches. I checked my phone, but the time was way off. It said it was eight in the morning, but it was actually prettyte in the evening. Almost sunset.


    Whatever time they were waiting for must havee because they suddenly stopped looking at their watches.


    ¡°You need to listen to us with what is about to happen. It is vitally important to do what we say,¡± Valerie said.


    Their eyes were looking through the wrought iron fence. I couldn¡¯t see much on the other side, what with the overgrown grass and thickets.


    But I did hear something.


    Footsteps.


    Heavy Breathing.


    Whimpering.


    A woman burst through a thicket right next to us and ran directly into the fence at full speed. She was young, around my age, with dark skin, long, curly flowing hair, and a look of absolute terror in her eyes.


    Kimberly and Jte screamed.


    The woman hit the fence with such a force that a wound opened up on her forehead. Blood began gushing down her face.


    ¡°Help! She screamed as she saw us. ¡°Please please.¡±


    She shook the fence but it held solid.


    Arthur spoke loudly to us, ¡°Don¡¯t do anything!¡± he said. ¡°Don¡¯t even speak to her!¡±


    We were freaking out. Antoine was cursing repeatedly, Kimberly was pulling at his arm, looking for some reassurance.


    ¡°Help me,¡± the woman screamed again. She looked directly in my eyes, Pleading with me. ¡°Please. They¡¯reing.¡±


    I started to point toward the gate down the road, but Arthur must have seen the thought forming in my mind and reached forward and grabbed my arm.


    ¡°Do not speak to her,¡± he said again. ¡°Look at her. Focus on her. Do you see something strange?¡±


    <em>Of course, I see something strange</em>, I thought, <em>there is a terrified woman bleeding all over the ce</em>. I still did what hemanded. Sure enough, I caught a glimpse of something I had never seen before. It was the first time I saw the red wallpaper. I couldn¡¯t make out what was on it but it was the first makings of a movie poster. I saw the word NPC too, but I didn¡¯t believe it. I felt sick to my stomach.


    Yelling could be heard behind the woman. Men were chasing her down. I heard the baying of a hound.


    ¡°Please,¡± she said, ¡°They have another guy in the basement. Please help us.¡±


    No one said or did anything. Everyone had a terrified look on their faces. Everyone except the three guides, whose expression was something closer to shame or, perhaps, resignation.


    Then the woman began attempting to squeeze through the bars. She was too big. The bars were too tight and their barbs too sharp. They stuck into her like fishhooks, but still, she pushed desperately for freedom.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go,¡± Arthur said. ¡°You don¡¯t want to see the next part.¡±


    I believed him.


    Everyone followed him at a quick pace as we left the woman.


    Samantha. Her name was Samantha. I wasn¡¯t sure how I knew that, but I did.


    We passed by the gate and were soon beyond the property altogether. Thest we heard of her was a scream that echoed from far behind us. I refused to even think about it.


    ¡°What kind of ce is this?¡± Jte demanded. She was in between tears and fury.


    ¡°Honey,¡± her husband said, ¡°It¡¯s just part of the show. It¡¯s for the convention.¡±


    God, I hoped he was right, but the three guides ignored the question.


    After they had gotten us away from the bleeding woman, we came to a section of the road dominated by farnd. There was corn as far as the eye could see.


    Valerie coughed to get everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°We¡¯re sorry you had to see that,¡± she said. ¡°But we hoped that by showing you that, it might make the next part easier.¡±


    She looked back at Arthur. He nodded to her, encouraging her to continue.


    ¡°Carousel is not what you think. There is no horror convention. Your brother Chris did not invite you. It was all a trick.¡±


    ¡°What the hell are you talking about?¡± Antoine said. ¡°I spoke to Chris. You said you knew him.¡±


    Valerie didn¡¯t look like she knew what to say. She must have been new to this part.


    Arthur took over. ¡°How long has it been since you¡¯ve physically seen your brother, Antoine?¡±


    I was taken aback. Had he heard one of us use Antoine¡¯s name?


    ¡°Years, right?¡± Arthur continued. ¡°What was it, eight or nine years?¡± He looked back at Todd.


    ¡°Eight years,¡± Todd said.


    Antoine didn¡¯t answer for a moment. They must have been right. ¡°I¡¯ve been facetiming him,¡± he said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is, but I can tell you, it was not your brother you were talking to,¡± Arthur said.


    ¡°The fuck it wasn¡¯t,¡± Antoine said defiantly.


    ¡°Let me guess. Your brother disappeared one day. Probably left a note or a phone message so the police weren¡¯t called. You haven¡¯t seen him since until he called you out of the blue yearster?¡±


    Antoine didn¡¯t respond but I take it Arthur¡¯s guess was on the money.


    ¡°He asked you about your life and your friends. Of those two things, he always seemed more interested in your friends. Wanted to know a lot of specific details. Get to know their name, their personalities, hobbies?¡±


    Antoine¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°And when he finally invited you toe out to hiske house- ¡°


    Todd giggled again.


    ¡°- he told you which of your friends he wanted you to bring along. Not your buddies on the basketball team. He wanted you to bring your smartest friend-¡° he gestured toward Camden ¡°-your prettiestdy friend¡± he pointed at Kimberly. ¡°He even must have asked if you knew anyone who was obsessed with scary movies too, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    He pointed at me.


    Son of a... How did he know?


    ¡°He said bring these specific friends ande out to my ce, right?¡±


    Antoine didn¡¯t answer. Kimberly implored to him, ¡°Antoine, is he right?¡±


    Antoine nodded. ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that though. Chris was just- ¡°


    ¡°You weren¡¯t speaking to Chris,¡± Arthur said. ¡°Chris has been trapped here with us the whole time. If I¡¯m not mistaken, he came here with Val and Todd, right?¡±


    Todd nodded.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t talking to Chris. You were talking to Carousel. And now that it''s got you here, it¡¯ll never let you leave.¡±

 Chapter Three: The Final Straw II

    Chapter Three: The Final Straw II


    As I was trying to deal with the revtion that Arthur had just exined to us, I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Jte rushing back toward the parking lot, her husband in tow. He was trying to get her to stay, but she wasn''t having it.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Todd said, ¡°Normally it takes a bit longer to convince people we¡¯re telling the truth. I see this as a win.¡±


    ¡°Shut up and go get them,¡± Arthur said.


    Todd nodded and followed behind them, his jester¡¯s grin never fading.


    As we waited, Arthur and Valerie spoke to each other in hushed tones. I thought I heard them call Jte a ¡°hysteric.¡± A little extreme. Heck, I had half a mind to follow behind and hitch a ride out of here.


    I didn¡¯t expect to see theme back. Jte looked determined to be rid of this whole mess. After I heard some tire screeching in the distance, I figured they had high-tailed it out, but ten minutester they reappeared on the road. Jte looked terrified. Bobby looked puzzled. Todd wasughing up a storm.


    ¡°The exit is gone,¡± Bobby said in a low tone, ¡°The road we came on¡­ was just gone. This convention is¡­something else.¡±


    He was still clinging to the theory that all of this was part of some borate interactive horror convention. In a small way, so was I.


    As the couple slowly made their way back to the group, Arthur continued to exin the malevolent entity known as Carousel.


    "You have to be careful around town," he said. "There are a thousand different ways to get killed here, and some of them are really hard to seeing."


    Valerie took over. ¡°Carousel is a terrifying ce, but it operates under predictable rules. One of those rules is that when you get here, you have toplete a storyline.¡±


    She pointed back toward the wrought iron fence where we had seen the terrified woman. ¡°That woman is named Samantha. She is an NPC for a storyline called ¡®Permanent Vacancy.¡¯


    ¡°It¡¯s a medium-level storyline, so we didn¡¯t want you to interact with her, or else you might get stuck in the story. The fact remains¡ªyou do have toplete a storyline soon. Carousel is going to keep trying to push you into one. So, we picked one out for you, one that we think we can help youplete without much trouble."


    The three guides waved us further down the road. As we walked, we passed by a patchwork of crops.


    ¡°This is the wrong time of year for this stuff,¡± Camden whispered to me and Anna as we walked. Antoine and Kimberly walked further behind us.


    I looked around. He was right. Corn, wheat, pumpkins, and sunflowers. Those are not something you would see at the beginning of summer. Those were fall crops.


    The crops weren¡¯t the only thing that was wrong. The weather was too cool. Even the sun and the sky didn''t look right for summer.


    I was working full time trying to rationalize everything I was seeing. This wasn¡¯t helping.


    Could this be real?


    I thought about what we had been told about storylines. I pulled out my tickets. My ¡°Plot Armor¡± was eleven, but it would be reduced by half when I enter a storyline.


    In a movie, Plot Armor is a term that is used to exin away improbable plot points. The masked killer takes out the ex-marine like he¡¯s made of cardboard, but the high school cheerleader manages to fight him off¡ªthat¡¯s Plot Armor.


    One character dies from getting tapped in the head, another survives three explosions and four stabbings¡ªPlot Armor.


    The bad guy is unkible by a minor character, but the protagonist manages to get the better of them with ease? Two words. Plot. Armor.


    I don¡¯t know how it functions in Carousel, but if it meant what it sounded like, and all of this was actually real, it could only mean one thing¡ªthat I was screwed.


    We walked for so long that we started to see buildings. Eventually, we came upon arge gate that read "Patcher''s Family Farm." I was almost shocked to see that, unlike the rest of Carousel that we had seen so far, this ce had people¡ªin fact, it had kids running around, screaming, and having fun.


    Patcher''s Family Farm was an agritourism destination, you know, one of those ces with hayrides, pumpkin chunking, and farm-themed carnival games.


    None of the people on the farm paid us any mind. I got a very strange feeling from them. This is where my visions of the red wallpaper really started to re up. I saw words that I couldn''t quite read, but I knew something was unusual about them. I suspected that, like the bloody woman Samantha, these people were NPCs.


    They also wore an aggressive amount of denim.


    I don¡¯t know which of those things made me more ufortable.


    We were led to the back of the farm where there were no NPCs. A huge disy of pumpkins was set up on hay bales. Next to them was a booth that read "Corn Maze $5." A sign on the booth said, "Open.¡±


    As I was reading, the words ¡°The Final Straw II" shed into my mind.


    "Where''s the attendant?" Jte asked. She had woken up from her fearful hibernation.


    She was right; it was clear that there was supposed to be an attendant here. There was a chair behind the booth that had been knocked over, and the cash box was sitting open and untouched where anyone could just take from it. I looked around, but we were alone.


    "You have a good eye. Hysterics are very good at this part," Valerie said. "It is quite strange that the attendant is missing, and the chair is knocked over, and yet the cashbox is right here, open. Try to look at this booth and really focus on it, what do you see?"


    I did as she instructed. Truth be told, I didn''t see anything but red wallpaper, but it''s true, something was screaming out to me from within my mind. There was something there to see, but I couldn''t quite make it out. What was my mind trying to tell me? Suddenly, I got a sh - an image that appeared to be one of those old-fashioned elevator indicators you might see in a fancy hotel with a needle that would point to what floor the elevator was on while you were waiting.


    But the indicator in my mind didn''t have floor numbers. Instead, it had words. And while I couldn''t read all of those words, I could read one: "Omen."


    "It takes a while to be able to see things clearly," Valerie said. "But this is an omen. It''s an ominous sign that something is about to happen. This is a storyline called ¡®The Final Straw II,¡¯ and you know it''s a storyline because it has an omen right here - a sign of bad things toe.


    ¡°Sometimes omens are subtle, like an attendant being missing mysteriously. Other times, they''re obvious, like a bleeding woman running up to you asking for help. But whenever you see an omen, the next thing you have to look out for is the ¡®Choice.¡¯"


    Todd took over. "In this case, the Choice is pretty simple. You either enter the maze or leave. You also have the option of investigating the farmhouse over there," he said, pointing around the side of the corn maze. "But we want you to ignore that for now."


    Now Arthur spoke up. "The corn maze is simple. Get to the end. That''s it. That''s the entire storyline as far as you''re concerned. The three of us will take care of the actual plot. All you have to do is walk from the entrance of the corn maze to the exit. That''s it. It¡¯s virtually impossible to get killed permanently in a storyline like this."


    I thought it was strange that he said "Get killed permanently." Does that suggest that you could be killed temporarily?


    Anna thought it was strange too. "What do you mean killed permanently?" she asked.


    Arthur took a deep breath. "As long as one person survives to the end of the story, you''ll alle out without a scratch on you. Simple."


    "I want you to look at this sign," he said, pointing to the sign above the booth. "There is a simple rule on it. You see that?" he asked.


    Painted in red paint, the booth said, "Enter one at a time--do not cut through the corn."


    "Carousel operates by rules. You see a rule, you follow it. So stick to the paths. We always tell people that, and we always get ignored. Don''t be the person that ignores us this time."


    They started to wave us through one at a time. I positioned myself so that I could go inst. After everyone else had walked or run into the corn maze, I walked in.


    The word ¡°Choice¡± appeared in my head. I ignored it.


    After entering the maze and taking a few turns, I was good and truly lost. So much so that even when I turned around and tried to find the entrance I had juste through, I couldn''t find it.


    I tried thinking back to the picture of the maze that I had seen at the booth, trying to remember its turns and twists. It didn''t look thisplicated, but it was useless.


    I won''t lie; I was thoroughly spooked.


    I stuck to the middle of the pathways as best I could and didn''t take a turn unless I was certain that it was an actual path and not just a ce where the corn had been nted thinly. The rule says don''t cut through the corn, then I''m not gonna cut through the corn.


    As I walked forward, I heard footsteps all around me, but try as I might, I couldn''t see anyone else. I caught a nce of something orange and decided to go check it out. Whatever it might be, it was better than being lost in a sea of corn.


    It took me 5 minutes to wind my way around until eventually, I stumbled back on the orange thing I had seen. It was a pumpkin disy, a smaller version of what had been on the outside of the corn maze. Nothing more than 6 hay bales and a dozen or so pumpkins of various sizes, some of them had even been carved into faces like a Jack-o¡¯ntern.


    The red wallpaper overtook my vision. This was the first clear image it had given me. I saw a movie poster of this exact scene, but it was different. In the painting, the pumpkins were all smashed. The poster¡¯s title was, simply, ¡°Territorial.¡±


    As much as I desired to look away, I had to keep reading further. Beneath the poster was a brass te like those that might be beneath a painting at a museum. It simply read:


    Territorial: This killer will punish those who harm its domain


    As strange as it is, I knew exactly what it was talking about. Sometimes in horror movies, characters that destroy a monster¡¯s domain are killed off instantly. This usually happens in the first few scenes. Cut down a sacred tree, build on an Indian burial ground, or even smash a pumpkin, and you¡¯re dead.


    I grabbed the tickets in my pocket. I flipped to the one that said Trope Master. This was my ability; I could see the rules the monsters yed by. That''s what this was.


    If some punk kid were toe along to this disy and mess with it, the monster of this storyline would appear and punish them. I considered screaming out to my friends that they shouldn''t destroy the pumpkin disys. That was my job as the Film Buff, right?


    As I was considering this, I heard a twig snap behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin as I turned and saw the woman in the brown leather jacket.


    I saw a movie poster in my head. A woman walks through an alley where an axe murderer waits behind a dumpster. ¡°Dina Cano is <em>The Outsider</em>.¡±


    ¡°Dina?¡± I asked. This vision was really throwing evidence into the pile that I wasn¡¯t the target of the most borate prank ever.


    She nodded slowly with a shade of distrust. "You run into any trouble?" she asked. That was the first time I had heard her speak.


    "No," I said. "I am freaked out though. Are¡­are you seeing stuff in your head?"


    "A red wall," she said. She was taking it better than I was.


    "I''m seeing words," I said. "They''re telling me that this disy is linked to whatever monster is here. If someone harms it, they die."


    "Film Buff," she said. She must have been able to see the movie posters in her head too.


    "Do you think they drugged us?" I asked. "To make us think that we were seeing things? To scare us?¡±


    I really wanted her to say that she knew it was fake. Maybe she could exin what was going on. I prefer my horror stories on the silver screen.


    She paused for a moment and then grew a devilish smile on her face. She walked closer to me, near the pumpkin disy, looked me in the eye, and said, "There''s only one way to find out."


    She reached out and grabbed one of the pumpkins before throwing it to the ground and shattering it.

 Chapter Four: Benny

    Chapter Four: Benny


    I heard myself screaming "Why would you do that?" and not in a manly way either.


    I backed away from the pumpkin disy. The shattered gourd and its spewed innardsy at her feet, but Dina had her head on a swivel, watching and waiting for something to appear, for some evidence that all of this was real.


    It came from the sky.


    It looked like a man in a costume at first, but only at first. I became a believer as the creature floated¡ªyes, floated¡ªover the corn. It was slow and deliberate. I was close enough to see that there were no wires. There was nothing that could be supporting this thing except for the impossible.


    It was a scarecrow¡ªnot the most famous of horror monsters, but off the top of my head, I could think of three or four movies that featured this creature.


    As it grew close, I could see that it wore gray-blue coveralls, like a mechanic might wear. In fact, it had a little red and white name tag on the chest that read "Benny." For its head, it had a sackcloth with a little straw hat.


    For eyes, it had buttons. Each was a different size and color. Its mouth was sewn in, stitched in dark colors into an ironic smile. Its hands were gardener''s gloves. All of this - the coveralls, the sackcloth head, the hat, and the gloves - were apparently sewn together into one unit and stuffed with straw. The legs of the coveralls were tied at the ends into knots and were so full of straw that little sticks poked through holes in the uniform.


    The way it flew reminded me of how Peter Pan was always depicted as flying - belly down, legs folded upward, head up, arms out.


    In its right hand, it held a rusty sickle.


    I continued to back away from Dina as I watched the terrifying creature bare down upon her. It could simply stab her, and that would be the end of it, but it stopped in the air, paused, and appeared to be looking deep into her soul.


    My vision went red. I saw a movie poster of the scarecrow. Benny the Haunted Scarecrow in <em>The Final Straw II</em>.


    Its brass te said, ¡°Plot Armor: 42.¡±


    Well, shit.


    My Plot Armor was currently rounded down to a meager 5. This wasn¡¯t even fair.


    Other posters were hung on the red wall. I quickly recognized that these represented the tropes that were equipped to this monster. My Trope Master ability was working overtime, allowing me to decipher the rules that this creature lived and killed by.


    Judgment Call


    Monster Trope


    This creature only kills those who it has deemed unworthy or immoral.


    It ys With Its Food¡­


    Monster Trope


    This creature spends time to toy with its victims. Often, it enjoys the ying more than the killing.


    Of course, I saw the Territorial trope again.


    And then there was:


    Minion Maker


    Monster Trope


    This crea-


    As I read, I had been running as fast as my legs would take me. Before I could read the next trope, I had gained too much distance. My Trope Master ability was proximity-based, after all. I had to be close to the monster or close to something rted to the trope. I was cut off.


    I heard Dina yelling.


    "Do it!" she yelled. "What are you waiting for? Kill me!"


    I cursed in surprise. What in the world was wrong with her? Why would she ask this creature to kill her? Whatever the reason, Benny the Haunted Scarecrow quickly obliged.


    I saw it move its rusty sickle toward her, and my instinct to run took over. I heard a sickening thud behind me as I ran away. In my mind''s eye, I saw the plot cycle indicator move its needle to the words "First Blood."


    I could see the plot cycle begin to fill out. Omen > Choice > Party > First Blood.


    I don¡¯t know when the ¡°Party¡± was supposed to be. I must have missed it.


    I ran for what felt like a mile through the twists and turns of the corn maze. I had no luck in finding an exit. Though I was running at my highest speed, there was this thought in the back of my mind that I was running too slowly, that I could never outrun this creature.


    In my head, I saw the word "Hustle" with the number 1 beside it. My Hustle stat, which determined my speed, was literally a 1, tied with my lowest stats. I didn''t know how it worked, but I suspected that I could never outrun that scarecrow with that score. It¡¯s Plot Armor was 42. If more than one of those points was attributed to Hustle, I was a goner.


    Not only could it fly, but I can¡¯t exin it, I didn¡¯t feel like I was making any progress.


    One thing I''ll say is, I sure felt like an Olympic athlete, passing by ears of corn at top speed, jumping over roots that had grown out of the ground, and making quick turns at every opportunity. Before long, I figured I must have been on the opposite side of the maze, but then I saw something up ahead. It was another disy.


    Finally relieved to see something other than corn, I ran toward it. From the distance, I could see someone standing in front of it, and I saw no sign of Benny the Scarecrow. I booked it all the way to the disy, but as I grew closer, I realized to my horror that there was a broken pumpkin on the ground, the same one that Dina had thrown there earlier.


    Somehow, I had gone in aplete circle. It made no sense. This was the exact same pumpkin disy I had just left. In all my turns and twists, I had ended up right back here. I refused to believe it.


    In my head, I saw the red wallpaper and a nk painting with a bronze card beneath it that had no writing on it. It was as if there was a monster trope relevant to what was happening, but I couldn¡¯t see it.


    The person standing in front of this disy wore a light brown leather jacket and distressed jeans, but on their head was a round orange pumpkin. I was so unprepared to see this sight that I didn''tprehend what I was looking at until I got close.


    These were Dina¡¯s clothes. This was her body.


    On the haystack next to the remaining pumpkins, was her head.


    I screamed.


    Her headless body, which had ignored me until then, suddenly turned as if to look at me, but it had no eyes. This wasn''t a Jack-o''ntern, it was just an ordinary pumpkin. It lunged at me clumsily.


    In my head, upon the red wallpaper, I saw a poster of one of these headless creatures, but not this one. Beneath the painting was thebel "Harvest Creep - Plot Armor: 3."


    The creature ran toward me, but I easily dodged out of the way, and it continued running down the path far away from me. If it weren''t for the abject horror of what I had just seen, I would almost have thought that this creature was funny. It walked as if it had never walked before in its life. I suppose it hadn''t.


    It urred to me that one of the tropes that Benny the Scarecrow had that I hadn''t finished reading was something called "Minion Maker." As I thought of it, I could see the image in my mind clearly.


    Minion Maker


    Monster Trope


    This monster is able to summon or create low level monsters to do its bidding.


    Now that I was close to the titr Minion, I could see the trope. As Dina/the Harvest Creep ran away, the trope disappeared from the red wallpaper.


    I wanted to run away from this ce, but what was the point? Somehow, I had run in circles. It made no sense. As I considered this, I saw the nk poster and a nk bronze card beneath it again, and it dawned on me what had happened.


    The way I figure, I can see a monster¡¯s tropes if I am near the monster or near something rted to the trope. I saw the Territorial trope when I was near the disy. Then, as I walked through the corn, I saw this nk poster. At the time I waspletely flummoxed.


    Now I get why it was nk.


    My Savvy stat was too low.


    The "Trope Master" ability allows me to see the abilities of creatures, but it relies on my Savvy stat. Clearly, my Savvy stat was high enough to see some of Benny''s tropes, but not high enough to see whichever one exined how I got turned in circles.


    I was certain that whatever the nk poster was, it was some sort of trope that allowed Benny the Haunted Scarecrow to change theyout of the maze. There really was no running. You either went exactly where he wanted, or you cut through the corn and got killed anyway.


    So did I want to die right then, or sometimeter?

 Chapter Five: Will Someone Shut Them Up?

    Chapter Five: Will Someone Shut Them Up?


    I continued to run, not because I thought it would help, but because that¡¯s what you do in a haunted corn maze. It¡¯s human nature.


    I expected to see the floating scarecrow appear to behead me, but so far, I had gotten lucky. My mind got stuck on the question of what my low Plot Armor would mean for my survival. Truthfully, I didn''t put my odds very high.


    A scream echoed throughout the corn.


    It wasn''t far away; it was a woman''s scream. Not Anna or Kimberley''s, it certainly wasn''t Dina''s; she had¡­ er¡­ lost the ability.


    No, it belonged to Jte. I could tell she was nearby.


    "Hello!" I cried out.


    "Hello!" a terrified response rang to me.


    I could hear that she was nearby, but I couldn''t see her. "Don''t cut through the corn," I said. "We''ll make our way to each other."


    Turns out, she was only a couple of rows away from me, but it still took five minutes of moving back and forth to find paths that allowed me to meet up with her. When I came upon her, she was in a terrible state. Terror had transformed her face, but otherwise, she was uninjured.


    "What did you see?" I asked.


    "I got lost," she said.


    Strangely, I was <em>annoyed</em> that she was screaming. Having not seen what I had just seen, how dare she?


    I wanted to tell her that we would be fine and that we would find our way out of the corn maze, but I didn''t know if that was true. Now, as I looked at her, it was easy for me to see why the guides had called her a hysteric. That was her literal archetype. In my mind''s eye, I saw it:


    A poster of Jte screaming at an axe came into my mind. Her face distorted, exaggerated. ¡°Jte Gill is <em>The Hysteric</em>!¡±


    Plot Armor 8.


    Surprisingly low but still higher than mine.


    We began walking together as I attempted to soothe her with kind words. I don¡¯t know that many kind words. So I just said, ¡°It¡¯s alright¡± over and over.


    She asked me to get on my tip-toes and try to see my way out of the maze. She was pretty short. Must have thought I was a giant. I exined to her that all I could see was corn, and she didn''t believe me. She would say, no, beyond that. But there was nothing beyond that. No buildings orndforms. Darkness surrounded the corn maze. There was no cheating Benny the Haunted Scarecrow.


    "Let''s find your husband," I said. In my mind, I thought, <em>and then you can be his problem</em>.


    It turned out that finding Bobby Gill was easier than I expected. It didn''t take us 10 minutes to find him.


    I saw a movie poster in my head. A lonely man leans up against a support pir at a house party. An axe murderer stares in from the window. ¡°Bobby Gill is <em>The Wallflower.¡± </em>


    Plot Armor: 10.


    If I understood this correctly, this guy¡¯s archetype was literally ¡°Background Character.¡±


    "Jte," he said, "I heard you screaming. Are you OK?"


    "Pleasee here," she said. He was on the other side of a row of corn. She reached out to him.


    "Don''t cut through the corn maze," I warned harshly. "It''ll make the creaturee for you."


    Bobby didn''t listen to me. "This is serious," he said. "She''s really upset. They''ll have to understand. We didn''t know this would be part of it."


    The idiot still thought that this was all part of some horror convention. He clearly hadn''t seen the flying scarecrow or the headless woman running around.


    I don''t know what the abilities of a Wallflower were, but clearly, he hadn''t seen much of the red wallpaper yet, or if he had, he chalked it up to high blood pressure or something. Who knows?


    I protested again. "Just wait. We can find an opening between us," but Jte cried again, and Bobby ignored me. He stepped through the corn, pushing aside two stalks.


    I knew what wasing immediately. I distanced myself from the couple and began scanning the skies. Sure enough, Benny the Scarecrow was never far off. He floated over the corn walls with ease and slowly made his way to Bobby.


    To his credit, Bobby did figure out that there was something very strange about this scarecrow floating in front of him, but still, he tried to talk it down.


    "I had to crossover. My wife was scared. I hope you understand we didn''t know the rules when we signed on for this."


    Benny said nothing. He let his sickle do the talking. With a quick sh, the front half of Bobby''s throat was severed, and the sickle moved back, severing the rest. His head hit the ground while his body was still standing, something that could only happen in a movie. His body just sort of stood there, perhaps waiting for a pumpkin to turn it into a Harvest Creep as had been done to Dina.


    As I backed away, I felt something brush up against the back of my head, a corn stalk. The path that I was on hadn''t been a dead end before, but now it sure was. No doubt thanks to that hidden trope that Benny apparently had.


    I knew what wasing next. Benny turned and looked at me.


    Strangely, I was resigned to my fate; that, or I was so scared that the concept of running away wasn''t even avable to my mind. I watched the scarecrow as it flew closer and closer to me, never in any hurry.


    The night would be silent if not for the screams of Jte. She was drawing big, deep breaths and letting out screams that wouldst, I swear, for 10 seconds apiece. Though I cannot exin it, my fear of dying was actually ovee by my annoyance with her screams. I swear I''m not like this, but I could feel the annoyance in the way she screamed was building up inside of me. I almost wanted to tell her to shut up. And then I saw something in my head: her Plot Armor was now seven.


    Wait, hadn''t her Plot Armor been eight earlier? I looked across the red wallpaper and saw two additional posters. These were the tropes that she must have received from Ss the Showman. One of the tropes depicted a close-up of a woman''s neck showing the hair standing on end.


    I don¡¯t like it here¡­


    yer Trope


    Can be Equipped to the Hysteric


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The Hysteric has a keen sense of the ominous and strong self-preservation instincts. Using these abilities, they can ferret out omens and help guide their group out of potentially tricky situations.


    The other trope painting was of a woman screaming at the top of her lungs as a knife hangs over her head.


    Will someone shut them up!?


    yer Trope


    Can be Equipped to the Hysteric


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Nothing can frustrate a horrifying situation like someone with an annoying scream. Characters with this trope are often regarded as annoying, and their deaths are usually apuded. But one thing is for sure: when this character starts screaming, it feels like itsts forever.


    When using this trope, a character''s scream will make them temporarily invulnerable to direct attack, but it will agitate all those nearby and lower the user¡¯s Plot Armor.


    Of course, lots of horror movies have characters who react with annoying screams that never seem to stop. Screaming often ruins the entire scene, much to the ire of the moviegoing audience.


    Jte screamed again, her Plot Armor dropped down to 6 as annoyance washed over me. <em>God, could she stop screaming? She isn¡¯t helping anything!</em>


    Or was she? She was unknowingly lowering her Plot Armor with every scream.


    Benny the Scarecrow appearedpletely unfazed by her screams; his slow deliberate movement never ceased. He studied me andpletely ignored her.


    Jte screamed again; her Plot Armor dropped to 5. Now it was tied with mine.


    Benny was right on me. As he grew close, I started to get the smell of him. I must say it wasn''t as bad as I expected. He smelled like hay and car grease, but that was probably just the pair of coveralls that had been used to make up his body.


    He lifted his sickle over my head. He didn''t strike at first. No, I remembered that one of his tropes was called "Judgment." He must have been judging me. Or was this the trope that made him toy with his victims? I had no idea.


    Jte screamed again. Plot Armor: 4.


    Benny turned around, his back to me, and started to fly away. At first, I didn''t understand what had happened. I thought perhaps he had just judged me worthy of living and was going to let me go.


    He was much faster getting back to Jte. He held his de over her as he had done with me.


    I really wanted to do something. To rush him. To attack him. To run. To help.


    I did none of those things. I just stood there. I¡¯ll never be able to justify that.


    Benny must not have liked Jte because he quickly shed at her. By the time the screaming stopped, her Plot Armor was down to zero.


    I saw a little light turn on in my mind. Her status switched from Unscathed to Dead.


    I don''t know why I did nothing. Benny''s Plot Armor was eight times mine, what could I really do?


    So that¡¯s one of the things that Plot Armor does. Monsters pursue the yer with the lowest Plot Armor. That¡¯s why Benny had been messing with me all night, having me run in circles, contemting killing me: I had the lowest Plot Armor.


    Until I didn¡¯t.


    But now he was moving back toward me.


    As he floated back over to me, I realized that this pattern was going to keep ying repeatedly. Unlike Jte, my Plot Armor would always be incredibly low, and I would always be one of the first targeted by every monster we came across in this horrifying ce.


    The guides had stated that death isn''t the end, that you can still survive if someone in your party does. What does that mean? That I was condemned to the fate of dying over and over again, trying my best to help my friends survive, but never getting to survive myself?


    Benny got close. I closed my eyes. I''m not proud of it, it probably wasn''t the bravest thing I could have done, but I couldn''t run from him. I was at a dead end and even if I wasn''t, he could just change the maze and have me running right back to him. All I could hope was that Anna and the others would make it to the end of the maze and that whatever happened to me here wouldn''tst.


    With my eyes closed, all I could see was the red wallpaper and Benny¡¯s poster. I noticed his tropes again. His first trope, Judgement. Was that my final chance to live?


    If I understood it correctly, that should mean that Benny won''t kill me if he judges me good by whatever metric a haunted scarecrow might use for such a decision.


    What <em>are </em>a scarecrow¡¯s values? Crows bad? Crops good?


    Was I a crow or a crop?


    Soon enough, I would be fumbling around with a pumpkin on my shoulders. I just knew it.


    I waited for his decision.

 Chapter Six: The Oblivious Bystander

    Chapter Six: The Oblivious Bystander


    I don''t know how long I stood there with my eyes closed, expecting to die. I must not have breathed the entire time because when I eventually opened my eyes and saw the figure before me, I didn¡¯t have any air in my lungs to scream.


    "Step right up," a voice proimed with a broken, staticky sound. "You''ve won a ticket!"


    The figure before me was not a scarecrow, no. It was Ss the Showman, the creepy fortune-telling animatronic we gotten our tickets from.


    His lights had lit up, his arms were moving, and I could hear the whirs of motors making his mouth move. His shlight clicked on and off, and the red button shed.


    I fell backward, almost falling through the row of corn behind me. I scooted forward in a rush, hoping not to identally break the wall of corn and get myself killed.


    Benny had judged me to be worthy of living but I still think he would have killed me for breaking the rules.


    I stood up and stared at the machine before me. Surely it couldn''t hurt to push the button and get another ticket, but my entire body was numb, and my brain wasn''t processing as quickly as I would like.


    I reached out my hand, trembling, and pressed the button. A ticket dropped down into the receptacle, much like the original three had earlier that day. I reached and grabbed it. It was a yer trope. This one was purple. I don''t remember any of my friends getting a purple ticket. It glowed brightly at first as I held it in my hand and read it.


    The Oblivious Bystander


    yer Trope


    Equip to any Minor Archetype


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Often yed up foredy, the Oblivious Bystander survives not because of their wit or bravery, but because they simply did not perceive the danger at hand. They weren''t looking; they were busy on their phones or smoking a cigarette while theirpatriots were silently murdered in the background.


    If you can convincingly portray the oblivious bystander, monsters will not attack you. However, the moment you reveal that you''ve seen them, they will have no mercy.


    The illustration on the card was of a man with his eyes closed and his hands over his ears, as a cloaked killer lurks in the background with an axe.


    Ss the Showman, let out augh, "Hehehe," and then said,


    "You could have fought,


    you could have ran,


    but you stood by,


    so, by you''ll stand."


    Then his electronics shut off, and he went dark. As his lights faded out, I blinked and he was gone.


    I was being shamed for not intervening when Benny killed Jte. I guess I deserve it.


    I tucked the Oblivious Bystander ticket into my pocket. I would have to process what it meantter.


    The bodies of Jte and Bobby were gone. They were probably running around chasing after people clumsily, just as Dina¡¯s had.


    I didn''t know where I was going or if I''d ever get to leave the maze. I didn''t even bother running; there was no point. Then the punchline came: I found the exit within two minutes.


    I suppose that whatever motive Benny had for keeping me there was now gone. He had judged me and decided to spare me and had no further use keeping me. I found the exit without trying. In fact, I was the first person out of the maze.


    I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll ever get over what I saw in the maze, but there was one silver lining. I now had a very good view of everything on the red wallpaper, including the plot cycle indicator at the top.


    Previously, I had only seen the words Omen, Choice, Party, and First Blood. Now I saw the whole thing:


    Omen


    Choice


    Party


    First Blood


    Rebirth


    Second Blood


    Finale


    The End


    The words were spread out with uneven spacing. I suppose that Party, Rebirth, and Finale were supposed tost longer than the rest.


    It didn¡¯t take long for me to realize what the Plot Cycle was. This was the structure of a horror movie.


    The omenes first, warning the main characters of what''s toe. They make the wrong choice and end up angering some scary creature or putting themselves in a terrifying situation. Things are quiet for a while during the Party. The story progresses. The first person dies or gets hurt, and then there''s a cycle of back and forth until eventually somebody wins, somebody loses, the end.


    I had seen this cycle y out over hundreds of cheap shers.


    Now I was seeing it y out in real life.


    The needle on the plot cycle was inching its way toward The End.


    Of course, I had no idea what this storyline was actually about. Arthur, Todd, and Valerie were handling the actual plot. My friends and I were just side characters dying in the background.


    As I exited the maze, I contemted walking around to the old farm house where the rest of story must have been taking ce. I looked that direction and saw that farmhouse was on fire. I decided to stay put. The sidelines were safer.


    It didn¡¯t take long for my friends to start filtering out of the maze. Kimberly was first. She had been crying. Her whole body was shaking. Her right hand was clenched tight around something, but I couldn''t see what.


    She immediately came in for a hug.


    The maze must have really got to her because we weren¡¯t that close really. Still, I hugged her back.


    ¡°There was a scarecrow,¡± she said. She looked up at me like she wanted me to tell her she wasn¡¯t crazy.


    ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°I saw it too.¡±


    She wiped a tear from her eye. Her mascara had already been running. Now, it smeared even worse. ¡°He just stared at me for a long time.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, me too,¡± I said.


    ¡°He gave me these,¡± she said, holding out her right hand and unclenching it to reveal an assortment of seeds. Pumpkin and sunflower, among others.


    I didn¡¯t know what to make of it. I¡¯m pretty sure that a handful of seeds is how Amish people propose marriage, but I didn¡¯t want to tell her that.


    ¡°He only kills bad people,¡± I said. It was true enough. ¡°He must have thought you were good.¡±


    She must have been even better than me. I didn¡¯t get any seeds.


    We spent a few minutes talking about school. Her major, sses, the homing game. Anything to distract us from Carousel.


    Antoine, Camden, and Anna had found each other in the maze. They exited at the same time.


    ¡°What do you mean there was a flying scarecrow?¡± Camden asked. ¡°I didn¡¯t get to see that.¡±


    ¡°Next time stick with me; I saw him a ton,¡± I said.


    Antoine was still pretty torn up about his brother, but he couldn¡¯t hide how pumped he was about having fought off two headless bodies. ¡°I dropped those pumpkin-headed freaks in a second,¡± he said.


    ¡°Those were the other people that were with us,¡± I exined. I told them about the Minion Maker trope Benny had made use of.


    Antoine wasn¡¯t as psyched to hear that.


    ¡°We found the booth attendant,¡± Anna chimed in. She was a little ruffled but had a brave face.


    We talked for a little bit about what the plot of <em>The Final Straw II</em> must have been about. Truthfully, we didn¡¯t have much to go on.


    ¡°Are you guys seeing red wallpaper with movie posters and stuff on it?" Camden asked.


    Apparently, everyone had. We nodded.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Antoine said, ¡°I thought I was going crazy.¡±


    As we began sharing our visions, the needle on the Plot Cycle hit The End.


    At that moment, we all took a deep breath. There was a reset. We were still pretty banged up psychologically, but physically, we were back to our factory settings, so to speak.


    Kimberly¡¯s makeup was fixed, her golden hair feathered and beautiful. Our shoes were clean, no more maze dirt.


    Even the rind of sweat I had built up from running through the maze was gone. The story was over.


    I saw myself on the red wallpaper. I took a moment to review my status. The list of statuses looked like the buttons on a fancy elevator. For now, the only button lit was Unscathed. I had seen glimpses of this panel, but now was the first time I really got to look at it.


    Unscathed (Lit)


    Hobbled


    Mutted


    Dead


    Written Off


    Chase Scene


    nning


    Unconscious


    Infected


    Incapacitated


    Captured


    Off Screen


    Fight Scene


    Exploring


    Valerie, Arthur, and Todd walked around the maze from the smoldering farmhouse. They took stock of us.


    ¡°Only three shy,¡± Todd said, ¡°That¡¯s a good crop.¡±


    I saw a poster in my mind. It was of Todd, dressed as a clown leaning against a train. The familiar axe murderer was hidden underneath the train waiting to strike. ¡°Todd Corrigan is <em>The Comedian.</em>¡±


    That made sense.


    Plot armor: 57. Now I was jealous.


    I looked from Arthur to Valerie. Now that I could see the red wallpaper clearly, I was eager to learn as much as I could.


    Arthur¡¯s poster was of him with a crossbow facing off against the axe murderer. ¡°Arthur yton is <em>The Monster Hunter.¡± </em>


    Plot Armor: 64.


    Valerie¡¯s poster was simr to Anna¡¯s. It was her with a shlight. The axe was dropping into frame. ¡°Valerie Choi is <em>The Final Girl</em>.¡±


    Plot Armor: 58.


    The first repeat archetype. I figured there must have been other Schrs, Athletes, Eye Candy, and Film Buffs out there somewhere.


    ~~~


    ¡°How do we get the other three back?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°They¡¯lle around,¡± Arthur said.


    Sure enough, a few minutester, three very rattled, formerly dead people walked out of the maze, heads intact. Bobby and his wife, Jete, were hardly speaking. He wrapped his arm around her tofort her, but it looked like he needed just as muchfort.


    I suppose this wasn''t what he expected from the horror convention that he thought he was going to.


    Dina, I swear, had the trace of a smile on her lips. Was she some sort of thrill seeker? Intentionally getting herself killed was beyond my understanding.


    As soon as everyone had gathered together, Ss the Showman made an appearance beneath a tree next to the corn maze. It¡¯s weird to say, I was almost getting used to him.


    ¡°Step right up and im your prize!¡± he said.


    ¡°Everybody take turns,¡± Valerie said.


    We lined up and each pressed the button. Most of us didn¡¯t get a ticket. We just pressed the button and nothing came out.


    ¡°Maybe next time!¡± Ss said.


    The only people who got tickets were Kimberly, Bobby, and Dina.


    I didn¡¯t see Bobby or Dina¡¯s, but Kimberly showed me hers. It was colored orange:


    Looks Don¡¯t Last


    yer Trope


    Can be Equipped to the Eye Candy


    Stat Used: Grit


    Some killers in scary movies fixate on a pretty woman. With this ticket equipped, all of them will. When using this trope, the yer will always be attacked during First Blood unless the script says otherwise.


    The longer the Eye Candy survives, the weaker the enemy bes, losing 1% of their Total Stats per minute (up to 15%).


    After all, if a killer struggles with the cheerleader, how tough can they be?


    Oh, shit.


    I was worried that my low Plot Armor would get me killed early in every storyline. If I understood this trope correctly, Kimberly was now in the same boat.


    Ss signed off with ame joke, ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t get lost in the plot, I hear it was a real maze. Hehehe.¡±


    The guides led us around the outside of the maze to collect our luggage.


    Then they told us it was time to make the long trek across town. Apparently, we had to dodge a lot of omens on the way, so it would be a couple hour walk. I didn''t mind.


    Arthur shepherded us forward. "Let¡¯s go, it''s time to go meet the others."

 Chapter Seven: Dyers Lodge

    Chapter Seven: Dyer''s Lodge


    The trek across town was uneventful by design. My estimate is that we probably walked about 7 miles. We purposefully avoided most neighborhoods, the downtown square, and the local college campus. Most of what I saw was ordinary-looking buildings from afar. If you had seen the way that Arthur marched us forward you would think that we were walking through a war zone. Maybe we were.


    All I know is that the needle on the Plot Cycle jumped to Omen a dozen times on the trip. I could never see why. Every time it did, Arthur would make us run in a different direction or hide in a ditch.


    Patcher''s Family Farm had been on the east side of town. We were headed to Dyer¡¯s Lake on the west side. By the time we arrived, there was no trace of daylight and even the stars had note out.


    I finally got the joke. When Todd hadughed at the description of Chris''s house as being ake house, I figured out why.


    Our destination was the faculty lodge at a children''s summer camp next to theke. Not quite theke house that we had been sold on, but not too far off. The summer camp was right out of a dozen different scary movies from throughout the decades.


    Its name? Camp Dyer.


    Wonderful.


    The first thing I saw when we arrived at camp was a paper flyer. I managed to grab a peek at one on our way in.


    WELCOME TO CAMP DYER


    Summer Adventures Await!


    Camp Dyer is the perfect ce to make memories that willst a lifetime. This summer, we have a range of exciting activities for you to enjoy, including:


    - Swimming in Dyer Lake


    - Boating


    - Fishing


    - Hiking


    - Horseback Riding


    - Arts & Crafts


    - Campfires & S''mores


    Come explore and have fun at Camp Dyer this summer!


    Counselors, please report to Dyer¡¯s Lodge.


    Safety Note: At the end of the season, Dyer¡¯s Lake will be closed down and drained in order to repair the Carousel Dam. Please observe caution in the proximity of the dam and obey all posted warnings.


    It just dawned on me that this part of Carousel was warm. Like, summer-time warm. It had been autumn on Patcher¡¯s Family Farm, but here it was summer.


    Noted.


    As we approached an area with lots of cabins and recreational buildings, I heard giggles that seemed to have beening from the bushes. Arthur cursed under his breath.


    Further down the forest trail, there was a wooden arrow pointing left with the words ¡°Dyer¡¯s Lodge¡± written on it.


    As we walked, the giggles followed us along with little footsteps. Jte began freaking out. ¡°We need to leave now.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re fine,¡± Arthur said.


    After he said that, a choir of high-pitched voices began singing:


    ¡°Suzy Snyder, six foot five,


    Haunts Camp Dyer, still alive.


    She went missing long ago,


    Leaving campers in¡ª¡±


    Arthur raised his voice, ¡°Go to bed!¡± he screamed.


    He brandished a revolver that had been concealed on his person and fired it into the air three times.


    Bang!


    Bang!


    Bang!


    Suddenly, half a dozen young girls dressed in pajamas jumped out of the bushes and from behind the trees screaming in terror. They took off running back down the path toward the cabins we had passed.


    ¡°The campers should not be out at night. I hate those girls,¡± Arthur said. He stomped up ahead the rest of the way to Dyer¡¯s Lodge and entered without us. He mmed the door behind him.


    Todd turned to us. ¡°Arthur doesn¡¯t do well around creepy children. It¡¯s his thing. And that sucks because there are a boatload of creepy children in Carousel.¡±


    I bet.


    The lodge was big. The walls were made of giant logs. It had dozens of rooms and the entire west side was made of ss to give a good view of theke. When we entered, I saw that there was a huge lounge in the center with couches and tables and a firece. Twin staircases led up to a second level that had more couches and bookshelves and the like.


    And around four dozen people.


    Holy crap.


    All of them were yers. For some reason the number of people trapped here really made it hit home how much trouble we were in. If all these people couldn¡¯t find a way out¡­ What hope was there?


    Walking through the door was like a cloudburst. The people began pping and cheering the moment we entered. Someone handed me a drink. The atmosphere in here was far different than we had seen so far in Carousel. These were normal people. There was no danger here.


    I think I breathed out for the first time in hours.


    ¡°How did ol¡¯ Benny treat you?¡± Someone in the crowd called out.


    ¡°They got a Film Buff,¡± another said. In fact, several people stared at me.


    A woman stood in the center of the lounge. She was in her early forties and from the way everyone looked at her, I knew she was in charge. I looked at her poster.


    ¡°Adaline Winter is <em>The Final Girl</em>.¡± Plot Armor: 64.


    How many final girls were there?


    After we had all made our way in and closed the door behind us, Adaline began speaking.


    ¡°Wee to Dyer¡¯s Lodge. As you probably already know, my name is Adaline. I wish that we could have met under different circumstance-¡°


    ¡°No!¡± a voice rang out. It was from upstairs. ¡°Fuck no!¡±


    The room went silent. Confusion grew on the faces of the crowd as they looked for the source of the scream.


    A man began running down the stairs. A man that looked like an older version of Antoine.


    ¡°Christian Stone is <em>The Athlete</em>.¡± Plot Armor: 58.


    An athlete. Just like his brother.


    Antoine dropped his luggage. Chris ran to him and embraced him.


    ¡°Not my brother. Not my brother.¡±


    Both of them were crying. Kimberly and Anna were getting teary-eyed. I was too.


    The rage and sorrow that I saw in that moment was more sobering than anything I had seen so far. We were tricked. Was Carousel going to start calling Camden¡¯s siblings now, tempting them toe? How about Anna¡¯s parents? I¡¯m pretty sure Kimberly has an army of Instagram followers that would be here in a few hours if asked.


    This was insidious.


    In this way, I was lucky. The only people I cared about were already here with me. My parents died when I was little. My grandparents who raised me passed within months of each other two years ago. I had no one to worry about and no one to worry about me.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to find a way out,¡± Antoine promised Chris. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    All of the yers who heard him say that dropped their gaze. They didn¡¯t think they were going to leave. They had lost hope.


    After Chris let go of Antoine, Valerie took us over to a circle of couches to talk. Most of the other yers dispersed. Most went to bed. Some groups stayed up nning their next storyline quests. They hunched over maps and thumbed through binders of tickets, deciding which builds they would need for which strategies. The tables were covered with weapons and items that must have been usable in storylines.


    A group of four went out into the night to ¡°hunt¡± and I don¡¯t think they meant for food.


    The conversation was light. Valerie told us that we should stick around the lodge for a few days. Then we needed to start leveling up.


    ¡°You can¡¯t really go into town with your current Plot Armor. There are some good starter storylines we can show you. Rtively safe ones.¡±


    Kimberly, who had been quiet since we got here, said ¡°I saw a sign for a mall on the way-¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t go to the mall,¡± Valerie blurted out.


    Several yers heard Valerie¡¯s warning and then agreed with her.


    ¡°Stay away from the mall.¡±


    ¡°Mall¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t step foot in there.¡±


    They said it in such aically serious tone.


    Kind of sounded like they didn¡¯t want us to go to the mall. Kimberly looked deted.


    It was getting reallyte. Time to go to bed.


    That pretty much catches you up to where I am now. Camden and I were assigned this little room. Lakeside. One of our entire walls is ss. It¡¯s really freaky actually.


    I stared out into theke. A gray movie poster formed in my mind. I don¡¯t know what it is. It¡¯s something I can¡¯t see yet.


    As I write this, I am scared but excited too. In a couple of days, we¡¯re supposed to go on our first storyline to the north. We have a whole route nned out for us.


    Camp Dyer was an ideal ce for the yers to call home. A secluded area with great lodgings.


    I get that. I do.


    But there was something that no one said out loud. When those little girls started singing their nursery rhyme, the needle on the Plot Cycle flipped to Omen. It had settled down now, but I got the sense that we weren¡¯t truly safe.


    But then again, you¡¯re never safe in Carousel.

 Chapter Eight: The Museum at Halle Castle

    Chapter Eight: The Museum at Halle Castle


    At first, the other yers treated us gently. They all knew how hard it was to be jerked out of your life and forced into this horrifying reality. We were wee to take a rest at the lodge to prepare for what was toe. But after two days we started getting nudged out the door.


    Low-level yers were a great liability, we were told.


    That''s how Anna, Camden, Antoine, Kimberly, and I ended up being guided to the north side of town. Jte could not be convinced to leave her room and she rarely let Bobby leave. I don''t know where Dina went off to, but she didn''t seem interested in sticking with us.


    We were told that they were taking us to the castle. It was supposed to be an easy storyline. Rmended Plot Armor of 12.


    At first, I thought "castle" was some sort of exaggeration.


    Before long, we started seeing signs for something called the ¡°Halle Museum.¡±


    ¡°That''s the castle,¡± Todd, our guide, said, pointing at the sign. ¡°Just follow these along the road. There''s nothing left to worry about along this stretch if you turn off when you get to the castle. It''ll be hard to miss.¡±


    "And you''re not going to tell us what''s in there?" Antoine asked. We had only received very selective details.


    "Nope. If we tell you what happens, it either won''t happen or it will happen but you won''t get any rewards in the end. Gotta go in blind most of the time." He said this with unveiled amusement.


    I felt like we were getting hazed.


    He had to hurry off because if he took us too far toward the castle he would be included in our party and his high level would reduce the amount of experience we got frompleting the storyline. That was what had happened with <em>The Final Straw</em>.


    The signs led us right to it. As we walked, the skies grew gray. I noticed that a perpetual storm cloud hovered above the mountain that we were walking toward. Just as the east side of town was perpetually in fall and the west side of town was always summer, it looked like this mountain was always rainy.


    At the base of the mountain was a road blocked off by a red gate. Behind it was arge sign that read ¡°The Museum at Halle Castle.¡±


    As we approached, a stout woman in her 50s was attempting to lift boxes from the back of her little green station wagon. She was parked as close to the gate as she could get without bumping it.


    When we got close, she turned to us and said, ¡°Oh, there you are. You''rete. Hurry up and help me with this; we have so much to get done before tomorrow. I''m sorry I had to spring this on youst minute but the team I had hired to clean the museum in preparation of reopening has dropped off the face of the earth. They just walked off the job. Didn¡¯t even tell me. Won''t answer my calls. You can''t get good help these days.¡±


    On the red wallpaper in my mind, the little needle jumped to Omen.


    My money said that the team she hired didn''t walk off the job at all.


    The five of us looked at each other. It was now or never. We would never be ready, but that didn¡¯t matter. We nodded to each other.


    Antoine said, ¡°Let me get that for you.¡± He stepped forward and picked up the box the woman had been struggling with.


    In my mind, I saw that her name was Judy. She was an NPC with a Plot Armor of 3. That didn¡¯t bode well for her at all.


    Who was I to say that? As we walked up the mountain, the needle on the Plot Cycle clicked over to Choice and, at some point, my Plot Armor dropped in half to 5 again. I was barely better off than she was.


    ¡°Are you sure you can handle that?¡± Judy asked Antoine.


    Antoine responded, ¡°Yeah, I work out. I y basketball at school.¡±


    Judy nodded.


    Camden, Anna, and Iughed in the background. That was so awkward. Antoine looked back at us with a smile.


    His Plot Armor rose by two points.


    Antoine¡¯s archetype was the Athlete. Along with that he got two tropes.


    One of his tropes gave him a bonus when using a sports implement as a weapon. Chris told Antoine that he can buy a baseball bat or golf club for this trope. So far, it was useless because he had neither.


    His other trope though, was pretty funny.


    Gym Rat


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to The Athlete


    Stat Used: Moxie


    In horror movies, character archetypes must be quickly established so that the audience knows what to expect. The easiest way to let the audience know you''re an Athlete is to slip it into dialogue. When equipped, the Athlete gets a bonus to Mettle and Hustle when they mention that they work out or y sports. Must be used before First Blood. Repeated use will have no effect.


    After all, even the nerds have muscles in the movies.


    He got a stat buff for telling people he works out. I¡¯ll never get over that.


    His stats were as follows:


    <strong>Mettle</strong>-for Feats of Strength and Offensive ability


    4 + 1


    <strong>Moxie</strong>-To make your performance convincing


    1


    <strong>Hustle</strong>-to be Quick, Deft, and to always hit your mark


    3 + 1


    <strong>Savvy</strong>-for Intelligence, nning, and Deduction


    0


    <strong>Grit</strong>-for Durability, Toughness, and Endurance


    4


    His Plot Armor was normally 12. However, buffs to stats increase Plot Armor as well so he was currently at 14. Plot Armor is simply all statsbined.


    Compared to me, he was Hercules.


    ¡°The groundskeeper was supposed toe open things up. I don''t have the key to the gate,¡± Judy exined.


    We walked up the side of the mountain in a corkscrew until eventually, we saw it. The castle was massive. It wasn''t the medieval castle I would picture, withrge gray stones. It was one of those that you might see in Germany with a white exterior andrge wooden beams making up much of the outside.


    This one had a drawbridge but there was no moat.


    ¡°You know, this castle was actually brought over from Europe after the destruction of World War Two,¡± Judy exined. ¡°They brought it here piece by piece, the Halle family. They knew the importance of history.¡±


    ¡°Ten bucks says it¡¯s a Nazi castle,¡± I whispered to Camden.


    He cracked a smile.


    ¡°Why is the drawbridge already down?¡± Anna asked.


    Judy got a puzzled look on her face and said, ¡°It must have been left open. Unless the groundskeeper has already been here.¡±


    Outside of the castle was a parking lot. The grounds were covered with signs detailing where museum guests were supposed to go and how they were supposed to pay for tickets.


    As we approached the entrance, lightning cracked above us.


    ¡°Let''s get inside dears. We have so much to get done,¡± Judy said.


    As we pass through the drawbridge we stepped into a courtyard. It waspletely enclosed by high castle walls. There were many doors in the courtyard, each with signs indicating both the historical significance of the room behind the door and what the room was currently used for. One of the rooms was used as a gift shop for instance. Another was a small cantina with a selection of food and beverages.


    Judy guided us to the hold of the castle. ¡°Luckily, I do have a key to this door,¡± Judy said.


    She fiddled with the keys in her pocket and selected one, but as she moved it close to the door, she noticed something. With her finger, she pulled the door open. It was already unlocked.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to have a word with that groundskeeper.¡±


    As we entered, it started to rain. Wind howled through the castle.


    The needle on the Plot Cycle flicked to Party.

 Chapter Nine: Always Watching

    Chapter Nine: Always Watching


    "This is the second-worst party I''ve ever been to," Kimberly said. She had arge scrub brush in her hand and was cleaning a table so dusty that mud formed when she sprayed it with cleaner.


    "I think ''party'' is just a metaphor," I said. I focused on the plot cycle in my mind and studied the entries for each point on the cycle.


    Omen


    Choice


    Party


    First Blood


    Rebirth


    Second Blood


    Finale


    The End


    Ominous foreshadowing signals the oing danger.


    The yers choose not to heed the warning.


    The yers explore the setting and story scenario, unaware of the peril toe.


    The monster attacks either literally or figuratively.


    The yers undergo an epiphany that allows them to move from reacting to acting. Reveals the true nature of the story.


    The monster attacks again.


    The final sequence. No new information can be obtained. The yers mount a final attack.


    Story Over.


    "What party have you been to that was worse than this one?" Anna asked.


    "At the homing after-party freshman year, I found my boyfriend in the upstairs bathroom making out with Cindy Martens," Kimberly answered.


    I thought to myself, <em>she may change her mind when she sees how this party ends.</em>


    We were currently cleaning the gift shop, a small room with shelves filled with books, knickknacks, and other souvenirs that the museumgoers might want to take home with them.


    Judy, the NPC ying the role of our boss in this story, entered the room and asked, "Can one of you load those books up onto the shelf somewhere? The author actually used a real picture of this castle on the cover. Obviously, we needed to have some copies avable."


    "Sure," I said. Truthfully, I had been hopelessly dusting the top of the shelves, and I was more than happy to switch tasks. I stepped down and grabbed the box that Antoine had brought in from outside. It was definitely heavy. I opened it up and retrieved a handful of the books from within.


    "The Codebreakers'' Compendium: A Comprehensive Guide to Morse Code and Other Cryptographic Techniques Used in Wartime," the book read.


    "You know, this very castle was a site used by cryptographers during World War II," Judy said.


    I looked at the cover of the book. Sure enough, the castle was featured in an old-timey ck and white photo. I recognized the white exterior and the strangeyout of the courtyard.


    When Judy wasn''t looking, I handed the book to Camden and asked, "Which side used this castle in World War II? Allies or Axis."


    Camden picked up the book and flipped right to a section near the beginning and said, "Axis.¡±


    His Eureka! trope allowed him to search through books nearly instantly. I had been testing it periodically whenever I got a chance. He hadn''t failed yet.


    As soon as Judy left the room, I decided to try to do my best to fill my role as the Film Buff.


    "I can only see two tropes right now," I said. My Trope Master ability required proximity most of the time, but right now, two of the enemy¡¯s tropes were clear as day, probably because they were rted to the castle itself.


    He had one called ¡°Home Lair Advantage¡±, which meant he knew the castle inside and out, including secret passageways and trapdoors.


    The other ability was called ¡°Always Watching,¡± and it said that he would be secretly watching the yers for the entirety of the storyline.


    I exined this to my friends.


    "I think the Always Watching trope means that the monster is either spying on us from a secret passageway or else it has some sort of irvoyance and can keep an eye on us from wherever it is," I said.


    "So, what do you think the monster is?" Anna asked.


    Well, I said, "It''s a German castle, so my first instinct would be Nosferatu."


    I was met with a couple of nk stares.


    "Vampires," I said, and they understood.


    "Of course, the lightning and the castle reminds me of Frankenstein, the movie, not the book. The general draftiness of the castle makes me think it might be a ghost of some kind because the wind howling is typical in haunted houses. On top of that, this is also a museum, which means it could be a cursed item or even a mummy, although I don''t think that matches the decor."


    "What about werewolves?" Kimberly asked.


    "Maybe," I said, "but the cloud cover means no full moon, and I think it''s still daytime outside unless that changed when we got here, which it could have because this is Carousel. If you see the clouds break and there''s a full moon behind it, you''ll know for sure. But then again, werewolves don¡¯t have irvoyance.


    "Of course, it could always be serial killers. ''Always watching'' could mean that they''re looking at us from a hidden ce or even that they have cameras set up, so keep your eye out for those."


    I wish I had more actionable information to tell them. ''Might be irvoyant'' is not the most useful thing to prepare them.


    "All right, thanks," Anna said. "I think since it''s the Party phase, we''re supposed to spread out and explore the area. Valerie said that if you don''t explore the setting of the story and find all the important things you''re supposed to find, then they just won''t be there when you need them to be in the Finale."


    She was right, but none of us really wanted to explore a castle when we knew we could very easily die there.


    "We need to stay in groups," she said. "Kimberly and Antoine, try seeing if you can look around the main hall. Camden, see what Judy is doing every time she leaves. I''m going to go check out the cantina and the main showroom. I bet one of these disys for the museum has information that we need."


    Shoot, she was right. I wish I had said that. Then it could have been a prediction for my Cinema Seer-Survive ability, and everyone would have gotten a buff.


    "I''ll go with you," I said, partially because I hadn''t gotten to hang out with Anna all that much and also because I didn''t want to stay here by myself. Sticking with the main character might increase my odds of survival.


    We had spent some time getting acquainted with each other''s stats and abilities.


    yer Stats and Tropes


    Riley


    Antoine


    Anna


    Kimberly


    Camden Archetype


    Film Buff


    Athlete


    Final Girl


    Eye Candy


    Schr


    Plot Armor


    11 / 2


    12 + 2


    14


    10


    11


    Mettle


    1


    4 + 1


    3


    0


    1


    Moxie


    3


    1


    2


    4


    2


    Hustle


    1


    3 + 1


    2


    3


    2


    Savvy


    5


    0


    2


    1


    5


    Grit


    1


    4


    5


    2


    1


    TROPE MASTER


    Type: Insight


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Sees enemy tropes. Lose half of PA


    IT¡¯S PART OF THE UNIFORM


    Type: Buff


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Higher Mettle when attacking with sports equipment


    LAST ONE ALIVE


    Type: Rule


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Cannot die until the party is killed


    CONVENIENT BACKSTORY


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Can change backstory to assist with the current task.


    EUREKA!


    Type: Insight


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Helps find important information with text.


    CINEMA SEER¡ªSURVIVE


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Buffs Savvy and Grit of Allies by predicting plot elements


    GYM Rat


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Buff Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory


    WHO¡¯S WITH ME?!


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: In Finale, Allies gain a buff to relevant stat when assisting the yer.


    SOCIAL AWARENESS


    Type: Insight


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Can see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs.


    RIGHT TOOL FOR THE JOB


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Buffs Savvy and Mettle when fighting an enemy with their weakness.


    THE OBLIVIOUS BYSTANDER


    Type: Rule


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Cannot be the target while convincingly acting oblivious to the enemy


    LOOKS DON¡¯T LAST


    Type: Debuff


    Stat: Grit


    Effect: Is attacked at First Blood. Debuff enemy 1% PA for every min survived up to 15%


    When it came time to put it all to the test, I think we had a good shot of winning.


    The cantina served the type of food you might get at a baseball game, but instead of hot dogs, you got bratwurst. Most of the cabs I checked were empty. There was no food there that could spoil. In fact, the only foodstuffs that still existed were a giant can of pickled jpenos and another can that had yellow cheese product.


    "Look at this," Anna said. She was bent down, staring into the cab under the sink.


    I peered over and saw four full bottles of absinthe. At first, I didn''t think I was seeing it correctly. "The staff here must be drunk 24/7."


    "Is absinthe even German?" she asked.


    "Good question," I said. "Should be J?germeister instead."


    Sheughed.


    The cantina didn''t really have anything interesting.


    I looked around for holes in the walls that might allow whatever monster or killer in the castle to see us, but I didn''t see anything. No cameras either.


    As we made our way to the main hall to look at the exhibits, Anna asked, "So did youe down here to protect me?"


    "Have you seen our stats?" I responded. "I came down here for you to protect me."


    Anotherugh.


    "Well, keep up," she said. "We don¡¯t have all night."


    Maybe literally.


    The main hall was filled with ss cases containing everything from medieval armor and weapons to shells and firearms used in World War II. There was a replica of a German enigma machine as well as the implements necessary tomunicate by Morse code. Nothing stood out to me as being obviously rted to the plot, however.


    "I''m not seeing anything," I said. "You got anything?"


    She didn''t answer.


    I turned to see that she was transfixed on arge painting in the center of the main hall. I moved in to get a better look at it. It depicted a regal man in a proper suit standing next to a woman in a wedding dress. The woman was beautiful, but there was a frailty to her that was visible even in the painting. She was thin, and her eyes were dark, and her skin was so pale as to almost be translucent. Her smile, though, was very charming.


    The way the man in the suit looked at her, you could tell that he loved her. He had a stern face; only his eyes showed emotion.


    "Doctor Simon Halle and his bride Anastasia," Anna said. "Wed August 12th, 1964." She read off a brass te beneath the painting, not so different than the ones that I often saw on the red wallpaper.


    "Amor Supra Omnia," I said, reading the next line. "Wonder what that means."


    A woman''s voice echoed through the hall.


    It was Judy.


    ¡°Love above all things,''" she said. "A very sharine sentiment, don''t you think?"


    She moved closer to us and stared up at the painting. "I see you''ve met Simon Halle," she said. "He was thest heir of the Halle family. A very sad story."


    "How so?" Anna asked.


    ¡°He spent his family''s fortune trying to cure his wife''s illness. Apparently, he went broke, and that''s how the castle got turned into a museum by the Historical Society.¡±


    "What was wrong with her?" I asked.


    "Who''s to say?" Judy said. "Cancer, perhaps, or maybe some form of resistant tuberculosis. Whatever the case, he drove himself mad trying to find a cure. Of course, they disappeared after running out of money. I reckon they ran off to die somewhere, just the two of them."


    "How long ago did that happen?" I asked.


    "Coming on 30 years now, just five years after they were wed," Judy said. "Now, if you could go help Camden inventory the wine in the cer, it would be much appreciated."


    "We''ll get on it," Anna said.


    As we walked away, I leaned over to Anna and asked, "Did she just say that 1964 was 35 years ago?"


    "She did," Anna responded. "I guess that makes it 1999 in this storyline."


    Retro.


    It sounded like a lot of people had gone missing in this castle: the old cleaning crew, the groundskeeper, and now Simon and Anastasia Halle.


    Wonder who''s next?

 Chapter Ten: First Blood at Halle Castle

    Chapter Ten: First Blood at Halle Castle


    The door down to the cer was located near the gift shop. When we got there, Camden was waiting outside.


    "I wasn''t going in alone," he said.


    "Yeah, there¡¯s probably spiders down there," I said with a grin. Technically, Camden was third in line to be attacked after me and Kimberly, but I couldn¡¯t me him for not pressing his luck.


    Anna shook her head and pushed past us, opening the door, and flicking on the light. The electricity in the castle was shaky at best. Even turning on this one light, you could almost feel the entire system straining. It had those old bulbs that you could hear warming up. Anna led us down into the cer.


    As I followed behind, I could feel the air get cooler. It was a small square room with a wine rack that stretched from across one whole wall. Like all the other rooms in the castle, the ceiling was high down here. We must have descended quite a bit. The floors were made of a cool bluish stone that was different from the rest of the castle.


    Other than that, there wasn¡¯t much to the cer.


    "Empty," Anna dered.


    "Well, that was easy," Camden said. "Let''s get out of here."


    Camden and I feigned turning around and ascending the stairs.


    "No, we have to check everything," Anna said with a smirk.


    There were a few boxesid around the basement. They had contained wine at one point, but now all we could find were a few empty bottles. It made sense to me. I imagine that the Historical Society in Carousel might have helped themselves to any valuable specimens in the Halle family collection, assuming that there were any leftover after the estate sale.


    Anna turned in circles in the small basement, looking for something of interest. "We need to look for any sign--"


    A blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the castle. "Kimberly!" Anna said.


    We all started running up the stairs and back toward the source of the scream. Antoine was supposed to always stay with her. The Athlete was the best fighting build we had, with Anna¡¯s Final Girl being the next best.


    "It''s too early for this," I said. "We''re still in the Party phase."


    The little needle wasn¡¯t quite to First Blood yet, so it made little sense for Kimberly to have been attacked already based on my understanding of how the plot cycle worked.


    Last we knew, Kimberly and Antoine had gone to the main hall with the task of exploring and finding anything relevant to the plot. The main hall was at one time part of the showroom where we had seen exhibits inside ss cases, but a divider wall had been built by the Halle family.


    As we ran, our footsteps echoed throughout the castle.


    "Kimberly!" Anna yelled as we rounded the corner to the main hall.


    When we got there, we saw Antoine and Kimberly standing near the back wall. They did not appear to have been injured. Looking at their statuses, they were both marked as Unscathed.


    "What''s wrong?" Anna asked.


    Antoine turned his head to the wall behind them and said, "We found something."


    Sure enough, they had.


    What had appeared to be a solid stone wall with a simple bookcase had now opened up and revealed that a small portion of the wall was hinged and could swing on its axis. The seem was unnoticeable before. It was a secret door.


    "We stumbled into it," Antoine said.


    The five of us looked at the secret door and then back at each other. We couldn''t see what was on the other side yet; it hadn''t opened that much.


    "Get ready," Anna said. She crept forward and ced her hand against the stone. She pushed.


    This stone turned. The door rotated, with the left side opening into the wall and revealing a hidden room. The other side opened to the main hall, and revealing a staircase leading upward.


    Where¡¯s Scooby Doo when you need him?


    At first, I wasn''t even sure if the secret room had electricity. As Anna entered, she was quickly able to find a little switch on the wall near the opening.


    Yellow light cast away the shadows of the room. I was able to see that the room was about the same size as the gift shop had been. I could also see that it had lots of books and artifacts that looked as old as the castle itself.


    As we walked into the room, we saw that the space was mostly taken up by arge shelf filled with books. On the spines of the books, I could see words innguages ranging from Latin, Greek, and Hebrew all the way to Chinese and modern English. There were scrolls stacked on one of the shelves and disy cases filled with what I could only assume to be preserved biological specimens. I didn''t want to know what they were.


    "It''s a library," Kimberly said. Curiosity had taken some of the fear out of her voice.


    "How old is this?" Antoine asked. He approached the table in the middle of the room and saw a metal mechanism that I assume had something to do with astronomy. It had little metal spindles with balls that I think representeds. At first, he reached out to touch it, but then he thought better of it.


    "I think this is my time to shine," Camden said.


    It really was.


    "Is it demonic?" Anna asked. "What kinds of books are these?"


    As if to answer a question, Camden squared himself up in front of therge shelf of books and looked them up and down them, waiting for his Eureka ability to send him information.


    "Oh, here we go," he said. He grabbed a book from the shelf. It wasrge and leather-bound. I couldn''t understand the writing on the cover, but I think it was written in Latin.


    "Ars Vitae: Liber de Speculo Sterum."


    "What does that mean?" Antoine asked.


    "I don''t know," Camden answered. "I don''t read Latin."


    "Your power doesn''t let you read othernguages?" Anna asked.


    "No," he answered. "I guess not."


    That would probably be another Schr trope.


    "Judy might know Latin," Anna suggested, looking at me. ¡°She knew what the phrase under the painting in the showroom meant.¡±


    She had a point. Why else would an NPC show up and demonstrate that ability if not to show the yer that they can read Latin.


    I wasn¡¯t sold on the idea though. ¡°Judy could easily be a cultist or monster herself. She could also be a Vampire¡¯s familiar. Let¡¯s not forget, in this story, she¡¯s the one who lured us here.¡±


    Anna clearly hadn¡¯t considered this. She took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her ponytail, as she always did when she was nervous.


    "Wait," Camden said. He turned around to the shelf again and, within a few seconds, selected another book.


    "Munger''s Latin to English Dictionary."


    He flipped through the book so quickly that you might have thought he had the pages bookmarked. His Eureka trope told him exactly what page to go to and what line to look at. The disy truly reminded me of how quickly characters read in movies. With a few quick turns, he was able to trante the title of the book.


    "The Art of Life: Treatise on the Mirror of the Stars," he said.


    Hmm.


    "What''s the mirror of the stars?" Kimberly asked.


    "Telescope?" Anna suggested.


    "I don''t know," I said. The story was going in a different direction than I had thought at first.


    As I was forming my new theory, Camden said, "This is going to take a while. But I can already see the passage that we need to read." He flipped open the book to the first few pages and found what I can only assume to be an introduction. He showed it to me, but aside from recognizing some of the letters, I couldn''t really make it out.


    Principium est ut anima a corpore separari et in speculo sterum collocari possit, opus est ut crystallum immactum et perfectum ad animae retinendam concinnatum sit. Hoc perfectepositam artem crystallographiae requirit, sicut indicat capitulum secundum. Tunc, ad idoneum statum crystallum perducendum, ut animam in eo collocare valeat, est necessaria scientia mineralogiae, ut capitulum tertium demonstrat.


    Nam, crystallum debet ad certum statum reduci, ut possit animam custodire et in suo interioriplectere, prout capitulum quintum explicat. Et postquam crystallum ad idoneum statum perductum est, anima sua virtute in eo collocanda est, quod fit per operationem magis artis quam naturae, ut capitulum sextum ostendit.


    Verumtamen, anima, una ex essentiis divinis, multis mysteriis involuta est, unde opus est ad scientiam magiae, ut anima in speculo possit retineri, sicut capitulum quartum explicat. Ergo, ut anima in speculo sterum collocetur, est opus ut artes mineralogicae, crystallographicae, et magicae perfecte exerceantur, ut in processu omni peritus sis, prout capit prima et septima ostendunt.


    Octavus capitulum tractat de solutione chemicis argenti, quae, si recte praeparatur, astralem reactionem tollere potest. Tales praecautiones necessariae sunt. Anima non vincta interiore parte corrumpitur.


    Forsitan aliquando, docti artibus astralibus, habebunt mechanismumputatorium, qui eis possibilitatem praestabit calculorum et mensurarum necessariarum ad mappam ni astralis delineandam. Tunc in futurum, discriminem inter vitam et mortem tollere poterimus.


    The lights flickered all at once. We looked up at the yellow bulbs and realized how foolish it was to stay in the secret room. Presumably, this was somewhere the big bad came to often.


    "Better get to it," Anna said. "But we should definitely go back to the gift shop."


    No one argued. We filed out of the room one at a time. Antoine was thest one out. He reached in to turn off the light.


    As soon as the light went out, something grabbed Kimberly''s arm and pulled her, not into the library that we had just left from, but into the stairwell that had been revealed on the other side of the revolving door.


    The door mmed shut, closing off ess to the stairwell and trapping Antoine''s foot as it closed. He managed to pull his leg out, leaving his shoe crushed in the door. Everything had happened in the blink of an eye.


    "Kimberly!" Anna screamed. We could hear Kimberly screaming for a couple of seconds, but then all went silent. The needle on the plot cycle moved to First Blood.


    "Kimberly!" Antoine screamed. He struggled to get to stand, but his foot was badly injured. It must have been broken, I couldn''t tell, but at the very least, it was bloody, and he had trouble putting weight on it. Despite that, he put all of his strength into getting the door to move, but it would not budge.


    "It''s not going to open," I said. "I''ve seen this in movies a dozen times. When a door ms shut like this it''s not going to open until it''s toote."


    I didn¡¯t need a Trope Master ability to know that.


    "Shut up," Antoine said. "Help me!"


    He was right. I jumped in and tried to push along with Anna and Camden, but even with the four of us, the wall didn''t even shake.


    "Fuck, why were we so stupid?" Anna said. "We knew that she was going to get targeted first. We should have held onto her."


    "It wouldn''t have mattered," I said. I knew that, and Anna probably knew that too. Kimberly had a trope that meant she would get attacked at First Blood. There was no preventing that.


    "Did anybody see what took her?" Anna asked.


    Everyone shook their head. The stairwell had been dark, and then it all happened so quickly that I didn¡¯t catch a glimpse of anything. I didn''t even register any tropes on the red wallpaper because whatever creature had taken her had done so quickly that it was too far away from me for me to even use my Trope Master ability by the time I could react.


    "This is supernatural," I said. "That''s the only way it could be that fast."


    "What about the books?" Anna asked. "The books are a clue. What do they mean? Is it some sort of cult?"


    "I don''t know," I answered.


    There was only one way to know, and Camden was currently holding it in his hands.

 Chapter Eleven: Please, Dont Be a Vampire

    Chapter Eleven: Please, Don''t Be a Vampire


    "How do we get upstairs?" Antoine asked. He banged his fist against the stone door.


    "There''s a stairway that was roped off in the showroom," Camden suggested.


    "No, wait," Anna said. "We have to figure out what we''re up against. We can''t just go running off after them."


    "It''s got Kimberly," Antoine said. He began walking back toward the door separating the showroom from the main hall. His foot was out ofmission, but he tried to move on it anyway. I could see the pain in his face.


    I went to his side to help him move, but he pushed me away.


    "I got it," he said. "Just give me a second."


    Meanwhile, Camden had sat down at a table in the main hall and was busy trying to interpret the book that he had picked up from the library. He was furiously moving between pages of the Latin-to-English dictionary, interpreting the tome as quickly as he could.


    "Don''t read any of the Latin out loud, and you probably shouldn''t read it directly tranted either. Just summarize it. You don''t want to trigger a magic spell or something," I offered. Evil Dead, anyone?


    "I really don''t think it''s that kind of book," he said. "It reads like an academic text, even though it''splete nonsense. It presents itself as if this is science, something about creating a substance called the Mirror of Stars," Camden responded. He leafed through the dictionary; his fingers were working as quickly as they could.


    "What does the Mirror of Stars do?" Anna asked. "Can you tell us that?"


    "It seems to be a substance that can capture or harness a human soul," Camden answered.


    "OK, but why would you need to harness a human soul?" Anna asked.


    I could answer that one.


    "Communicating with the dead, using it to power magic, using it to summon a demon or to breathe life into something," I suggested. ¡°What can¡¯t you use a human soul for?¡±


    Camdenrgely ignored our conversation as he worked. His head was shaking as he worked through it. Something about the book must have not sat right with him.


    "It doesn''t say what you would need a soul for, but it repeats how dangerous this process is," Camden said.


    That makes sense. Separating the soul from the body is literal murder.


    "Well, keep working on it. There must be something in there that will help us or else your power wouldn¡¯t have led you to it," Anna said. "Did you see any of its tropes?" she asked, turning to me.


    I shook my head. "Nothing. It was there and gone too quickly," I answered, though it shamed me to say it.


    "The only thing you''re here to do, and you can''t do it because it was too quick?" Antoine said. He gripped onto the table he was liable to break it.


    "Well, if I had known that the monster was going to attack at that exact moment, I might have been ready," I said. "Let''s not forget that I wasn''t the only one caught off guard." I gestured to his injured foot.


    That was the wrong thing to say. Antoine got up as if to challenge me, but the pain in his foot brought him right back down.


    "This is happening because you treated this like a game," Antoine said. ¡°Kimberly could be dead.¡±


    "No, this is happening because you got catfished and made it our problem," I said. I¡¯m not usually one for a fist fight, but I wasn¡¯t going to take me for this.


    "Stop," Anna said. "This is getting us nowhere.¡±


    She got between us. ¡°Do you have any idea what this thing is or what it might do to Kimberly?"


    "Clearly, it''s trying to steal her soul," I said, pointing to the book. "Could be a cult. I''m not even willing to rule out a vampire at this point because traditionally vampires practice ck magic, and that book looks like ck magic."


    The truth is the cult angle didn''t make sense. If it was a cult, then we would have met some of the members by now. It made no sense for them to be introduced this far into the story. Not to mention, Kimberly¡¯s kidnapper moved far too quickly to be a normal human.


    At that moment, a scream sounded in the distance.


    "Kimberly!" Antoine yelled. He jumped to his feet, ignoring the pain and stumbled toward the sound of the scream.


    "No, that wasn''t Kimberly," Anna said. "That sounded like Judy."


    She was right.


    Antoine stopped and grabbed on to the back of a bench that was ced in the middle of the main hall. "I guess that means she''s not a vampire''s familiar, then, doesn''t it?" Antoine asked sarcastically.


    I didn¡¯t say anything, but the answer was no, it didn''t really mean much. If anything, it was great misdirection that could set up a twist ending, but I wasn''t going to say that out loud.


    "Okay, with Kimberly gone and the NPC with three Plot Armor gone, that means I''m the next target," I said. "I have a n, but it''s going to sound crazy."


    "What''s your n?" Anna asked.


    I retrieved my tickets from my pocket and held up my most recent acquisition, the Oblivious Bystander. The ability was designed as a joke, I think, but its impact would be incredible if I could use it right. With this ability, monsters and killers won''t attack you as long as you can pretend that you have not yet noticed them. I''d seen this exact gimmick in multiple movies, sometimes used to get augh and other times used to heighten the tension.


    A hapless character goes about their business while the monster lurks in the background. They don¡¯t get attacked until they actually see the enemy. It usually onlysts for a single scene and the character ends up dying anyway.


    But what if I could use it to make myself invincible while I scoped out the enemy tropes with my Trope Master ability?


    "I just need to go off separate from the group and wait for whatever this thing is to get near me. If I can ignore it long enough, I might be able to look at its tropes and get some idea of what it is. If I see anything, I''ll scream it out before it takes me," I said.


    Anna looked at me. "Are you sure that will work?" she asked.


    "No," I answered. But it didn''t really matter. I was getting attacked no matter what. Kimberly proved that. Being in the group wasn''t going to save me.


    "It''s up to you three," I said. "Camden, you''ve got to figure out why that book is important. There has to be something in there."


    He nodded.


    I tried to put on a brave face and sound the way I thought brave people sounded, but the truth is, I had another reason for leaving the group. Ever since I got the Oblivious Bystander ticket, all I could think about was how I might be able to use it to prevent myself from getting killed.


    I had one problem: if I was in a group, whenever a monster came, I couldn''t ignore it no matter what direction I looked. I''m still going to hear the people around me screaming and reacting to the monster''s presence. There''s no way I can pretend that I didn''t notice the monster when everyone around me has. The best way for this gimmick to work would be for me to be off on my own.


    I had visualized it in my head constantly ever since we got to Dyer¡¯s Lodge. I needed this to work. I summoned whatever courage I had and walked away from my friends.


    "Don''t go too far," Anna said. "If something happens, just know that we''re going to try to rescue you."


    Maybe I''ll be the one rescuing you, I thought. I gave her a smile and said, ¡°Thank you,¡± before turning out of the main hall and into the showroom.


    The hidden stairway had gone upward. It seemed to me that the best direction to go to scope out our hidden enemy was also upward. Antoine had the right idea on that part. If I remembered correctly, all that was upstairs were rooms that were mostly used for storage. Guests of the museum couldn''t go up there. I didn''t even know if it was safe or if the floor would give out underneath me.


    I got to the back of the showroom and found therge staircase that wound up and around to the upstairs. I picked up the red rope that had been used to block it off and ducked underneath.


    The needle on the plot cycle was currently on the rebirth phase. We were supposed to be spending this time gathering the information we needed to go on the offensive.


    By that metric, everything was going ording to n. But still, my feet felt as heavy as lead. My heart was pounding out of my chest.


    On my way through the showroom, I grabbed a little map of the castle. It was an essential part of my n. I opened it up in front of me and read it by the dim yellow lights that had been installed in the castle.


    I didn''t actually need the map, but my thought was if my eyes were focused on the map and I could hold it out in front of me, then perhaps I could believably portray that I didn''t see anything whenever the master came for me. It¡¯s goofy, I know, but the Oblivious Bystander trope came from campy horror movies and this strategy would work in a campy horror movie.


    But what if I heard the monster first? I couldn¡¯t pretend I hadn¡¯t noticed it if it was making noise. In the silent upstairs hallway, I felt as if my ears were superhuman. Every creak and howl of the wind sounded like a footstep behind me. But I had a n for sound too.


    I started to talk to myself.


    "Oh, so this is where the Halle family grew up," I said. "Sure is a nice castle. Wish I could have grown up in a castle just like this one¡­"


    And I continued thering about anything and everything I could think of because if I was talking, then I couldn''t hear someoneing behind me, or at least I could pretend like I hadn''t heard them. It wasn''t the most elegant solution, but the Oblivious Bystander wasn''t the most elegant ability.


    As I was walking through the upstairs of the castle, I was passing by door after door. I didn''t want to stop to try to get into any of the rooms because then I would have to let go of the map, my cover.


    Truthfully, it didn''t matter if I got into any of the rooms. I was only doing this to try and draw the monster to me. I wasn''t trying to find it. If my theory was right, it didn''t matter where I was. Our enemy would make its way to me.


    I watched the needle on the plot cycle as it slowly moved toward Second Blood. I started to wonder why Judy''s kidnapping hadn''t counted as being second blood, but Kimberly''s kidnapping did count as First Blood.


    Did that mean that Kimberly had been killed, but Judy hadn¡¯t? Would my capture count as Second Blood, or would it simply be another event inside of the rebirth phase?


    Every time we asked the other yers questions about how the game worked, we would get the suggestion that we would ¡°figure it out¡± once we started to y. Really, I wish they had just given it to us straight. Maybe they didn''t want to scare us off. Maybe the unpredictability of the game is the scariest part.


    ¡°Wow, so this door was actually not original to the castle at all," I said, muttering under my breath. Just more nonsense to give credibility to my obliviousness.


    And then I saw it.


    In the corner of my eye, something moved. It was impossibly fast. I could barely make it out, but I didn''t need to because my power was proximity-based. I just needed to be near it. I didn''t need to see it. I held the map up further, blocking my view from anything that might try to get near, and walked in the opposite direction of the figure I had just seen.


    The red wallpaper started to function. A gray poster materialized in my mind. That was strange. In the corn maze, I had been able to see Benny the Haunted Scarecrow as soon as he was near, but with this creature, I couldn¡¯t.


    My ability was still working otherwise though. Strangely, I could only see one trope start to appear.


    <strong>Invulnerable</strong><strong> Form: The viin cannot be affected by tropes or attacks in its current state.</strong>


    So much for this n.


    At least it was a great proof of concept. The Oblivious Bystander ability was keeping the monster from attacking me, and my Trope Master ability was technically functioning, though not to great effect.


    It just happened that the only trope I could see was really bad news. "Invulnerable form," what could that mean? It could be something that had to be weakened or was it just something that had to be caught off guard? Did this trope keep me from seeing its identity?


    The fact that this creature, whatever it was, had an invulnerable form told me that it was probably supernatural.


    I tried to think about what it meant when it said invulnerable. Did that mean the creature was literally invulnerable, or was it rendered invulnerable by the plot?


    This creature could simply be unkible because it would not be cinematic if it died right now. You rarely see a werewolf killed unless it''s in its wolf form, for example. That would be anticlimactic. Perhaps whatever my follower was, it wasn''t actually indestructible, but rather was just not meant to be killed untilter. I thought to myself as I walked.


    I don''t mean to pretend to you that I was somehow fearless in this moment. The truth is, I was a mess. I caught myself forgetting to speak because I was so preupied fretting about what was toe. It ended up not mattering because whatever this thing following me was, it did not have footsteps. I heard no sounding from behind me, only the asional sh of a shadow in the corner of my eye.


    Soon, I would have a problem because, as brilliant as my n was, it didn''t take into consideration one important thing: the hallway I was on didn''t go on forever. I was almost to the end. Somehow, I would have to go the other direction to get away from this thing, but how could I pretend not to see it when I turned around?


    Sure, the whole muttering fool walking through the castlepletely unaware he''s being followed schtick works, but as soon as I turned and saw whatever figure was behind me, the performance would be less than convincing.


    I had no choice. I had to try to find some way to turn around and get back to the stairs.


    I hadst seen the figure on my right, so I turned left at thest door on the hallway. I jiggled the handle and then said aloud, "Huh, it''s locked."


    I raised the map up as if scrutinizing something that had been written on it. I was giving the performance my all. I looked from the map to the door, back to the map.


    "Oh well," I said, "guess I''ll go back downstairs."


    I''ll dly ept my Oscar for that one.


    I raised the map up so that I couldn''t see what was in front of me and pretended to be absolutely enraptured by a description of a carving in the stone between two of the doors. I began walking back the way I hade.


    I could see in the corner of my eye that the figure that followed me was still there. As curious as I was to see it, I willed myself not to look. The Oblivious Bystander trope was working; it wasn''t attacking me.


    I continued on, but my pursuer got braver. I could see iting up behind me on my right, so I ever so gently tilted to my left. If this was a scene in a movie, I don''t know if the audience would beughing or chewing on their fingernails.


    Whatever this thing was, it was agile, moving from side to side without making a single sound. I could feel the skin on my neck grow hot because the only thing I knew that moved that quickly and quietly was a vampire, and I really did not want it to be a vampire.


    I trudged forward, and the creature got closer. I held the map so tight to my face that I was straining credulity. Maybe I''m just nearsighted in this story, a bumbling tourist who forgot his sses.


    The figure moved around in front of me again. I held the map up, blocking off my view. At some point in time, I had stopped muttering. I was too afraid. I feared that by talking, my voice cracking would give away how unoblivious I was.


    I tried to ignore the monster in front of me and set a course that allowed me to get around it once more.


    But then I slipped.


    The flooring in the upper story hadn''t been maintained, and my foot got bad purchase as I went to take a step. I almost fell forward but managed to catch myself just in time. I kept the map in front of my face the entire time, looking out to whichever side I knew the monster wasn''t on.


    It was up and to the right from where I was.


    I could tell it was humanoid.


    <em>Oh crap, it''s going to be a vampire</em>, I thought to myself.


    I could tell that it was floating a few inches off the ground.


    <em>Damn it, vampires can float</em>.


    I walked forward, but it was very difficult to fight the urge to just grab a nce of whatever this creature was, just one quick nce, maybe then I could make a run for it. I adjusted the paper just a slight amount and looked up into the right.


    Shit!


    What I saw was a man looking right back at me. We had made eye contact. There was no pretending to be oblivious anymore.


    I started to run toward the stairway, but the man was on to me in a sh. It was almost hrious how quickly he got to me.


    It''s funny, my status changed to Unconscious before I even felt it hit me.


    As my vision grew dimmer and I lost control of my body and fell to the ground, there was one silver lining.


    This man was not a vampire, because as I looked up at the figure looming over me, I could see right through him.

 Chapter Twelve: Deus Ex-Terminator

    Chapter Twelve: Deus Ex-Terminator


    The first thing I saw upon awaking was my status on the red wallpaper:


    Unscathed


    Hobbled


    Mutted


    Dead


    Written Off


    Chase Scene


    nning


    Unconscious


    Infected


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    Incapacitated


    Captured


    (Lit)


    Off Screen


    (Lit)


    Fight Scene


    Exploring


    I was no longer Unscathed, the welt on the back of my head was evidence of that, but at least I wasn''t Unconscious either. Instead, only two status lights were lit: "Captured" and "Off screen." I wasn''t yet sure what "Off Screen" meant, but I knew what "Captured" meant, and as I came to, I found that I was indeed captured.


    I found myself restrained in a metal chair, held down by thick leather straps. The straps were tight, only giving the slightest bit of ck. I had one across each arm and then another across each leg. I wasn''t going anywhere.


    So much for my use-the-Oblivious-Bystander-trope-to-scout-out-the-bad-guy n. I give myself an 8 for theory and a 4 for execution, but maybe I''m being too generous.


    If only he hadn¡¯t been able to see my eyes¡­


    I didn''t even manage to get any information back to my friends. Not that I had a lot of info to begin with. I would have to work on that strategy.


    I took in my surroundings.


    Directly in front of me was arge machine covered in dials and knobs. It had many moving parts, as well as pressure gauges reading off measurements that I wouldn''t have understood even if I could see them up close. I couldn''t tell you what this machine actually was, but I could tell you that, based on the turret sticking off the top, it was a weapon.


    The aesthetic was something between sci-fi and steam punk. In the distance, I could see a hugeputer mainframe that was out of date even for the nies. There was a workstation with numerous shelves filled with sks and vials, chemistry equipment, and hand tools.


    ¡°Riley?¡± a voice called out. Someone was in the room with me on the opposite side of the machine.


    "Kimberly?" I asked. "Are you here, Kimberly?"


    "I didn''t know if you had woken up," she said. "I saw him bring you here. I waited for your status to change."


    "I¡¯m here. Are you okay? Are you hurt?" I asked. "Has he done anything to you?"


    She was quiet at first. "No," she said. "But he''s crazy. He says he''s going to kill us. You have to get me out of here!" I could hear her struggling against her restraints.


    ¡°Have you been screaming,¡± asked. I assumed she had, but I needed to be sure.


    Wherever we were, it must have been sound proof. When Kimberly disappeared, we couldn¡¯t hear her anywhere in the castle.


    "We both have," she answered.


    Both?


    I strained my neck around to the other side of the machine and saw that there were two chairs over there. More chairs were spread out around the right side of the machine. They were empty right now. Inside one of the chairs next to Kimberly was Judy. Judy was not doing well; you could see it in her eyes.


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    "Just hold tight, they''reing for us," I said, but truthfully, I wasn¡¯t so sure. The only hope was if Camden could find something useful inside that book.


    I looked around the room. Not all of the room was lit up, there were several corners cloaked in inky darkness, but I could see that there was a bed and some furnishings. Someone had been living down here.


    "So what kind of monster is it?" I asked, "Is it a ghost?" I had gotten one glimpse of my assant and he had been transparent. It didn¡¯t make sense for there to be a bed down here.


    Kimberly didn''t answer first, "I don''t know for sure, he''s strange."


    <em>How could you not know if you were looking at a transparent apparition</em>, I thought to myself, but I wasn''t going to press her on that.


    I continued looking around the room. It wasrge with high ceilings and a floor made of bluish stone. In fact, the floor here was made of the exact same stone that the cer''s floor had been.


    The cer! Of course! It should have seemed weird that a cer inside a castle was that small. It''s a castle, surely the basement is huge, after all, castles have dungeons. This room must have been separated from the rest of the cer by whoever was living here. This was bad news because the others thought we were upstairs or at least that was the theory when I left.


    My eyes lifted to the ceiling as if I were looking up toward my friends.


    Then I saw it.


    "So that''s what the Mirror of Stars is," I said aloud.


    "What?" Kimberly asked.


    "That up there," I said, "That must be the Mirror of Stars. From the book Camden found."


    High above us, apparently growing out of the ceiling, was arge mass of dark glowing crystals. It was difficult to describe what they looked like, but the most apt description would be that they looked like the night sky. They appeared to contain stars. Despite having what appeared to be a mirrored surface, they didn¡¯t reflect the yellow light of the basement. Whatever was inside those crystals appeared to move.


    The crystals were supported there by a metal contraption, and they had all kinds of electrodes and pipes sticking out of them that wormed their way down the walls to theputer mainframe. Whoever it was that was living down here had crafted the Mirror of Stars, and whatever its purpose was, it looked like they were trying to useputer technology to perfect it.


    But what were they using it for?


    The weapon in front of me was connected to the Mirror of Stars by several wires, though I couldn¡¯t say for certain what the purpose of them was.


    Then I decided to check the red wallpaper.


    Two tropes appeared in my mind. I saw a poster of the weapon, theputer, and the Mirror of Stars.


    <strong>Indestructible MacGuffin: This plot device cannot be destroyed.</strong>


    <strong>Deus Ex-Terminator: This object kills all targets in one blow regardless of Plot Armor.</strong>


    So, it was basically the Ark of the Covenant from Indiana Jones.


    Noted.


    Immediately following that revtion, a man walked into view from another part of the basement that wasn¡¯t visible to me. I recognized him right away. I had seen a painting of him in the showroom. It was Doctor Simon Halle. Here he was in the flesh, well mostly.


    His appearance was something that caught me off guard at first. While most of his body was very ordinary - he wore ab coat and cks with shining leather shoes - his top half was quite unusual.


    His left hand was normal and swung at his side as he walked. But his right arm and his head hung limply like a puppet whose strings had been cut. However, even though his right arm and his head appeared lifeless, they had been reced. I could only describe it as if his ghost was leaking out of his body. In ce of where his right arm would have been was a ghostly arm instead, and instead of a normal head, he had a transparent head.


    Even though his real right arm and head hung limply in front of him, their ghostly counterparts took their ce seamlessly. I watched him as he moved about his workspace, picking up tools and measuring chemicals. His face was stern and businesslike. Though his body hung limply and his real hair was disheveled, his ghostly hair was well-groomed, his thin mustache perfectly in ce.


    I had heard of someone having one foot in the grave, but this took that to a whole different level.


    "Ah, you''re awake," he said. "I was beginning to worry I might have struck you too hard."


    I didn''t respond, but I did start to wonder how much time I had been out. I looked at the plot cycle and saw that the needle was almost to second blood. Dread consumed me.


    "You''re probably wondering why I brought you here today," he said. "Together, we''re going to embark on a terrific experiment. I have a feeling that you will be thest data points I need to finish my work. The contribution that you are about to make to humankind is immeasurable."


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    I tried to think of something to say, some retort that might extend my lifespan, but truthfully, fear caught the words in my throat, and I couldn''t dream of being clever at a time like this.


    "Don''t be afraid," he said. "Where you''re going is a ce we all must go and a ce that I believe we can return from."


    "Oh shit," I said. It just slipped out.


    He didn¡¯t like that. For a moment, the calm,posed scientist ghost was lost and an enraged spirit took his ce. But it was only for a moment. He rposed himself.


    "Yes, the youth of today are quite vulgar, it''s distasteful, but I suppose I won''t judge you too harshly because when you woke up this morning, you did not know your purpose, but now you will.¡±

 Chapter Thirteen: The Astralist

    Chapter Thirteen: The Astralist


    "I saw you admiring my Mirror of Stars," Dr. Halle said. "It took decades of toil and perseverance to make the substance. You cannot manipte the crystal with mortal hands,¡± he raised his left hand, ¡°Sacrifices had to be made,¡± he lifted his ghostly right hand. ¡°Would you like to know why I would go through the trouble?"


    I was starting to get the picture but said nothing.


    He tried to conceal a grin behind his stern facial expression. He continued without waiting for a response.


    ¡°When the soul leaves the body, it is jettisoned into the astral ne. The process is chaotic and difficult to measure. Who is to say where the soul goes as it leaves or how to get it back?


    ¡°Well, a Mirror of Stars lets me measure the path a soul takes on its way to the hereafter. With only a few more measurements I believe that I will be able to map the astral ne. In doing so I will rid the world of death. That is your purpose.¡±


    He turned and walked back to his workstation, his mind elsewhere for the moment.


    He <em>really </em>loved giving this speech. I could tell. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s given the same one to all of his victims.


    I had called out loose simrities to Dr. Frankenstein pretty early on, so I wasn¡¯t exactly surprised to see that the baddie was a Mad Scientist. What I couldn¡¯t figure out was how he had moved so quickly when abducting Kimberly. That¡¯s why my mind had shifted toward the supernatural. Now I think I had the answer. It looked like this mad scientist had ghostly powers.


    Whoever guessed ¡°Mad Scientist,¡± please take a bow. I will also ept ¡°Ghost,¡± for half credit.


    On the red wallpaper, I saw a poster appear. It was the same as the painting upstairs except it showed Dr. Halle in his current form. His wife, Anastasia, was slumped over in this poster, her face covered by her long hair.


    <em>¡°The Astralist</em>,¡± the poster read. Underneath that it said, ¡°Featuring Dr. Simon Halle as the Astralist.¡±


    Plot Armor: 12.


    He was something between Dr. Frankenstein and The Reanimator. Strangely, this plot was simr to the backstory of the Casper the Friendly Ghost movie from the 90s. Of course, this ghost wasn¡¯t so friendly.


    I began looking at his tropes, but before I could focus on them, I was interrupted.


    ¡°Please let us go,¡± Judy cried. She finally broke from her catatonic state and began weeping openly.


    ¡°I can''t do that. You know that,¡± the Astralist said. ¡°I believe that we were meant to find a way to get our loved ones back to us. It is our purpose, <em>my</em> purpose. Observe.¡±


    He raised his ghostly right hand toward the Mirror of Stars and said ¡°Can''t you see it? Can''t you see my soul seeking hers across the astral ne?¡±


    I looked up to the Mirror of Stars and, sure enough, I could see a streak of light taking a path across the crystalline structures¡ªa difficult path bouncing from angle to angle but clearly emanating from the location that Doctor Halle stood in the room.


    ¡°What causes the Mirror of Stars to reach out to us like this? This question was pondered over by philosophers for hundreds of years, but I believe I know the answer.


    ¡°It''s love. My love for my darling Anastasia is so powerful that it reaches across our universe and into the next. She waits for me there and I can''t keep her waiting much longer.


    ¡°But do not fret. Once I have mapped the astral ne I will be able to retrieve souls from it at will. With only the pull of a lever and press of a button, I will be able to bring you back. Isn''t that wonderful? Your sacrifice is only temporary. I''ll be able to bring all of you back.¡±


    ¡°All of us?¡± I asked. Curiosity got the better of me.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. His ghostly right arm flickered like static on a dead television channel. In that very moment, a light switch flipped on the other side of the room.


    All of the lights in the room turned off and back on. The equipment in the basement must have been drawing lots of power. Even turning on one light could cause them all to visibly strain. That exined the flickering lights upstairs.


    A portion of the basement that had once been dark and hidden from my view now came into light.


    I looked on it in horror.


    In the darkened corner, there were shelves upon shelves containing nothing but human corpses. There had to be three dozen bodies on those shelves. They were all fully dressed in whatever clothes they had died in. In the center of them was a table with a womanid out in a wedding dress, her headid upon a pillow. Even in death, I recognized her. It was Anastasia Halle.


    ¡°She was the first,¡± he said. ¡°She always supported my work, my effort to cure her. My machine is a thing of miracles. A body deprived of a soul through the Mirror of Stars does not dpose. Do you not find that fascinating?


    ¡°I could not tell you why this urs, but I think that it is a sign from the heavens that I am moving in the correct direction. The bodies are virtually undamaged and when I find a way to locate their souls I will be able to reinvigorate them and bring them back to this life.¡±


    ¡°So fear not,¡± he said looking to the three of us.


    He was being very loose with the phrase ¡°virtually undamaged.¡± The most generous description of these bodies was ¡°mummified.¡± However, it was true that there was no stench, no rotting.


    Doctor Halle approached hisputer mainframe and began pushing buttons and turning dials. The machine in front of me came to life and the turret on top started to spin as the barrel of its weapon aimed at the restraining chairs ced in a half circle around it.


    ¡°Help,¡± Kimberly screamed.


    ¡°Help, please. Please let me go,¡± she begged, ¡°Please, I won''t tell anyone. Just let me go.¡±


    The Astralist ignored her.


    For the second time, I saw her disheveled in terror. She had not worn as much makeup as she had when we arrived, but still, her tears created streaks through her foundation. I wanted to be able to help her but, in truth, I couldn''t even get my restraints to budge more than an inch¡ªnot enough to escape. I couldn''t get my voice box to make noise. The inevitability of my death was all too real.


    The turret turned on its axis several times before eventually pointing at Judy. It made sense. She only had three Plot Armor. I''m not proud to say it but I let out a breath of relief when I saw it point at her first. I just hoped that NPCs didn''t feel pain. After her it would be my turn because I only had five Plot Armor.


    The machine started to initiate a sequence. I could hear pressure building within it and some type of electrical capacitor charging as energy was supplied to it. There was a buzzing sound. Above, the Mirror of Stars started to glow as the machine and the crystals beganmunicating.


    The machine fired. Noser came from the barrel, which is what I expected. Instead, it looked more like a vacuum cleaner that began to siphon glowing blue energy from small stout form of Judy. She screamed in agony as what I can only assume was her soul began to leave her body. She pulled against her restraints but was unsessful in freeing herself.


    The worst was the sound. I could hear it, like the soul itself, screaming.


    First her feet went limp. Then her arms. Then the rest of her body drooped.


    All the while, Kimberly squealed and begged to be released. The man did not even give her the courtesy of responding.


    After the machine was done with Judy, the bright light that it had absorbed to the turret began rising along a metallic guide wire into the Mirror of Stars until it became one star in a constetion that shot across a distance of the entire mirror.


    Doctor Halle paid close attention. He watched readouts on hisputer and muttered to himself as he reviewed them.


    He shut down the mainframe and the machine started to wind down.


    ¡°My machine needs to recharge,¡± he said his voice was somber like he was speaking at a funeral. ¡°I take no joy in my duties. Nheless, it is the responsibility of an Astralist to map the hereafter, to connect the living with the dead, and eliminate the difference between life and death.¡±

 Chapter Fourteen: The Code in the Lights

    Chapter Fourteen: The Code in the Lights


    ¡°Now if you excuse me, I need to go check on my other guests,¡± The Astralist said. He walked over to the part of the basement that held his bed andid down. With a flicker, I saw his spirit disappear from his body. It was some form of astral projection, no doubt.


    The needle on the plot cycle had already hit Second Blood with the death of Judy. Now we were in the initial stages of the Finale. To my understanding, we should have a small amount of time before he struck again¡ªjust enough for my friends to prepare an assault. The question was: could I help them?


    I tried to push past the fear that clouded my mind and worked the problem. I needed to get out of that chair, but I was strapped in. I examined the leather that was used to bind my hands and realized that the sleeve of my sweatshirt was inside of my restraint.


    I had an idea.


    I could see on the red wallpaper my status change. The word nning lit up.


    It seemed to me that even though the restraint was tight, part of the reason it was so snug was that my sweatshirt was taking up space. Not much, sure, but maybe enough that if I were to pull up my sleeve, I would be able to get my hand out. After all, I didn''t need that much room and I was definitely willing to hurt myself to be free.


    I leaned over and grabbed my sleeve with my teeth and pulled, straining my neck to get some movement on the sleeve. The restraint was tight, and it took some effort to get the fabric rolled up but as I tugged it on one side and then the other and I pulled and I struggled, eventually I managed to get my sleeve out from inside of the restraint.


    Now all I had to do was use what little room that maneuver had granted me to remove my hand from the restraint and free myself.


    I pulled with all my might. The leather strap was definitely looser now that I had a slight amount more room, but it wasn''t easy to get my hand out. I felt the side of the leather cutting into my skin and I seriously thought I was going to break a bone.


    but I pulled¡­


    and pulled¡­


    and twisted¡­


    and then I was free.


    One hand down, three limbs to go. Luckily, there was no lock on the other straps. I just had to unstrap them with my free hand.


    Sess.


    With a bloody hand, I ran across the room to Kimberly. She sat there with a terrified look upon her face. I can''t imagine what it must have been like to have been right next to Judy when her life force was literally stripped from her.


    ¡°It''s okay, I''m here,¡± I said. I tried to be as gentle as possible in the way I spoke.


    I quickly ushed her hands and legs, and she jumped out of the metal chair like it was on fire.


    ¡°We have to leave,¡± she said.


    I agreed, but I didn''t actually know <em>how</em> to leave. I couldn''t even say which direction the cer was in or if there was a connection between the two rooms that we could use to get back into the castle.


    ¡°Did you see what direction he came from when he brought me in?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Over there,¡± she said, pointing to what looked to be a solid wall.


    We ran over and tried banging and pushing on it but to no avail. I didn''t know whether the wall was kept shut by a lever or simply by some plot device that I was unable to see. It''s possible that Kimberly and Ibined simply did not have a high enough Mettle stat to be able to push the door open.


    I surveyed the basement. The Astralist¡¯s body still rested in his bed.


    Did we dare try to kill him right there? Would that even work?


    I decided that now that I had some time, I would try to see his tropes. It might give me some idea of how to proceed, so I quickly looked to the red wallpaper in hopes that proximity to his unconscious body would be enough.


    It was.


    I could see all of The Astralist¡¯s tropes.


    <strong>Humanizing Monologue: In the final battle, the viin will attempt to gain sympathy by revealing his back story or motives. yers who are not resilient to this will receive debuffs. Buff¡¯s viin¡¯s Moxie.</strong>


    <strong>Jekyll and Hyde: The viin has multiple forms: Ghost: +3 Mettle, +5 Hustle, Comatose, and Possessed +2 Mettle, +2 Grit.</strong>


    <strong>Anticlimax Antidote: The viin cannot be killed in his Comatose form until the final battle.</strong>


    <strong>Invulnerable Form: The viin cannot be affected by tropes or attacks in his Ghost form. Except: Ghost Bane.</strong>


    <strong>The Parting Shot: Though the viin is defeated, he has one final trick up his sleeve¡ªa backup n that will terrorize the yers in his absence.</strong>


    <strong>Hostage Taker: The viin will not outright kill the yer inbat until the final battle but will instead attempt to take them hostage for his specific purpose.</strong>


    <strong>Always Watching: The viin can obtain a visual of the yers at any time.</strong>


    <strong>Home Lair Advantage: The viin can travel freely, unnoticed due to their knowledge of the setting and its pathways and secret passages.</strong>


    <strong>Silver Bullet: This monster has a weakness specific to them that renders them dead or vulnerable.</strong>


    I reviewed his tropes. The Jekyll and Hyde trope was not surprising. So far, I had seen this viin in all three forms. The first was his ghostly form. Now was his Comatose form and the final form was the merging of the two, when I saw him seemingly possessing his own body. His ghost form was invulnerable and had a trope mentioning as much.


    The Anticlimax Antidote was the sort of thing I expected to see. It would be far too easy to simply kill his body now that his spirit was gone. No, that wouldn¡¯t be allowed. I didn¡¯t know what would happen if we attacked his helpless body, but I didn¡¯t want to risk it.


    What concerned me the most was the trope titled ¡°The Parting Shot¡± which told me that even if we were to find victory, something else would be waiting for us.


    I didn''t know what his Silver Bullet was, but I hoped that Camden would be figuring out that information at that very moment.


    ¡°We have to get a message to the others,¡± I said ¡°They obviously can''t hear us or else they would have heard Judy screaming earlier.¡±


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°Shouldn''t we just destroy this machine?¡± She had a tenor of panic in her voice.


    ¡°We can''t,¡± I said. ¡°It has a trope that makes it indestructible. That would be too easy, I guess. We also can''t kill him. We have to beat him in the final battle.¡±


    I continued, ¡°I have an idea but I¡¯m going to need your help.¡±


    She eyed me quizzically.


    ¡°You can do something that I can''t do and I need you to figure out what that is but I think I can only tell you a hint.¡±


    She nodded, ¡°Okay...¡±


    Kimberly had an amazing trope called Convenient Backstory. So far, she hadn''t used it but if my understanding of what it could do was correct, then it was exactly what we needed. It gave her the ability to buff herself and learn skills in the middle of a storyline simply by referencing something that happened in her past.


    Have you ever seen a movie where a woman that was 5 foot 4 manages to beat up a bunch of bad guys and then she quips about how she knew how to fight because she grew up with six brothers? How about a character who could suddenly pick a lock because they wrote a book about thieves years ago or they had a rough life on the streets back in their past?


    The Convenient Backstory was one of the strongest tropes that any of us had, but in order for it to work it, had to be convincing. You couldn''t just say something and make it true. The story had to make sense. So if my n was going to work, I couldn''t just tell her what to do, she had to figure it out on her own and what''s more she had to tell the story all on her own.


    Don''t get me wrong, Kimberly was far from dim-witted¡ªshe was actually very smart with things she cared about--but she had never really engaged with the concept of ying the Game at Carousel, not the way I had or Camden had. Anna and Antoine understood what was going on here and they were willing to y their roles to the best of their ability as well, but Kimberly had resisted. We could barely drag her up to the castle.


    ¡°Kimberly, every time someone turns on a light in the castle, all of the other lights in the building flicker. Did you notice that? When I was with Anna, she turned on the light to the cer, it made all the lights turn off and back on and just now whenever he turned on the light to that section of the basement the lights flickered again.


    Kimberly nodded, seemingly unsure of what I was getting at.


    ¡°There''s a book upstairs on Morse code. I think that if we were to flick the light in a pattern, we couldmunicate with our friends upstairs. We''d have to do it long enough so that they would notice it and so that Camden would have time to go to the book and interpret what we''re saying but¡­¡±


    I looked her in the eye and I talked slowly ¡°One of us needs to know Morse code for that to happen and I didn¡¯t learn it growing up.¡±


    For a moment she didn''t speak but then I saw a glint of recognition in her eye. ¡°Lucky for you,¡± she said, ¡°My dad took me sailing every summer growing up. He made sure I knew Morse code so that I could signal for help if we ever got in trouble.¡±


    In an instant Kimberly¡¯s Savvy stat and Plot Armor shot up three points.


    ¡°Did it work?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± she said.


    We ran over to the light switch and Kimberly reached toward the switch, her hands shaking as she grabbed the switch.


    ¡°What do I say?¡± she asked.


    ¡°IN CELLAR,¡± I said. At the end of the day, the most important information for them to know was where we were. Nothing else I could tell them was more important than that. Anna and Camden had been in the cer they would probably make the same realization that I had, that the room was far too small for a castle. Between the three of them, they had to be able to find a way to get down here.


    Kimberly started flicking the light in a smooth rhythmic motion:


    .. -. / -.-. . .-.. .-.. .- .-.


    ¡°It''s working! she said. ¡°I don''t know how I¡¯m doing it, but I just am!¡±


    I couldn''t understand Morse code myself, but it looked exactly like I had seen it done in the movies. The lights flickered in a dot and dash pattern that must have meant ¡°In cer.¡±


    Now all we could do was wait and see who got to us first: our friends or The Astralist.

 Chapter Fifteen: A Waste of a Specimen

    Chapter Fifteen: A Waste of a Specimen


    "Be ready," I said. "He''s a scientist, which means he''s probably smart enough to figure out what we''re doing with the lights. As soon as he does, he''s going to be back here."


    Kimberly bit her lip and nodded. I wasn''t sure if I should distract her, but I didn¡¯t want her to be caught off-guard.


    As we waited, I mentally prepared myself for what was toe. If we seeded, it would mean a fight. If we failed, there wouldn''t be much of a fight. I reviewed Doctor Halle¡¯s stats again.


    Plot Armor: 12.


    My understanding was that enemies'' stats worked the same way as ours did, which meant that if he had twelve Plot Armor, those twelve points were divided among his five stats. I wanted to estimate what his different stats might be so that I might be of more use when the time came.


    "What''s his Moxie?" I asked.


    Kimberley''s third trope, after Convenient Backstory and Looks Don''t Last, was called Social Awareness. It let her see an enemy''s Moxie stat. She nced at the bed-ridden form of Doctor Halle. Her eyebrows furrowed.


    "It''s zero," she said. "He has no Moxie at all."


    Interesting.


    That meant that all of his 12 Plot Armor points were distributed among his Mettle, Hustle, Savvy, and Grit stats.


    Given that he was a scientist, I assumed a big chunk of those points would be attributed to his Savvy stat. After all, that¡¯s how Camden was distributed, and he was a Schr archetype. I estimated his Savvy to be around 5, leaving around 7 points between his Hustle, Mettle, and Grit stats.


    He had abducted Kimberly and injured Antoine in his Ghost form, which had heightened Mettle and Hustle. Given that both his Ghost form and Possessed form gave him a boost to Mettle, he probably didn¡¯t have much in his base form. Furthermore, he had a weapon that One Hit KOed any target. He probably didn¡¯t need much Mettle. I figured a single point was in Mettle.


    Likewise, he probably wouldn¡¯t need a high base Hustle either, given his Ghost form buffs that stat so much. I¡¯ll assign it another single point, though it could be zero as well.


    That left Grit.


    He could easily have five or more points in Grit.


    Even a boosted Antoine couldn¡¯t kill the Astralist in his Possessed form, not like that. He got two points added to Grit in that form. It would have to be Antoine and Anna working together with a boost from Anna¡¯s Who¡¯s With Me trope. Hopefully that, plus if Camden could find his weakness, it might be enough.


    TO SUMMARIZE:


    In the final battle, Anna and Antoine would have to fight him, attacking his Comatose form anytime he tried to release his Ghost form. This would force him into his Possessed form, which has a higher Grit, but a lower Mettle. Harder to kill, but less deadly.


    That could work.


    I hoped my estimate was correct, and if so, we stood a chance, especially if Camden figured out his weakness.


    Now all I could hope was that I would have the chance to ry that information to my friends.


    ¡°Kimberly,¡± I said, ¡°I have a n for the final battle. If I¡¯m not around to tel¡ª"


    "Why must you always resist your greater purpose?"


    My blood went cold.


    I looked over to the bed where Doctor Halle had beenying. Now, he sat upright. His ghostly right arm and head had returned. He must have noticed the lights.


    "A clever attempt, truly. What did you think? That I wouldn''t understand Morse code?"


    His ghostly arm flickered, and something struck me in the chest. The wind was knocked out of me. I struggled to breathe.


    "Kimberly," I tried to say, but I didn''t have the ability. She needed to continue; it was our only hope. I nced up at her. She was furiously flipping the switch in that same pattern ¨C in cer, in cer, in cer.


    I needed to buy her some time.


    Luckily, her Plot Armor had risen to an amazing 15 - her original 10 Plot Armor plus three Savvy because of her sessful use of her Convenient Backstory trope and then an additional two - one to Savvy and one to Grit - thanks to yours truly.


    Finally, I had actually managed to make a prediction that triggered my Cinema Seer-Survive ability. This allowed me to buff my allies by making urate predictions about the plot. I guess the "he''s going toe back as soon as he sees the lights" prediction was enough.


    All the theorizing on what kind of monster we were fighting hadn''t worked, but something that simple had. I''d have to make note of that for the future.


    I strained to stand up.


    My estimation put his current Mettle in Possessed form at three. It wouldn''t really matter; whatever his Mettle, it was higher than my Grit.


    I couldn''t buff myself. I only had one thing going for me, and that was his Hostage Taker trope, which meant that until the final battle¡ªwhich couldn¡¯t start without Anna¡ªhe would not try to kill me directly but would instead try to stick me back in that chair and siphon out my soul.


    As soon as I was up on my feet and moving again, trying to draw his attention away from Kimberly, his arm flickered again, and this time he struck me in the shoulder. I managed to catch myself against his giant machine.


    "Do not touch that," he said. "It''s very sensitive."


    His arm flickered again, and I was flung backward.


    He was just ying with me.


    "Don''t you worry," he said, "I wouldn''t damage your body too much. It was true when I said that I was going to bring you back. Your death will only be temporary. Can you not see the importance of my work, how such a small sacrifice could make a meaningful impact across all of humanity? Don''t be so selfish."


    This ghostly arm flickered once more, and I felt it grab onto my foot. I was dragged down onto the ground as he pulled me toward one of the chairs. I was helpless to fight. After all, I was a minor character, and the best I could do was motivate my friends with my death.


    "You are in luck," he said. "I think I''m close to finally mapping the astral ne. You may be revived in time to see your family for the holidays."


    A knock sounded against the wall. It was loud, and I could hear wood crunching on the other side.


    Camden, Anna, and Antoine had gotten the message.


    They were trying to get in. Antoine''s five Mettle plus Anna¡¯s three and Camden''s one should equal nine total. Plus, two more because of Anna¡¯s Who¡¯s With Me trope buffing Camden and Antoine, which should be activated now since it was the Finale.


    If they were all trying to get into the basement, then whatever mechanism was keeping the hidden door closed would have to withstand that. Unlike the revolving door upstairs, I couldn''t think of any reason why they wouldn''t be able to get through. There was a chance.


    "It appears they did not want to wait their turn," Doctor Halle said. He turned and began walking toward the secret door, releasing me.


    I couldn''t let him harm them before they got in, so as soon as he had let go of my ankle, I was on my feet and running at him.


    Before he could flicker his ghostly arm, I had jumped on his back. My arms and hands went right through his ethereal shoulder and neck, and I grabbed onto his physical body.


    That was a terrible idea. I was not at all sped for that.


    He threw me off with ease, but at least his attention was on me again. The only problem with that was that now that the main characters had shown up, I was sure that this was the final battle, meaning he wasn''t taking hostages anymore. Iy on my back as he approached me.


    "Oh, how you vie for my attention," Doctor Halle said. "But love is more important than all things, more important than <em>you</em>."


    His ghostly arm reached forward and grabbed me by the neck, lifting me into the air. "You do have strength of spirit, I''ll grant you that, but then so do I."


    Did he just tell a joke?


    He began to choke me tighter.


    Strangely, it didn''t look like he enjoyed this. This was a waste of a specimen.


    As I struggled, I saw Kimberlye from behind and try to beat him with a thin pipe that she had found somewhere at his workstation. It did nothing. Kimberly¡¯s Mettle was zero. I don''t think that she could beat him to death if she had all day.


    The room started to go dark. Here I was, just as I had feared - the character who dies. That was my true fate. I could feel tears forming in my eyes as I lost the energy to even struggle.


    I watched and waited for my status to change to Unconscious. It was only a matter of time. It wouldn¡¯t stop there, I knew. The final battle must have been beginning because he wasn¡¯t trying to siphon out my soul anymore. He was simply going to kill me.

 Chapter Sixteen: The Silver Solution

    Chapter Sixteen: The Silver Solution


    yer Stats and Tropes


    Riley


    Antoine


    Anna


    Kimberly


    Camden


    Plot Armor


    11 / 2


    12 + 3


    14


    10 + 5


    11


    Mettle


    1


    4 + 2


    3


    0


    1


    Moxie


    3


    1


    2


    4


    2


    Hustle


    1


    3 + 1


    2


    3


    2


    Savvy


    5


    0


    2


    1 + 4


    5


    Grit


    1


    4


    5


    2 + 1


    1


    TROPE MASTER


    Type: Insight


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Sees enemy tropes. Lose half of PA


    IT¡¯S PART OF THE UNIFORM


    Type: Buff


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Higher Mettle when attacking with sports equipment


    LAST ONE ALIVE


    Type: Rule


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Cannot die until party is killed


    CONVENIENT BACKSTORY


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Can change backstory to assist with current task.


    EUREKA!


    Type: Insight


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Helps find important information with text.


    CINEMA SEER¡ªSURVIVE


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Buffs Savvy and Grit of Allies by predicting plot elements


    GYM Rat


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Buff Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory


    WHO¡¯S WITH ME?!


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: In Finale, Allies gain buff to relevant stat when assisting the yer.


    SOCIAL AWARENESS


    Type: Insight


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Can see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs.


    RIGHT TOOL FOR THE JOB


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Buffs Savvy and Mettle when fighting an enemy with their weakness.


    THE OBLIVIOUS BYSTANDER


    Type: Rule


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Cannot be target while convincingly acting oblivious to enemy


    LOOKS DON¡¯T LAST


    Type: Debuff


    Stat: Grit


    Effect: Is attacked at First Blood. Debuff enemy 1% PA for every min survived up to 15%


    I closed my eyes as the sounds of the room grew dim.


    Death wasing.


    Soon, I would be jettisoned into the astral ne without Dr. Halle¡¯s big fancy GPS tracking where I went. I could feel it happening. Imented my bad luck. I spent years putting myself in the shoes of horror movie characters.


    I imagined myself living through a zombie apocalypse, outwitting maniacal serial killers, and going up against unkible monsters yet somehow getting the better of them. In all of those idle daydreams, I always thought I would be the main character.


    How ironic that it was that very hobby¡ªwatching horror movies¡ªthat would get me stuck in a world where horror movies came to life. To twist the knife even further, I was ying a minor character archetype who couldn¡¯t even win a fistfight with a sixty-year-old scientist who was already half dead.


    Suddenly, I felt an intense pain in my shoulder. It was the same shoulder where the Astralist had struck me earlier, but the pain was new.


    I opened my eyes. I wasying on the ground. I hadnded hard on my right arm, but I was free.


    I could breathe.


    Air filled my lungs and the room came back into focus.


    To my left, Antoine was struggling with the Astralist. He had tackled him and the two were now wrestling on the floor. Based on my estimate, the Astralist would have too much Grit for Antoine to win alone.


    But he wasn¡¯t alone.


    Anna ran up beside him with a wooden club (a table leg?) and swung down hard on the Astralist.


    For the first time, the mad scientist screamed in pain. He moved his ghostly arm as fast as the eye could see andshed out at Anna. It wasn¡¯t enough. The Final Girl had the highest Grit of all of us. If he wanted to hurt her, he would need more Mettle.


    Unfortunately, he had just the trick for that. His spirit left his crumpled body on the floor and barreled full force into Anna. She flew back into the wall behind her.


    Antoine struggled to get up. His foot was still messed up, his Hustle stat diminished to as low as mine. The Hobbled status ailment lit bright on the red wallpaper under his poster.


    He threw the Astralist¡¯s body off of himself and moved to help Anna.


    I tried to warn him. ¡°Attack his body!¡± but the words came out of my mouth too quietly. My throat was damaged from being strangled.


    I tried again, ¡°Attack his body!¡± I knew the Astralist¡¯s spirit form was Invulnerable. His Comatose form, however, was defenseless now that the final battle hade.


    Kimberly ran to me as Iy on the ground, ¡°What is it?¡± she asked. She must have seen me trying to talk.


    ¡°Destroy his body,¡± I said. This time, more of my words got through. I looked up at her. She had a deep, bloody gash on her forehead. Luckily, her buffed Grit was enough to keep her from dying from such a wound.


    You¡¯re wee.


    ¡°Kill his body,¡± Kimberly yelled to Antoine, who, at the time, was attempting to get to Anna after getting support from one of the metal chairs in the center of the room.


    Antoine¡¯s eyes went from Kimberly to me to the Astralist¡¯s body he had left on the floor. He turned, grabbed another wooden table leg (it must havee from the same table as Anna¡¯s), and performed an impressive m into theatose corpse of Dr. Halle.


    As I suspected, the Astralist reacted to this by returning to his Possessed form. His spirit was still dependent on his body. Even though his Possessed form was not invulnerable and had lower Mettle, he couldn¡¯t leave his body unprotected.


    The Astralist rose from the ground. His mortal head dripped with blood from Antoine¡¯s attack, but his Ghostly face bore the look of pure rage.


    I took in a deep breath. My head ached terribly.


    Getting to my feet took effort. I was dizzy. I might have even had a concussion.


    As I looked to the now open revolving door that my friends had forced themselves through, Camden came running through holding the books he had picked up in the hidden library and a small bag that I couldn¡¯t Identify.


    "You''re alive," Camden said.


    "Mostly,¡± I said. It hurt to speak.


    "Listen," he said. "We need something called phlogistic gum."


    "What?" I said.


    "I have no idea," he said. "There''s a way to reverse the reaction that lets him control his own spirit like that. We need silver powder and phlogistic gum. We''ve got the silver powder,¡± he held up the sack he had been carrying, ¡°Have you seen anything around here that looked like it might be called phlogistic gum?"


    I shook my head. I said, "There are some vials over there." I pointed to the shelf by his workstation.


    Camden must have made good progress during the Rebirth Phase while I was Unconscious.


    I looked back to Antoine and Anna. Both of them had high Grit scores and couldn''t be bullied so easily. Where he tossed me around like a rag doll, they took more effort.


    Don¡¯t think that because they had high Grit stats that they weren¡¯t getting hurt. To the contrary, they were getting the shit beat out of them. Anna had a cut down her whole forearm; Antoine had an eye swollen shut and ss shards sticking out of one of his hands. I think they both had broken ribs.


    Grit didn¡¯t stop you from getting hurt. It stopped the damage you took from affecting the oue of the movie.


    After all, survivors in horror movies are often in terrible shape by the end of the movie. They just take their lumps and keep going. Those same injuries to me or Camden would have us rolling on the floor bleeding out.


    Camden and I ran across the room to the shelf where Doctor Halle had kept a variety of ingredients: different powders, metals, liquids, mixtures, things I didn''t recognize. I hoped that Camden, being the resident smart guy, would be able to make something out of it all.


    Luckily, all of the vials werebeled, and wouldn''t you know that Camden''s Eureka ability happened to work onbels. After sifting through the vials for a few moments, he was able to grab arge container filled with a strange brown liquid.


    "Give me a second," he said. He referenced the Astralist¡¯s Tome, "Tertio, goculum phlogisticum gouttierei ad solutio argentea addendum est."


    "What did I say about reading the Latin?"


    "I think we''re past that," he responded. He was flipping through his Latin-English Dictionary. "I''m trying to understand how tobine them.¡±


    The phlogistic gum, whatever it was, looked like what I imagine honey might look like in a universe where honey was made by cockroaches instead of bees. It smelled awful whenever he took the stopper off.


    "Enough!" Doctor Halle said from across the room. "Do you honestly believe that what you''re doing is for the good of humanity? What I''m doing is gruesome. I don''t deny it. Its morality is veiled. But sometimes, science has to be allowed to make change."


    I felt a monologueing on.


    Watch out," I said, "Don¡¯t listen to his monologue or you will get a debuff."


    Finally, I felt like I had something to contribute.


    Dr. Halle ignored me.


    "I watched my wife, my beautiful, vibrant, intelligent wife, turn into a husk of herself," he said. "Do you know what that is like? To see life be a curse? I tried to cure her, I tried to extend her lifespan, to treat her symptoms, but in the end, I recognized that what I was doing was worse than just letting her die.


    ¡°In the end, we told each other that we would see each other again, and when I built the Mirror of Stars, she understood. She waits for me. I must finish my machine. I must map the astral ne. Please, please, I beg of you, have some decency.


    ¡°You must understand. What could be too high a price tobat death, to eliminate the gap between the living and the dead? Do you not see the logic? Those who die will not stay dead. Their sacrifice is illusory, but what I can achieve here is real.


    ¡°The heart reaches out across the astral ne. It is a true sign that we were meant to find each other. Those we love, those who came before, they cane back. They can."


    As he spoke his impassioned speech, Doctor Halle''s Plot Armor increased by three. His Humanizing Monologue buffed his Moxie while attempting to debuff those who listened.


    Luckily, my Moxie was already three¡ªa tie. There was little chance of his plea working on me. Kimberly''s Moxie was even higher than mine; she would be resilient as well.


    However, Antoine, Anna, and Camden, had most of their points divided into other stats; they were vulnerable.


    "Don''t listen to him," I said. I coughed. "If you listen to what he says, you''ll lose Plot Armor."


    It was toote.


    Already, Antoine and Anna lost points in Mettle. Anna had lost one point. Antoine had lost two. It was working.


    Camden hadn¡¯t been paying attention to the speech. His stats were untouched. I imagine it¡¯s hard to read Latin and be lectured about Halle¡¯s idea of Utilitarianism at the same time.


    "Camden, do you have it ready yet?" I asked.


    "Almost there," he said. He had taken some of the gum into an eyedropper and was dropping it into a sk that contained dull, silvery powder.


    The reaction was instant.


    Thebination of the phlogistic gum and the silver powder created a writhing, growing mass within the sk.


    "What do we do now?" I asked, as the mass within the ss sk started to grow.


    "Just a second," he said. He started frantically flipping through the Latin to English Dictionary, trying to trante something from the Latin book.


    "Did you not read thest instruction beforebining the ingredients?"


    "Shut up, I was in a hurry," he continued to read.


    Antoine and Anna had returned to pummeling Doctor Halle, but his ghostly self was an Insurmountable defense. With their weakened Mettle, he made it very difficult for them to harm him.


    Fortunately, a tie goes to the runner; Camden was ready to enter the fight.


    "OK, we just need to put the fluid on him at the ce where his spirit attaches," Camden said.


    I went to grab the sk.


    "Careful, it''s having an exothermic reaction," he warned.


    It didn''t register to me what that meant the moment he said it, but I figured it out when I touched it. It was scorching hot.


    ¡°We have to throw it,¡± Camden said. ¡°The book says you need to stand way back.¡±


    ¡°uracy is determined by the Hustle stat," I said. "And Antoine''s all the way on the other side of the room, and he''s currently Hobbled."


    Antoine had the highest Hustle stat, but the Hobbled status lowered his score down to one. He was in no shape toe over here and help us throw the sk at Doctor Halle.


    "You have to do it," I said. "Your Hustle is higher, and you''ll get a Mettle bonus if you''re the one wielding the weapon."


    Technically Kimberly had the highest Hustle of the three of us, but Kimberly had no Mettle. I wasn¡¯t sure how that would affect things. With Camden¡¯s Right Tool for the Job trope, it made sense for him to deliver the final blow.


    Camden nodded. He grabbed a rag from off the table and grabbed onto the sk.


    "I hope this works," he said.


    Camden ran across the room. Anna had her table leg ced against Doctor Halle''s head, holding him down as his Ghost arm struck at Antoine.


    As Doctor Halle looked up, his ghostly eyes saw what Camden had in his hands and said, "No, please, you mustn''t. Everything I''ve worked for! If you do this to me, then they all died for no reason." He gestured back to the shelves filled with corpses.


    Anna, Camden, and Antoine must not have known what he meant because right now, that light was still off from when Kimberly had been flipping the switch, but they got the gist.


    ¡°Get back,¡± I yelled, forcing my hoarse voice to be loud.


    Antoine and Anna backed away.


    Camden ran forward and threw the sk with the concoction against the back of Doctor Halle''s neck.


    As soon as the sk hit his body, it shattered, and the mass within it went absolutely crazy. It was as if the concoction was reacting to Halle''s exposed soul itself¡ªlike throwing gasoline on a fire. It started to grow rapidly and spat and hissed.


    Dr. Halle began to scream and plead, but the solution was separating his soul from his body, severing his connection to the mortal realm. The reaction started to look almost the same as the effect of the weapon in the center of the room. I could see Doctor Halle''s soul being absorbed high into the Mirror of Stars. He clung to his body with every ounce of effort his soul possessed.


    As his soul was carried upward, stretched and distorted, I saw a ghostly arm flicker toward the machine. I couldn''t tell what had happened, but some lights flicked on and a process started on theputer mainframe, but I couldn''t tell what.


    The machine started to activate. A million dials started to whir; beeping noises, warning of something, began to go off. His soul hadpletely departed his body now, whichy dead on the ground, but before his spirit could enter the Mirror of Stars, something in the machine overloaded and an explosion started from within the mirror itself.


    The Mirror of Stars shattered. The machine burst at the seams, letting off steam and sending out sparks. The lights shuddered, with only a few of the yellow bulbs remaining on.


    The crystal shards disappeared upon contact with the ground. The bright energy they contained released in a hot sh.


    And then there was silence.


    As my friends began to celebrate, I could not.


    Because I had seen his tropes and he had one left to go.


    The needle on the plot cycle had not yet hit The End.


    Now was time for The Parting Shot.

 Chapter Seventeen: Black Magic Reanimation

    Chapter Seventeen: ck Magic Reanimation


    "Is that it?" Kimberly asked. Her voice was soft, dreamy. She was nursing her head wound. Her eyes were barely open. She leaned against a wall near theputer main frame. I noticed for the first time that the Incapacitated light on her status was flickering on and off.


    Whatever blow to the head she had received hadn¡¯t been enough to kill her thanks to her three Grit, but it was enough to do real damage. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was a concussion or simply her bleeding out. She had been struck after the Astralist had ceased taking hostages, so it had been intended as a kill shot, unlike the injuries I had received before being choked.


    "No," I said. "He''s got a trope called The Parting Shot. It means he set a trap and something bad is about to happen.¡± I surveyed the room. The machine was toast. I didn¡¯t see how it could be much of a risk.


    I looked to the dark corner near the hidden door.


    Oh no.


    ¡°A bunch of zombies are going toe from over there," I said, pointing to where the shelves of bodies had been. It was the most logical conclusion. There''s no use wasting arge supply of well-preserved corpses, not in a movie like this.


    Anna, Camden, and Antoine hadn¡¯t seen the bodies. Suddenly, they weren¡¯t celebrating any more.


    ¡°We need to make for the exit,¡± Antoine said. He was right. This was not where we wanted to be for a fight like that.


    Anna grabbed her table-leg club in one hand and gestured to Camden, ¡°Help Antoine walk.¡±


    Camden came to Antoine¡¯s side and helped him move across the room. Antoine readied his table leg in his free hand.


    I went to Kimberly and grabbed her arm, ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said.


    She nodded, epting my help.


    I looked for something to defend myself as well. I found the metal pipe that Kimberly had been attacking Dr. Halle with earlier.


    "Clever, clever, clever," a voice said.


    It was a woman''s voice. I recognized it as Judy''s, but something was strange. She was using an ent different than the one she''d been speaking with before.


    She sounded like Dr. Halle.


    "You think you can always be prepared for whates?" Judy said.


    Judy''s body was still strapped to the chair where it had been when she was killed. Now her head was up, her eyes were fogged over, but her mouth was very much still able to speak.


    "When you killed me, it wasn''t me that you wronged," Judy said. "It was them. I promised them that I would bring them back. I gave them my word that their sacrifice would not be in vain, but you destroyed everything. Now, we will never bring our loved ones back, my Anastasia... It is not me that you have to face for your sin, it is them."


    Judy''s body started to struggle against the leather straps, but she was not able to break free. In the darkness where the bodies had been kept, I heard footsteps.


    ¡°If you will not let me return their souls to their bodies,¡± Judy/Dr. Halle said, ¡°I¡¯ll put something else in instead.¡±


    They began tough.


    Out of the darkness, a dried, desated corpse walked upright toward us. It had been a woman wearing a sundress. After that, another left the darkness. A man wearing overalls. Then another. And another, until two dozen corpses in total emerged with a dull gaze.


    A final zombie emerged from the darkness. It was wearing a wedding dress. Anastasia Halle back again.


    Or at least, her body.


    Around me, I saw my friends'' Plot Armor jump up by two¡ªone point in Savvy and one point in Grit. My prediction of the zombies had triggered my Cinema Seer¡ªSurvive trope and buffed them.


    But my ability didn''t work on me.


    The zombies all had three Plot Armor, which meant they weren''t that big of a threat on their own, but their Plot Armor wouldbine when attacking together just as Antoine and Anna¡¯s had. So, if they each had one Mettle but seven attacked you, that''s seven Mettle, and none of us had a Grit score high enough to deal with that.


    It turned out that Doctor Halle''s Parting Shot ability was essentially Minion Maker, the same thing that Benny the Haunted Scarecrow could do. The distinction, I suppose, was how the ability yed into the story.


    "Run!" Anna said.


    I ran for the exit, dragging Kimberly along, but we were the closest to it, and when my friends tried to follow, the zombies cut them off. They were surprisingly fast, maybe not as fast as a normal human, but far faster than a typical zombie.


    They shambled after us in mindless obedience. These weren''t brain-hungry zombies or virus-infected zombies. These were reanimated ves.


    They had very little Mettle or Grit and pushing through them was easy, even for me. Behind me, Antoine and Anna were sending them flying with their clubs. Compared to them, these things were made of paper.


    That is, until they grouped up together.


    Luckily, the secret door only opened a small amount and while Kimberly and I were able to slip through, the zombie horde couldn¡¯t. The few that tried got tangled together in the exit, trapping themselves in the doorway. A pile-on formed, with zombie arms and legs facing every which way and none of them able to move.


    That was the good news.


    The bad news was that Camden, Anna, and Antoine were still inside.


    "What tropes do they have?" Anna screamed over the sound of moaning zombies.


    I peered at the red wallpaper in my mind and focused on the nearest zombie to me. The zombie was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts and had a pair of sunsses hanging from his shirt pocket. No doubt they had been there whenever the machine sucked his soul from his body.


    "Magical Zombie¡± (Chuck):


    Plot Armor: 3.


    <strong>ck Magic Reanimation: Zombies resurrected by magic or spiritual methods can survive without crucial parts of their body, including the head, rendering them immune to traditional methods of dispatch. To defeat them, one must either use magic that is more powerful than the spell that animates them or destroy their bodypletely. Any remaining portion of their body will continue to attack relentlessly until it is destroyed.</strong>


    Apparently, the technology that reanimated the zombies was more magic than science.


    "You can''t kill them by hitting their head," I said. At that moment, I could hear my friends struggling to kill the zombies.


    "You have to destroy the whole body or destroy the spell that created them. Do you have any more of that concoction you used on Doctor Halle?" I asked Camden. I had to raise my voice to ensure I could be heard.


    "No silver dust!" he yelled.


    As he spoke, the zombie nearest Kimberly and I managed to beak free from the knot of zombies and began raising to his feet.


    "Anyone got any ideas?" Anna asked.


    "Fire!" Camden answered. I couldn¡¯t see what was happening on the other side of the door, but they sounded like they were in a fist-fight.


    That made sense. The cool dry air of the basement had basically mummified the corpses. They would probably burn like a Yule log.


    "The absinthe!" Anna screamed.


    Now there was an idea.


    There had been several bottles of absinthe beneath the kitchen sink in the cantina. It was time to solve our problems with alcohol.


    Kimberly and I were the only ones who could make it, so I said, "I''ll go get it. You guys just hang in here. I''ll be right back."


    I grabbed Kimberly¡¯s arm and guided her to the cer stairs.


    The zombie (Chuck) pursued us still. As we got to the top of the stairs, I turned and kicked him, sending him falling back down.


    Kimberly could run in bursts, but then her Incapacitated status would re up and she would need to stop altogether.


    ¡°Go without me,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. You have to help the others.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t that bad of an idea.


    ¡°You go that way,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯ll chase me because I have lower Plot Armor.¡±


    The zombie emerged from the cer behind us and barreled straight for me. I whacked it with the thin metal pole to little effect. My Mettle had been buffed by Anna¡¯s Who¡¯s With Me trope when the zombies emerged and the fight started, but the boost had disappeared as soon as I left the basement.


    Kimberly ran off to the back of the Main Hall and I went toward the courtyard where the cantina was. As predicted, the zombie followed me.


    That didn''t matter because I was faster than Chuck the zombie.


    My legs were moving faster, my <em>mind</em> was quicker.


    He wasn''t exactly the lumbering zombie that you might see in the movies, but it wasn''t fast.


    But the strangest thing happened: I wasn¡¯t getting away.


    As I turned the corner and started to run across the main hall toward the cantina, I looked behind me, and there the zombie was.


    Magic Zombie (Chuck) Plot armor: 3.


    That made no sense.


    I was across the main hall in an instant. How had he gotten behind me so quickly? I continued on and wound my way around the castle until I got to the cantina, and when I looked back, there he was again right behind me as if he were keeping pace with me.


    I couldn''t wrap my head around how he was keeping up with me, but then I realized: he had three Plot Armor. My bet was that one of those Plot Armor was assigned to Hustle.


    I also only had one point applied to Hustle.


    <em>Of course</em>.


    By thews of Carousel, I could not outrun him. We tied in that stat. No matter how far I ran or how fast, I would always look back and see him behind me because we tied, and I had no trope to help me escape.


    I made it to the Cantina and quickly leapt to the cab underneath the sink where we had seen the absinthe. Fourrge, full bottles stood there waiting for me.


    I grabbed one of them and quickly opened it up, just in time to turn around and see Chuck the zombie upon me.


    I pushed him back and twisted off the lid. I sshed him a few times, but he quickly jumped on me. Fortunately, we were also tied in Mettle and Grit, so neither of us could really get an edge in.


    Unfortunately for him, I was smarter, and I had a very mmable alcohol in my hands. A couple more sshes, not too much.


    I ran to the other side of the kitchen, pushing him away from me so that I could get by. I got to the stove and turned the knob, hoping to hear a click, and sure enough, the stove came to life. When I turned, I saw that Chuck was back on me, so I grabbed him and shoved him down into the me. His sunsses fell from his shirt andnded on my shoe.


    As soon as he caught on fire, Chuck started behaving strangely, even for a zombie.


    It wasn''t so much that he was in pain, but that his body was literally being eaten up by the me. Whatever was left of his eyes could no longer see me, even with the magic that had reanimated him, and his limbs were not obeying him as the fire ate at his flesh and consumed his dry bones and skin.


    Chuck crumpled onto the ground.


    Those things were incredibly mmable. Before I had time to get my bearings, he was already charred ck.


    I needed to get that alcohol back to the others, but first, I bent down and picked up the pair of sunsses from my shoe. I had an idea forter. I ced them inside my pocket and turned to go grab the rest of the absinthe.


    I was back down in the basement in less than a minute.


    The crowd crush of zombies were still there, trying to free themselves but being neither strong enough, nor smart enough to seed.


    ¡°Are you guys alive?¡± I yelled. I knew Anna would be, but I still wanted to check.


    ¡°Do you have the absinthe?¡± Anna screamed.


    I didn¡¯t know if they were near the door. I tried peeking over the top of the zombie pile, but I couldn¡¯t make them out.


    ¡°Pass them over!¡± Camden screamed. I had no idea where they were.


    <em>Here goes nothing</em>.


    I lobbed one bottle over.


    Crash. I heard it shatter on the other side. I hope I at least got some on the zombies.


    ¡°Try again,¡± Anna said.


    I threw the next one. No crash.


    The third one. No crash.


    Fourth. A clink, but no crash.


    ¡°Got ¡®em?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Just a sec,¡± Camden said.


    Ten seconds passed.


    A bottle hit the wall above the secret door. It shattered and I could see fire rain down on the zombies through the opening of the door.


    I jumped back.


    The zombies lit up like tinder.

 Chapter Eighteen: Souvenirs

    Chapter Eighteen: Souvenirs


    As the bonfire of soulless corpses died down, I still heard some scuffling in the basement. The asional voice would ring out as Camden, Anna, and Antoine took out the remaining zombies.


    I took the thin pole I had been carrying and pushed the charred bodies from the door. I wasn¡¯t sure how much help I could be, but I couldn¡¯t just stand around.


    The bodies had strangely fused in the fire¡ªmaybe that¡¯s something normal bodies do, I don¡¯t know. It took some poking and prying, but I got the door clear enough that I could step inside. Silently, I hoped that the zombie ash in my shoes would disappear when The End came.


    As I stepped inside the secretboratory, the source of the sounds became clear.


    There were still four or five zombies running around. Antoine couldn¡¯t move well, but as the zombies came in his direction, he would give them a good smack and Anna would ssh some of the remaining alcohol on them.


    Of the few stragglers that remained, one of them was Anastasia Halle, dragging her wedding dress back and forth across the floor chasing after whoever was running nearby. Her legs had been broken at some point in time, so she wasn¡¯t much of a threat. She crawled through the ash and dirt on the floor.


    ¡°Anastasia, my love,e to me,¡± Dr. Halle said through Judy¡¯s mouth.


    Anastasia, of course, ignored his pleas. She wasn¡¯t really there. Halle had to have known that, he was the one who reanimated her corpse. Still, he persisted.


    ¡°My love reaches to you across the universe,¡± he said, ¡°Come to me.¡±


    As soon as I had made it ten steps into the basement, all of the remaining zombies turned, stopped bothering my friends, and instead pursued me.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Anna said, as she brought her table-leg club down on one of the zombies that had turned away from her. She pushed it to the ground and drowned it in a couple of glugs of absinthe.


    Camden ran up to it holding a lit Bunsen burner. He got the me near the absinthe fumes and the zombie lit up.


    ¡°Works even better than I expected,¡± he said.


    He was right. These zombies burned better than they should, even after having been dried out.


    ¡°It¡¯s your Savvy,¡± I said. ¡°Catching them on fire was your n so it works really well.¡±


    Camden¡¯s Savvy was currently at nine¡ªhis original five points, plus three from his Right Tool For The Job trope activating when he used the silver solution, and an additional point from my Cinema Seer¡ªSurvive trope having buffed him when I predicted the rise of the zombies.


    When he came up with the n to burn the zombies, that n worked even better than it should have because it was made by someone with a huge Savvy advantage.


    I mean, after all, in a horror movie, even ridiculous ns work out if they are made by the main characters.


    ¡°This is thest one,¡± Anna said as she poured the remaining absinthe on Anastasia Halle¡¯s crawling body.


    ¡°Not thest one,¡± a voice said from the door. It was Kimberly. She hade back down. Her wound had stopped bleeding, but she was pale and sickly. Her Incapacitated status still blinked on and off sporadically.


    ¡°What?¡± Anna asked. ¡°Oh right.¡±


    Judy/Dr. Halle still sat in the metal chair, bound and unable to move.


    ¡°Release me,¡± he said. ¡°Anastasia, darling¡­¡±


    ¡°What do we do about him?¡± Anna asked.


    Camden approached Anastasia Halle and lit her up with the Bunsen burner. ¡°Leave him,¡± he said. ¡°We can¡¯t burn him.¡±


    Dr. Halle screamed in agony at the sight of his wife¡¯s corpse igniting.


    Camden was right. As we all stared at the pitiful form of Judy possessed by Dr. Halle¡¯s spirit, we had the same realization that Camden had.


    ¡°Won¡¯t burn,¡± he said. ¡°Won¡¯t die.¡±


    Judy¡¯s body was fresh¡ªforck of a better term. It wasn¡¯t dried out and mummified like the others. It would not burn even if there was more absinthe. Even with Camden¡¯s elevated Savvy, a n has to be usible and this wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°If the machine was still working, we could probably use it on him,¡± I said, ¡°But¡­.¡±


    The machine waspletely out ofmission. There were parts of it lying on the floor all over theb. There would be no Deus Ex-Terminator for Dr. Halle.


    ¡°So we go?¡± Anna asked.


    We all looked at each other but no one said anything. We all turned to leave.


    This time, I helped Antoine to walk. Lord knows, he had put his injured foot through enough already today. Anna helped to guide Kimberly.


    As we walked from the castle, I could still hear Dr. Halle¡¯s mournful cries in the basement. No one spoke as we each watched the needle on the plot cycle tick forward.


    When we stepped out onto the cloudy courtyard, it happened.


    The End


    Finally.


    My head and shoulder instantly ceased aching. A look at Kimberly showed that she was back to being runway ready. Antoine¡¯s foot was healed. He even had his shoe back.


    I reached my hand into my pocket. Sess. The sunsses I had snatched from the Hawaiian shirt-d zombie, Chuck, were still there.


    <em>Try seeing my eyes next time</em>.


    If a monster couldn¡¯t see where I was looking, how could it know that <em>I</em> had seen <em>it</em>? These sunsses breathed new life into the Oblivious Bystander trope strategy.


    I started tough. Everyone joined me.


    We had done it. We had squared off against a mad scientist with ghost powers ande out on top. Not to mention, we killed a <em>lot </em>of zombies.


    "Morse code in the lights?" Camden eximed. "That was so clutch!"


    "It was Riley''s idea," Kimberly said. ¡°He noticed that the lights flickered whenever a new one was turned on.¡±


    Aww, shucks.


    "I couldn''t have done it without you," I said. "You were the one who actually knew how to do Morse code."


    "Not really," Kimberly said. "I''ve already forgotten¡ª"


    "Step right up!" a voice said from the center of the courtyard. "You''ve won a ticket!"


    Of course, Ss the Showman was there. He moved his mechanical limbs and opened and closed his mechanical mouth. His lights shed into the dark, overcast sky.


    We looked to each other.


    "Let''s do it," Anna said.


    We each took turns pressing the red button, but when we did, something strange happened. You see, up until that point, all we had gotten from Ss the Showman were archetype tickets and tropes, but this time, when we pressed the button, we got some surprises.


    As we lined up one after another, we were each given two normal-sized tickets and two tickets that were much smaller, more like raffle tickets.


    We also got money. Around twenty bucks each in coins. They looked like the littlememorative coins you might get at Disnend except with scary creatures on them. We hadn¡¯t needed money up until then, but we knew there were ces you could spend it as we heard people at the lodge talk about buying things all the time.


    After I got over the excitement of getting paid, I examined the small tickets because I had never seen those before.


    "im this ticket for a boost in one stat: Moxie, Hustle, Mettle, Savvy, or Grit. Just say it aloud and give it a rip," Ss said, answering the question we all had.


    That exined a lot. Up until that point, we didn''t actually know how to increase our stats. We just knew that our allies back at Dyer''s Lodge had way more Plot Armor than we did.


    "Hey, we leveled up!" I said, ¡°Twice!¡±


    "Oh, thank God," Camden said.


    We took turns discussing what we would like to improve. For the most part, everybody ended up getting the stats that they felt they were missing during the Astralist storyline.


    I wanted to improve Moxie and Hustle. The Oblivious Bystander trope used the Moxie stat, and a little extra Hustle would put me in a better position to pull it off as well. At the end of the day, if the strategy failed, I needed to be able to run back to the group and report what I had learned.


    I grabbed the two smallest tickets. "Moxie," I said, and I ripped one. Just like that, my Moxie stat went up by one and my total Plot Armor jumped up to twelve.


    "Hustle," I said. I ripped the second ticket. Sess! I now had thirteen Plot Armor, and with a little extra Hustle, I might actually be able to maneuver.


    ¡°Still want to try the Oblivious thing?¡± Camden asked. He must have put together what my stat choices meant.


    I nodded my head. I had been worried about how the others would react after the strategy failed the first time.


    There was a silence in the group for a moment. I thought there was about to be an argument. To them, I just disappeared without a word. They might not have seen the potential.


    Or maybe they did.


    ¡°Better get it working,¡± Anna said. She gave me a reassuring smile. ¡°If they can¡¯t kill you, they can¡¯t kill the rest of us.¡±


    I nodded my head again.


    After a little discussion, we all used our stat tickets. Here are the changes to everyone¡¯s stats:


    yer Stats


    Riley


    Antoine


    Anna


    Kimberly


    Camden Archetype


    Film Buff


    Athlete


    Final Girl


    Eye Candy


    Schr


    Plot Armor


    13


    14


    16


    12


    13


    Mettle


    1


    4


    3 + 1


    0 + 1


    1 + 1


    Moxie


    3 + 1


    1


    2 + 1


    4


    2


    Hustle


    1 + 1


    3 + 1


    2


    3


    2


    Savvy


    5


    0 + 1


    2


    1


    5 + 1


    Grit


    1


    4


    5


    2 + 1


    1


    Next, we each reviewed our new trope cards. We had each received one new trope except for Kimberly who got two. I''ve listed those below.


    Anna received a green ticket:


    Let¡¯s Not Fight


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped Any yer


    Stat Used: Moxie+


    When two yers get too hot-headed and forget to y as a team, it takes someone else to remind them what''s at stake and to keep them on track. When this ticket is equipped and a yer breaks up an argument or fight, all those involved receive a boost to their Savvy.


    The sess of this trope relies on the Moxie not only of the yer using it, but of all those involved in the fight. If the fight isn''t believable, this trope will fail.


    Antoine received a white ticket:


    Just Walk It Off


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to Any yer


    Stat Used: Grit


    In the movies, you''ll see a character get terribly injured and not be able to stand or walk, but then a few scenester, it''s like they never even received that injury, or the severity of that injury has somehow lessened considerably.


    When this ticket is equipped, a yer can heal the Hobbled status simply by continuing to walk. The higher the yer''s Grit, the fewer steps are needed.


    Camden received a green ticket:


    Zippos Are Cheap


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to Any yer


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Why is it that when a character in a movie needs to start a fire, they always choose to throw a lit Zippo lighter in order to do it? Why can''t they light the fire and just walk away instead of wasting a perfectly good lighter?


    When this ticket is equipped, the yer will receive arge bonus in Savvy for any n that involves lighting a fire by throwing or otherwise sacrificing a lit Zippo lighter.


    Kimberly received two blue tickets:


    Get a Room!


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to the Eye Candy


    Stat Used: Moxie


    The Party is the main exploration phase of a story, and it is often during this phase that characters try to do some "exploring" with a love interest, only to be interrupted by the discovery of some important plot element.


    With this ticket equipped, a yer has a heightened chance of finding important plot information during The Party phase if they explore the setting with a love interest.


    A Hopeless Plea


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to Any yer


    Stat Used: Moxie


    It makes your heart hurt to see a character beg for mercy when we know their captor will never relent. It must be dreadful to continuously plead for release, only to have your jailer ignore your pleas.


    With this ticket equipped, a yer who begs for release must be verbally denied by their captor. If the captor does not verbally deny mercy, persuasion may still be possible.


    I got a green ticket:


    Escape Artist


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to Any yer


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The first step of a great escape is a solid escape n. The yer who equips this tactic will be rewarded for their clever escape strategies.


    If the n is usible based on the yer''s Savvy, they will receive a boost in Hustle to help execute it. This tactic can only be activated while captured or during a chase sequence.


    No doubt, this was an award for escaping the metal chair in the basement. That could be useful.


    We had each received an additional ticket that, by its size, looked like tropes, but we had not seen anything like them before.


    I received:


    Magically Reanimated Zombie


    Chuck


    Chuck Treglio was coasting through life on his third gap year between high school and college, just trying to ''chill'' and ''take it easy.'' However, his noble pursuits were cut short when he encountered the Astralist at Halle Castle.


    Instead of having a yer trope or even an archetype, it simply had the image, name, and description of the zombie I had killed. I got Chuck,plete with an image of the Hawaiian shirt-wearing zombie I had burned to a crisp earlier.


    Anna and Antoine each got one zombie. I suppose you only get one of each type of creature you kill because they killed way more than that.


    Anna got Anastasia Halle:


    Magically Reanimated Zombie


    Anastasia


    Anastasia Halle was a brilliant mind and a beautiful woman, with a heart full of kindness andpassion. Her life was cut short by an incurable illness, leaving her husband, Doctor Simon Halle, devastated. Determined to save his beloved wife at any cost, he delved into the dark arts of astral science, seeking a way to restore her to life.


    Antoine¡¯s ticket was exactly like mine except with a guy named Wilbur wearing a sweater vest:


    Magically Reanimated Zombie


    Wilbur


    Wilbur Jenkins was Doctor Simon Halle''s ountant, responsible for managing the books of the Halle estate and Halle¡¯s research facility. He was a congenial and hardworking man, dedicated to his job and his family. However, his life was tragically cut short when Halle began experimenting with astral science and made the family ountant his first experiment.


    Camden, however, received something far more interesting:


    The Astralist


    Dr. Simon Halle


    Doctor Simon Halle sought a way to bring back his beloved wife, Anastasia, even to the point of killing dozens of innocents. Using astral science, he modified his body to allow him to manipte his own soul at the cost of his sanity. Now, hidden in the darkest dungeon of his family¡¯s former castle, he awaits unsuspecting victims to help him realize his ghastly vision.


    ¡°What are these?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± I said. No one at dyers lodge had told us about these. ¡°Collectibles?¡±


    ¡°We''ll have to ask,¡± she said.


    With that, we left Halle Castle behind.

 Chapter Nineteen: An Outsider

    Chapter Neen: An Outsider


    The trek back to Dyer¡¯s Lodge presented a new challenge. We didn''t have Todd to guide us this time, but we had the next best thing: a cocktail napkin with scribbles on it.


    Before we left for Halle Castle, Todd had opened up a gigantic binder filled with information yers had gathered over the years. Adaline, our leader, called it the Carousel As. Everyone else called it the Survivor''s Bible. Todd had thumbed through it and scribbled down some instructions on the napkin that could guide us back.


    The instructions were extremely helpful. They included such gems as "Don''t talk to thedy with the dog," "Don''t take the mirror," "Don''t help the guy change his tire," and, my favorite, "Avoid the fog on Calumet Ave." Each of these, I assume, was designed to prevent us from unwittingly entering into a difficult storyline.


    As we walked back, we found thedy walking a very excited Great Pyrenees who kept pulling on its leash and lunging at passerby. "He never does this, I swear," the woman would say to everyone he lunged at.


    As instructed, we ignored her, much to the pup¡¯s dismay.


    On Pyre Street, a disheveled young woman left her Victorian-style house crying, bleeding from her wrists and nose. She didn''t stay outside long but was out just long enough to hurl arge, silver mirror into an open trashcan near the street. Itnded just perfectly to be in view of those on the sidewalk.


    "That''s a really pretty mirror," Kimberly said softly as we passed, entranced by the jewels affixed to its frame. She stopped to admire it, reaching a finger out to touch it.


    Anna took her by the shoulders. "Let''s get out of here, girl. We have mirrors at the Lodge."


    As we walked off, Kimberly shook her head. "What just happened?"


    Unfortunately, we didn''t see a guy who needed help with his tire, but by the time we got to Lake Line Road, where the omen was supposed to show, we weren''t really seeing anyone at all. The route did pass Calumet Ave, but it was so far away I didn''t get to see the fog. How disappointing.


    By the time we saw another building or person after that, we had made it to theke, to Camp Dyer. As we arrived at the sign for the camp, we saw arge moving truck backed up to the entrance as far as it could go. We had to squeeze past it just to get through the fence.


    "This is new," Camden said.


    The moving truck was one of those you can rent from a national chain, except it was a fictional, Carousel version called "GET OUT OF TOWN MOVERS." The driver was gone, and there was nothing in the back.


    "Maybe there are some new yers?" Antoine offered.


    That didn''t make sense. It was usually years between new arrivals, ording to Antoine''s brother Chris.


    "They must have had a lot of luggage," I said.


    As we circled the truck to get by, Anna said, "Look at the back."


    I followed her eyes to the pull-down door on the back; it had a bloody handprint on it. This couldn¡¯t be good. For a moment, we all looked at each other, unsure of what to do. The plot cycle didn¡¯t show us that an omen was nearby. What else could it have been if not that?


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Anna said.


    As we set out on the path, everything appeared normal. The birds were chirping, and the creepy happy campers were flitting about.


    ¡°Will you help me find Cindy?¡± a little girl asked me as we walked the trail to Dyer¡¯s Lodge. ¡°I think she went over by the abandoned cabin.¡±


    The camper pointed over to the dark and boarded-up cabin far away from all of the others around the bend of theke. ¡°Girls Cabin 14¡± was off-limits. Not just for campers, but for yers too. Whatever storyline existed at Camp Dyer, that cabin was involved.


    ¡°Go away,¡± I said. The little girl ran off teary-eyed, as my friendsughed behind me.


    ¡°Why is it always me they talk to?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Aww,¡± Kimberly said, ¡°You¡¯re their favorite camp counselor.¡±


    Finally, we made it back to Dyer¡¯s Lodge.


    As we arrived, we figured out what the moving truck had been for. Four men carried arge pool table up the stairs to the lodge¡¯s entrance. Both doors had been propped open to get the table in.


    One of the men was Bobby, the married guy who had arrived in Carousel at the same time we had. He was looking pale and had blood on his face.


    Lots of yers had gathered around to watch the men deliver the table. Most had bemused smiles on their faces. Many sported the red stic cups that you might see at any gathering of free adults. In Carousel, alcohol was in great supply, after all.


    A few yers pped as they left their room to see what themotion was about and saw the pool table.


    Someone in the crowd, I don¡¯t know who, asked, ¡°Is that from Solomon¡¯s Tavern?¡±


    One of the guys carrying the table, a man with slicked hair and a huge white smile, said, ¡°Sure is. The bad news is we only have three good pool cues. We had to use the others to kill the vamps.¡±


    This elicited some chuckles.


    I didn¡¯t know this guy. I had seen him around but never attempted to look at his poster on the red wallpaper. As heughed and joked and tried to maneuver the table through the door, I realized that I couldn¡¯t see his poster at all. No poster, name, stats, nothing.


    I hadn¡¯t seen anyone like this.


    ¡°Can you guys see that guy¡¯s name?¡± I asked my friends.


    They all looked but had no sess.


    ¡°Travis Haley!¡± a voice rang out from within the Lodge. It was Adaline. She marched through the still-open doors and stopped in front of the men carrying the table. ¡°What the hell are you doing with that?¡±


    The four men set the table down on the deck, unable to move forward.


    ¡°Addie!¡± the man, Travis, said. He smiled his white smile and put on the charm. ¡°Just thought the ce needed some billiards is all. There¡¯s room. You want the first game?¡±


    Adaline ignored him. ¡°Where did you get that?¡±


    ¡°Solomon¡¯s Tavern. No worries. They won¡¯t miss it,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ve got it under control.¡±


    Adaline was not having it. She may have been short, but for most people, there was no question who had seniority. Travis wasn¡¯t most people.


    ¡°Did you finish the storyline?¡± she asked.


    Oh shit.


    I hadn¡¯t realized that the four men who had been carrying the table were, indeed, roughed up badly. Bobby, the Wallflower, was in worse shape than the rest. He leaned against the table for support. I couldn¡¯t tell where he was bleeding from, but he was bleeding. If they had finished the storyline they got the pool table from, all of that would have been healed.


    ¡°We couldn¡¯t do that yet,¡± Travis said, ¡°But we¡¯ve got it figured out. You see, if we kill the vampire queen before we get the table, the tavern explodes. Can¡¯t get the table if that happens. So put n was, rush in, get the table, deliver it, go back, and then kill the queen. See, we¡¯ve thought of everything. We¡¯re going backter tonight and killing her. Won¡¯t be a problem.¡±


    Adaline¡¯s gaze would have killed a lesser man. ¡°And what part of the n was it to bring back an infected yer?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t seen it before. Bobby¡¯s status revealed that he was Infected. He wasn¡¯t just sickly; he was bing a vampire as we sat there watching. I had never seen that status light up before. I hadn¡¯t thought to look.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t part of the n,¡± Travis said. ¡°It was more of a loose improvisation, if you will.¡± He was apparently hoping to get a chuckle from the crowd but failing.


    ¡°Go kill the queen,¡± Adaline said, ¡°And take him with you!¡±


    Travis turned to his party-mates. ¡°Unless you want us to set the table up first.¡±


    ¡°Now!¡± Adaline said. That was that. She went back inside.


    Travis waved the other three men back. ¡°I guess we¡¯re going to have to go kill the queen. Who knows, she might wake from her hundred-year sleep sometime in the next hour.¡±


    ¡°Who was that guy?¡± I asked Toddter after we had managed to get inside the Lodge.


    ¡°Travis Haley. His brother Vernon was the big guy helping him carry the table. Travis¡¯ archetype is Outsider.¡± Todd and Valerie were busy working up a route for my friends and I to go on. They had a special storyline in mind for us. One that would help us get more ustomed to town.


    ¡°Outsiders get a trope called ''Guarded Personality'' that blocks insight abilities. That includes seeing them on the red wallpaper. Does your Film Buff trope use Savvy?¡± Valerie asked.


    ¡°Trope Master?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, savvy.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Well, there you go. Guarded Personality is weird. It uses Grit. To see his information, you need an insight stat ¡ª Savvy or Moxie ¡ª that is higher than his Grit.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him,¡± Todd said. ¡°He gets restless sometimes, but hey, we all do." He lifted a sheet of paper from the table he had been working on. ¡°Here you all go. Directions to the University. Have fun. Explore campus and downtown between scenes if you want. Remember, though, if you wander into a monster¡¯s den, it will still kill you even if you are engaged in a different storyline.¡±


    We had just learned that you couldn¡¯t trigger a storyline if you were already in one. This, we were told, gave a yer limited means to travel about the town. Whatever this story we were about to do was, it had several scenes that were hours apart, giving us time to explore.


    After asking around, no one did know what the enemy cards were for exactly. From what I understood, they mostly just traded them and used them for clout.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to the outlet store,¡± Kimberly informed me as she went off to bed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t judge her. It¡¯s therapeutic,¡± Anna said.


    Iughed. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Did you pledge a fraternity freshman year?¡± she asked.


    ¡°No,¡± I answered. She knew that. I didn¡¯t know why she was asking at first.


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s a first time for everything,¡± she said. She lifted the paper Todd had written for us. At the top, it said, ¡°Delta Epsilon Delta.¡±

 Chapter Twenty: Delta Epsilon Delta

    Chapter Twenty: Delta Epsilon Delta


    If there is one thing that Carousel has plenty of, it''s college students.


    As we followed the final instructions Todd and Valerie had given us to lead us safely to Delta Epsilon Delta, we arrived on Traditions Blvd., the street that held most of the Greek life houses at the University of Carousel.


    We got there just as the sun was going down which is funny because it was only a quarter after three in the afternoon. It must have always been sundown on that street. Throngs of NPC students joined us as we walked down the street. They were all divided into groups, each with a unique destination in some storyline or another.


    The atmosphere was electric as the students spoke excitedly of tomorrow night¡¯s game (in fact, several told Antoine ¡°Good Luck¡±). Of course, they were also excited about whatever parties, mixers, and get-togethers they were going to that night.


    Delta Epsilon Delta was separated from the road by a huge row of hedges. It was set a ways back from the road. The driveway to the house was cobblestone and the house wasrge, white, and adorned with columns in the Greek Life aesthetic you might see at any college in the US.


    This one only had one thing that set it apart.


    A man was hanging from the balcony.


    Not a real man, as far as I could tell. It was a mascot costume of some sort. The costume consisted of a t-brim cowboy hat, a pair of leather chaps, and a poncho. The letters SMU were emzoned on the front of the poncho and on the hat. The mascot¡¯s face was stuck in an ambiguous stare that might have been a cartoonish re or grimace, I couldn''t tell because his entire lower face was covered in a bandana. His outfit was charcoal ck with ents of midnight blue. He sported arge, foam machete in his belt.


    A noose was around its neck--a rival team¡¯s mascot hung in effigy.


    As we stared at it, the needle on the plot cycle jumped to Omen.


    ¡°We ready?¡± Anna asked.


    We all looked at each other and nodded.


    Loud music red from inside the house. As we reached the front steps and Antoine knocked on the door, the needle on the plot cycle moved from Omen to Choice to Party.


    We had made our choice.


    ¡°Now <em>this</em> is a Party,¡± Kimberly said as the door opened and revealed a house full of lively drunken college students.


    She was right. In this storyline, the Party Phase actually was a party.


    It made sense that Kimberly was happy. ¡°We¡± had decided that Kimberly would not bring her Looks Don¡¯t Last ticket on this storyline. ¡°We¡± were relying on my Oblivious Bystander strategy, so why would we need it? Without her trope, the bad guys would target me first instead of her. Really it was Anna¡¯s decision, and no one argued.


    It felt like all of the pressure was on me now.


    It was time to explore.


    ¡°Anna!¡± the guy who answered the door said as he caught sight of her. It was an NPC named Evan. He was a handsome trust fund kid from what I could tell. Probably intelligent and funny too. I disliked him immediately.


    ¡°Evan!¡± she said back not missing a beat.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were going to show,¡± Evan said, ¡°Come on in.¡±


    He looked at the rest of us and gave us a quick smile. ¡°Hey Antoine, Kimberly, Camden.¡±


    He skipped me. It seemed strange at the time.


    As the night wore on, more and more NPCs would pop out of the woodwork and greet one of my friends.


    Antoine was greeted by some football yers. ¡°You ready to hand SMU their asses tomorrow night!?¡±


    They peeled him away from us to talk about the game.


    Kimberly was shepherded over to a gaggle of pretty sorority girls from Epsilon Epsilon Kappa.


    ¡°Early admission, U of C School of Medicine!¡± some guy yelled at Camden with a hug and chest bump.


    These were what Antoine¡¯s brother Chris called ¡°Scripted Interactions,¡± or ¡°Roles.¡±


    In some storylines, every yer was assigned a role based on their archetype. Anna was the likable main character that everyone seemed to know (and some guy named Evan had a crush on). Kimberly was a sorority girl at Delta Epsilon Delta¡¯s sister house. Antoine was an athlete ying in the big game. Camden was some overachiever.


    I¡­ was sitting on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn in myp watching the whole thing go down.


    An hour into the party, I had not had a single scripted interaction. Everyone else wasughing and talking about school. They were singing and dancing along to a song that sounded like Nickelback from a parallel dimension.


    A bunch of the guys had spikey hair with frosted tips and cargo pants. The girls wore skinny jeans and straight, bottle-blonde hair.


    The guys were dressed like Justin Timbeke, and the girls were dressed like Paris Hilton.


    It was the early 2000s in this storyline, apparently.


    That exined the huge, outdated tv in the living room.


    I took it upon myself to explore the house. Odds were, we would be trying to fight a killer there soon. I moved from room to room checking drawers and closets. All I found was a bunch of staring strangers. Nothing useful.


    I didn¡¯t know what determined your luck in finding important information during the Party phase. Whatever it was, I didn¡¯t have much of it. My theory was that total plot armor was the determining factor because I had almost none of that.


    As I moved through the kitchen, I saw that the backyard pool was surrounded by chairs. They were mostly empty. I decided to go outside and take a seat while I waited for one of the NPCs toe and tell me what my role was.


    Just as I sat down, I heard a squeal of tires out front and a bunch of the NPCs went that way so I followed.


    An old orange farm truck had just pulled into the driveway. From the look of it, it narrowly avoided missing the front porch of the building.


    The driver opened the door and stepped out.


    ¡°Torsos!¡± he screamed.


    Everyone else screamed ¡°Torsos,¡± back.


    It was a strange interaction.


    ¡°Ruck, you idiot, you¡¯re drunk as hell,¡± Evan said. He and Anna hade outside after themotion. ¡°What are you doing driving?¡±


    Evan appeared to know this Ruck character. Anna, Evan, Camden, and the guy who chest-bumped him gathered around Ruck and started talking to him. The passenger in Ruck¡¯s truck came around too. His name was Nathan. I returned to my seat in the back. I can¡¯t exin it. It would have felt like I was spying to stay there with them. That wasn¡¯t my ¡°role.¡±


    Ruck was an interesting guy, if only because he was the only NPC with ast name¡ªJohnson. He was a heavyset fellow with a backward cap and a patch of whiskers on his chin.


    Every once in a while, Ruck would scream, ¡°Torsos!¡± and the whole house of people would respond, ¡°Torsos!¡± back at him.


    My luck eventually turned around. Anna, Ruck, Camden, and the rest eventually made it back around the pool area where I was. I think Anna might have had something to do with that.


    Just as Ruck was about toy back in a deck chair a few seats away from me, some chick in a tube top named Amber showed up and shoved him back into the seat.


    ¡°You asshole!¡± she screamed.


    Rucknded hard. ¡°Hey, what did I do?¡±


    ¡°You told Robin Roeper that I slept with you on winter break,¡± she yelled. ¡°Do you know how embarrassing that is?¡±


    Ruck was drunk as a skunk but was not too far gone to respond. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell her you slept with me,¡± he said in his best peacekeeper tone, ¡°I told her you slept with every guy at the resort. She must have misunderstood.¡±


    Amber screamed an animalistic scream and yelled at him for five more minutes before leaving in a huff. She had caused quite a scene.


    ¡°What was her name again?¡± Ruck asked as she left.


    Anna scolded him in a disapproving tone. She snuck a look up at me, one of those, ¡°Are you getting all this?¡±, looks.


    She had sensed, as I had, that this storyline was going to have something to do with everything we were seeing right now. Anna was the main character of this story. If the story brought her here, it was probably important.


    The stereo yed four or five knock-off Backstreet Boys songs after that before something else happened.


    Three enraged men arrived. One, named Kevin, was fuming. His ire was directed at none other than Ruck.


    ¡°You son of a bitch!¡± Kevin said. His ck hair hung in his face and an SMU college t-shirt told me what he was mad about.


    ¡°Did I tell people you slept with me too?¡± Ruck asked.


    ¡°What? Our mascot,¡± Kevin said. ¡°You¡¯re the one who stole it.¡±


    ¡°You got no proof of that,¡± Ruck said with a grin.


    ¡°It¡¯s hanging from your balcony you idiot,¡± Kevin said. ¡°And I know you were the one who dumped that huge pile of cow shit on our field before our gamest week. I saw some in the back of that crap truck you drive.¡±


    ¡°The pile of shit on your fieldst week was your offensive line,¡± Ruck said. ¡°Now get the hell out of here.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re talking to your dean,¡± Kevin said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that. I can prove it wasn¡¯t me.¡±


    ¡°And how¡¯s that?¡± Kevin asked, incredulous.


    ¡°Look,¡± Ruck said, putting his hand into his back pocket. He took his hand out of his pocket and smacked Kevin in the face, sending him reeling back into the pool.


    Kevin¡¯s meathead friends tried to throttle Ruck for that, but the ruckus had attracted a crowd including Antoine and his NPC teammates.


    Kevin¡¯s friends looked tough, but Antoine and the other football yers easily separated them from Ruck.


    Kevin quickly pulled himself from the pool and gestured for hisckeys to leave with him, but as he left, he gave Ruck the middle finger and cursed up a storm.


    As Ruckid back on the lounging chair, he looked over to me and said, ¡°I¡¯m going to pay for that, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    That was the first line an NPC had spoken to me all night.


    What¡¯s more, it was true. I knew then that whatever involvement Ruck had in this storyline, he wasn¡¯t going to like it.


    ¡°Torsos!¡± Ruck cried. Again, everyone yelled, ¡°Torsos,¡± back.


    The night moved on after that. Evan asked Anna to dance. She was very ttered and took up his offer.


    Camden had settled into a chair near me and we struck up a conversation about what we had seen so far.


    Antoine and Kimberly disappeared for a bit. I didn¡¯t see them again until they opened the door to the back balcony that overlooked the pool. Everyone outside looked up and screamed different things to the effect of, ¡°Don¡¯t go out there, the balcony is broken.¡±


    Sure enough. The support beams looked rotten even from the ground.


    A discussion broke out about what everyone was doing after college.


    ¡°I¡¯d really like to go to Harvard,¡± Anna said. ¡°They have a program there for my field of study and I know some of the faculty, actually.¡±


    ¡°What kind of school is Harvard?¡± Evan asked.


    That might have been the first thing Evan said all night that caught her off-guard. They must not have had the Ivy Leagues here in Carousel.


    ¡°It¡¯s a private school,¡± she answered.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Evan responded.


    Evan was staying on at U of C for his MBA. The guy that had been Ruck¡¯s passenger in his truck, Nathan, said that he wanted to be a Doctor. He was premed. He and Anna talked about how much work that line of study would take. The guy must have been passionate because he got teary-eyed as he talked. That might have been the beer though.


    I finally figured out what the whole, ¡°Torsos!¡± thing was about. The Torsos were the school¡¯s mascot. The University of Carousel Fighting Torsos.


    How artful.


    I knew this because Ruck had a theory that the Torso was the toughest college mascot.


    ¡°What about the tigers?¡± Evan asked.


    ¡°No. Torso wins. Tigers instinctually go for the throat. The torso has no throat. Tiger gets confused and, in its confusion, the Torso strikes.¡±


    ¡°Alright, buddy,¡± Evan said. ¡°You¡¯ve had enough to drink.¡±


    That exined why some of the students wore shirts with cartoon mutted torsos on them.


    As the night began wrapping up, some guy wearing a University of Carousel t-shirt ran back into the back yard hollering about how someone was ¡°Tearing up the field! Come quick.¡±


    It was like everyone in the house was scripted to leave as soon as possible at that very moment. They all got up and followed the guy back toward the field, wherever it was. The house was abandoned in the blink of an eye.


    Everyone was gone. Even my friends. I ran to follow behind, but I noticed that one person was still in the backyard: Ruck. He had fallen asleep in the lounging chair.


    The needle on the plot cycle neared First Blood.


    The only question was, did I stay at the frat house, or did I follow the crowd?

 Chapter Twenty-One: Ranger Danger

    Chapter Twenty-One: Ranger Danger


    I was nearly to the street when I stopped to gather myself and make a decision. I knew that I had to leave the backyard. Ruck was about to get killed; of that I was certain. We had been shown suspects, but none of them stood out to me.


    Plot Armor: 3. No Enemy tropes. As far as I knew, I couldn¡¯t see the tropes of NPCs, though I suspected they had some.


    The crowd was quickly moving on down the street. As I watched them go, a realization dawned on me: I didn¡¯t recognize any of them.


    Not only were my friends nowhere to be found, but every other person I had seen at the party had somehow vanished into the crowd. It made absolutely no sense. I had just seen these people leave the Delta Epsilon Delta house, but I couldn¡¯t pick out one person I recognized.


    A chill went down my spine as I realized that a trope had appeared on the red wallpaper in my mind. I couldn¡¯t see the bad guy, but I could see one of their tropes. It was like how I knew the Astralist was spying on us and that Benny the Scarecrow could change his corn maze at will.


    I read the trope:


    <strong>Everyone Is A Suspect</strong>: No characters or yers will have an alibi for the murders urring before the finale.


    It took me a moment to understand why I was seeing that, but then I figured it out. Every single named character had gotten lost in the crowd, including my friends. None of us would be able to vouch for the location of any of the suspects.


    Of course.


    This was a Whodunnit. We had all been split up so that none of us could act as an alibi for anyone. It made the mystery more difficult. On the bright side, that meant Anna and Evan had been separated too.


    I looked back at the house. The SMU mascot costume was no longer hanging from a noose. Had Kevin and the SMU guys retrieved it? It had seemed like they left too quickly for that.


    If I went to the field with everyone else, I probably wouldn¡¯t be able to meet up with my friends until after the murder anyway. Might as well stick around and put Oblivious Bystander to work. I returned to the house and entered through the front door. Ruck was out back, so I figured the killer would be too.


    I retrieved the sunsses I had taken from the Astralist storyline. With them on, my eyes were mostly covered. I could still see pretty much everything, but covering my eyes gave me the usible deniability needed to make the Oblivious Bystander strategy work.


    Soon, I was trying my best to stay casual while walking through the house. I had no defense if the killer just stepped out in front of me, but truthfully, I didn¡¯t think that was going to happen. When I had used this trope at Halle Castle, the Astralist had kind of¡­ gone along with it. His Ghost form had simply followed behind me, only attempting to reveal himself when he could do so without interrupting me. The whole point of the trope would go down the drain if the bad guys could just tap me on the shoulder, after all. I wasn¡¯t sure that would always be the case. It was time to find out.


    The kitchen had a great view of the backyard so that was where I went.


    As soon as I walked into the small dte area, I looked through the window on the back door. There Ruck wasying out on the lounging chair just as he had been when I left.


    Someone was standing over him while wearing the SMU mascot¡¯s costume. In a gloved hand, they were brandishing arge kitchen knife.


    When the costume had been hanging on the roof, it had not urred to me how simr the outfit was to well-known sher getups. The rubber mask, the soulless, hollow eyes. It reminded me of The Shape¡¯s mask in the Halloween franchise. If Michael Meyers had worn a bandana and t-brimmed cowby hat, that is.


    I quickly jumped into the kitchen to try to be out of the line of sight. I crouched down behind the counter and my mind went nk.


    What was my n again?


    Oh yeah. I was going to act like the really scary thing wasn¡¯t happening.


    But <em>how</em>?


    I looked around the kitchen and saw that cereal boxes were lined up on top of the refrigerator. I quickly grabbed one.


    I started pretending to read the back of it¡­ Was that enough though?


    <em>I know, I¡¯ll pour a bowl,</em> I thought.


    This was so ridiculous. A killer was looming over an overweight frat guy twenty feet from me and I was searching through the cabs for a bowl and spoon so that I could eat some healthy delicious <em>Icy kes</em>.


    Next, I needed to put the cereal in the bowl. Did I need to pour quietly? Yes and no. I didn¡¯t want to attract the killer¡¯s attention, but I was supposed to be pretending not to see the killer.


    I held my breath and poured. Every little ding in the bowl sounded like a bomb going off in my ears. Was my hand shaking? <em>Stop it.</em>


    I turned to get some milk out of the fridge. Should I chance a nce at the killer so that I could read their tropes?


    Yes.


    I peeked quickly and turned my eyes back toward my meal.


    That was too quick. I didn¡¯t see anything. <em>Come on, keep it together.</em>


    I poured the milk into the bowl and put the carton back in the fridge. Now I needed somewhere to eat this. Should I sit at the kitchen bar or the table? Or should I eat it over the sink like a true bachelor?


    Couldn¡¯t eat it over the sink, I realized. There was a window that pointed straight into the backyard. I would see too much to pretend I was oblivious.


    The needle on the plot cycle touched First Blood.


    Shit, I was missing it.


    I casually walked over to the table and sat down with my cereal and the box. Having the box there gave me extra cover. Plus, there was a word search on the back.


    I was positioned in such a way that I could just barely see the backyard without turning my head. I had to strain my peripheral vision. If I turned any more, I would have had my back to the killer. It was the best I could do.


    With the deftness of a world-ss spy, I looked out the window. The cowboy mascot or whatever he was supposed to be was pulling the de from Ruck¡¯s corpse.


    Part of me felt guilty for not trying to save him, but I knew that I wouldn¡¯t have been able to do anything. Carousel was where horror movies came to life. Not superhero movies. He was scripted to die and so he did. If I got in the way, it would just be both of us dead. My friends and I could only survive by getting to the end of the story. Part of that story had Ruck getting killed.


    I casuallypped up spoonful after spoonful of the off-brand Frosted kes as I watched the killer stare at Ruck¡¯s lifeless body. Ruck had never even woken up.


    I peered into the red wallpaper:


    Ranger Danger


    Plot Armor: 15


    __________


    Tropes


    Quick Change


    Artist


    This viin can change into and out of their disguise without being seen or getting caught.


    Hidden In


    in Sight


    The viin will appear as an ordinary NPC until they don their disguise.


    They¡¯ll Never


    Believe You


    When tangling with this viin, the authorities will not believe or take seriously anything the yers tell them.


    Pattern Killer


    Before the final battle, the viin will only kill victims chosen ording to a pre-established motive.


    No Neighborhood Watch


    The viin will not be seen by NPC witnesses when off-screen.


    Everyone Is A Suspect


    No characters or yers will have an alibi for the murders urring before the finale.


    The Immortal Mask


    This viin cannot be defeated, captured, or unmasked until their identity and motive have been deduced.


    My first question was ¡°What the hell is ¡®Ranger Danger?¡¯¡±


    Then I realized it was probably the name of the SMU mascot. What were they, the SMU Rangers? Knowing Carousel, they could just as easily have been the SMU Dangers.


    Plot Armor: 15.


    That made sense. With my plot armor of 13, we were roughly simr in level.


    These tropes spelled out a very specific set of rules for this storyline. As I had thought, this was a Whodunnit. Scoping out the guests at the party had been useless.


    Because of the Hidden In in Sight trope, he could have been any of them. Apparently, that ability trumped my Trope Master ticket because I had seen nothing but a bunch of level-three NPCs. I meant to ask my friends if they had seen anything but didn¡¯t get a chance.


    The killer dressed as Ranger Danger had ceased staring at Ruck and now had moved away from Ruck¡¯s body. He was walking toward me.


    Quick, how does a normal person eat?


    As I munched on my processed corn cereal, the killer approached the window behind me. For some reason, I didn¡¯t feel very protected by that ss.


    But I kept eating. I stared at the cereal box and tried to make out some of the words in the word search. ¡°Dead,¡± ¡°Execution,¡± ¡°Assassination.¡± Dang, no wonder the kids in Carousel were so creepy if the games on the back of cereal boxes were that dark.


    I became acutely aware that the light on my Off-Screen status had flicked off. That made sense. Antoine¡¯s brother Chris had exined that the Off-Screen status was an indicator of whether you were ¡°on camera¡± in the sense that the scene you were in was important.


    I had concluded that I was rarely doing anything important. I was Off-Screen for most of the Party Phase. As I understood it, some cool tropes could only be used off-screen. Some others could only be used on-screen.


    Right now, I was finally in an important scene.


    Whenever you see the Oblivious Bystander trope in a horror movie, the camera will always cut or zoom in to reveal the killer posing in a scary way while the oblivious bystander is none-the-wiser. This would be apanied by that deep scary sound effect that every horror movie has.


    That¡¯s what this was.


    This was a scene used to build tension in a horror movie. It might even get augh. The hapless cereal eater has no idea that a murder was justmitted outside the window. How close did hee to death without knowing it?


    I took onest look at the killer out of the corner of my eye before he disappeared. Imitted his tropes to memory. The next time I saw him, I would need to be prepared.


    At that moment, I needed to get out of the house. I didn¡¯t want to be caught with the dead body.


    I wasn¡¯t the main character, so I might not have important information that would help me deduce the killer¡¯s identity. I needed to meet up with the others to go over everything.


    After I had waited a few minutes for the needle on the plot cycle to move firmly out of First Blood, I put my cereal bowl in the sink and left the house.


    With that, the game was afoot.

 Chapter Twenty-Two: End of Scene

    Chapter Twenty-Two: End of Scene


    First, I found Camden a few blocks away by the field.


    ¡°What just happened?¡± Camden asked. ¡°I was right next to Mark, but then suddenly he was gone.¡±


    Mark was the name of the guy that had chest-bumped Camden when we got to the party.


    I exined the Everyone is a Suspect trope to him. Everyone got separated from everyone else. I didn¡¯t get a chance to exin what I had seen on my first sessful use of my Oblivious Bystander strategy because we were surrounded by NPCs.


    ¡°That exins why I can¡¯t find the others... It was Ruck, right?¡± Camden asked quietly.


    I nodded as I scanned the crowd. NPCs as far as the eye could see. Any one of them could have been Ranger Danger. There would be no way to know.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t get anything,¡± Camden said. ¡°None of my abilities are helpful with this one.¡±


    It was true. Camden could find information from books and got a bonus when using a Zippo lighter or when exploiting an enemy¡¯s mortal weakness. Ranger Danger didn¡¯t have a weakness in that way. He (or she) was just a human.


    ¡°I guess you could light something on fire,¡± I suggested.


    Camden smiled, ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±


    Antoine and Anna found each other after the crowd died down. They had found a ce in the stands to survey the damage on the field. We joined them and kept an eye out for Kimberly.


    ¡°Evan disappeared as soon as we started running off,¡± Anna informed me. Did she suspect him? I think she might have.


    I was tempted to let her believe that his disappearance was suspicious, but I couldn¡¯t. If there was anyone that needed all of the avable information, it was Anna. I told her about the Everyone is a Suspect trope.


    The field had a twenty-yard streak starting at one of the endzones. Someone had wrapped a chain around one of the goalposts and pulled it down and dragged it until it had caught in the ground and their chain broke.


    ¡°Suspect still unknown,¡± a campus policeman said after the crowd started asking for details. He looked absolutely overwhelmed by the situation and kept a whistle in his mouth to blow every time someone even looked like they were going to walk onto the field to inspect the damage.


    His name was Officer Ricky on the red wallpaper. His plot armor was 3.


    The veteran yers had told us that all the storylines share one police force and that we would get to know the cops pretty well in our time at Carousel. This was the first one I had met.


    Given how jumpy he already was, I wondered how he¡¯d handle it when they found the body.


    As I was watching the panicking policeman, I heard a familiar voice, ¡°Look who I found.¡±


    It was Evan. He had found Kimberly and helped her find us. Then he plopped down on the bleacher right next to Anna.


    With him there, we couldn¡¯t talk shop, so we spent twenty minutes trying to talk about the sses we were taking and other fictitious nonsense. I say ¡°we.¡± I didn¡¯t do any talking. Evan didn¡¯t seem too interested in what I thought. We were soon joined by Nathan and Mark. They didn¡¯t seem interested in talking to me either.


    It was uncanny.


    Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯ve been on the outer orbit of a friend group before, but they weren¡¯t even making eye contact with me.


    As I contemted their strange behavior, a line of police cars approached in the distance.


    ¡°Woah. Looks like they¡¯re taking this seriously,¡± Mark said.


    However, the line of police cruisers kept going past the stadium.


    Down on the ground, Officer Ricky got a message on his radio that made him grow pale. Everyone was moving down the stands after the police passed.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Evan asked over the roar of the crowd.


    Officer Ricky was backing away toward his security golf cart parked near the field entrance. He seemed to be weighing priorities between guarding the field and going along with the other officers. Eventually, he had a burst of rity.


    ¡°They found a body,¡± he squeaked out as he turned on his cart and drove away with the sound of a high-pitch ¡°wee woo wee woo.¡±


    ¡°A body?¡± Nathan asked. He had sobered up a bit on the jog over.


    ¡°Wait, where¡¯s Ruck?¡± Evan asked.


    Everyone in the area suddenly showed great concern. They all looked around. Of course, everyone''s favorite frat dude was nowhere to be seen. I tried reading their faces to see if any of them were acting weird, but they all had the worried, frantic energy to them that I would expect.


    We took off down the road to the scene of the crime.


    By the time we got there, the scene had been cordoned off by the police. No one could get in or out of Delta Epsilon Delta. It was a good thing I left when I did.


    Just as we arrived, arge body with a sheet covering it was being loaded into the back of an ambnce. I assume that the timing of it was scripted because it was too perfect.


    ¡°Ruck!¡± Evan screamed and attempted to cross under the police tape.


    An officer grabbed hold of him and stopped him from getting there. ¡°We cannot allow you near the crime scene. You have to understand. I¡¯m sorry, son.¡±


    We weren¡¯t the only ones to arrive at the scene. Several news crews arrived just after we did and began asking bystanders questions about what had happened.


    As the ambnce closed its doors and took away Ruck¡¯s remains, a woman¡¯s wailing could be heard from on the property. It wasing from the backyard.


    ¡°Who is that?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°Was someone else hurt?¡± Anna asked. She nced over at me as she said it almost as if she was asking me whether there was another victim. I didn''t dare answer her, not in front of the NPCs.


    As we watched, an officer appeared from behind the house escorting a young woman. The woman was crying with her makeup smeared and her face contorted into a caricature of its natural form. Her face, hands, and much of her tube top were covered in blood.


    It was Amber, Ruck¡¯s maybe girlfriend who had yelled at him earlier.


    Officer Ricky passed by us on the other side of the tape, clearly trying to stay as far away from the blood in the backyard as possible.


    ¡°Ricky,¡± Evan said. He leaned as far over the tape as he could without breaking it.


    ¡°I really can¡¯t talk to you right now,¡± Officer Ricky said.


    Anna joined in. ¡°What is she doing here?¡± she asked.


    Officer Ricky looked at Anna and there was a glint of recognition as if he knew whatever character she was portraying. ¡°Anna,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s police business.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Ricky,¡± Kimberly joined in. Kimberly had a higher Moxie, so her efforts must have worked even better.


    ¡°Girls, Evan¡­¡± Ricky said, closing his eyes as he spoke, ¡°Okay, fine, but you can¡¯t tell anyone, I don¡¯t want to get in trouble¡­ She found Ruck Johnson¡¯s body. Ran out into the street and gged down campus police.¡±


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Is it really Ruck?¡±


    Officer Ricky¡¯s eyes opened wide, ¡°Oh shoot, I wasn¡¯t supposed to tell you that.¡±


    Nathan kneeled over and put his hands on his knees. ¡°Oh fuck, oh fuck,¡± he said.


    Anna instinctually put a hand on his back. ¡°Let¡¯s go sit down over here,¡± she said, gesturing toward the curb on the other side of the street.


    She guided him across the street.


    ¡°They seemed pretty close,¡± Antoine observed.


    Mark nodded. ¡°Ruck and Nathan have been friends forever. Nate was his tutor, chauffeur, wingman, and everything else Ruck needed.¡±


    The group migrated across the street to where Anna and Nathan were.


    ¡°If I hadn¡¯t been drinking, this wouldn¡¯t have happened,¡± Nathan said through tears.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Anna said. ¡°We all left Ruck behind. It¡¯s all our fault¡ª"


    ¡°No,¡± Evan interrupted, ¡°It¡¯s the fault of whoever killed him.¡±


    Anna shook her head. ¡°You know what I meant.¡±


    Evan ignored her. ¡°And whenever I find out who did it, they¡¯re going to pay."


    Maybe I was imagining it, but when he said that I thought he nced at me.


    Not long after that, people started to clear away from the Delta Epsilon Delta house. The news crew, rubberneckers, students, and even the police all found somewhere else to be. Even Mark, Evan, Nathan, and the other stragglers we had gotten to know from the party made excuses and left.


    For the first time in a long time, every one of my friends had their ¡°Off-Screen¡± status lit. Mine was usually on because I was a minor character, but Anna¡¯s only turned on for a few minutes at a time.


    ¡°Does this mean we¡¯re between scenes?¡± Kimberly asked.


    I shrugged.


    The veteran yers had told us about this. The storyline we were in wasposed of multiple scenes. From what Todd and Valerie had said, our next scene didn¡¯t start for hours. Until then, we were free to roam Carousel (within reason). We couldn¡¯t trigger another storyline until this one was over. As long as we didn¡¯t walk into a monster¡¯s territory, we would be fine.


    Town Square was a known safe zone so that¡¯s where we headed.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been dying to just go somewhere,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Anywhere where we don¡¯t have to deal with this horrifying stuff.¡±


    As we turned into Town Square, three women who looked like 1950s housewives walked by us. They had impable hair and makeup and wore big, lipstick-d smiles.


    ¡°You¡¯re so pretty,¡± the first one said to Kimberly in a high-pitched, cheery voice. She wore all purple.


    ¡°So pretty,¡± the second one said in a matching tone. She wore all yellow.


    ¡°Very pretty,¡± the third said. She wore all red.


    Then they continued walking, only turning their head away from Kimberly once they were fifteen feet away.


    They never blinked.


    ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± Antoine asked as they moved into the distance.


    I had no idea. We would deal with them when their storyline came up.


    ¡°I hate this ce,¡± Kimberly said, moving back to the center of the pack.


    Town Square looked¡­ normal. Like a real town square. There were stores and cheery townsfolk. The Square was well lit and the nightlife here was bustling. Sure, the asional odd character would show their head, but mostly it was normal.


    But maybe that was because we couldn¡¯t trigger any omens.


    We found a malt shop and took a seat. The prices were incredibly low. A malt for fifty cents. We indulged, except for Antoine, who kept looking at ours like he expected something to crawl out of it.


    I told them everything I had seen and exined Ranger Danger¡¯s tropes as I remembered them.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Camden said. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of rules.¡±


    ¡°The basic concept is that you have to figure out who the killer is to win.¡±


    Anna pursed her lips. ¡°It could be any of them. I assume we can cross out Amber?¡±


    ¡°Maybe?¡± Antoine said. ¡°Just because she called in the body doesn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t her.¡±


    That was true.


    ¡°We may not have all of the information we need yet. It¡¯s still really early in the Rebirth Phase,¡± Camden said.


    In fact, the needle hadn¡¯t moved much at all since I left my bowl of cereal after First Blood. There was still a lot of story to go.


    "Ranger Danger is a pattern killer," I said. "It said so right in his tropes. He kills ording to a pattern."


    "And?" Kimberly asked.


    Anna looked me in the eye and nodded. She understood. "You need more than one body to form a pattern," she said.

 Chapter Twenty-Three: The Public Accusation

    Chapter Twenty-Three: The Public usation


    Antoine said that the party was mostly a bust for him. None of the other yers he had met had any connection to Ruck that he could find. He was starting to think that he would have to y in the game tomorrow. That was only a problem because he didn''t know what position he yed or even what ys this team ran. All he knew was that they liked to run the ball and that SMU had a good defense but a weak offense.


    I wasn''t sure how that information was going toe in handy.


    Kimberly had even less useful information. All the sorority girls had talked about were great ces to shop around town, boys, and things that were happening in their sses. She spent most of the evening with Antoine.


    Anna described everything that had happened to her from her perspective. ¡°Ruck drank and drove to the party because Nathan was far too gone to drive anymore. Evan told me he had recently gotten broken up with because of usations of infidelityst year. He wanted me to know he would <em>never </em>do that. Basic boy stuff. We went to the back and saw a lineup of suspects arrive and yell at Ruck. Then someone, probably the SMU guys, started tearing up the field. You know the rest. Anything else, Camden?¡±


    ¡°Not much. Mark is just really happy to have gotten into medical school. No drama,¡± Camden answered.


    ¡°Evan¡¯s really into you,¡± Kimberly said to Anna.


    Annaughed. ¡°I prefer guys with free will.¡±


    ¡°But not, like, too much free will, right?¡± Kimberly asked.


    We allughed at that.


    I estimated the time to be around eleven at night, but this world ran on ¡°movie time¡± which never made too much sense. As we sat, we noticed a lot of NPCs had begun walking toward the college.


    It started to rain gently. NPCs took out umbres and trudged forward.


    ¡°Next scene?¡± Anna asked.


    I nodded cautiously. The others agreed.


    A lot of shoppers and shopkeepers alike left where they were to follow the crowds.


    Soon enough we saw a familiar face among them.


    ¡°Nathan,¡± Anna said, holding up her hand and drawing his attention.


    He looked far more somber than he had earlier that night and a great deal soberer. He walked slowly over to us.


    ¡°Ruck thought of you as a friend,¡± Nathan said, speaking to Anna. ¡°We''re doing a candlelight vigil at the football stadium. I thought you woulde.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Anna replied. ¡°How did you manage to get this together so quickly?¡±


    Nathan looked around at the people solemnly walking toward the football field. ¡°It was Evan. He can do anything if he puts his mind to it. You know, it''s funny. Ruck never would have thought that people would mourn him. I guess he never knew how much people cared.¡±


    Talk about a sudden shift in tone.


    We walked in silence. I had never been to a candlelight vigil before. Many of the people who attended appeared to have just woken up out of bed, gotten changed, ande out. They look tired but they yed the part of the heartbrokenmunity very well.


    I had never really thought about the lives of NPCs. Did they just wait around all day for the script to tell them to do something? Were they justying at home asleep only to wake up and realize they had to get dressed and go to a memorial service for another NPC?


    Some of them I recognized from being at the party but others were clearly just filler. You could say they were <em>extras</em>. Never meant to be looked at too closely.


    By the time we got to the stadium, the stands were almost full and a temporary stage had been erected on the part of the field that had not been torn up.


    The students started to pile into the remainder of the field, even the part that had been damaged by the goalpost. Officer Ricky tried to stop them at first but gave up after he got overwhelmed. He tucked his whistle in his pocket.


    Everyone stood watching the stage.


    There was a line of chairs on the stage apanied by some NPCs, most of which had titles to go along with their names on the red wallpaper. They were affiliated with the school for the most part except for the sheriff and a couple of deputies. There was a psychologist there probably acting as a mental health advocate after the tragic loss of a student. Like all of the other NPCs, these had three plot armor.


    Evan was up there too. He stood next to an older man with a pronounced bald spot and big, horn-rimmed sses whose name was Dean Lewinsky. ¡°Dean¡± as in the title for a person who runs a college, I imagine. I doubt his name was also Dean.


    Dean Lewinsky was the first to speak. He stood in front of a wooden podium with an attached microphone. He read a short speech off of a piece of paper in his hand.


    ¡°Dear members of the University of Carouselmunity,¡± he said, adjusting the microphone in front of him so that it caught his voice better. ¡°It is with a heavy heart that I stand before you today to address the tragic and untimely death of one of our students, Russel "Ruck" Johnson only hours ago. Ruck was a beloved member of ourmunity, a student who was loved by his peers and respected by his professors.


    ¡°Unfortunately, we have lost Ruck in an act of senseless violence that has left us all shaken and heartbroken. As we mourn the loss of this bright and promising young man, we must alsoe together to support his family, friends, and loved ones during this difficult time.


    ¡°We do not yet know all of the details surrounding Ruck''s death, but we are working closely withw enforcement to ensure that those responsible are brought to justice. Our thoughts and prayers are with Ruck''s family and friends as they navigate this painful and difficult time.


    ¡°As wee together to mourn Ruck''s passing, let us also remember the many contributions he made to ourmunity during his time with us. Let us honor his memory by continuing to work towards creating a safe and inclusivemunity where all students can thrive and reach their full potential. Thank you.¡±


    From the sound of it, I doubted that Dean Lewinsky had ever actually met Ruck.


    After reading his speech, Dean Lewinsky adjusted his sses and stored the piece of paper inside a coat pocket. It would probably stay there until he needed to read it for the next dead student. I wondered if he was one of the characters that were shared between storylines.


    ¡°Some of Ruck''s friends have elected to speak tonight,¡± Dean Lewinsky said. He looked over to Evan.


    Evan got up and leaned into the microphone and asked, ¡°Nathan would you like to go first?¡±


    Nathan walked up to the stage and took his spot in front of the podium.


    ¡°I can''t even believe it. When they told me Ruck was really dead I¡­ I just thought this couldn''t be real. I thought I must have been imagining it but unfortunately¡­¡± he trailed off for a bit as the emotion overwhelmed him.


    After a moment, he continued.


    ¡°When I told Ruck that I always wanted to be a surgeon he told me that was great because he always wanted to live in a surgeon''s pool house,¡± he paused as the crowd let out a nervousugh. ¡°That was when I knew that we would always be friends. That was who Ruck was, he was someone that you always wanted to be around. I wish that I could be around him right now. It''s ironic that this is the exact type of social gathering that Ruck was so good at making bearable. I''m still going to try to be a surgeon and the first life I save, I''ll do it for him.¡±


    Nathan could barely get out thest part of his speech before he began to cry and left the stage abruptly.


    ¡°I guess it''s my turn,¡± Evan said.


    ¡°Ruck,¡± Evan said. The name caught in his throat. I could see that he was struggling with the death of his friend. ¡°He was a great guy. And a great friend. He would do anything for those he loved.¡± He looked away for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing.


    ¡°I''ve known Ruck for a long time. You know, freshman year he was actually shy. He was afraid to pledge to a fraternity. It''s crazy to think now but that''s what people do¡ªthey grow, and they mature. It''s hard to wrap your mind around the idea that one day, people might just stop moving forward, that their growth might be taken from them. We''ll never know what kind of man Ruck would have be but I think I would have liked him.¡±


    Evan used the podium for support; he was having difficulty standing. ¡°What''s so hard about this is that I know who he was before and who he became, and I think I had an idea of who he was going to be but that''s not what anybody is talking about. All they''re talking about is that a frat guy got killed at a party like it¡¯s some sort of punchline. I heard what the news reporters were saying.¡±


    He took a deep breath.


    ¡°Ruck didn¡¯t deserve that. What Ruck deserves is justice. And what we deserve is answers. And I think I know how to get both.¡±


    After he said this, the crowd erupted in whispers. Curious faces looked from side to side to see if anyone knew what he was talking about. Anna looked over at me, an eyebrow raised, but I had no answers. I didn''t know where Evan was going with this.


    ¡°Because I think I know who did it. He''s standing here today at the memorial service like he''s here because he cares about Ruck, but he isn''t. He didn''t leave the Delta Epsilon Delta house when everyone else did. People saw. He got to the fieldter than everyone else too. I can''t think of any good reason for a person to stay behind like that and not tell anybody. I''m going to ask the police to investigate what that reason is.¡±


    The sheriff walked across the stage toward Evan and whispered something in his ear, a question.


    Evan looked directly at me.


    ¡°It was Riley Lawrence,¡± he said. He pointed his finger at me and everyone in the crowd turned to look at me.


    The crowd¡¯s whispers turned into full gasps as people stared at me in horror.


    ¡°Why did you do it?¡± Evan asked me directly, his voice echoing over the stadium. ¡°What were you even doing at the house? No one invited you; I asked around.¡±


    He turned his attention back to the crowd. Tears formed in his eyes as a look of absolute hatred appeared on his face. ¡°He''s a freak. He sits around all day watching horror movies. He¡¯s obsessed with death and gore. Maybe even snuff films. He''s probably involved in the ult--a devil worshipper or something. I think that¡¯s why he did it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± I said.


    Suddenly so much of what had happened in this storyline started to make sense. How no one at the party was talking to me and anyone who acknowledged me just stared. Evan, Mark, and Nathan basically just ignored me because they couldn''t be friendly with me. It was against the script.


    All this time I thought that I was being treated that way because I didn''t have any scripted interactions¡ªbecause I didn''t have a role to y. I was a minor character.


    But I did have a role.


    I was a <em>suspect</em>.

 Chapter Twenty-Four: The Usual Suspect

    Chapter Twenty-Four: The Usual Suspect


    I sat alone in the interrogation room where the sheriff''s deputies had left me. Shortly after Evan used me of murdering Ruck, the scene ended. The NPCs were filing out of the stadium as I was being asked "nicely" toe with the cops.


    The interrogation room was a small, sterile chamber with stark white walls and a single fluorescent light fixture hanging from the ceiling. The only furniture in the room was a metal table and two chairs, one for the suspect and one for the interrogator. The table was bolted to the floor, and the chairs were made of hard stic with no padding, designed to be ufortable and unweing.


    There were no windows, no decorations, no distractions of any kind. I don''t know if the room was soundproof or if the characters outside were just silent because they weren''t on-screen.


    A two-way mirror on one wall allowed observers to watch the interrogation without being seen. I wondered if they were watching me right then.


    They had not handcuffed me so technically I should have been free to go but this world went off movie rules not actual constitutionalw. This was a scripted scene. My status was Captured. I wasn''t going anywhere.


    As I sat there all I could think about was how Evan knew that I had been at the frat house at the time of the murder. If I understood the tropes and timeline at y, then the only person who should have known I was there was Ranger Danger.


    It was true that Evan had been antagonistic to me, but I didn''t know if that was because I was typecast as a loner with a frightening and scary hobby, or if it was because he was the bad guy. Was this whole thing an attempt to frame me for his crime?


    The needle on the plot cycle was nearly vertical. Given my understanding of how the Rebirth phase worked, soon we would receive a revtion that would allow us to go on the offensive and start hunting down the bad guy. In the Astralist storyline, that revtion had likely been the discovery of Doctor Halle¡¯s weakness. I didn''t know what it was going to be in this story.


    All I could hope was that soon we would find some information to either prove Evan¡¯s guilt and motive or to rule him out altogether.


    Soon, my status changed. I was still Captured but the Off-Screen status flicked off. The ¡°camera¡± was rolling.


    The only door to the room opened and a man entered. His name was Detective Marcus ckwood. He was an NPC. His plot Armor was 50. That was the highest I had seen for an NPC, but that was not the thing that concerned me the most about Detective ckwood.


    He had enemy tropes.


    Normally, I didn''t know if an NPC had tropes because my ability only worked on enemies. But Trope Master did work on Detective ckwood. The problem was I couldn''t actually see what his tropes were. With fifty plot armor, he had enough savvy to drown out my measly five points. Due to the level mismatch, I had no idea what his tropes were. To my eyes, they were just grayed-out posters on the red wallpaper.


    Detective Marcus ckwood was a tall, lean man with amanding presence. He stood at about 6''2" and had a chiseled, angr face with piercing blue eyes that seemed to scrutinize everything around him. His salt and pepper hair was kept short and neat, and he sported a well-groomed mustache. He wore a tailored suit, which emphasized his sharp features and gave him a professional air. Despite his intimidating demeanor, he moved with a grace and fluidity that hinted at some trace of athleticism despite being in his fifties.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± he said. ¡°I hate that we have to meet this way, but the circumstances demand it."


    Was it morning already? I didn''t respond.


    ¡°We thought it was best to get you out of there,¡± Detective ckwood said. ¡°We were worried that the crowd might take things into their own hands if we didn''t.¡±


    He shed a weak smile.


    Again, I said nothing. I''d like to tell you that I was just being a hard ass but truthfully there was something about Detective ckwood¡¯s presence that took away my ability to think. All I could do was hope that the direction this scene was taking wasn''t going to get me locked away in prison.


    ¡°We''ll get right to it then,¡± he said, ¡°What were you doing at the Delta Epsilon Delta house? Your user said that you were not invited is that true?¡±


    ¡°I went there with my friends,¡± I said. Truthfully, I thought that I was a member of the frat but apparently my character was just crashing the party. How embarrassing. I was ying a loner. Not a far stretch for me.


    ¡°Your friends?¡± Detective ckwood asked. ¡°I see. We¡¯ll get to themter.¡±


    ¡°How do you know Russell Johnson?¡± He asked.


    I didn''t know what my character was supposed to know. I didn''t know my back story. ¡°I met him at the party.¡±


    ¡°The party that no one invited you to?¡± Detective ckwood asked.


    ¡°I told you I went there with my friends.¡±


    ckwood ignored me.


    ¡°Russell Johnson. 22 years old. Sports medicine major. Numerous parking vitions, a suspended driver¡¯s license, and DUIs, but nothing recent. A list of grievances from other students a mile long. Russell was a bit of a troublemaker, wasn''t he? But I don''t see anywhere that he''s had a run-in with you untilst night.¡± Detective ckwood watched me with his piercing gaze.


    ¡°What run-in, we barely talked to each other? Ruck might have said five words to mest night in total.¡±


    ¡°Did he ask you why you were at the party?¡± Detective ckwood asked.


    What was this guy''s deal? ¡°I went to the party with my friends. It''s a perfectly normal thing to do.¡±


    ¡°And how many college parties would you say you''ve attended?¡±


    Truthfully, after three years in college, that was my first one. I know,me.


    ¡°Not many,¡± I said.


    ckwood crossed his fingers and leaned forward to the table, ¡°So what made you decide to go to this particr party?¡±


    ¡°I told you I just went there with my friends. They were going and I went with them it''s not thatplicated.¡± I was getting worked up. Was that the effect of one of his unseen tropes or was I just irritable?


    Suddenly, my Moxie dropped by one point.


    Guess it <em>was</em> a trope. Did he debuff me by asking me a question repeatedly?


    For a moment he didn''t ask any more questions. He just stopped and stared at me with his piercing blue eyes.


    He said. ¡°I''ve asked around. I know all about you and your¡­ friends.¡±


    The way he said friends at the end¡­ it was like he was calling into question whether they really were my friends.


    ¡°I see here that you went to high school with both Camden Tran and Anna Reed.¡±


    I nodded my head. Was this interrogation about my character or was it about me?


    ¡°However, I can''t find any evidence that you maintained any rtionship with them into college. You had no sses together, you were in no clubs together.¡±


    He paused to let me respond. I didn¡¯t.


    ¡°You don''t share a major and I can''t find anyone who remembers seeing you at any party or event that they''ve been to before this one.¡±


    He wasn''t just talking about my character. He was talking about me. Real-life me.


    ¡°Look Anna was my neighbor; we grew up next to each other. Camden was my best friend.¡±


    ¡°Was?¡± Detective ckwood asked. ¡°I thought he invited you to the party?¡±


    ¡°I didn''t say that he invited me to the party I said that we went to the party together.¡±


    ¡°So, you went to the party with Anna Reed who was your neighbor as a child, and your former best friend from high school? Or was it middle school?¡±


    What did this guy know? How did he know it?


    Camden and I had been best friends in middle school but when high school came, he got popr, and I didn''t. It happens. When we went to college we didn''t really hang out until he reached out to me a week before we came to Carousel and asked if I still liked scary movies. Apparently, that¡¯s what I was known for.


    Anna had been my crush since I was a little kid, but I wasn''t about to talk to this guy about it. I didn¡¯t care what tropes he had or how high his Moxie was.


    ¡°So, you tag along to a Delta Epsilon Delta party with Camden Tran and Antoine Stone, who are actual members of Delta Epsilon Delta, and Anna Reed and Kimberly Madison who are members of their sister sorority Epsilon Epsilon Kappa?¡±


    He leaned back in his chair.


    ¡°Are Antoine and Kimberly old friends too?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Recent friends.¡±


    That was close enough to the truth.


    I don¡¯t know what debuffs this guy had, but as he dug into my past and friendship insecurities, my Moxie, Savvy, and Grit had all dropped by one point again. It took everything I had just to concentrate.


    ¡°So, you used some old ¡®friendships¡¯ as a way to get into the party, and then what? What did you do once you got there?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I said. What was I supposed to tell him that I spent the whole time looking for a killer? That Ibed the house over for information that I might need in the final battle?


    ¡°You didn''t talk to anyone?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I talked to people.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said you did nothing?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t even answer, I was growing so frustrated. I couldn¡¯t form the words.


    ¡°Who did you speak to? Because I asked around and the other partygoers said that you were a loner.¡±


    That was false. ¡°I talked to my friends.¡±


    ¡°There you are calling them your friends again. Do you think that they will appreciate that term when we haul them in here for questioning? Or do you think that when we turn up the pressure, they''re going to tell us the truth: that you weren''t actually invited?¡±


    I didn''t respond. Luckily this threat was empty given the circumstances. Anna, Camden, Antoine, and Kimberly weren¡¯t going to y along. He was just trying to antagonize me. He knew my insecurities. Probably figured them out with an insight trope.


    Suddenly I realized what this character actually was. He was a secondary antagonist. He wasn''t the bad guy that went around killing people, but he did cause problems for the heroes. Well, he caused problems for me at least. Scary movies were full of cops like this.


    ¡°If you were there for innocent reasons, I have to wonder why you didn''t leave when every other person at the party did. You didn''t care that the field was being torn up? Or were you¡ª¡±


    The door to the interrogation room opened. A low-level NPC police officer walked in and said, ¡°We''ve got a match to the paint found at the crime scene up on Turn Around Road.¡± He produced a man file folder and handed it to detective ckwood.


    ¡°Thank you, Officer Peters,¡± ckwood said. He gave the man a warm smile.


    The officer left and closed the door. ckwood turned to me; his smile disappeared instantly.


    ¡°Did you kill Russell Johnson?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No,¡± I said.


    ¡°But you were around him at the time he died and no one else was. You didn''t see anyone else, did you?¡±


    How was I supposed to navigate this? If I said no, then I''m admitting that I was alone with the victim at the time of the murder. If I say yes, then I have a lot of exining to do as to why I hadn''t said anything before.


    ¡°I saw Ruck arguing with a chick named Amber. He also argued with some guys from SMU. Have you brought them in?¡±


    Detective ckwood shook his head. ¡°I''m aware of those altercations. Those urred long before Mr. Johnson was murdered. Amber Terry weighs a hundred pounds at most. She could never have subdued Russell.¡±


    I almost said <em>But he was asleep when he was killed</em>, but somehow held my tongue. I think ckwood set that trap on purpose. He would have known there was no struggle.


    ¡°I''ll ask again was anyone else there with you around the time Russell Johnson was killed?¡±


    ¡°No, it was just me. I didn''t even know that Ruck was in the backyard. I thought he had gone up with everyone else to the field. I was just¡­ eating cereal.¡±


    I expected him to hone in on my weak alibi, but he didn¡¯t.


    Detective ckwood said nothing. He just stared at me. The silence was louder than any question. I was certain that he was employing a trope against me.


    It was the strangest thing. The longer the silencested the stronger my desire to confess grew. Not to confess to the murder of course. I hadn''t done it.


    Words started to well up in my throat that I <em>had</em> to say. Detective ckwood had already debuffed my Moxie by two points¡ªnot that he needed to. There was no way that Detective ckwood with 50 plot armor had less than four Moxie. I was powerless. He had me beat.


    ¡°Ranger Danger,¡± I said. I couldn''t help it.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Now that I had said the words that his trope had forced me to, it was like I couldn''t stop. I just had to avoid saying too much. ¡°Someone dressed in the Ranger Danger costume was at the house.¡±


    ¡°You''re telling me that the mascot for SMU murdered Russell Johnson?¡± He looked away from me up toward the mirror on the wall. No doubt whoever was up there was having a goodugh. Detective ckwood himself couldn''t conceal a smile.


    ¡°I didn''t say that Ranger Danger killed him I said someone dressed as Ranger Danger was at the house. Ruck stole the costume and they had it hanging from the balcony when I got to the party. Someone had taken it down and was wearing it when I left.¡±


    ¡°The jury is going to love that,¡± Detective ckwood said.


    ¡°You''ve got to believe me,¡± I said, with every bit of sincerity I could muster. Now that was a cliche line. I wondered if I said it because I wanted to or because of Ranger Danger¡¯s They¡¯ll Never Believe You trope.


    ¡°I did not kill Ruck. I had nothing to do with it.¡±


    The pressure to be seen as innocent was so strong even though I knew that Detective ckwood would never, well, believe me.


    All I had to do was hold on until the end of the scene.


    The entire time we had been talking my Off-Screen status had flicked on and off. Much of this conversation had been on-screen but now, the light stayed lit. I was free. The scene change wasing on.


    Apparently, Detective ckwood wasn''t as interested in my horror movie-watching hobby as Evan had been because he didn''t even ask about it. I think the entire point of the scene was to establish that I was an untrustworthy loner and force me to confess having seen Ranger Danger. I wondered how that was going toe into y down the line.


    The next thing I knew I was being walked out of the station.


    Detective ckwood kept close to me. When we left the station¡ªarge building only a few blocks from campus¡ªmy friends were there, eating sub sandwiches. I guess for them it was a break and they used it to grab a bite to eat. Good for them.


    ¡°Oh look,¡± I said. ¡°My friends are here to pick me up.¡±


    Detective ckwood didn''t say anything.


    Suddenly, we were On-Screen again.


    ¡°We''re going to have some more questions for you,¡± he said. ¡°Don''t leave town.¡±


    Very funny.


    The steps up to the police station were veryrge. It was surrounded by benches and well-kept greenery. There was a set of steps down to the street. A man stood at the bottom.


    ¡°Detective ckwood!¡± he said. He was a man in histe 40s or early 50s. He wore a id shirt and jeans along with some very well-worn boots with dirt clinging to the sides and stuck in the treads. He wore a green cap on his head that reminded me of the ones that would say John Deere in the real world.


    ¡°Howe you got the whole police force out looking for someone who killed some drunkard but you ain''t sent but one squad car over to find out what happened to my Nelly?¡±


    Detective ckwood recognized this man. ¡°Mr. Birch, that''s simply not true. We are investigating your daughter''s death with every resource avable to us. In fact, I am working on her case right now.¡±


    He held out the man file folder he had been given during my interrogation as if it were proof of how hard they were working.


    Mr. Birch wasn''t having it. He reached out and attempted to grab the file but only seeded in knocking it to the ground right in front of Anna. It opened, revealing a ghastly picture of what remained of Nelly Birch, some papers with biographical information and witness statements, and a small baggie filled with little orange specks.


    ¡°Howe this frat kid gets a candlelight vigil with news crews? You all couldn¡¯t pay attention to her for more than a few hours before some other kid bes more important? She was a student too! She was taking business sses. Why didn''t she get a candlelight vigil? Why didn''t you say anything at all?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Birch we are doing everything we can to find out what happened to your daughter. The vigil was something that the university put on. A student dying on campus from cold-blooded murder got people worried. They needed reassurance.¡±


    Camden gently nudged Anna out of the way and bent down and picked up the file, ncing at it for only a few seconds. He held it out for the detective.


    Detective ckwood quickly retrieved the file folder and continued talking with Mr. Birch, leading him away from us as he did.


    ¡°So, are you going to prison?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°At first, I thought I was. But then the scene was over and suddenly he just wanted to get me out of there.¡± I would fill them in on the interrogationter.


    ¡°So did you see anything important in that file?¡± I asked Camden. He had only seen it for a few seconds, but his Eureka ability would have shown him everything important.


    Camden seemed to be working something over in his mind.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°That girl who died¡­¡±


    He paused, thinking.


    ¡°What about her?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°I think Ruck killed her.¡±

 Chapter Twenty-Five: A Pattern Emerges

    Chapter Twenty-Five: A Pattern Emerges


    ¡±What do you mean that Ruck killed her?¡± Anna asked.


    None of us had been prepared for that curveball.


    ¡°She was killed in a hit and run sometime yesterday evening before the party. Witness statements said that it was an orange pickup truck. The description sounded just like the one that Ruck was driving. They had paint chips from the scene.¡± Camden said.


    "Oh..."


    "In real life, it would be a coincidence, but... I doubt it is here," Camden said.


    ¡°OK, but what does this have to do with him getting murdered?¡± Kimberly asked.


    None of us knew.


    Was it possible that someone from the party knew this girl? If so, how would they have known that Ruck was responsible?


    ¡°He did almost hit the house when he pulled into the driveway,¡± Anna said. ¡°He had been drinking.¡±


    ¡°But who would have known so quickly?¡± I asked. ¡°It doesn''t make sense.¡±


    The murder victim in a whodunnit having a dark secret is not unusual. However, this was reallyte in the movie to find out about it. I couldn''t figure out how this fit into therger puzzle.


    ¡°In any case," I said. ¡°We have to look into Evan. Only one person could have known that I was at the house at the time of the murder, and that''s the killer. Either he is Ranger Danger or Ranger Danger told him that I was there.¡±


    Evan was the best suspect so far, even if we didn¡¯t know the motive.


    ¡°I''m not going to be able to do that,¡± Antoine said. ¡°The game is today so unless this story ends before then I''m probably going to get forced into ying.¡±


    It hit me.


    ¡°You will be forced into ying,¡± I said. ¡°Think of it. We''re being hunted by someone dressed as a football team''s mascot. I''ll bet anything that he''s there.¡±


    ¡°He''ll blend right in,¡± Anna said.


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    With Second Blood approaching, these were our stats and abilities:


    yer Stats and Tropes


    Riley


    Antoine


    Anna


    Kimberly


    Camden


    Archetype


    Film Buff


    Athlete


    Final Girl


    Eye Candy


    Schr


    Plot Armor


    13 / 2


    14 + 2


    16


    12


    13


    Mettle


    1


    4 + 1


    4


    1


    2


    Moxie


    4


    1


    3


    4


    2


    Hustle


    2


    4 + 1


    2


    3


    2


    Savvy


    5


    1


    2


    1


    6


    Grit


    1


    4


    5


    3


    1


    TROPE MASTER


    Type: Insight


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Sees enemy tropes. Lose half of PA


    IT¡¯S PART OF THE UNIFORM


    Type: Buff


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Higher Mettle when attacking with sports equipment


    LAST ONE ALIVE


    Type: Rule


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Cannot die until the party is killed


    CONVENIENT BACKSTORY


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Can change backstory to assist with the current task.


    EUREKA!


    Type: Insight


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Helps find important information with text.


    CINEMA SEER¡ªSURVIVE


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Buffs Savvy and Grit of Allies by predicting plot elements


    GYM Rat


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Buff Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory


    WHO¡¯S WITH ME?!


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: In Finale, Allies gain a buff to relevant stat when assisting the yer.


    SOCIAL AWARENESS


    Type: Insight


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Can see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs.


    RIGHT TOOL FOR THE JOB


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Buffs Savvy and Mettle when fighting an enemy with their weakness.


    THE OBLIVIOUS BYSTANDER


    Type: Rule


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Cannot be targeted while convincingly acting oblivious to the enemy


    JUST WALK IT OFF


    Type: Heal


    Stat: Grit


    Effect: Heals Hobbled status by walking


    LET¡¯S NOT FIGHT


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Stopping infighting buffs Savvy


    LOOKS DON¡¯T LAST (Not Brought into the storyline)


    ZIPPOS ARE CHEAP


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Boosts Savvy for ns that expend Zippo lighter


    ESCAPE ARTIST


    Type: Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: usible escape ns boost Hustle


    GET A ROOM!


    Type: Rule


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Exploration with loved interest during the party boosts the odds of important discoveries


    A HOPELESS PLEA


    Type: Rule


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Asking to be released forces the captor to explicitly deny the release


    As you might imagine, Antoine found it easy in this storyline to talk about how he ys sports and works out. I hadn''t been around when he did it, but it didn''t really matter. He got the bonus to both Hustle and Mettle that his Gym Rat trope afforded him.


    Not long after our conversation about the hit and run, a group of university students and football yers came to get Antoine for the big game. The rest of us were dragged right along with him.


    Even having seen the University of Carousel stadium twice I wasn''t prepared to see it on a game night. The entire ce came alive. The stadium was not the biggest football stadium I had ever been to. In fact, it wasn''t even as big as the one back at my real college. However, it was stillrge.


    The stands were in the shape of a horseshoe. On the left of the entrance, was the section for the away team. It was sparsely popted by SMU fans. I wouldn¡¯t want to go to Carousel for a football game either.


    On the right was the home team side filled to the brim with cheering fans of the Fighting Torsos. In the curvy part of the horseshoe was the student section along with food vendors.


    The stands were built on arge, concrete-enclosed base. I didn''t know what was under there. I assumed it was storage or locker rooms. With the many entrances and exits to the area, it was difficult to navigate or track the peopleing in and out of the stadium.


    The field had been repaired between scenes. The only reason you could tell that something had happened to it was the slightly off-color sod that had been used to repair the grass. The goalpost had been put back in its proper ce, but it still bore nicks from the chain that had pulled it down.


    The roar of the crowd made talking difficult.


    ¡°Kimberly and I will go to the student section,¡± Anna said. ¡°You two go to the home section. Find Evan. He¡¯s either going to give us a lead to Ranger Danger¡¯s identity or he¡¯s going to incriminate himself. Either way, if you guys find him, I think Camden should be the one to talk to him.¡±


    That was probably a good idea. Evan wasn''t going to be happy to see me not in jail.


    The previous scene had been early morning. This scene was getting darker as nighttime approached. The stadium lights turned on. The game was about to begin.


    Camden and I rushed to the home section of the stadium. Moving around there was difficult. The stands were really packed, even more so than they had been at the candlelight vigil. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I got the impression that a lot of the traffic was scripted. Perhaps we were being held up, dyed.


    ¡°Do you see anything?¡± I asked Camden. I practically had to yell.


    ¡°Nothing!¡± Camden answered back.


    I looked all around the stadium. I needed to find Evan. Heck, if I couldy eyes on Ranger Danger at least that would have been something. Both were no-shows. In fact, I didn''t know where any of the NPCs were. Mark, Nathan, Amber, the SMU guy that had yelled at Ruck. They were in the wind.


    ¡°Look it''s Anna,¡± Camden yelled at me. He pointed over to the student section.


    I could barely see what he was pointing at but then I saw her waving her arms trying to get our attention. She and Kimberly were pointing toward something beneath us down on the field. We were up in the stands so we couldn''t easily ess the field, but we quickly walked down to the guardrail and peered down at what she was pointing at.


    It was Evan. He was standing amongst other students in what I can only assume was the tunnel that the team was about toe out of. He was far closer to us than he was to her.


    ¡°Let''s go,¡± I said.


    I didn¡¯t know how Camden would go about trying to pry him for information, but we were running out of time. When the finale came, we would not be able to find any new plot information to help us solve the mystery.


    If we couldn¡¯t find the killer¡¯s identity and motive, then we would just slowly get picked off until we all died in the final battle. Ranger Danger¡¯s Immortal Mask trope would make him unbeatable without this information.


    It was now or never.


    It was just as difficult to get back down from the stands as it was to get up there. We could only hope that Evan would still be near the tunnel when we finally made it. Everyone walking along the pathways and ramps leading up to the stands were trying to go up. We were the only two trying to go down.


    After what seemed like an eternity, we finally got down to ground level and ran around the outside of the stands near the field. We ran as fast as we could to the tunnel where we had seen Evan standing.


    We were in luck. He was still there talking to some other NPCs.


    I stayed back in hopes that he wouldn''t see me. Camden walked forward and crossed over the side of the tunnel to where Evan was.


    And then the bad news came.


    A poster appeared on the red wallpaper.


    <strong>Everyone is a Suspect</strong>.


    It was like Carousel had waited for that very moment. We weren''t just ying against the story. It was ying against us.


    Just as Camden made it to the other side, the band started to y and football yers, coaches, and cheerleaders started to pour out of the tunnel that Camden had just crossed over.


    We were being separated again, just like we had been at the frat party. I tried to keep an eye on Camden. I saw him and Evan moving closer toward the mouth of the tunnel as the emerging yers caused a surge in the crowd. After a few yers had passed, I couldn''t see Camden anymore.


    Did they go in the tunnel? Was this scripted?


    The needle on the plot cycle was nearly to Second Blood. If that wasn¡¯t enough, the Everyone is a Suspect trope only activated when a murder was about to take ce.


    Now, I know what you¡¯re going to say: ¡°Don¡¯t go into the tunnel with a killer around.¡±


    But I didn¡¯t have a choice. I didn¡¯t know if I would be able to find Camden or if the same trope that separated us would keep us apart. However, I knew there were limits to the trope¡¯s power. After all, the trope didn¡¯t stop me from witnessing a murder.


    Would it stop me from preventing one?


    I pushed forward into the tunnel, fighting against the stragglers who were running out. By the time I got through, I didn''t see Camden or Evan. I wondered how long it would be before I could find either one of them.


    I raced through thebyrinthine tunnels. That ce was massive and confusing. There was no sign of either of them. There was no sign of anyone at all. There were so many doors and paths under there that I could have passed right by them without even knowing it.


    Those same doors could also have concealed a killer.


    I quickly raised my hood over my head and put on my sunsses. They made traveling through the dimly lit tunnels under the stadium difficult, but they also bolstered my Oblivious Bystander trope.


    Maybe I was pushing my luck, hoping to survive another run-in with Ranger Danger using only Oblivious Bystander as a shield, but I had no choice.


    The only sounds that could be heard were the faint whispers of the wind and the distant roar of the crowds above, echoing down through the concrete corridors. I could feel the vibration of thousands of feet stomping along to a fight song.


    There were dim yellow lights ced along the tunnels along with some shafts of light from the stands above, where bolt holes and seams in the metal had not been covered, allowing the stadium lights to shine through.


    Footsteps.


    I heard them behind me. They made a distinct soft echo. They were quiet enough that I would not have noticed them if I had not been listening for them. I was being followed.


    I couldn''t turn to look and see who it was, but given the circumstances, I had one guess, and he was wearing a t-brimmed cowboy hat.


    Did I just keep walking deeper into the tunnels or did I try to find a way to turn around and get back out toward the entrance?


    Going forward was easier than turning around if I wanted to keep Oblivious Bystander active.


    I moved forward at an even pace trying to act like I was supposed to be there. The footsteps followed.


    I noticed that my Chase Scene status had turned on. That was all the confirmation I needed. Ranger Danger was ten feet behind me.


    After a long hallway, I started to doubt that Camden would have gone this far. Unlike me, he wouldn''t have had any way of protecting himself. Of course, he may not have had a choice.


    Heck, for all, I knew he could have been hiding out behind one of the doors I had passed.


    As I moved forward, I noticed that the hallway had begun to turn left. I must have been approaching the turn in the horseshoe shape of the stadium.


    When I got there, I was going to bend over to tie my shoe in hopes that I could get a peek at the person behind me while doing it. If I angled it right, I could kneel down facing the corner and Ranger Danger would stand directly behind me. I could then find a way to stand back up turning back the way I came instead of further down the tunnel.


    Then, I would lead him back out to the entrance of the tunnel and make my escape while leading him away from anywhere Camden might be.


    My Hustle stat increased by one point.


    I almost forgot.


    I had been awarded the Escape Artist trope forpleting the Astralist storyline. I got the trope as a reward foring up with a clever way of escaping my restraints. It gives me a boost to Hustle whenever I have a usible escape n, but the trope didn''t just work when I was captured it also worked when I was being pursued.


    Not only did that boost my ability to get away, but by awarding me a point for having a good n, it also confirmed for me that the n could theoretically work, which was arguably a more useful perk.


    Now it was all down to execution.


    Maybe that''s a poor choice of words.


    As I walked up to the corner where the two abandoned tunnels met, I casually bent down and pivoted my body to be pointed directly at the corner. With my sunsses and hoodie, I thought it waspletely believable that I wouldn''t be able to see whoever it was behind me.


    Have you ever tried to tie your shoes while a knife-wielding murderer walked behind you? I was so nervous that I nearly forgot how.


    Ranger Danger stood behind me and paused. I didn''t get a chance to look at him, but I was confident that it was the same masked figure I had seen before.


    And then he kept walking.


    At first, a wave of relief poured over me but then confusion set in. To my understanding, he shouldn''t have been walking away from me. If I was his target, he should continue to pursue me until I eventually saw him and he could strike. That''s how it worked with the Astralist. When I talked to Adeline about my n she confirmed it. My low plot armor should force the bad guy to continue to pursue me.


    Why was he walking away then?


    Instead of turning left and going back in the direction I came from, I waited for a moment and turned right. I was going to follow him.


    It was him alright. He paid me no mind.


    I had spent hours mentally preparing myself to use the Oblivious Bystander trope to avoid enemies, but I had not yet considered whether I might be able to use it to follow them. I wasn''t prepared. But I needed to see where he was going.


    I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.


    I waited until he cleared around the next corner before I followed him. At this point, the tunnels stopped being straight and started being curved with multiple directions that you could take at any given time. I imagine that these smaller tunnels were for vendors, as this was the location in the stadium where all of the food kiosks were set up.


    I wish I had brought a book or a newspaper, something to hold in front of me to make it look like I might not have seen Ranger Danger. Instead, I was just going to have to keep my distance and hope that he wouldn''t turn around to look at me.


    The crowd overhead suddenly burst into cheers. Somebody must have got a touchdown.


    Another scream joined in with them. It wasn''ting from the stands above; it wasing from a small tunnel offshoot of therge pathway. Ranger Danger had just entered there.


    ¡°Help!¡± Camden screamed.


    Ranger Danger must have been chasing Camden when I finally made it back into the tunnels after fighting through the crowd. He wouldn''t need a special trope to find him, a Chase Scene is resolved by a simpleparison of Hustle stats unless a trope contradicts it.


    If the killer''s Hustle is higher, they will catch you. It''s that simple.


    Camden only had two Hustle.


    No wonder my Escape Artist trope activated sessfully. I wasn''t the real target. His chasing me was just him ying along with my Oblivious Bystander trope.


    I took off my sses and pulled back my hood as I ran to catch up with Ranger Danger. It didn''t matter anymore if I was Oblivious.


    I burst into a room that held an exit door with crates of sports equipment stacked in front of it. Camden was trying to squeeze behind the crates, hoping to keep away from Ranger Danger. No doubt Camden hade in here seeking a way out. There was no way out because his Hustle score was too low. The story would not let him get away.


    ¡°Stop!¡± I screamed.


    Ranger Danger did stop. He turned and looked at me. He waited for a moment as if he was taking time to consider whether to attack me or not. He decided that he would.


    He lunged. I turned to run. Hoping that my boost to Hustle would be enough to get away from him, to lead him away from Camden.


    But it wasn''t.


    I wasn''t ten steps away from the door before I felt the knife. He grabbed me from behind and brought the knife around and drove it into my stomach. The de pierced right through my hoodie and sunk into my flesh.


    The pain was unbearable. My status changed. Now, I was scathed and the incapacitated light began turning on for long stretches of time every time I took a breath. Whenever it did, the pain was so unbearable that I could barely move. I had seen how this status had affected Kimberly and now I understood.


    I was on the ground without even feeling the fall. I expected the finishing blow toe any second.


    But it didn''t.


    Ranger Danger was gone.


    I was in shock, having trouble figuring out what was going on.


    I heard Camden scream.


    I resolved to get to him even if I had to crawl. That was all I could do while incapacitated. I forced myself to move across the floor. You never notice how often you flex your abs until someone stabs you there. Every movement shot pain throughout my body.


    Eventually, I made it to the door.


    Ranger Danger was standing over Camden.


    Camden wasn''t unconscious. He wasn''t incapacitated. He was bloody. He was dead.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked. It just came out.


    Why had he only wounded me but killed Camden? I couldn''t take my eyes off my childhood friend lying on the ground. I didn''t know how many times he''d been stabbed but it had been more than enough. This wasn''t like one of the NPCs, whose deaths were so easy to ept because they weren''t real.


    My unconscious status started to flicker on the red wallpaper.


    This time I screamed, ¡°Why?¡±


    Tears streamed from my eyes.


    Ranger Danger gave no answer. Instead, he pushed on the same crates that Camden had been trying to push, but he apparently had much higher Mettle, because he was able to move them just enough to squeeze through to the exit door. He left.


    The room started to go dark. I could see Camden¡¯s status as being dead but that wasn''t enough. I crawled closer to him even as my own consciousness started to wane. Blood soaked my clothes and the floor underneath me.


    I remembered us being kids and pretending to fight zombies. Most of what we did back then revolved around my strange interest in scary movies. His parents never let him watch them.


    When we yed as kids, our characters always lived no matter who we fought against, whether it was vampires or Lord Voldemort.


    But against Ranger Danger, against Carousel itself, Camden had died.


    Why had I been spared?


    I had suspected what was going on from the moment Ranger Danger passed me in the hall instead of attacking me.


    Pattern Killer


    Before the finale, the viin will only kill victims chosen ording to a pre-established motive.


    He couldn''t kill me.


    We finally had our pattern for the killer¡¯s motive.


    And I wasn''t a part of it.

 Chapter Twenty-Six: One Last Guess

    Chapter Twenty-Six: One Last Guess


    ¡°¡­single prating wound to the abdomen¡­¡±


    ¡± ¡­bleeding has stopped¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­prepping for transport¡­¡±


    I came to as I was being ced on a stretcher. The pain in my abdomen echoed all over my body. I was thirsty and even just moving my muscles hurt from fatigue. A paramedic was holding a wad of blood-soaked fabric against my wound.


    My shirt was ripped open. My hoodie was gone. Sunsses missing.


    The first thing I noticed before looking around was my status on the red wallpaper:


    Unscathed


    Hobbled


    Mutted (Flickering)


    Dead


    Written Off (Flickering)


    Chase Scene


    nning


    Unconscious


    Infected


    Incapacitated


    (Flickering)


    Captured


    Off-Screen (Lit)


    Fight Scene


    Exploring


    Several lights were turning off and on. Mutted. Incapacitated. Written off.


    Written off?


    Was I done? Had I been taken out of the story? It couldn''t be over.


    I looked around. I was outside of the stadium. A crowd of NPCs had gathered around to watch as the paramedics and police tried to sort out the situation. shing lights from the ambnce and the police cruisers colored the night red and blue.


    There was a murmur among the crowd as they watched. I imagine that many of these were the same NPCs that had seen me publicly used. Now it was their job to cry and watch as I got loaded into the back of an ambnce.


    In the distance, I saw Officer Ricky. He had blood on his hands. He sat on a curb near his parked police golf cart on the edge of the parking lot. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were fixated forward, staring, lost in a dark thought.


    Was that blood mine? Had Officer Ricky been the one to find me?


    It was strange to see that the NPCs still put in so much effort when they were off-screen. Not only were we off-screen, but I was about to be written off. I knew only the basics of what that status condition meant but the gist was it took you out of the story. Effectively it was like dying except you don''t die.


    You go to jail. You get hospitalized. Your death is left ambiguous. Several things could get you counted as written off. Whatever the case, if you are written off, you could notplete the story. If your team lost, you lost.


    The status was flickering though. Did that mean I had a choice?


    I could hear a familiar voice sharper than the de that had cut me.


    Detective ckwood.


    I didn''t know where he was, I think he was on the other side of the ambnce talking to some other police officers. But I did hear what he said.


    ¡°We must have missed something.¡±


    No kidding.


    ¡°Spree killer?¡± One of the police officers asked him.


    "I believe that all of these incidents are interconnected," Detective ckwood said. "There''s a pattern here: the victims were acquainted with each other and there are multiple crime scenes. It seems that the killer is attempting to cover their tracks. I need to have a word with the survivor before the paramedics take him away.¡±


    Attempting to cover their tracks? How would killing Camden¡­


    Just thinking of his name sent waves of intense dread through my body.


    ¡­How would killing Camden cover up the death of Ruck? So many clues pointed to different motives for Ruck¡¯s death. Which ones also exined Camden?


    One of the police officers spoke, bringing me back to reality. ¡°He must have seen something. He was found next to one of the stiffs.¡±


    Stiffs? Plural? There was more than one body?


    Panic set in as I tried to figure out who the other victim could be.


    I immediately thought of Anna. I know it makes no sense because Anna''s Last One Alive trope would have ensured that she survived much longer, but I had to know for sure.


    I tried to sit up.


    And failed.


    It wasn''t going to happen. Every time I flexed my abdominal muscles my Incapacitated status would re up and I would go limp.


    I was on a stretcher and the EMTs were messing with some stuff up in the cabin, preparing to bring me with them, but I couldn''t let them.


    ¡°Wait!¡± I screamed.


    They seemed rmed that I was awake. ¡°Hold still kid, we''ll get you to the hospital,¡± one of the EMTs said.


    ¡°No,¡± I said.


    I fought to pull myself off the side of the stretcher. They were designed to prevent that sort of thing, but I was adamant.


    ¡°Where''s Camden?¡± I ask. ¡°Show me!¡±


    The paramedics ignored me. The script said that they were going to take me to the hospital. That''s what they were going to do.


    ¡°Did my friendse to see me? Did they say anything?¡±


    One paramedic looked at the other. ¡°They¡¯lle to see you in the hospital, just get back in¡ª¡°


    I pulled away from the paramedics as they tried to restrain me. Incapacitation and even Muttion don''t impede your Hustle stat. Only Hobbled does. When my Incapacitated status red, I wouldn''t be able to move for a few seconds and I might fall over. But technically, I still had Hustle. Theoretically, that is all that should matter.


    The EMTs stabilized my wound and secured it with a big wad of gauze and tape. It would have to be enough. I needed to see who else was killed.


    Muttion affected Grit and overall Plot Armor. It reduced my Grit down to zero. My Plot Armor was now a measly three. That was okay, it wasn''t like I was using either of those anyway.


    I had two points of Hustle going into the storyline. I got a third point because of the sessful use of the Escape Artist trope in the tunnels. A lot of good it did me down there. The EMTs only had one point in Hustle like all basic NPCs.


    I rushed away from the stretcher trying not to breathe. Breathing made my wound hurt more and triggered Incapacitation. I did a quick burst away from the stretcher and caught myself against a cop car nearby. I didn''t have long, I just needed to look around and find where they had put Camden¡¯s body. It would be the same ce as the other victim. I had to know who it was.


    I quickly turned around to look at the ambnce and the area around it.


    I spotted them. There were two more ambnces parked on the other side of the one I was being loaded into. In front of them were two stretchers, both of which held a deceased body covered in a white sheet, just like Ruck¡¯s had been.


    I ran to the first. The paramedics made chase, but I wasunching myself forward as quickly as I could and using the vehicles in between us to hold myself up if necessary. Running is hard when you know that your body can give out on you at any second.


    But I persisted.


    The first body was small, just shorter than me. Someone with a thin wiry frame, as if they spent more time in the library than at the gym. I couldn''t bear the thought of seeing him lying here like that so I lifted the side of the sheet until I could see his hand. It was Camden, just as I expected.


    His stats on the red wallpaper were still visible. He had gotten a boost in Savvy and Grit from my Cinema Seer¡ªSurvive ability. I had predicted that Ranger Danger would strike at the football game. Not that it had helped anyone.


    But who was under the other sheet?


    This one wasrger. It was a man based on the general shape. Not big enough to be Antoine, but bigger than me.


    I reached out for the sheet and just as the paramedics were getting to me, I pulled it off.


    It was Evan.


    I didn''t want it to be him. I was hoping it had been Mark or Nathan. I thought Evan would be Ranger Danger. So many things in the story seemed to point to him, how could he not be the killer?


    The paramedics started to pull me back toward the ambnce. I didn''t give them a fight.


    Evan had been the one to notice that Ruck was missing.


    Evan had known Ruck was dead just from seeing a hulking figure under a sheet being loaded in an ambnce.


    Nelly Birch took business sses. Evan was trying to get his Master of Business Administration. Maybe they had sses together? A stronger connection never appeared.


    Evan¡¯s girlfriend had broken up with him because of a rumor of cheating. Ruck had started a rumor that Amber had slept with a bunch of guys. I was certain that I would eventually find that those two facts were rted but I never did.


    Most suspicious of all, Evan somehow knew that I was at the house when everyone else had left. If he wasn''t Ranger Danger that meant that the real killer had told him. We had tried to ask him. s, that knowledge died with him.


    Evan was a red herring. He was too perfect in every way except the ones that mattered. He had no motive and all we knew about the killer is that Ranger Danger <em>did</em> have a motive.


    I thought back to what Detective ckwood had said.


    Someone was trying to cover their tracks.


    Why didn¡¯t I see it before?


    The paramedics got me back to the stretcher but before they could load me, I struggled forward and caught myself against the ambnce door before pivoting away and running again. I would never be able to keep away from them for long even with my higher Hustle. Incapacitation would kill that advantage eventually.


    The finale had been going on for a while in my absence. It was nearly time for the final battle. I had a hunch about where it was going to be. We were going back to where this whole thing started: Delta Epsilon Delta.


    The reason is kind of funny. I¡¯ll give you a chance to guess before I tell you.


    But how did I get back there?


    No matter what I did, I would eventually be Incapacitated, and they would catch me because of that. There wouldn''t be cars that I could hold myself up on like there were in this parking lot. And I was losing energy. Endurance is determined by Grit. I had none.


    How could I escape?


    My eyes scanned the area and I saw Officer Ricky again.


    Ricky was having a very hard time with what he had seen that day. He was a gentle soul anyone could see it. I almost felt bad for what I was about to do but I had a feeling he would forget about it by morning.


    Behind Officer Ricky was the police golf cart that he drove. It was designed to be driven around campus.


    An idea formed in my mind of how I could get away from the paramedics.


    My Hustle stat increased by 1. Escape Artist had activated again. That was all the confirmation I needed.


    I booked it.


    I had to make it to the golf cart all on one breath or else Incapacitation would take over and I would face-nt it onto the concrete.


    I raced over to the parking lot and jumped the curb barely catching myself against the cart as I finally took a breath.


    Officer Ricky was more shell-shocked than I expected because he barely even registered that I had run past him.


    I jumped into the seat of his cart and reached down under the seat to where the ignition switch was. I flicked it on.


    My foot found the gas and I was immediately shocked by how much giddy-up this thing had. It was enough that just the shift of my body weight triggered my Incapacitation, but it didn''t matter because I was sitting down, and the golf cart kept going even if I couldn''t.


    I circled the parking lot. The paramedics had no chance of catching me on this thing, not unless they wanted to hop in their ambnce and follow.


    By all means, let them. We were probably going to need them.


    I raced back toward the Delta Epsilon Delta house.


    As I drove, I saw Detective ckwood. I swear, he had an amused smirk on his face.


    There was only one person who had a motive not only to kill Ruck but then to kill Camden and Evan to try and cover it up.


    And I knew who it was.

 Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Immortal Mask Is Broken

    Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Immortal Mask Is Broken


    I didn''t know whether the police would follow me. If they did, they wouldn''t get there in time to do anything. This was a movie after all. I was sure that the cops would probably get there just in time to deal with the dead bodies.


    The walk between the stadium and the frat house had been five to seven minutes if memory serves. The electric golf cart got me there in two minutes max. I rolled it right up to the front porch and parked it next to Ruck¡¯s orange farm truck which was still in the driveway from the night before.


    As I arrived, I surveyed the house. The front door was open. At first, I didn''t know how I was going to find my friends, but that part turned out to be easy. They were upstairs in the room that led off to the balcony where the mascot outfit had been hung from.


    Kimberly had her back to the window. Antoine and Anna were pressed up against the door, trying to keep it shut. They must not have figured out the whole motive yet.


    They didn¡¯t see me.


    I could hear something upstairs. Wood cracking. Loud footsteps. Muffled talking. They were stuck in that room. Who knows how long they had been fighting? Kimberly was alive. She had the lowest Plot Armor of them. If she was still around, I wasn¡¯t toote.


    How could I get to them?


    It was the final battle so Ranger Danger could kill any of us now. That should mean he would target me when I got close.


    After all, I was down to what? Three Plot Armor? Four maybe?


    No sunsses.


    No hood.


    To get Oblivious Bystander to work this time, I needed to y a very specific character. I needed to be someone in the throes of such raw delirium that they wouldn''t even notice the killer.


    Luckily, I had a huge advantage in that department courtesy of Ranger Danger himself: I had an ambiguous abdominal wound.


    It was bad, but I needed to pretend like it was <em>very</em> bad. I needed to pretend that I was on death''s doorstep using thest of my life to get to my friends.


    I put one hand on the temporary bandage that the medics had installed on my stomach. The other I used to catch myself on every door frame and stair rail that I came across on my way upstairs.


    I needed the ¡°audience¡± to see how out of it I was as Iboriously tried to climb the stairs.


    The whole time I would be screaming out everything I knew. Getting the truth out there was all that mattered now.


    Anna had all of the important clues. She must not have put it together. Can¡¯t me her.


    ¡°Anna!¡± I screamed. ¡°Anna, is that you? I figured out who the killer is.¡±


    It felt weird to be talking so loudly while trying to be oblivious.


    I held my wound and I bent over in pain. I dressed every word with anguish.


    ¡°I know what happened!¡±


    I never let my eyes focus on anything, not the ceiling, not the floor. They mostly stayed closed wincing with my pain. I only opened them to see the stairs in front of me as I clung to the rail.


    It was time to give a summation. A hallmark of the mystery genre. Time to put all the pieces into ce for the audience.


    ¡°It was Nathan!¡±


    They might have already figured that part out just by process of elimination, but seeing as they were still trapped upstairs, I figured that they didn''t know why Nathan had done it, why he had killed Ruck, why he had killed Camden and Evan.


    Why he was going to kill them.


    Specifically, why he was going to kill <em>Anna</em>. If my theory was right, Antoine and Kimberly weren¡¯t on the hit list. They were only in danger because this was the final battle and Ranger Danger was finally allowed to kill anyone, even people he didn''t have the motive to kill.


    ¡°Here''s what happened,¡± I said. I climbed the stairs slowly, struggling with each step. Some of the struggle was my real Incapacitation status ring up constantly, but I held firm against the railing.


    I was getting all of my Moxie''s worth with this one.


    ¡°Yesterday afternoon Nathan was driving Ruck''s truck. He often drove it around in fact, he did it so often that Mark called him Ruck''s chauffeur.¡± I took a moment to struggle with my ascent up the stairs.


    ¡°What kind of description of a friendship is that? A chauffeur? But Ruck needed Nathan to drive him. Ruck had a suspended driver¡¯s license and drunk driving arrests. Ruck wasn''t allowed to drive himself around. Remember how surprised Evan had been to see Ruck driving drunk? He didn''t do that every day. Not anymore, at least.¡±


    I took a moment to breathe. I held myself up against the railing.


    ¡°Detective ckwell said that none of Ruck''s charges were recent. I think that was because Nathan was driving him. The only reason Ruck drove to the party was that Nathan was too drunk to drive that night.


    ¡°Nathan killed Nelly Birch while driving Ruck''s truck. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe getting drunk was just an excuse to get Ruck to drive. I don¡¯t even know if Ruck was even in the car.


    ¡°Nathan had a problem. If he was ever connected to the crime his chances of getting into medical school were out the window, he had to act fast. He got Ruck to drive him to the party.


    ¡°Nathan knew that Ruck could tie him to the hit-and-run. Either Ruck witnessed it, or he was at least aware that Nathan had been driving his truck and would tell the police that whenever they questioned him. Nathan did what he thought he had to for his future. He grabbed the Ranger Danger costume and killed Ruck at the first opportunity.


    ¡°I don''t know how real his drunkenness was at the party; he may have just been pretending, but we could never know for sure. At some point, he remembered something Ruck had said when they arrived, something I wasn''t around to hear.


    ¡°But you were around to hear it, Anna. You and Camden.¡± My voice cracked when I said Camden¡¯s name. That wasn''t acting. ¡°You, Camden, Evan, and Mark. You were all around Ruck''s truck when they showed up. It was the only time that all the victims were in the same ce while I wasn¡¯t with them.


    ¡°Nathan had to cover his tracks. Ruck had said something to you all that would have put Nathan in the driver¡¯s seat at the time of the hit-and-run.


    ¡°Anna, you said it earlier. When we were in Town Square. You said Nathan was too drunk to drive <em>anymore</em>. You didn''t say he was too drunk to drive at all. The difference is crucial. That¡¯s what Ruck told you, isn¡¯t it? That Nathan had been driving earlier that day. That Ruck took over because Nathan couldn¡¯t anymore. The four of you could lead the police to Nathan. It may not be enough to prove that Nathan had killed Nelly, but it would be a cloud over him forever.


    ¡°That''s why he killed Camden and Evan. He may have even killed Mark already. That''s why he''s here tonight to kill you. Because you can tie him to the hit-and-run, even if you don''t know it. That''s why he didn''t kill me because I wasn''t around for that conversation, he had no motive to kill me.


    ¡°That''s what this has all been about; Nathan is trying to save his future. Don''t you remember what he said outside when they were taking Ruck''s body away? He said if I didn''t drink this wouldn''t have happened. He confessed right to our faces!¡±


    I stood at thending at the top of the stairs. That was it¡ªthat was everything I knew. if I was right about everything, then that meant Ranger Danger was vulnerable now. If I was wrong. We were screwed.


    Either way, I had drained everything going up the stairs. I staggered back to the railing over thending to support myself.


    I kept my eyes down the same as ever. I heard the footsteps again. They didn''t echo as they had under the tunnel. Instead, they creaked on the floorboards of the house. It was Ranger Danger. I didn''t know if I could continue to pretend that I didn''t see him. I had no sunsses, no cover.


    Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t matter. Anna and the others had surely heard me. My part was done.


    With his shoes in my view, I was certain that Oblivious Bystander was broken. How could I im not to have seen him now?


    I lifted my head.


    His hollow eyes stared back at me.


    What happened now? Did he kill me? Did he monologue?


    For a moment there was silence.


    And then he spoke.


    ¡°I should have killed you when I had the chance,¡± Nathan said. I could hear his anger and frustration in every word.


    He reached up to grab the bandana that surrounded the rubber mask and pulled the entire thing off, hat and all.


    The Immortal Mask was broken.


    Now the real fight begins.

 Chapter Twenty-Eight: Chekhovs Balcony

    Chapter Twenty-Eight: Chekhov''s Balcony


    The Ranger Danger outfit wasn''t nearly as intimidating without the mask and hat.


    But now I could see that crazed look in Nathan''s eyes as he edged toward me with his knife. He was being cautious as if I could hurt him. Did he not remember what happened in the tunnels?


    As he prepared himself to slice, I thought that would be the end for me. I had yed my part already. I would be in a morgue somewhere soon, surely.


    But then I spotted the football yer.


    Antoine was still wearing much of the football uniform he had been given for the game. He had ditched the shoulder pads, but he still wore the leg pads and the cleats, and in his hand, was a football helmet.


    He had managed to sneak out of the room that they had been holed up in. He was trying to walk on the hallway runner so that his cleats wouldn''t make a noise against the hardwood.


    I needed to distract Nathan.


    My main advantage in that pursuit was that he wanted to kill me. From that perspective, distracting him should have been easy. The disadvantage was that he could kill me very quickly. I needed to draw it out to give Antoine time to get into a better position.


    ¡°You told Evan that I was at the house when you killed Ruck,¡± I said. By now it was obvious, but I needed to get a reaction out of him. Hopefully, I could get him to monologue, to talk about his big killing n.


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± he said. He continued to creep closer.


    So much for that. He wasn''t going to talk to me. Up until that point we hadn''t had any dialogue with each other that I remembered. There was nothing to discuss. No unsettled issues between us.


    ¡°The police are on their way right now,¡± I said.


    I saw a glint of fear in his eyes. The walls were closing in.


    ¡°Then I better be quick.¡±


    So that was the wrong thing to say. Now he wasing faster.


    He lunged at me, but Antoine was close enough now, that just as Nathan managed to get his hands on me, Antoine hammered him in the back of the head with his helmet.


    That must have done a lot of damage.


    Antoine not only had a high Mettle, to begin with, but he had boosted it using his Gym Rat ability earlier in the storyline. Add on to that another buff he got from using a sports implement as a weapon, and that attack was enough to make Nathan nearly crumple to the ground. He caught himself and backed away from both of us, readying his knife to deal with the new threat.


    Nathan was bleeding now. A cut had opened up on the top of his head. I wondered if enemies could have status ailments the same way we could. If so it shouldn''t take too many hits like that to make Nathan incapacitated.


    Shortly after the scuffle, Anna emerged from a room they had been in, holding a small nightstand as a weapon. Now that they were working together, Anna¡¯s Who''s With Me trope boosted Antoine¡¯s Mettle even further.


    He had a total of seven. I don''t know which tropes were responsible for which buffs, but at our level, seven Mettle was huge.


    I could only guess what Nathan¡¯s stat distribution was. He probably had significant points in Grit, Hustle, and Mettle, but I know he had to have at least some Savvy and Moxie in order to pull off his deception. With a total Plot Armor of 15, there was no way that his Grit was higher than Antoine''s Mettle.


    The problem was, just because Antoine could take him out, didn''t mean Nathan couldn¡¯t kill him right back.


    It was all a matter of who got enough hits in against the other.


    Antoine had a lot of Hustle but using the football helmet as a weapon wasn''t exactly something you could do swiftly. He had to put a lot of power into it and swing it in a high arch.


    Nathan''s knife, however, was quick and every time Antoine would draw near, Nathan would have his de out slicing at the air.


    They were at an impasse.


    I had an opportunity to get out of there. I had no ce in the middle of a fight like that. I crawled on my hands and knees past the brawling trio toward the back of the house. On my way, I saw the door that they had barricaded to keep Ranger Danger out.


    I assumed that Kimberly was somewhere in there hiding off-screen. In the room, I saw a mannequinid out on the ground. That must have been dressed in the Ranger Danger costume when it was hanging from the front balcony.


    Luckily, Kimberly had already done her job. Thanks to her, I had a pretty good idea of where this fight needed to go: the back of the house.


    I heard Nathan start to monologue. It almost hurt my feelings how quickly he went into it with the right audience.


    ¡°Don''t you understand, Anna?¡± He pleaded.


    ¡°How could I understand killing people? Killing your¡ªour¡ªfriends?¡± Anna was furious at him. She had lost a real friend in this storyline.


    Nathan let out a frustrated cry. ¡°I''m going to be a surgeon. I can''t have everything I''ve worked on for my entire life wasted because of one mistake. I am going to save lives. I''m going to save one life for the girl. Then I''ll save a life for¡­¡± he choked up for a moment, ¡°Ruck. Then one for Mark, one for Evan, one for Camden¡­¡±


    I stood up in the hallway so that I could move faster. I used the wall to hold myself up and every door frame I came across was a fingerhold.


    To the audience, it must have looked like I was panicking and trying to get away. I was actually trying to get somewhere specific.


    I got to the back of the hallway where two ss doors opened up onto the back balcony.


    As I opened them I put every effort I could into turning the handle loudly and opening the doors with a bang as I fell against them.


    ¡°¡­and then when I''ve done that, I''m going to save a few more for all of you.¡±


    With that, Nathan turned away from Anna and Antoine and rushed down the hallway at me. Now that he was done monologuing, I was the target again. And an easy target at that as I could barely hold myself up against the back doors.


    He got to me quickly. He grabbed me and he moved his knife into my ribs. The pain was even worse than the one in my stomach as his knife scraped along my ribs.


    He pulled out the de. He repositioned it to plunge it into my heart. This time he was going for the kill.


    Just as he was about to plunge his knife into me, Antoine caught up to him and tackled him out through the open doors onto the back balcony.


    The same exact back balcony that Kimberly and Antoine had found yesterday at the party.


    Do you remember that hunch that I had but didn''t tell you about yet?


    This was it. When Kimberly and Antoine had found it, an obviously scripted response urred. Everyone told them that the back balcony was rotten and not to go out there. It was so obvious that even my friends had picked up on it.


    The Party Phase is the exploration phase and, thanks to her new ¡°Get a Room!¡± trope, Kimberly had an increased chance of finding useful plot elements when exploring the setting with a romantic interest. Antoine was happy to fill that role, I''m sure.


    There was only one thing that having NPCs point out a rotten back balcony could mean in a movie like this. It meant that somebody was going to fall through it.


    That''s how I knew that the finale would happen at Delta Epsilon Delta. There was only one reason Kimberly would have been able to find something like this. When you''re watching a movie and you see a character put a gun into their waistband you can expect that that gun''s going to go off by the end of the movie.


    The same idea applies to unsafe balconies.


    This decrepit balcony was a weapon in our hands as much as any gun would be. We just had to find a way to use it.


    As soon as Antoine tackled him onto the balcony, the entire thing gave way and fell off the back of the house.


    There was a crunch of wood and dust that flew into the air as Antoine, Nathan, and about 10,000 termites fell to the ground below.


    I had no way of knowing how much damage that fall would do to Nathan. I knew that in a movie like this, that fall would be a great ending blow.


    I leaned over so that I could see down to where they had fallen. Antoiney sprawled out reeling in pain. Nathany next to himpletely still.


    Not that I trusted that. We already knew that he had a lot of Moxie. He could be faking.


    Anna had taken the stairs and had to run around the side of the house. She quickly grabbed Antoine and helped him to his feet. He was clearly dazed, and I could see that his Incapacitated status was going off asionally, but otherwise, he just had the wind knocked out of him.


    Then she approached Nathan and kicked him to turn him over.


    His knife was sticking out of his sternum. Even he didn''t have enough Moxie to fake that.


    He was breathing hard, but I saw a rage within him as he screamed.


    ¡°I was going to make up for it!¡±


    He struggled, attempting to get to his feet. When he didn''t manage to do that he got on his knees and crawled toward Anna. She backed away. Still, he persisted.


    I could tell he wanted to say something, but now he was the one that was bleeding out. He was losing the energy to hold himself up.


    He made onest attempt to lunge at Anna, but she struck him with the nightstand, sending him falling sideways into the backyard pool.


    The needle on the plot cycle was nearly to The End as the pool grew murky with blood.


    In the distance, police sirens could be heard.


    They came just in time to deal with the body.


    When the needle struck The End, I felt myself taking an involuntary deep breath. It didn''t hurt this time. I reached toward my abdomen. No wound. No ripped shirt. No blood.


    I even had my hoodie and sunsses back.


    Quickly the four of us left Delta Epsilon Delta. We ran down the road toward the stadium. I didn''t know if we had to pick up Camden from the hospital or if he''d be right where I left him.


    Even though the storyline had ended I could tell that things were still not back to normal. Some police cruisers were still in the parking lot of the stadium along with one ambnce. But the people were gone.


    As we approached, we saw Camden walking slowly toward us. His eyes were wide in shock.


    We ran to him and piled on to him in a hug.


    At that moment all I wanted to do was apologize for not being able to save him. I also wanted to ask him what it was like. Was he aware that he was dead? Was he watching us?


    I didn''t do any of those things. I was just d to have him back.


    The group hug might havested longer except we were interrupted.


    ¡°Step right up,¡± Ss the Showman said. ¡°You''ve won a ticket!¡±


    The fortune-telling machine was in the middle of the street. Its lights were drowned out by those of the ambnce and police cars but it was still hard to miss the little animatronic man and his silver shlight clicking off and on.


    You know the drill.


    Here''s what we got:


    Each of us received two stat tickets. Our Plot Armor wasn''t going to grow this fast forever. Eventually, it would level off and then the grind would begin. For now, we were flush with stat points.


    I put one into Moxie and one into Savvy to make sure that my Trope Master ability stayed up to snuff. So far, my Oblivious Bystander scouting strategy was working. At least there were promising signs. It wasn''t perfect yet, I wasn''t perfect at it yet, but I wasn''t going to give up on it if it helped me get to the end of the story to help my friends.


    Here are our stat changes:


    yer Stats


    Riley


    Antoine


    Anna


    Kimberly


    Camden


    Archetype


    Film Buff


    Athlete


    Final Girl


    Eye Candy


    Schr


    Plot Armor


    15


    16


    18


    14


    15


    Mettle


    1


    4


    4


    1


    2


    Moxie


    4 + 1


    1 + 1


    3 + 1


    4 + 1


    2


    Hustle


    2


    4 + 1


    2 + 1


    3


    2


    Savvy


    5 + 1


    1


    2


    1


    6


    Grit


    1


    4


    5


    3 + 1


    1 + 2


    <strong></strong>


    Each of us was just trying to make up for what we felt wecked. Antoine wanted more Moxie so that he could scale his Gym Rat ability. Camden, as could be expected, wanted more Grit so he put both points into it. And so on and so forth.


    Antoine got the Ranger Danger card. Well deserved. I mean really it was a team effort. Kimberly found the rotten balcony. I lured Nathan into position. Anna pushed him into the pool where he sank to his ambiguous demise. But it was Antoine that took the fall, activating the rotten balcony/plot device so he got the win.


    Ranger Danger


    ???


    Someone is out to kill Ruck Johnson. Donning a grim uniform stolen from a rival school, they be a killer who is unstoppable until they are unmasked. Armed with a knife and deception, Ranger Danger sets out to kill all those on his or her list.


    Each of us also received a trope except for Kimberly. I suppose it was fair, she was already ahead.


    Anna got a blue ticket:


    A Kind Face


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to the Final Girl


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Perhaps the most significant advantage that a Final Girl has is that everyone seems to trust them. As they seek information in order to survive, even strangers will go the extra mile to help them out.


    When this ticket is equipped, NPCs will be more likely to share important plot information with the yer during the Party Phase.


    Antoine got a blue ticket:


    The ybook


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to the Athlete


    Stat Used: Grit


    Unspokenmunication is an important skill set for any survivor. Skills and teamwork learned on the field can apply in a fight.


    When this ticket is equipped, the yer will be able to perceive whenever the time to perform their role in a pre-nned strategy hase even withoutmunication from a teammate.


    Camden got a purple ticket:


    Hide and Seek


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to Any yer


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Sometimes you can''t run but you can hide. In a movie, the right hiding spot can mean the difference between life and death.


    Normally when being chased, the yer¡¯s Hustle will bepared to the pursuer¡¯s Hustle to determine whether the yer is caught. When this ticket is equipped, a yer who hides during a chase scene will be able to pit their Savvy against the opponent¡¯s Savvy instead.


    Beware, however, this effect will notst.


    I received a blue ticket:


    Casting Director


    yer Trope


    Can be equipped to the Film Buff


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The film buff can recognize the role that a character will y in a movie just from watching the trailer.


    During the Party Phase, the yer will perceive information about their team¡¯s roles in the storyline.

 Chapter Twenty-Nine: To the Attention of Janette Gill

    Chapter Twenty-Nine: To the Attention of Jte Gill


    The day the package arrived started like any other day at Camp Dyer.


    It was the day after we had finished the Delta Epsilon Delta storyline. I awoke to someone tapping on therge ss window that dominated a whole wall in my room.


    It was the NPC campers again. No surprise there. I lifted my head and red at them and they giggled and ran away. Most of the yers had gotten used to these kids, but I found it very difficult.


    Camden had remained quiet ever since dying in thest storyline. He insisted that he was fine and he just needed some time.


    ¡°Everyone takes death differently,¡± Valerie had warned us. ¡°Just give him his space.¡±


    So, I did. I left him to sleep on his bunk as I went and got ready for the day.


    Mornings at Dyer Lodge could be hectic if you were inside. Over fifty people were moring to get breakfast and even though the amodations of the lodge were very good, the kitchen was notrge enough for everyone to move about.


    Many yers had taken to the tradition of eating breakfast outside. The weather was always nice, after all. Camp Dyer had several campsites close to the lodge withrge grills that could be used by the yers. One of the yers, Grace, a Detective archetype with plot armor 41, appeared to be in charge of the cookout.


    A Detective is an advanced schr archetype. For someone to get it they would start as a Schr and eventually receive the upgraded archetype from Ss the Showman.


    What she cooked varied wildly. Food was never something hard to find at Camp Dyer. The veteran yers would make food runs into town. There was arge wholesale store somewhere in Carousel where yers could stock up on anything that they needed with only a moderate risk of triggering a storyline.


    Today¡¯s brunch was fish. When she was cooking, I could see many of the same qualities that probably made her a good teammate in a storyline. She was very well organized, very well spoken, and incredibly bossy¡ªI mean a good leader.


    She had to be bossy; she was the leader of the group that was called the Bowlers because they had a habit of going to Carousel¡¯s bowling alley and clearing it of storylines so that they could spend the day throwing back beers and bowling.


    They were one of several teams that didn''t have a Final Girl. The Bowlers consisted of three, yes, three Bruiser archetypes. A Bruiser is usually a heavy-set character with high Mettle and Grit but little Hustle or Savvy.


    I''ll repeat, Grace''s team had three of them.


    In a movie, a Bruiser is usually going to be a biker or prisoner or maybe the husky kid at high school who gets picked on. Additionally, they had an Outsider named Jesse. Jesse was a long-haired hippie type of guy. I got the impression that Jesse and Grace used to date, but now they were strictly tonic.


    It¡¯s kind of a funny story:


    One of the Bruisers, Reggie, was Grace''s brother. A few years after Grace and Jesse got lured to Carousel, Reggie started getting letters in the mail that he believed were from Grace. Those letters are what eventually drew him and his Bruiser buddies here.


    How did Carousel trick him? It had "Grace" promise to make him some paprikash.


    It¡¯s funnier when Grace tells the story.


    To make myself useful I decided to go help Lee with the fish. Dyer¡¯s Lake was surprisingly bountiful for existing in a nightmarish reality. You could angle fish from it all day long.


    Lee, a Wallflower, would spend hours every day out on the dock near the lodge doing nothing but fishing. Lee did not have a team that he belonged to. I think he used to though. I don''t know what happened to them.


    He was an old greybeard. Mid-sixties. He was the oldest yer here, though he only had a plot armor of 33 and he was far from the most experienced, having only arrived a few years ago.


    ¡°Now the trick to fishing,¡± Lee would say, ¡°Is that you got to reel up what you catch right to the water¡¯s surface but don''t pull it out until you make sure it''s a fish.¡±


    The first time we spoke to him Anna was with me. ¡°What else could it be?¡± she had asked.


    ¡°Could be lots of things,¡± Lee said. ¡°A cursed ring, a magical conch, anything. You just gotta cut the line if it''s not a fish. Because if you reel it in you''ll wish you hadn''t.¡±


    That morning, he had brought in arge haul. I arrived just in time to help him bring it back to Grace.


    Antoine, his brother Chris, and a whole host of other yers had started ying catch with a frisbee. As they yed Antoine regaled them with tales of his football heroics the night before.


    ¡°I was running back,¡± he said. ¡°I hadn''t yed football since high school, so I thought I''m about to get creamed by these guys, but then I realized these are all NPCs with one Mettle. So as soon as I get the ball I run right through them like they''re not even there. As soon as I touch them, they fly back andnd on their asses. Felt like I was Superman.¡±


    Chris and the others wereughing at his story as he talked about scoring touchdowns and trying to run up the scoreboard before the scene ended.


    ¡°The announcer was losing his shit,¡± Antoine said. ¡°It was like he''d never seen anything like it.¡±


    I sat at a table where I could keep an eye on everything that was going on. Iughed along with Antoine as I tried to get to know the other yers.


    Anna was talking to Grace and a Femme Fatale named Roxie. A Femme Fatale is an advanced Eye Candy archetype that often ys a more morally gray role than a straightforward protagonist. Her teammate Lara, was a Psychic archetype, one of the archetypes that I was most eager to learn about but hadn''t gotten the chance to.


    They were talking about our performance in the Delta Epsilon Delta storyline.


    ¡°So who killed Ruck?¡± Grace asked.


    I hadn''t considered until that moment that there might be more than one version of the mystery. That exined why the Ranger Danger ticket hadn¡¯t included Nathan¡¯s name.


    ¡°Nathan,¡± Anna had answered. ¡°We figured it out when he was the only one left alive. I knew why he had killed Ruck but I couldn''t figure out why he was killing everyone else. Luckily, Riley figured it out.¡±


    ¡°Nathan? Isn''t that Ruck¡¯s friend?¡± Roxie had said. ¡°Hadn''t had him before.¡±


    They also apparently hadn''t been arrested when they yed. Most of them never even made it to the football game.


    ¡°I''ve done it three times,¡± Grace had said. ¡°Twice it was Evan. Once it was one of the football yers.¡±


    As they were talking I noticed that amotion had broken out near the lodge. Something had sent all of the yers away. They weren¡¯t just walking, they were running.


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± Lara was eximing over and over again. She wasn''t looking over in the direction of the lodge but was instead staring off into the distance. I recognized this look; she was looking at the red wallpaper. One of her Psychic tropes must have been activating.


    I tried to get a closer look at what was causing themotion.


    As I moved toward the lodge, I got warnings from various yers that I passed. They told me to get back. Whatever they had seen must have put them on edge.


    I wasn''t going to get too close.


    As I got closer what I saw was a man holding arge cardboard box. The box was rectangr. It was sealed shut sloppily with more tape than would be necessary. At first, it wasn''t the box that drew my attention.


    The man was clearly in disarray. He was an NPC. He had nothing out of the ordinary in terms of plot armor, nor did I see that he had any enemy tropes. His name was Donald.


    His hair was ubed and the shirt he wore didn''t fit. As he stood there, he would asionally try to pull down the sleeves to cover up what appeared to berge circr bite marks on his arms. They might have been from a dog, I wasn¡¯t sure.


    Some wounds were fresh. Others were scabbed over. He also appeared to have one on his left ankle. Moreover, he was missing a finger on his left hand which had been hastily bandaged.


    ¡°I have a delivery for Jte Gill,¡± he said. He spoke loudly; his voice cracked as if he were afraid of something. His entire manner was devoid of sanity.


    He appeared to be desperate in his search for Jte.


    That was incredibly strange to me.


    Jte had been one of the yers that had arrived around the same time I had. She was a Hysteric archetype. She exemplified her archetype better than any person I had met. She had refused to leave the lodge at all. While my friends and I had been out ying through storylines at the demand of the veteran yers, no one had been able to sessfully pry her out of her room.


    Her husband, Bobby, was a Wallflower archetype who had taken up venturing out into the town of Carousel with various teams. I hadn''t had many run-ins with Bobby personally except for one where I got the impression that he thought that Ss the Showman had mistakenly given me <em>his</em> Film Buff archetype, but he may have been joking about that.


    The idea that an NPC would be looking for Jte was very strange. She had not interacted with anyone. Up until this point the only time I had seen NPCs acknowledge yers in any meaningful way had been whenever you were in a storyline with them. Whenever you had a scripted role to y the NPCs would speak to you as if you were an old friend or an employee or whatever rtionship the script said you had.


    Even at Camp Dyer, the NPCs didn''t talk to us in any substantive way; they mostly just scurried about. There was this implication that we were counselors at the camp but none of the NPCs had had any scripted interactions with us in that regard because we were not in a storyline with them.


    This man though was certain that he needed to speak to Jte Gill.


    ¡°Please, I have to give this to her. Have you seen her?¡±


    The needle on the plot cycle was at Omen.


    The veteran yers were very attuned to ignoring NPCs who were acting strange so up until that moment no one had actually spoken to this guy nor had they gotten close enough toe anywhere near the package.


    Donald stood on the back deck trying to get into the lodge but someone had had the foresight to lock the door. He knocked furiously at the back door almost to the point that I was afraid that he would try to break it down but he never did.


    So far, omens had not gone out of their way to make it out to Camp Dyer. Not in this way at least. Camp Dyer had its own Omens rted to the abandoned cabin, and of course, whatever it was Lee was dredging up from theke along with our breakfast.


    However, NPCsing out of their way to try and trick you into a storyline? It had not happened here yet. That''s why this location was chosen by the veteran yers.


    ¡°Please, you don''t understand,¡± Donald implored those few yers who dared stay within 20 yards of the guy.


    No one took the bait.


    Behind me, I could hear some of the more experienced yers start to form a n.


    ¡°We need Arthur and Adaline,¡± Grace said. ¡°Are they at the diner?¡±


    Those around her nodded in agreement.


    ¡°Jesse,¡± she said looking at her Outsider teammate. ¡°Go get them. Be quick.¡±


    Jesse nodded his head and started running down a path toward the main road, being sure to give the lodge and the deranged NPC a wide berth.


    ¡°What''s happening?¡± Antoine asked. No one answered him but he quickly surveyed the situation and realized what was going on. ¡°Kimberly¡¯s in there!¡±


    ¡°Don''t worry,¡± Chris said. ¡°He''s not getting in. He''s not going to break down the door.¡±


    I turned back to the NPC.


    He was staring down at the box in his hands. It almost looked like he was listening to it.


    ¡°I''m trying,¡± he said desperately.


    He looked around hoping some yer would be willing to take the box, but none offered. Eventually, he decided to just leave it. He propped the box up against the back door. And backed away, unsure of whether this was eptable.


    he tugged at his sleeves still trying to hide the bites on his arms.


    He looked like he was about to cry.


    ¡°I''m sorry,¡± he said as he turned tail and started to run away from the lodge, leaving the box for us to take care of.


    With the NPC gone, I felt a little braver about getting close. Some of the other yers must have felt the same way because we started to close in to look more closely at the parcel.


    As we got closer there was a session of gasps as each of us was able to see something on the red wallpaper.


    Grotesque.


    Plot Armor: 43.


    But I was able to see more because of my Trope Master ability. I could only see two of its tropes but I could tell that there were more. Whatever this thing was it must have had at least enough Savvy to counter my six and limit Trope Master.


    Grotesque


    Plot Armor: 43


    TROPES


    Progenitor


    This creature has the ability to create duplicate offspring.


    Jekyll and Hyde


    This viin has multiple forms. Stone: Grit = 0, Living: Grit = 20.


    As I got close I could see that there was something written on the box:


    ¡°To the Attention of Jte Gill.¡±

 Chapter Thirty: The Grotesque Lottery

    Chapter Thirty: The Grotesque Lottery


    We waited for the longest time.


    I felt like I was 12 years old again and hiding out in the cer with my grandparents as the storm of the century raged above. I had felt like I was just waiting to find out whether that was how I died.


    When I asked my grandpa whether we were going to be okay, he answered, ¡°We will or we won''t.¡±


    That was that.


    My grandmother was much better in a crisis andforted me and said that no matter what happened she would be there with me.


    It wasn''t that my grandfather was cold, no, he just had a different outlook. Even when cancer put him on his deathbed, he still had this slight grin on his face like he was amused that death would finally show its face to him after all these years.


    When speaking of his potential demise, he would say again ¡°I will, or I won''t.¡±


    Of course, he would have to have a pretty strange outlook on life to get his young grandson hooked on horror movies.


    I must have gotten a lot of my personality from him because even as the yers around me scrambled, all I could wonder was, is this how I die? I''m not saying that I''m particrly brave or unafraid of death but I am more curious than I am scared.


    Anna, on the other hand, was far more interested in being prepared. She immediately started asking around about whether things like this had happened before and what to do about them. Should we run? <em>Can</em> we run?


    Grace, under pressure, continued to cook. I could see that she was frazzled, which wasn''t normal for her.


    ¡°This hasn''t happened in years,¡± she told Anna. She took a cleaver and chopped the heads off of the fish that Lee had caught. ¡°And never like this.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure what she meant by ¡°like this.¡±


    Her hands were shaking. She really shouldn''t have been holding that cleaver, but I wasn''t going to say that to her.


    ¡°Why is no one leaving?¡± Anna asked, hoping one of the veteran yers would let her in on whatever secret it was that they knew.


    Roxie, who had immediately found the front entrance to the lodge, and gone to her room to change into attire more appropriate for a storyline, had mercy on Anna and exined it to us.


    ¡°Everyone who has seen that Omen can be chosen. It doesn''t matter which team actually picks it up. It doesn''t matter if everyone else runs to the other side of Carousel. All we know for sure is that Jte will be on the team. What''s going to happen is there''s going to be a short debate and then Arthur is going to pick up the Omen. Then the lucky winners will march off toplete the storyline.¡±


    ¡°Can''t we just¡­ not touch it?¡± Anna asked.


    Roxie smirked. ¡°This one? Maybe. The next one? Probably not.¡±


    I noticed that she had changed her tropes around. She was no longer a Femme Fatale; she had downgraded back to Eye Candy.


    When I asked her why that was, she exined that it was bad practice to have multiple advanced archetypes on a single team. Advanced archetypes tend to take over storylines and much of the plot will be focused on them. If you have more than one it can be pretty convoluted and difficult to discern how to proceed.


    ¡°When whatever a ¡®grotesque¡¯ is starts killing us, I want it to be Arthur''s responsibility, not mine,¡± she said.


    She then started helping Grace shuck corn.


    Todd, who had been the person with the foresight to lock both doors whenever he saw a strange NPCing, had emerged from a lodge ready for a fight. While the Comedian archetype was not abat ss, Todd had something called a background trope, titled, ¡°Recently home from the war.¡±


    A background trope allows you to modify your character¡¯s past. In doing so, it makes a variety of tropes--centered around a theme--equippable to yers that normally wouldn''t be able to use them. It was the closest thing to multissing that you could do in Carousel. Most of the veteran yers had their favorites.


    His ¡°Recently home from the war¡± trope gave him ess to four or five other tropes, mostly rted tobat and firearms.


    His small collection of weapons consisted of two sidearms and arge knife.


    After thirty minutes or so, Arthur and Adeline finally arrived.


    They had run the entire way.


    I barely had time to tell them about the Grotesque''s tropes before they locked themselves away to n a response. As Roxie had predicted, they spent 10 to 15 minutes debating what they were going to do with some of the higher-level yers. When they emerged, they decided that Arthur would activate the omen.


    Adaline gathered everyone up outside. ¡°Go in through the front door and get whatever tropes you think will help you assist Arthur''s Monster Hunter. yers who have sacrificial builds, please prepare them.¡±


    Even she seemed concerned over this omen. I thought that was strange because her plot armor should have put her well out of range to worry about something like this. Both she and Arthur had 20 plot armor on this creature.


    ¡°We thought that we would have another month at least before something like this happened,¡± she said. ¡°Some yers have a difficult time adjusting to Carousel. Others take to it very intuitively. We cannot me Jte. We''re just going to have to do our best to react and ovee this.¡±


    Even as every yer who had been in the vicinity of the omen was prepping for the apocalypse, no one had managed to get Jte out of her room yet. No one had seen her husband because he was out doing a storyline with Travis.


    My friends and I had found our own ce amongst the chaos. Unlike everyone else we really didn''t have much preparation to do. We didn''t have enough tropes yet that we had to create builds. We just had to use what we had.


    Carousel ¡°didn¡¯t like it¡± when high-level yers lent tropes to low-level yers. I didn¡¯t know what that meant exactly, but I could use my imagination.


    My friends and I tried tofort each other.


    ¡°It''s not going to be you,¡± Antoine said to Kimberly. He held her in his arms, showing a rare moment of public affection. ¡°That thing is way too high a level. It¡¯s going to pick somebody else.¡±


    He didn''t know that. After all, Carousel had just sent a level 43 omen after Jte who only had nine plot armor. I wasn''t going to correct him.


    Camden was doing his best to stay calm. This couldn''t have been a good thing to wake up to after what he had just gone through.


    ¡°You know Arthur''s going to activate the omen and he¡¯s a Monster Hunter. That¡¯s just an advanced schr archetype and they probably don''t need two schrs,¡± I said to him. It made sense to me, but I didn''t know if that would be a factor at all.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said softly. I could tell that he was afraid. Anna gave him a hug.


    Anna was far more concerned with making sure that each of us was okay. She was made for situations like this, in a way.


    I wanted to ask Kimberly how much Moxie the thing in the box had. I knew I shouldn¡¯t, not with how she was handling things.


    It would have been useful information to have. I knew it didn¡¯t have a ton of Savvy because my Trope Master ability worked on it. If I could get an idea of its other stats, I might feel like it was less of a threat. Being able to create duplicate offspring was such a scary prospect. Even Arthur couldn¡¯t withstand getting surrounded by a lot of creatures of this level.


    As I considered this, I realized that that might be the reason that even the high-level yers were so concerned. Even though Adeline and Arthur were in their low 60s that didn''t mean that they had enough Grit to protect them from whatever a Grotesque was. If this creature had a particrly high Mettle, enough of them could probably kill everyone at camp.


    An hour after the package had arrived, Lara, the Psychic archetype, publicly dered that we needed to take it before nightfall.


    She had several tropes that could give her information about storylines that she wasn''t a part of and omens that had not yet been activated. Tropes with names like Soothsayer and Harbinger. I wasn''t sure which one she used to make this prediction.


    As if they had been waiting for such a sign, Adeline and Arthur got everyone to arrange themselves by plot armor. They acted as if proximity to the omen might y a role in choosing the team so they wanted the strongest yers closest. I couldn''t say if that was something they knew to be fact or if it was just a theory.


    The air was tense as Arthur, who had packed arge duffel with all of his monster hunting gear, got near the parcel.


    There was nothing left but the luck of the draw.


    Just looking at the package I could see that the needle on the plot cycle was at omen. For some of us, maybe even all of us, it was about to change.


    He reached down and grabbed the package. He took a knife from his belt and opened it up slowly as the surrounding yers watched, many with their hands on their holsters.


    From within the package, Arthur retrieved a stone statue about the size of a border collie. The statue was hideous. It had the body of a dog, the tail of a lion, the face of a man screaming in agony, and teeth like something out of hell. Two curved horns grew from its head.


    I finally figured out what a Grotesque was. It was a gargoyle, and not the Saturday morning cartoon version.


    He started looking around at the crowd of yers. ¡°Who do we got?¡±


    Three hands raised into the air. There was Reggie, a Bruiser with plot armor 38. Valerie, a Final Girl. Plot Armor 58. And Roxie, the Eye Candy, who smiled like she was expecting it. Plot Armor 40.


    Arthur, Monster Hunter, Plot Armor 64 was also part of the party.


    Of course, Jte the Hysteric, Plot Armor 9, would be as well.


    ¡°Anyone else?¡± Arthur asked.


    There was someone else...


    Me.


    I raised my hand.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Anna said. She hugged me.


    I was numb. I couldn¡¯t even hug her back.


    Arthur cursed.


    ¡°Carousel can''t resist a Film Buff,¡± Roxie said with augh.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be okay,¡± Anna said. It was more of a question than a statement.


    ¡°I will or I won¡¯t,¡± I said under my breath.

 Chapter Thirty-One: A Family In Crisis

    Chapter Thirty-One: A Family In Crisis


    You would probably be surprised to hear that once we exined to Jte everything that had happened and how important it was that she apanied us on this storyline, she immediately had a change of heart and became a team yer.


    You <em>would</em> be surprised to hear that.


    But you''re not going to hear that.


    Because it didn''t happen.


    Luckily, I wasn''t part of the group that had to get her on board. Arthur and Valerie took up that task. Not that they were quick about it. It took them thirty minutes to get her out of her room and they only did that because Arthur implied that he would pick her up and carry her if she didn''t walk.


    After all the trouble they had had getting Jte to leave her room, watching her step out of the lodge and take a look at the gargoyle felt like a huge win. However, the battle was far from over because they had to convince her to go on the storyline with us.


    Adaline and all the other yers who weren''t involved in the storyline stayed in the back. They were all refusing to be involved in any capacity. As soon as we were chosen, it almost felt as if we were lepers and that if they spoke to us too much or interacted with us they might catch what we had.


    It urred to me that I never asked Kimberly what the creature¡¯s Moxie was. I wondered if I were to go around back where the other yers were, would they let me talk to her? I asked Roxie about it while Valerie and Arthur tried their best not to scream at Jte.


    ¡°Normally, I''d say go for it,¡± she said. ¡°But with this one, you probably should have done that before the storyline started. Might not want to risk it.¡±


    ¡°What''s the difference?¡± I asked. I had the feeling ever since I arrived at Dyer¡¯s Lodge that there was something the veteran yers didn''t want to tell us. A secret. Even now as Roxy contemted her answer to my question I could see that despite her intentionally cool demeanor there was something she wasn''t telling me--something that scared her.


    When she didn''t respond immediately, I asked, ¡°What is it that you know?¡±


    I could see on her lips that she was debating telling me something.


    She must have decided against it.


    ¡°You know I have the theory on Jte,¡± she said. She ran her fingers through her long dark hair. ¡°I don''t think she''s supposed to be here.¡±


    ¡°Well neither am I,¡± I said with a smirk.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t mean like that.¡± She got close like she was telling me a secret. ¡°Most people whoe here figure out really quickly that you have to follow the rules. Intuitively. Don''t you find it weird that most of us manage not to break the rules even though they are not written down anywhere?¡±


    Truthfully, I don''t know if she was right. I don''t like the idea that I was somehowpatible with Carousel. I just follow the rules because I want to survive.


    ¡°Well, some of us just yed a lot of role-ying games growing up,¡± I said.


    ¡°And watched horror movies,¡± she added with a smile.


    ¡°That too.¡±


    Arthur and Valerie seemed to have finally been making progress. As the day wore on our need to get a move on increased exponentially.


    In the end, Jte''s terms were this:<ul><li>she would not go near the gargoyle statue;</li><li>she would not be asked to fight anything;</li><li>Arthur would force her husband to stop going on storylines with Travis;</li><li>she didn''t want to talk to any NPCs because they freaked her out; and, finally,</li><li>Arthur promised to protect her even if it meant dying.</li></ul>


    Arthur swore up and down to everything that she required. Eventually, she swayed. Of course, I didn''t believe him at all. I think at that point he would have said anything to get her on board.


    Upon examining the box that the Grotesque hade in, Arthur found that it had been reused. It originally had a shippingbel on it with an address: 665 Toother Street.


    Arthur grabbed his duffel bag. Valerie had arge purse. I wasn''t sure what was inside either of them. Reggie carried the Grotesque. I¡¯m d he was willing. I didn¡¯t want to touch it.


    I think we need to steal some bicycles or a car or something. The long trek to and from Camp Dyer may have kept us safe from most omens (current storyline excluded), but it made getting around Carousel very time-consuming.


    For most of the walk, we were off-screen, so we discussed what we knew about the little gargoyle so far. As it turned out, many of the veteran yers had been using their insight tropes to learn what they could about the monster before the storyline started. After all, the more they knew, the better they could prepare their builds and strategies.


    Like me, they had all shared this information with Arthur before he activated the storyline.


    Arthur had a trope that let him determine the creature¡¯s Mettle. It was 19. None of us were safe against that. Chris, Antoine''s older brother, had an Athlete trope that told him about the creature¡¯s Hustle. That was 11. Grace had a trope that would have let her determine the creature''s Savvy but it would have involved interacting with it, which she couldn''t do because she didn''t want to touch it.


    My Trope Master ability allowed me to tell that this creature had no Grit while in stone form but would get 20 Grit when it came to life.


    While contemting this I had a sudden realization.


    ¡°When this thinges to life does that mean its plot armor is going to be 63?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Don''t ask me,¡± Arthur said. ¡°I left all my math tropes behind.¡±


    Apparently, Arthur did have a sense of humor.


    ¡°No, I mean is that how it works?¡±


    The Astralist had a simr gimmick, but I hadn''t remembered whether its plot armor changed between forms because I was busy getting the crap knocked out of me around the time I should have looked.


    He nodded.


    I had felt safe in the knowledge that I was with higher-level yers. Even though they seemed panicked I had assumed that that was exaggerated. All I know is that we had better be able to defeat this thing in its stone form before ites to life.


    It wasn''t like we could just break it right then, either. First, that wouldn''t make sense for our characters to do because they don''t have the information we have. Second, breaking it might be the very thing that makes ite to life so we couldn¡¯t risk it until we knew.


    So far, the needle on the plot cycle had remained at Choice. That was very fortunate because we wasted a lot of time getting Jte.


    When we got to 665 Toother Street, the needle nudged over to Party.


    Toother Street was a neighborhood with lots ofrge old homes. Most of the homes had gardens. Almost all of the homes had nosy NPCs that watched us as we walked up the street.


    The house in question was a fairly nice ce. Stylistically it looked like it was out of the 70s. Thewn could have used a mow, which I''m sure annoyed the NPCs in the homeowners association.


    The walkway up to the door had a great variety ofwn ornaments. River rocks surrounded the stepping stones and wind chimes were hung from little stands. On the left side was a pedestal with a lion statue on top, on the right side there was a matching pedestal but with a vase of flowers on it.


    As I understood it, Arthur''s Monster Hunter archetype would help steer the plot. However, Valerie was still the protagonist. If she wasn''t here, Arthur probably would have been.


    I decided to try out my new Casting Director trope to determine what roles each of us would y.


    The information appeared on a small brass te underneath our archetype posters on the red wallpaper.


    Arthur yed an aging, world-weary paranormal investigator taking a case like nothing he¡¯d ever seen before. Jte was his client, desperately seeking help after having been mailed a strange statue that she believed to be cursed.


    Valerie was Arthur''s longtime monster-hunting partner. Roxie and Reggie were their employees. Reggie was only characterized as being loyal. Roxie was supposed to be Arthur¡¯s younger sister. My role, which I didn''t quite understand, was a cocky young protege with a mysterious gift.


    I informed the group of this dynamic. Arthur said that most of his roles went something like that. I''m not sure how they would have learned some of those details if I hadn''t told them but I suppose some of those details might not have been there if I wasn''t there to see them.


    I don''t know what my ¡°mysterious gift¡± was, but I don''t think it was talking about my ability to throw ying cards into drywall like Gambit from the X-Men.


    ¡°Remember, I''m not talking to anyone,¡± Jte said.


    ¡°We know,¡± Arthur said.


    Valerie knocked on the door.


    Momentster, the door was opened by a middle-aged woman in a pink robe. Her name was Sally. Behind her was a young girl, maybe seven years old. Her name was Jocelyn. They were both run-of-the-mill NPCs. Plot Armor 3.


    ¡°Hello?¡± she asked cautiously as she opened the door. She scanned the group of strangers that had just arrived at her home.


    Before Valerie could answer, Sally saw the gargoyle that Reggie was carrying.


    ¡°I told him I don''t want that anywhere near this house,¡± she said. She mmed the door. She looked genuinely afraid.


    ¡°Reggie why don''t you and Jte go wait for us near the street,¡± Valerie said.


    Reggie nodded. The two of them headed off away from the house. Jte was careful not to be anywhere near the gargoyle.


    It took more knocking and pleading through the door to get Sally to open it again. Eventually, she relented. We were in the Party Phase and Valerie had her ¡°A Kind Face¡± trope doing the heavy lifting, coaxing information. Sally was very hesitant to talk to us. Eventually, she invited us into her dining room, where we all took seats around the table. Valerie sat closest to Sally.


    ¡°Look, everything in my life was perfect before Donald got the job at the church,¡± she said. ¡°Is that where you got the statue? Did Donald give it to you?¡±


    ¡°Did you see that woman that was with us at the door?¡± Valerie said. ¡°She received the statue in the mail a few days ago and, like you, she just wants her life to be normal again. We''re hoping that you can help us make that happen for her.¡±


    Sally began to cry.


    Valerie was good at this part. Maybe she was experienced, maybe she was just an empathetic person. She put her hand on Sally''s and said, ¡°This is exactly the kind of thing that we do. We can fix this we just need to hear your side of it.¡±


    Sally wiped tears from her eyes with a cloth napkin that had been on the table.


    ¡°I did everything I know to do,¡± Sally said. ¡°It''s just¡­ he''s obsessed.¡±


    ¡°Who''s obsessed, Sally?¡±


    ¡°Donald. Donald. My husband. Or at least he''s supposed to be,¡± she said. The tears began returning to her eyes.


    ¡°Do you think Donald is the one that sent this package?¡± Valerie asked.


    Sally nodded.


    ¡°Do you know why he would do that?¡±


    Sally shook her head, desperately seeking some exnation but finding none. ¡°I''m sorry. He¡¯s exined it so much but nothing he said made sense. Donald is an art restorer. He¡¯s been working at the church over near Culling Creek Junction. That''s where he found that¡­ <em>thing</em>.¡±


    ¡°Mommy,¡± her little girl''s voice sounded from the living room where she had been sent while the grownups talked.


    ¡°Just a second, pumpkin,¡± Sally said.


    She continued. ¡°Ever since he brought it home, he''s been different.¡± Her voice got quiet. ¡°I hear him talking to it sometimes when he thinks I¡¯m not around.¡±


    For the first time, Arthur interjected, ¡°Does it talk back?¡±


    Sally seemed surprised at the question. ¡°Well of course not. It''s made of rock.¡±


    Despite having 64 Plot Armor, Arthur only had 4 Moxie. And it showed.


    Valerie took back over. ¡°Do you remember the types of things he would say to it?¡±


    ¡°Well yes, he would say¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mommy!¡± Jocelyn said from the living room.


    ¡°What, honey, I''m talking to our guests.¡±


    The little girl entered the room. She was nervous.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± She must have suddenly gotten shy.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Valerie asked gently.


    The little girl pointed at the wall toward where the street would be on the other side. ¡°That''s not Daddy''s statue,¡± she said. ¡°Daddy¡¯s statue had wings.¡±


    Jte


    Hysteric


    Plot Armor:


    9


    Mettle:


    0


    Moxie:


    4


    Hustle:


    2


    Savvy:


    2


    Grit:


    1


    Riley


    Film Buff


    Plot Armor:


    15


    Mettle:


    1


    Moxie:


    5


    Hustle:


    2


    Savvy:


    6


    Grit:


    1


    Roxie


    Eye Candy


    Plot Armor:


    40


    Mettle:


    5


    Moxie:


    10


    Hustle:


    11


    Savvy:


    8


    Grit:


    6


    Arthur


    Monster Hunter


    Plot Armor:


    64


    Mettle:


    11


    Moxie:


    4


    Hustle:


    10


    Savvy:


    21


    Grit:


    18


    Reggie


    Bruiser


    Plot Armor:


    38


    Mettle:


    14


    Moxie:


    7


    Hustle:


    3


    Savvy:


    1


    Grit:


    13


    Valerie


    Final Girl


    Plot Armor:


    58


    Mettle:


    13


    Moxie:


    11


    Hustle:


    13


    Savvy:


    9


    Grit:


    12


    Tropes:


    I DON¡¯T LIKE IT HERE¡­


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Hysteric


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Gives yer insight into the location of Omens and how to avoid activating them


    TROPE MASTER


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Sees enemy tropes. Lose half of PA


    LOOKS DON¡¯T LAST


    Type: Debuff


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Targeted at First Blood. Debuff stats of all enemies by 1% for each minute survived up to 15%


    RIGHT TOOL FOR THE JOB


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Schr


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Buffs Savvy and Mettle when fighting an enemy with their weakness.


    BRAWN OVER BRAIN


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Bruiser


    Stat: Mettle


    Effect: Gives buff to Mettle based on howrge the difference between the yer''s innate Mettle and Savvy is.


    LAST ONE ALIVE


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Cannot die until the party is killed


    WILL SOMEONE SHUT THEM UP?


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Hysteric


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Invulnerable while screaming in a shrill or annoying tone. Lowers Plot Armor with each use.


    CINEMA SEER


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Buffs Savvy and Grit of Allies by predicting plot elements


    A SCREAM IN THE DISTANCE¡­


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Screaming loudly causes the yer to go off-screen as the camera cuts to a teammate who hears the scream


    LEGACY HUNTER¡¯S JOURNAL


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Monster Hunter


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: During Party, the yer can research enemies within a journal brought into the storyline.


    ANYTHING CAN CLUB


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Bruiser


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Can find a suitable club weapon in any scene with lots of items.


    ACTUALLY, I¡¯M A VETERINARIAN


    Type: Background


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: The yer has a background as an animal doctor. Can now equip:


    -Fluent in Medical Jargon (Doctor)


    -Animal Whisperer (Adventurer)


    - If you can¡¯t see it, it won¡¯t bleed (Soldier)


    -This is for the pain¡­ (Doctor)


    -Always the right dose (Doctor)


    OBLIVIOUS BYSTANDER


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Any Minor


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Cannot be targeted while convincingly acting oblivious to the enemy


    THE RED MIST


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Lowers PA by 10%. Guarantees instant painless death


    EUREKA!


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Schr


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Helps find important information with text.


    I¡¯M JUST BIG BONED


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Bruiser


    Stat: Moxie+


    Effect: Once in Party Phase, the yer gets a buff to Mettle when responding to insults about weight. Both yers¡¯ Moxie are used.


    FLUENT IN MEDICAL JARGON


    Type: Heal


    Archetype: Doctor


    Stat: Savvy/Moxie


    Effect: The yer can understand Medical Jargon, diagnose allies¡¯ wounds and prescribe treatment. Can change the severity of the wound by giving it a more/less treatable diagnosis. (¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s just a sprain¡±)


    ESCAPE ARTIST


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: usible escape ns boost Hustle


    GET A ROOM!


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Exploration with a love interest during the party boosts the odds of important discoveries


    RELOAD AFTER CUT


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Reloading a gun makes the yer go off-screen


    LIQUID COURAGE


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Temporary buff to Grit and Moxie when taking a swig of alcohol before the relevant action


    IF YOU CAN¡¯T SEE IT, IT WON¡¯T BLEED


    Type: Heal


    Archetype: Soldier


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Giving a wound a quick dressing to hide it from the audience can heal Muttion, Hobbling temporarily.


    CASTING DIRECTOR


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Insight into yer roles in storylines


    I RUN BETTER IN HEELS


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Buff Hustle while wearing heels.


    MERCY KILL


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Mettle


    Effect: Killing dying or severely injured teammates who beg for death buffs Grit


    HAIR OF THE DOG


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Drinking alcohol and pretending it soothes a hangover or simr will provide the yer with a mental and emotional boost.


    THIS IS FOR THE PAIN


    Type: Heal


    Archetype: Doctor


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Giving yer medication can ease their pain. Heals Incapacitation from pain.


    DADDY¡¯S CREDIT CARD


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Gives yer Infinite Money to Spend In-Story. Purchases disappear after.


    KNOW THY ENEMY


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Monster Hunter


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Can Identify Creatures, Monsters, and Paranormal and assess their Mettle.


    Extra Padding


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Bruiser


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Gives Grit buff to yers with extra weight


    BETTER THAN THE BOYS


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Gives a female yer a buff in relevant stat when actingpetitive with male character


    TRAGIC BEAUTY


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Buffs allies¡¯ highest stat upon their tragic demise


    THEY WENT THAT WAY


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Monster Hunter/ Adventurer


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Allows a yer to track enemies who leave even the faintest evidence


    IT''S MOSTLY MUSCLE


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Bruiser


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Gives Mettle buff to yers with extra weight


    BETTER MAKE IT COUNT!


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Thest round of ammunition will always be more urate and more powerful than those that came before it.


    Call Sheet


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Insight into if the yer will be on-screen soon.


    MIND OVER MONSTER


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Monster Hunter


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Swaps yer¡¯s Savvy and Mettle when fighting Creature, Monster, or Paranormal


    SELF-MEDICATION


    Type: Heal


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Drinking alcohol or simr vice temporarily heals pain and non-visible injuries


    A KIND FACE


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: During Party Phase, NPCs will be more inclined to share important plot information


    MYSTIFYING GEOGRAPHY


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Buffs Hustle of yer and nearby allies when traveling while off-screen


    CUT THE HEAD OFF THE SNAKE


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Changes win condition of a storyline that requires the elimination of all enemies to only requiring killing the leader


    TOTALLY WASTED


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Bruiser


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Drinking in excess and actingpletely inebriated lowers the yer''s plot armor


    IMPORTANT CHARACTER STUFF


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Any Major


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: When a yer reveals important character arc information, they go on-screen


    EXTENDED ARMING SEQUENCE


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Gives the yer extra time in between the middle of Rebirth and Second Blood to prepare weapons and set traps


    I NEED A BREATHER


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Bruiser


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Acting winded and requesting a break in travel or work causes the yer and nearby allies to go off-screen


    WHO¡¯S WITH ME?


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: In Finale, Allies gain a buff to relevant stat when assisting the yer.


    MASTER AND APPRENTICE


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Moxie+


    Effect: Allows the yer to share a ¡°teachable¡± ability with an ally by performing a mentorship arc. Both yers'' Moxie is used.


    A GIRL¡¯S GOT TO KNOW HOW TO PROTECT HERSELF


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Allows any female yer to bring self-defense weapons into a storyline


    Hunter¡¯s Arsenal


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Monster Hunter


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: The yer can bring monster-hunting equipment into the storyline


    ALL ROADS LEAD TO THE CLIMAX


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: As the Final Battle approaches, all surviving allies will be assisted in converging on the location of the climax

 Chapter Thirty-Two: The Harbinger

    Chapter Thirty-Two: The Harbinger


    In the course of the interview, we learned sparse new details. Sally had kicked out her husband Donald once his obsession grew too¡­ rabid. She believed that he was staying at the church where he was currently working. She didn''t know for sure.


    The interview went on until eventually everyone in the house was Off-Screen. This must have been a signal to Valerie that she had obtained about as much information as she was going to.


    Then the screaming outside started.


    ¡°Arthur!¡± Jte screamed. ¡°Get out here!¡±


    Arthur leaped up from the table and ran to the front door. As soon as he got there and opened it, I could see him roll his eyes.


    The rest of us filed out to see what themotion was.


    Jte was standing next to a tall woman wearing a body-length coat. She might have been in her mid-forties. Most of her attire was muted except for her hair, which had been adorned with beads and jeweled broaches. She carried arge umbre that she was currently using as a walking stick. Her eyes were lightly shadowed with purple makeup.


    On the red wallpaper, I saw that her name was Madam Celia Dane, Proprietor¡ªEthereal Emporium: Antiques and Spiritual Readings. NPC. Plot Armor: 50.


    ¡°You said I didn''t have to interact with these people,¡± Jte said.


    The woman, Celia Dane, looked downright offended. ¡°You''d be a bit kinder if you knew what the spirits were saying about you, Missy.¡±


    She turned to Arthur. ¡°Arthur! My dear friend. I got your message. I thought I mighte over here and see if my gift could be of service.¡±


    Arthur didn''t miss a beat.


    ¡°Thank you, but the kid¡¯s got that covered,¡± he said.


    ¡°Why I''m sure he does,¡± she said. ¡°After all, I am the one who rmended him to you, aren''t I.¡±


    ¡°I remember.¡±


    ¡°And aren''t I also the one who sent this case to you?¡±


    ¡°You were.¡±


    ¡°It just seemed so strange. Days ago, this woman appears in my shop asking for help with that vile statue. Now she won''t even look me in the eye. I just thought it was odd that she was staying out here. When the answers to what gues her might be in there.¡±


    Madam Celia turned to Jte. ¡°Don''t you want to know what has brought this curse down on you?


    Jte froze. She had a look on her face between disgust and fear. You might have thought that a slug had just spoken to her.


    ¡°I''m sure she does,¡± Arthur interjected.


    It was only then that I realized that we were On-Screen again. This entire interaction had been On-Screen. When we had left Camp Dyer, Arthur made Jte promise that she would not break character unless the Off-Screen status was lit. She didn''t seem too keen on keeping that promise.


    ¡°Welle on then,¡± Celia said. ¡°Let''s get you in there. You might find a way to ease your fate.¡±


    ¡°Madam Celia,¡± Valerie said. ¡°I think this poor woman has had enough.¡± She gestured back over her shoulder toward Sally, the NPC. ¡°I think we have a lead. We really should pursue it. Thank you for offering to help but we have it from here.¡±


    ¡°Maybe so. It seems to me that your client might have every incentive to seek the truth. After all, receiving an evil thing like this is a terrible¡­ omen. She must want to get to the bottom of it, is all I mean.¡±


    ¡°I''m sure she does,¡± Valerie said. ¡°And we''re going to help her do that.¡±


    Madam Celia turned back to Jte. ¡°I hope so. But is she willing to steer the wheel of fate herself?¡±


    For a while, Celia stared at Jte. She shook her head.


    With the flick of a light, we were Off-Screen.


    Madam Celia began walking away using her umbre as a walking stick. Like most NPCs, she was quick to exit after a scene was over.


    But then she stopped.


    She cast an eye toward me.


    ¡°So, Arthur, how is the new recruit doing?¡±


    He was slightly taken aback at the question.


    ¡°Still reserving my judgment on that,¡± he answered, raising his eyebrow.


    Celia smiled. ¡°That¡¯s good. Sometimes it takes time for the gifted to assert themselves, but I assure you, he does have the gift you... need.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he does.¡± Arthur reached out and patted my shoulder. He began walking down the street, beckoning us to follow.


    Madam Celia continued. ¡°I am certain that in time, he will find his ce in the scheme of things, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    Arthur stopped short. He turned and looked at her. ¡°I¡­ would.¡±


    ¡°It is very important that we all find our ce in the scheme of things, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    Arthur bid his time answering. I couldn¡¯t read his face, he was too emotionally closed off for such a thing, but if I had to guess, I would say he was confused.


    ¡°I would.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she said. With that, she began walking down the street. The enigmatic harbinger left as quickly and mysteriously as she hade.


    When Madam Celia was gone, Valerie asked, ¡°You find that strange?¡±


    Arthur didn¡¯t answer at first.


    When he did, he spoke to Jte. ¡°You have to go along with us now. We can¡¯t do this whole thing for you anymore. We need to y a clean game. You have to y your character.¡±


    ¡°You said I didn¡¯t have to,¡± Jte protested.


    ¡°And Carousel said otherwise.¡±


    He began walking away, hauling hisrge duffel at a quick gait. Valerie ran to catch him. She started asking him questions in a hushed tone.


    The rest of us followed.


    When we were a good distance from the house, Roxie found me and said, ¡°I¡¯ve never seen Carousel do this much handholding before.¡±


    I thought it odd that she would phrase it that way. ¡°You think sticking her in a storyline way out of her league is handholding?¡± I asked.


    Roxie didn''t answer right away. She looked like she was considering exactly what to say and how to say it. It was that familiar face that some of the veterans were so quick to wear. The ¡°Do I tell him¡± face.


    ¡°She could have just disappeared.¡±


    I wondered if I could get Roxie to tell me more. ¡°Is that why so many yers are missing? Do they just disappear? You didn''t think we would notice that some yers outlived their teammates? How exactly is that possible? I thought it was everyone dies, or no one does.¡±


    But she didn''t tell me more. Instead, she looked ahead of us and said, ¡°Look at that!¡±


    I suddenly noticed that we were not anywhere near the neighborhood we had just left. Roxie''s Mystifying Geography ability was just that: mystifying. I had no idea how far we had traveled in only five or ten minutes.


    The thing that Roxie had been pointing at was an old-fashion Ferris wheel. We were approaching some fairgrounds. As we passed by, I read the phrase ¡°Carousel Arts and Crafts Fair.¡±


    Behind that, there was a giant limestone statue of a man. He was wearing an evening coat with an ascot. He was posed up as you might see in a statue of a founding father.


    ¡°That,¡± Roxie said, ¡°Is Bartholomew Geist, Founder of Carousel. You can learn about him in a bunch of different storylines.¡±


    Up until that point, I had never learned much about the canonical backstory of Carousel. It made sense that it would have one. Every storyline we had been in so far had its own backstory so why shouldn''t Carousel itself?


    ¡°When you say founder¡­ do you mean like a character who is part of Carousel''s fictional history or is that the actual person who made this ce that we''re stuck in?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Roxie said with augh.


    The church we were headed to was another five-minute walk from the fairgrounds. I don''t know how far away it was in terms of actual distance with Roxie¡¯s geography trope active.


    The church was a tall, lonely building in the middle of arge graveyard. The architecture was old. I''m not an art historian, but I think the style of the building was called ¡°Covered in Gargoyles.¡± Needless to say, I knew we were in the right ce.


    The sun was just starting to set as we approached.


    We were On-Screen again.


    Arthur turned around before we were too far along in the graveyard.


    ¡°You got anything?¡± he asked.


    At first, I didn''t know what he meant but then I figured it out. He meant "psychic readings" or whatever my character was supposed to have. The best we figured it, my character¡¯s abilities were just an in-story exnation for my Film Buff tropes.


    He knew to ask me because even though he couldn''t see the tropes of enemy characters, he still had ess to the red wallpaper and was still able to see much of what I was seeing when I looked around the church and graveyard.


    There were Grotesques spread everywhere. They blended in with the normal gargoyle statues. I didn''t know which was a Grotesque and which was just a statue. Perhaps there were two dozen enemies. I couldn''t give a real count because it was hard to tell where they actually were. But no matter which direction we looked we could see them.


    I did have some insight, though. The trouble was I had to filter it through what my character should have known.


    ¡°This ce is overwhelming,¡± I said.


    I knew how to y a psychic in a horror movie. All you have to do is struggle with every word. You have to pretend like your intestines are being pulled out through your belly button and that the spirits are attacking your very presence because they know you''re a threat.


    ¡°There''re too many,¡± I continued. I started to breathe hard. I gazed around the graveyard like I was seeing the very ghosts that rested there, like I felt their pain. ¡°Some like this one.¡± I gestured toward the statue that Reggie was carrying.


    I winced.


    ¡°Most are different. They don''t seek to spread the curse. They are the curse. They seek¡­ violence.¡±


    I tried to make my performance convincing. Or at least passable. I don''t know how Lara or any psychic archetype kept that up full-time. Their tropes were usually Moxie based. They had to pretend to be seeing into the ethereal distance full-time.


    I breathed out deeply to signal I was done. I would fill them in on the real details Off-Screen.


    Arthur nodded his head.


    What we both understood was that many of the Grotesques around us were lower level than the one that we carried. Everyone could see that. What only I knew was that only the strongest ones had the Progenitor ability.


    The weakest didn''t even have a high enough Savvy to stop me from reading their tropes. They had three:


    Grotesque


    Plot Armor: Varies


    __________


    Tropes


    It ys with Its Food¡­


    This creature spends time toying with its victims. Often, it enjoys the ying more than the killing.


    Where¡¯s the Goat?


    This creature can sneak up on yers with imusible stealth but may not attack until the yers notice some seemingly innocuous clue to its presence.


    Jekyll and Hyde


    This viin has multiple forms. Stone: Grit = 0, Living: Grit = 20.


    ¡°Maybe a ce like this isn''t somewhere you should be. What with your gift and all,¡± Arthur said. ¡°Roxie, help him out while we go investigate inside. If we need you, we''ll holler.¡±


    ¡°Don''t worry Big Bro,¡± she said. ¡°I''ll take care of him.¡±


    I almost forgot that Roxie and Arthur¡¯s characters were siblings in this story.


    Roxie and I started to walk back down the path we had entered from.


    We were still early in the Party Phase. We shouldn''t run into danger for quite a while.


    ¡°You want to go check out the fairgrounds?¡± she asked. She grabbed me by the hand and started pulling me along. If I didn¡¯t know any better, I would have thought she was flirting with me.


    But I did know better.


    She just needed a ¡°love interest¡± to make her Get A Room! trope work. I wasn¡¯t going to object. That Ferris wheel did look enticing (as much as I wanted to see the inside of the creepy church).


    It was time to go exploring.

 Chapter Thirty-Three: The Grotesque Kiss

    Chapter Thirty-Three: The Grotesque Kiss


    The way Roxie exined it, she knew that the fairgrounds were a ce we needed to explore because she had never seen the arts and crafts fair before. The fairgrounds were a nk canvas. Much like the football game for Delta Epsilon Delta, this entire scene seemed to have been handcrafted for this storyline.


    The Arts and Crafts Fair was very lively. There were dozens and dozens of NPCs looking at all the booths, ying the carnival games, and riding the rides. We spent time walking around all the booths, engaging in idle chitchat while we waited for the Off-Screen indicator to go off.


    We had to be ready any time that we were On-Screen.


    While we admired a half-size terracotta warrior that had been set up as a disy for a booth that was filled with y figurines, an elderly NPC approached us. He had a pronounced hunch and a long wispy beard.


    We were On-Screen.


    The NPC didn''t have a name. Instead, he only had the title: Sculptor. Plot Armor: 3.


    ¡°What a beautiful, youngdy we have here,¡± the man said. He got really close to me and said in a feigned whisper, ¡°You know if you buy her one of my figurines, she''ll have something to remember you by.¡±


    Roxie let out a politeugh.


    ¡°You want one?¡± I asked.


    She moved over to the shopkeeper¡¯s table and began perusing the figurines. There was arge variety of subjects on the table. Everything from ballet dancers to reindeer.


    Roxie made her selection,


    It was a small figurine of a frog. The frog¡¯s mouth was spread into a cartoonish smile. The whole thing was about the size of a baseball.


    ¡°This one,¡± she said.


    I hated to waste what little money I had for a short romantic bit in a storyline instead of actually spending it on myself, but I reached into my pocket anyway. I began fishing out some of therger denominations of the demented Chuck E Cheese tokens that Carousel gives out as money.


    ¡°No,¡± Roxie said. ¡°I''m going to buy it for <em>you</em>.¡±


    She withdrew a small coin purse that she had stowed in a hidden pocket on her waistline and withdrew a handful of coins.


    ¡°Oh,¡± the shopkeeper said pretending to blush. ¡°It sounds like she wants you to have something to remember her by.¡±


    She handed me the small figurine. I stared at it.


    ¡°Thanks¡­. for the frog.¡± Iughed.


    Roxie giggled. ¡°If you kiss a frog, it will transform into a handsome prince.¡±


    She grabbed my hand and pulled me along toward the Ferris wheel.


    Suddenly, we were Off-Screen again.


    ¡°Wait was I the frog in that metaphor?¡± I asked with augh.


    Sheughed back. ¡°I don''t know. We''ll have to see what you turn into when I kiss you.¡±


    She then turned and ran to join the line for the Ferris wheel.


    Oh shit.


    How did I watch so many scary movies and so few ros?


    We were loaded into the Ferris wheel. I gripped the bar tightly. My character was going to be afraid of heights because I was.


    ¡°It''s going to be okay,¡± she said.


    I gave her a smile. ¡°I''m just a little nervous,¡± I said.


    She squinted. ¡°You''ve been with a woman before, right?¡±


    ¡°Not about that,¡± I said. ¡°I''m afraid of falling.¡±


    ¡°After one date?¡±


    Iughed. ¡°I¡¯m afraid of falling <em>off the ride</em>.¡±


    At some point in time in that exchange, we went On-Screen again.


    I had thought up some talking points of what I was going to say. She was Arthur''s younger sister in the storyline. I thought I''d y off that.


    ¡°Do you think¡­ do you think Arthur will be upset about this?¡± I asked.


    She took her hand off me and turned away.


    ¡°He''s not my father. I know you can''t tell that because of how he orders me around but I am a grown woman.¡±


    ¡°I know that,¡± I said. I reached to grab her hands again.


    She gave a slight tease of resistance but just for show.


    ¡°Do you know what I''m thinking right now?¡± she asked.


    She wanted me to y psychic again.


    I closed my eyes and focused. Was my character supposed to be telepathic? Who cares. I shook my head and smiled yfully.


    Before I could say anything, she leaned over and kissed me. My heart didn¡¯t seem to know that it was a pretend kiss, because it nearly leaped from my chest.


    I don''t know if she intended to keep kissing me because as soon as our lips touched a bright light blinded me from down below. It got her too. We both recoiled awkwardly.


    The sun was almost set. The fairground crew had just hauled in trailer-mounted spotlights that were powered by generators. They waved back and forth in the sky, announcing to the world that something was happening at the fairgrounds.


    I cleared my throat.


    We leaned away from each other for a moment.


    Suddenly, we were Off-Screen again.


    ¡°We won''t be On-Screen for another 15 minutes,¡± Roxie said. She was all business. She had a trope that allowed her to know the next time she will be On-Screen. It made sense for her build. ¡°That means this scene is probably done. We should get back before dark.¡±


    As we crested the top of the wheel onest time, I looked in the distance toward the gothic church. It was about five miles away. It was thest ce in Carousel I wanted to go to at that moment, but I felt like that a lot here.


    We didn''t quite manage to make it back before dark.


    The crimson-red vapors of sunset had just disappeared as we made our way to the church. Luckily the night was clear, and we could see well enough by starlight alone. Just as I was debating whether or not my sunsses would make things too dark to see or whether I would need them at all if I could feign night blindness, Roxie said something that spelled our doom.


    ¡°Didn''t the church have more gargoyles on it than that?¡±


    As if to answer her question, arge creature emerged from behind a nearby gravestone.


    It was a Grotesque. In the flesh.


    It wasn''t the same one that Jte had been sent. Nor did it have wings. But it did have the progenitor ability. Its tail was like that of a fish. Its body was like a bobcat¡¯s. As with the other Grotesque, its head was human. Its face was distorted into an expression of anguish. Its teeth were like needles.


    Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of this creature was that it made no noise except for the sound of its teeth scraping against each other. It didn''t breathe; it didn''t growl.


    As soon as we saw it, I could hear Roxie taking a breath. She was preparing to use her ¡°A scream in the distance¡± ability to take us Off-Screen. I still wasn''t clear what the advantage of going Off-Screen was but apparently, it was important because several of the veterans in the party had tropes equipped that allowed them to go Off-Screen at will.


    I expected to hear her scream and for the Off-Screen like to flicker on.


    Neither happened.


    Because this creature was not targeting her like it should have been. It was looking at me.


    ¡°What''s happening?¡± Roxie yelled. It wasn¡¯t just her character that was confused.


    The creature walked awkwardly but quickly. It wasing right after me. I tried to run but my Hustle stat paled inparison to its. I might as well have been standing still.


    As I turned to run it tackled me from behind. I was on the ground in seconds. I had no Grit at all. Any attack from this thing would likely be lethal. I turned over to try and push it off.


    The creature raised one paw and shed at my stomach.


    Its ws dug into my flesh and ripped a long gash into me. A familiar pain spiked in my abdomen.


    In ast-moment burst of desperation, I searched the red wallpaper for some exnation of why this creature had attacked me instead of Roxie. I found none. It had the same exact tropes that the one Jte had been sent had. It had many tropes that I couldn''t see.


    One of those must have been responsible.


    Roxie approached the beast and kicked it. The creature gave no sign of being injured but the kick was enough to send it a few feet to the left. This did little good as it was right back on top of me before she could do anything about it.


    I wondered why she didn''t try to go Off-Screen right now but then I saw something on the red wallpaper that shook me to my core. The needle on the plot cycle was nowhere near First Blood. This thing should not have been attacking anyone right then.


    I pushed back against the creature with my hands and its needle-like teeth bit into my fingers. This was not an animal attack. It was not trying to eat me. It wasn''t even trying to kill me. Its bites were ungraceful and uncoordinated. Its ws failed to hit their mark most of the time.


    I realized that like the lower-level versions of the Grotesques, this creature must have had ¡°It ys With its Food.¡± Benny the scarecrow had the same trope, but for him, it meant that he made you run around his corn maze scared out of your mind.


    For this creature, ying with its food was its only option. It had no killing instinct. It had no throat, no stomach. When its needle-like teeth sank into my hands as I tried to push it away, it didn''t mp down and try to pull my fingers off as a dog might. It just opened its jaw and bit again.


    ¡°Run!¡± I screamed. Roxie didn''t have the build to defend me right now. Still, she tried her best.


    It raised its feline w again and this time I knew the end wasing. There was no way I could survive one more cut to my abdomen.


    But then it didn''t cut me.


    It wrapped its sharp ws in the fabric of my hoodie. If I didn''t know any better it looked like it was trying to get something from my pocket.


    Upon this realization, I quickly unzipped my hoodie and pulled myself out of it as the creature mped its teeth around one of the sleeves.


    Quickly, I was out. The gash in my stomach wasn¡¯t as deep as it felt.


    This creature wasn''t trying to kill me, I realized.


    It was after something else.


    Soon enough, it had torn my hoodie to shreds along with my sunsses until all that remained was¡­


    The frog figurine.


    Soon enough the little statue had fallen out of what remained of my hoodie pocket. The Grotesque threw my shredded clothing aside and focused solely on the small y statuette.


    Then in aplete departure from its previous uncoordinated behavior, it slowly bent down and touched its teeth to the smiling little frog.


    At first, nothing happened.


    Then I heard a cracking noise.


    The frog had started to twitch. Horns started to grow out of its head and its smiling amphibian face chipped away to reveal the ghastly face of a human under torture.


    Now a new poster appeared on the red wallpaper.


    Grotesque.


    Plot Armor: 15.

 Chapter Thirty-Four: A Plan Interrupted

    Chapter Thirty-Four: A n Interrupted


    Roxie screamed.


    We went Off-Screen.


    She started to run, and I followed. Due to the effects of her Mystifying Geography trope, my Hustle was on par with hers. With her boosts to Hustle, we were fast enough to escape the Grotesque pretty easily.


    ¡°Roxie!¡± Arthur yelled from somewhere in the darkness.


    I could see a shlight moving back and forth in the distance. It wasn''ting from the church, no, it wasing from out in the graveyard. In the distance, I could see Arthur and Jte running toward us. Jte appeared none too pleased to be running toward danger.


    Now that we had joined up with Arthur, we were back On-Screen again. Roxie''s A Scream in the Distance trope had passed the camera to him, apparently.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Arthur screamed.


    I almost said that we saw a live Grotesque, but before I did I realized that my character didn''t know what a Grotesque was yet. That word hadn''t been established within the narrative.


    ¡°It was a¡­.¡± I gave myself a moment for my character toe to terms with what he had just seen. ¡°a gargoyle.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Arthur said. ¡°it was something else.¡± He produced arge leather-bound journal with tons of bookmarks, dog ears, and inserts. ¡°It¡¯s called a Grotesque.¡±


    Arthur had a trope called Legacy Hunters Journal. It allowed him to bring his own source for researching monsters into a storyline.


    Arthur hugged Roxie. She was his baby sister in this story after all.


    ¡°Come on we found a shed over on the outskirts of the graveyard. We''ll be safe there for a while,¡± Arthur said.


    The Grotesque that we had seen on the path toward the church had not continued to pursue us. That makes sense. It wasn''t First Blood yet.


    Arthur led us across the graveyard through rows of mausoleums and monuments. Every shadow made my heart jump. Every cherub statue looked like it coulde to life at any moment.


    ¡°Valerie is following a lead at the church,¡± he said. ¡°We''re trying to figure out where these creatures areing from.¡±


    Roxie shook her head. ¡°They aren''ting from anywhere,¡± she said. ¡°It looks like they can infect other statues.¡±


    ¡°Infect?¡±


    Roxie exined what we had just seen.


    ¡°Then we are in bigger trouble than we thought,¡± Arthur said. ¡°Come on.¡±


    Arthur opened the door to the shed that he had been leading us toward. It was a sparsely decorated, windowless building. It had nothing but some crates and a table in the middle.


    Arthur retrieved a small electricmp from inside his duffel. He sat it on the table and turned it on. Next, he began thumbing through his hunter¡¯s journal.


    ¡°At first, I thought the statue was a garden-variety cursed object. But then Reggie said it hade to life and run off. I went through Riker¡¯s journal. He wrote about these things,¡± he said.


    Riker was the fictional person who had given him the journal within the narrative.


    ¡°Possessed statues. Townspletely destroyed in a matter of days. He said that they follow a pattern. They wake, they spread, and then they hibernate. Sometimes for decades.¡±


    He started thumbing through the hunter¡¯s journal and showing Roxie and me the entries. They were nk. Or rather, they were nonsense. His journal wasprised of a bunch of random reading materials stuck together to make it look like a real journal. It was just a prop. He must have been getting the real information on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°People found a way to shield themselves from them centuries ago,¡± he said. ¡°They would carve their own gargoyles onto their buildings. The theory was that the Grotesque would see the gargoyles and think that the curse had already been spread there. Supposedly it worked.¡±


    ¡°Why isn''t it working here?¡± Roxie asked. ¡°That church was covered in gargoyles.¡±


    Arthur shook his head. ¡°I don''t know.¡±


    ¡°Okay well, how do we kill them?¡± I asked.


    Arthur continued flipping through the pages. ¡°It says here that fire has some effect. I can''t tell you more than that.¡±


    ¡°Why is it we always just end up burning things to death?¡± Roxie asked.


    ¡°If it ain''t broke¡­¡± Arthur said as he unzipped his duffel to reveal that he had brought supplies for a variety of hunts. Most relevant to this story, he brought a lighter, a re gun, and supplies to make Molotov cocktails.


    Once we were Off-Screen, Arthur started to ry the n to me. When First Blood approached, I would stick with Roxie in order to help her survive as long as possible after she was attacked. Not that I could be that helpful. When she died, I would take a huge bonus to Savvy because of her Tragic Beauty trope. In fact, we would all get bonuses.


    Once I had a lot of Savvy, I would regroup with Arthur then he would use his Master and Apprentice trope to teach me to temporarily use Mind Over Monster. After that, I might actually be a threat against these things.


    Seemed straightforward to me. Except for the part where Roxie was supposed to survive for 15 minutes against these creatures. I wasn''t sure how that was going to happen.


    While we nned, Jte sat on a crate not saying anything. None of the ns involved her. She had insisted on it.


    Somewhere, Valerie was exploring. She had Reggie as a backup. Not that she would need him. We didn''t know what she was seeing but we had some idea of when something important was happening because of the Off-Screen indicator flicking on and off, likely swapping between our two groups.


    The needle was nearly to First Blood.


    I could hardly sit still because of the nerves. I wasn''t sure if I''d even get to use Oblivious Bystander in this scenario. That had been my security nket up until that point.


    There was a rustle outside.


    The Grotesques¡¯ Where''s the goat? trope made them ideal sneak attackers. The question was would they attempt to use that trope? Or would they consider a more direct approach because of the fact that we couldn''t see outside?


    We were On-Screen.


    Thump.


    Something hit the side of the shed.


    Direct attack it was.


    Thump. It was there again.


    If this was real life, barricading ourselves inside the shed would have been a bad idea, but this wasn¡¯t real life. We were here to give Roxie her best shot at getting a maximum survival time for her Looks Don¡¯t Last ability.


    The next part was tricky. We needed Roxie to be attacked. The timer didn¡¯t start until then.


    Arthur retrieved a shotgun from his duffel. He aimed it at the door.


    Roxie moved to open the door.


    ¡°Shoot anything you see,¡± she said to Arthur. Her character didn¡¯t know that Arthur¡¯s shells would only do marginal damage. He had 21 Savvy. With his Mind Over Monster trope, those points would rece his Mettle in damage calction against the Grotesques. Even with a one-point advantage, Arthur would not be able to get a clean kill fast enough to prevent the creature from attacking.


    She opened the door up just an inch.


    <em>Crash</em>!


    One of them tackled the door just as she opened it. Roxie was knocked back into the table. The door opened wide, revealing several Grotesques moring to get in.


    Arthur fired on the closest one. It clearly felt the blow, but only for a moment. It would take more.


    ¡°Molotov,¡± Arthur said.


    I grabbed one of the cocktails and lit the rag that we had ced into it as a wick. I handed it to Arthur. He needed to be the one to throw it. His tropes would give him stat advantages for it.


    He threw the Molotov at the three Grotesques nearest the door. They lit up in me.


    I heard a crackling noiseing from them.


    The beasts appeared to be partially immobilized. They struggled to move. It took a moment to notice why.


    Parts of them had been turned to stone.


    Arthur aimed his shotgun again. He fired. One of the gargoyle¡¯s heads broke into cracked pieces of rubble. White dust rose from the wound.


    Arthur let off two more shots. One shot split a smaller gargoyle in half. The other shot appeared to miss its mark and hit living flesh.


    ¡°Reload,¡± Arthur said. He started pumping more shells into his shotgun.


    We were Off-Screen again.


    Roxie closed the door and she and I moved a couple of crates in front of the door.


    ¡°That do it?¡± Arthur asked.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Roxie said.


    She had been attacked. Her Looks Don¡¯t Last timer started. Fifteen minutes to go.


    A barrage of banging started to surround the shed from all directions. The shed wouldn¡¯t hold up to it. One of the walls was already buckling under the weight.


    ¡°Once they break through, exit out the door and make a run for it,¡± Arthur said.


    Roxie and I nodded.


    Arthur retrieved a pistol from his duffel and handed it to me. It wouldn¡¯t be very useful in my hands, not unless we lit more of them on fire, but it made sense for me to be armed.


    ¡°Make it stop!¡± Jte screamed.


    Arthur gave her a fierce look. ¡°We¡¯re fine. We¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    He had to be careful of what he said to her because we were On-Screen.


    ¡°Make it stop. You said you would protect me!¡±


    ¡°And I will. We just have to follow the n.¡±


    Jte wasn¡¯t having it. ¡°Why did we evene here? We should have stayed at the church. We would have been safe.¡±


    Of course, we weren¡¯t <em>trying</em> to be safe.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be okay. We do this sort of thing all the time.¡±


    The wall that had buckled was starting to splinter. They would be through any second. Roxie and I got close to the door to make a run for it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to y this ''game'' anymore!¡±


    Arthur cursed. He tried to regain hisposure. He had to stay in character. ¡°I¡¯m not ying with you. We can handle this!¡±


    It was like she couldn¡¯t even hear him. Some part of her refused to believe that Arthur didn¡¯t have some power to end all of this.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to do this anymore! I quit.¡±


    The first thing I noticed was the plot cycle. Normally it ticked forward at a slow if inconsistent speed. Suddenly it started to move backward. At first, I thought I was just imagining things but then it was clear.


    It was moving backward.


    Not a whole lot but just enough that First Blood started to move further and further away from the tip of the needle.


    Then I noticed the light through the cracks in the wooden nks that made up the shed. The sun wasing back up. As it rose, the Grotesques that had surrounded the shed went quiet. I could only assume that they had turned back to stone.


    I will never forget the look I saw on Arthur''s face. Normally Arthur didn''t disy any emotion. But I could see that something affected him tremendously. He got really quiet. He dropped his gun onto the table.


    ¡°What''s happening?¡± I asked.


    No one answered.


    ¡°I knew it,¡± Roxie said.


    ¡°You knew what?¡± I asked.


    Again. No answer.


    Arthur began cing all of the items that he had taken out of his duffel back inside of it. Roxie went and unbarricaded the door.


    ¡°We need to go,¡± Arthur said. He put the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder, opened the door to the shed, and began walking out.


    Was the storyline over? Had we failed?


    Roxie followed behind Arthur. I followed her. For a moment, Jte stayed in the shed but after we had walked 15 yards or so from the entrance, she ran to catch up with us.


    ¡°Is it over?¡± Jte asked.


    ¡°Don''t take another step,¡± Arthur said. ¡°You''re on your own now. You didn''t want to y. We''ve done everything we could for you.¡± He tried to sound firm and strict but in the end, he tacked on, ¡°I''m truly sorry. I wish we could have helped you.¡±


    Jate looked totally taken aback by what he had just said. ¡°You told me that you would protect me.¡±


    Hearing that appeared to sting him, but he didn¡¯t respond. He, Roxie, and I continued walking.


    ¡°Why are we leaving her?¡± I asked in a rushed whisper to Roxie.


    Roxie looked at me with a mournful expression on her face. Suddenly, a look of fear reced it.


    ¡°Hope you like keeping secrets,¡± Roxie said.


    I followed her gaze, but I didn''t see anything.


    And then I looked behind us.


    I heard a loud pop. I could feel hot liquid start to gush from my ear canal. I put my finger to it.


    It was blood.


    Arthur and Roxie turned to look in the same direction. For the first time sinceing to Carousel, I saw actual fear on Arthur and Roxie''s faces.


    Standing on the other side of the field, was a man.


    A chill ran up my spine.


    I tried to figure out who he was. I looked at the red wallpaper.


    He wasn''t an enemy.


    He wasn''t an NPC.


    He wasn''t a yer.


    He had no presence whatsoever on the red wallpaper.


    Despite this I recognized him.


    I had seen him hundreds of times since arriving. Every time I looked at a fellow yer.


    On the red wallpaper, every yer archetype is represented by a movie poster. Camden¡¯s had a picture of him studying in a library. Mine depicted me eating popcorn and sitting on a couch watching a movie. Anna¡¯s had her running with a shlight.


    They all had one thing inmon, however.


    Standing behind us in each of those posters, was a figure.


    It was a man wearing a dark cloak carrying an axe.


    That''s who I saw on the other side of the field. I could hear him breathing even though he was hundreds of yards away.


    He started to walk toward us.

 Chapter Thirty-Five: The Rulekeeper

    Chapter Thirty-Five: The Rulekeeper


    I could hear his footsteps. It was like they were right behind me. His breathing got louder as he walked toward us. Why did it sound like he was so close? What was going on?


    ¡°Come on,¡± Arthur said. ¡°To the church.¡±


    We started to run. I couldn¡¯t believe that we were really going to leave her behind. It urred to me that Jte had the exact same Hustle stat as me so if she ran with us, how could I outrun her?


    Yet somehow, I did.


    We were Off-Screen and Roxie''s Mystifying Geography ability was boosting my Hustle up to the same as hers. However, it wasn''t boosting Jte¡¯s. That ability was supposed to work on all allies.


    Was Jte not an ally anymore?


    As we fled, I did not want to look behind and see what was happening, but I felt like I needed to. When people asked me what happened to Jte, I needed to be able to give them a definitive answer. So much of what the veterans had told us at that point had been vague and useless information. Was that because they always ran whenever danger came around?


    ¡°Can you shoot him?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Don''t shoot him!¡± Arthur said. His reaction was visceral. I''d forgotten he had given me a gun.


    We zigzagged through the gravestones and stone nters between us and the church.


    I could hear Jte screaming behind us. Yelling for us. Pleading for us to return. I remembered back in the corn maze when I had seen Jte killed by Benny the scarecrow. I had done nothing to help her. When that happened, I was truly disappointed in myself. Yet here I was, not helping her again.


    I tried to push those thoughts out of my mind.


    As we raced to the church, I heard a louder scream far from behind us. I turned to look. If I couldn''t help her, I would at least be a witness. Not that she would appreciate that. She was out of my line of sight, so I turned and climbed up on a stone bench to get a better view.


    In the distance, I saw that the man with the axe had caught up to her. She had not done a remarkable job in evading him. I had seen her survival instincts in the corn maze. She wasn''t a fighter. She wasn¡¯t even the type to flee. She froze.


    She screamed loud and shrill.


    That should have made her invincible. It was one of the few tropes she had. Her scream should have protected her, if only for a moment.


    But it didn¡¯t.


    He cleaved her at her corbone, slicing her torso in half all the way from her shoulder down to her waist with one swing.


    Oh fuck.


    With that one swing of an axe, Jte disappeared from the red wallpaper. Her status wasn''t dead or mutted or written off. She was just gone.


    Thest thing I saw as we rushed into the church was the axe murderer lifting her body over his shoulder and turning to walk away.


    In a way, she got what she wanted.


    She had found a way to quit the game.


    ¡°Why would she do that?¡± I screamed as soon as we entered the church and found a room where we could talk privately.


    Roxie and Arthur didn''t answer me at first. They appeared to be listening for something. I paused and listened too. I could hear footsteps walking away from us. Faint breathing.


    I could still hear the axe murderer.


    ¡°Why can I hear him?¡± I asked.


    Roxie and Arthur looked at each other.


    Roxie spoke up. ¡°Everyone who sees him can hear when he''s around. And sometimes when he¡¯s not.¡±


    ¡°Everyone who''s seen him?¡± I asked.


    Roxie nodded.


    ¡°The higher-level yers? Who? Who knows about him?¡±


    Arthur gestured toward a chair and said, ¡°Sit.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t going to argue.


    ¡°Who all knows? Is it everyone but me and my friends? Because I know you guys are keeping secrets from us. Why would you not tell us what happens if we broke the rules?¡±


    ¡°Just under a dozen of us,¡± Arthur said. ¡°The others¡­ they <em>understand</em> but they don''t really know.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t know that you get butchered just for breaking character?¡± I asked. Jte¡¯s death had freaked me out. It was so terrifyingly final. In The Astralist storyline, Kimberly had freaked out too. How close was she to getting killed?


    ¡°No,¡± Arthur said. ¡°It''s not just breaking character. It¡¯s not just breaking the rules. Everybody does that, especially in the beginning. Carousel can be pretty forgiving with that stuff. It''s about doing it on purpose. That¡¯s what matters the most.¡±


    ¡°Why are you keeping this a secret?¡± I asked. ¡°If Jte had known that this was going to happen she would never¡­¡±


    I lost my words. I had just seen a death. A real death.


    ¡°We couldn''t. We''ve tried. She knew what would happen. Even if she didn''t know how. We made sure of that.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you''ve tried? Does Adeline know? Valerie? Reggie?¡±


    Arthur took a deep breath. ¡°You have to be careful how you phrase things. When you try to talk about him, it sounds like he''s right behind you. Like he''s watching what you say¡­¡±


    At that moment I could still hear the axe murderer faintly in the distance. Would I always be able to hear him?


    ¡°We just say that yers disappear.¡±


    I wasn''t in a state of mind to really think about any of that.


    ¡°Adeline doesn''t know. Reggie and Valerie do.¡± Roxie said.


    Wait¡­


    ¡°Every single veteran yer on this team knows about¡­ him?¡±


    What were the odds of that?


    ¡°We call him the Rulekeeper,¡± Roxie said.


    ¡°No, we don¡¯t,¡± Arthur said.


    ¡°We call ourselves the Secret Keepers.¡±


    ¡°No, we don¡¯t.¡±


    Had this whole thing been a setup? What are the odds that every veteran yer chosen for this storyline just happened to be one of the few yers that knew about the axe murderer? Why was I here?


    ¡°Well, you don''t have any excuse now,¡± I said. ¡°Tell me everything you know about <em>him</em>.¡±


    Arthur didn''t put up a fight. I suppose on some level he thought I deserved to know. Now that he could tell me, he was willing.


    ¡°Few years after I got here, some of the folks noticed something out west, past theke. There¡¯s a small mountain. You know the one?¡±


    I nodded. I had woken up to that view every morning. It was more like a big hill, but I wasn¡¯t going to argue.


    Arthur was having a tough time telling me this. I could see it on his face. He had clearly spent years keeping so much of this a secret.


    ¡°There¡¯s something on the other side of it,¡± he said. ¡°When the sky gets overcast, you can see lights reflecting up on the clouds. It''s like there''s a building there or something¡ªsomething with bright lights. Well at that time it was the only lead we had. We started devoting all our efforts to getting over there. But that was a huge problem; the further west you go the harder the storylines get. You even get halfway around theke, even I would be under-leveled.


    ¡°So, we tried to get clever. We tried to sneak over there in between scenes of other storylines. Can¡¯t trigger a storyline if you¡¯re already in one. We''d start up one of the easier stories and then as soon as it was time for a scene to end we would steal a car and head west. That was the n at least. Three of our group tried it. They were just supposed to go scout things out ande back. They never did.¡±


    Arthur took a moment topose himself.


    ¡°Whenever a group dies in a storyline, a missing poster appears on this bulletin board outside the diner. But for the yers that tried to sneak out west, no missing poster appeared. We had no idea what happened to them. Don''t get me wrong we''d had yers go missing¡ªyers that never got posters on the bulletin board. We never knew why.


    ¡°So, we gave up on that n. We decided that if we couldn''t sneak over that direction we would just have to level up so high that we could beat any storyline they threw at us. There¡¯s a road south of theke with a trolley track built into it. Never seen the trolley but the road seems to go right in the direction we need. We figure that''s the right route to take. If you go over theke, there are all types of water monster storylines that you can trigger just by being in the water out that far. The forests are just as bad. But that road seemed like our best bet. More manageable, maybe.


    ¡°The question was: how were we going to level up enough to get over there? Took us years to find an answer. There used to be these things called rescue tropes. They were these marigold yellow tickets you could get. If you had one of those you could grab somebody''s missing poster from the bulletin board and you could go rescue them from whatever storyline they died in. All the archetypes had their own kinds that worked in different situations.


    ¡°I had one called Trail of the Monster. There were all kinds. That used to be how things worked. If a team ever died another team would go rescue them. The trouble is a rescue storyline is always more difficult than the base storyline. At least on paper.


    ¡°The truth is in some situations the rescue storylines were actually easier because they were more straightforward. And the thing about rescue storylines is that they paid off way bigger than normal storylines. You''d get 10 times the cash, a handful of tropes, and far more stat boosts than you would normally expect.


    ¡°We got greedy. We would have teams purposefully fail storylines. What did it matter? We had died hundreds of times before at that point. What was one more death? Then another team woulde to rescue them. Once we started this we leveled up as much in six months as we had in the five years before that. Felt like we had found a loophole that could get us out of this ce. Finally had momentum.


    ¡°One day we were doing a rescue run. My team drew the short straw. We were going to die and one of the other teams that were with us at the time woulde to rescue us. Only after they rescued us, the axe murderer showed up. It was the first time I saw him. He killed that whole team like it was nothing. Ripped right through them.


    ¡°After that our rescue tropes disappeared and Ss stopped handing them out. In fact, most of the yers here today don''t even know they existed. This would have been about 12 years ago. Without being able to rescue each other, leveling is slow-going¡ªespecially once you get up to around my level. My plot armor hasn''t gone up in nearly two years. We should have known better. We cheated the game.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t believe what I was hearing. There was a way to rescue dead yers and they had gotten it taken away?


    Roxie took over. ¡°I met him on my first day in Carousel. Arthur and the others didn''t manage to intercept us when my friends and I got here. Some NPCs ended up herding us into some type of tutorial. It was a nightmare. Three storylines back-to-back. Almost no exnation for what was going on. It was like they thought we should know certain things already. My friends quit before the third storyline was finished. Then the Rulekeeper showed up and killed them right in front of me.¡±


    A tear dripped down her face.


    ¡°Truth is, I didn''t keep ying because I was smart or brave. I kept ying because I was too afraid to stop.¡±


    Losing all of her friends on the first day¡­ I couldn¡¯t imagine that.


    ¡°A tutorial?¡± was all I could think to ask.


    ¡°That''s why we take you to <em>The Final Straw II</em>. Benny''s got a gentle touch byparison. Anyone who tries to quit the game, he ends up killing them before the guy with the axe shows up,¡± Arthur said.


    It made sense. Benny kills anyone who tries to cut through the walls of his corn maze. Any yer that tried to quit would get turned into one of his minions before they had the chance to leave the story.


    ¡°Seen him off and on throughout the years since,¡± Arthur said. ¡°He kills rule breakers. Disappears. Won¡¯t bother you if you y the game.¡±


    ¡°The other yers specte about what happens to them,¡± Roxie said. ¡°They get the gist, but not the details.¡±


    For a while, I just sat in silence as I absorbed everything they had just told me. They did have a n to get out of here. They just gave it up a long time ago. We weren''t working toward anything anymore. We were just trying to stay alive. But for what?


    For all they knew about the axe murderer, they didn¡¯t really know much at all. Who was he? What was he? Where does he go? Why does he do these things?


    ¡°I don''t understand one thing,¡± I said. That was a lie. There were a dozen things I didn¡¯t understand. ¡°Did she think that she would really be able to get out of this just by quitting? How is that rational?¡±


    I didn''t want to me what happened on her. Ever since I had gotten to Carousel the goal of staying alive had been so clear. Every single action I had taken had been motivated by trying to stay alive. Living long enough to figure out what was going on. To figure out what the veterans knew. To find a way out.


    I couldn''t imagine giving up that soon.


    ¡°You think we¡¯re the rational ones? We have to die over and over.¡± Arthur said.


    ¡°Dozens of temporary deaths have to be better than one permanent death,¡± I said.


    ¡°Get back to me when you''ve died dozens of times,¡± Roxie said.


    Arthur shook his head. ¡°In a few years when you¡¯ve died a hundred painful, terrifying, pointless deaths and you''re no closer to getting out of here¡­ then we can debate about whether ying the game is the right decision. I¡¯m not saying she thought it through. She was probably just scared¡­¡±


    I imagine Arthur and Roxie had put a lot of thought into this very thing.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ Not everyone wants to survive at any cost. Some of us really take to Carousel. Others don''t. I''m not sure which group is the sane one,¡± Arthur said.


    Jte had been scared. That was true. You could hear it in her voice. But she had refused to adapt to the situation. I didn¡¯t think I would ever understand that.


    ¡°Did you know this was going to happen?¡± I asked.


    Roxie had implied as much when the ¡°Rulekeeper¡± showed up.


    They didn¡¯t answer for a moment. Arthur appeared to be choosing his words carefully, but Roxie spoke up before he could.


    ¡°We did know this was going to happen. Ever since she first refused to go out on a storyline. We could tell. She was going to get the axe. The only question is¡­ what¡¯s with the theatrics? Was this whole Grotesque thing just a trick to get her away from the lodge? Or was it really trying to give her a second chance?¡±


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t just about her,¡± Arthur said. ¡°It¡¯s also about him.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± I asked. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Because Carousel is always trying to bring in Film Buffs. One out of every ten yers that have lived at Camp Dyer over the years were failed Film Buffs. Like Bobby. He was invited here because of his horror interest, wasn¡¯t he? Only half a dozen have actually gotten the archetype. Since you did, I think it wanted you to know the stakes.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­ There are no other Film Buffs,¡± I said. I hadn¡¯t seen any other Film Buffs at Dyer¡¯s Lodge, let alone half a dozen. I had wondered since the day I got there why I was the only one. Sure, there were minor archetypes that were pretty rare, but the Film Buff was the only one with just one yer.


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing about Film Buffs,¡± Arthur said. ¡°They¡­ disappear.¡±

 Chapter Thirty-Six: The Red Mist

    Chapter Thirty-Six: The Red Mist


    ¡°They disappear¡­¡± I repeated in a whisper. ¡°He got them? All of them?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly all of them,¡± Arthur said. ¡°A couple took the easy way out. Triggered storylines way out of their league. Wasn''t such an umon thing back when there were rescue tropes. Not just Film Buffs either. Some people just get tired of dying over and over again. Figured they''d pick a short easy death and wait till the day we escaped to be rescued. But the rest disappeared without a trace. All I know that could have happened is the axe. No missing posters. No clues.¡±


    I stared ahead for a moment. Was there something about Film Buffs that made us more likely to break the rules? Or was there something else going on? And would I be ready the day I figured out what it was?


    ¡°That''s enough of the campfire stories for now. We still have a storyline to finish,¡± Arthur said.


    I broke out of my mental fog upon hearing that.


    ¡°Wait how are we supposed to finish the storyline without Jte? Isn¡¯t she a major character?¡±


    ¡°You always have to finish the storyline,¡± Roxie said. ¡°Carousel¡¯s not going to let some little thing like one of the actors getting murdered in the middle of the show change that.¡±


    Arthur put his duffel on his shoulder and said, ¡°Given where we are on the plot cycle, I think I need to go reshoot some of the scenes that I had. I''m going to go find Reggie and Valerie. I''m sure they''ve already figured out what happened, but we need to coordinate. I figure we won''t have to redo anything that happened at the house. You probably don''t need to do any of your scenes again because Jte wasn''t in them.¡±


    He left the room.


    ¡°So, what do we do?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We''re going to have to wait until it gets dark again then reshoot the scene where we find Arthur after running from the gargoyle that transformed the frog. After that, Arthur is probably going to have to exin the whole lore behind the Grotesques again. Then I get to die just like we nned.¡±


    I wondered how many times it took for them to figure this out. What did the other veterans do when this happened, the ones who didn''t know about the axe murderer? Did they just go along with it?


    Roxie gestured toward the door. We started exiting the church. For the first time, I actually looked around the building. The entire thing was under renovation. There were severalrger statues covered in big white sheets spread around the sanctuary. I didn¡¯t know what was under them. They might have been saints or angels, I couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°We''re going to have to fight those,¡± I said.


    ¡°I''m not.¡±


    I guess that much was true. Maybe being first blood wasn''t all bad.


    Waiting around for our next scene was strange. Technically all the gargoyles that had been on the sides of the church were already gone so we didn''t have to worry about them attacking us as the sun went down. Despite that, it was incredibly unnerving to just sit there and wait, knowing that as soon as darkness spread across the sky monsters were going to start waking up around me.


    To look at Roxie you would have thought we were just waiting for our shift at work to start. She wasn''t exactly happy to be there but at the same time, she wasn''t distressed either.


    ¡°Did you know any of the Film Buffs?¡± I asked.


    She nodded her head but didn''t offer any more information.


    ¡°So did they all just break the rules or something?¡± I asked. If she knew something, why not tell me?


    Roxie considered her answer. ¡°The guy I knew, just started taking things too far. Thought he was seeing patterns everywhere. He thought Carousel was secretly talking to him, leaving him messages. That''s what Arthur didn''t want you to know. I''m not sure what happened in the end. I assume he got the axe.¡±


    As she told me this, she watched my face like she was looking for a reaction. I didn''t give her one. I wasn''t sure why it was such a crazy thing to think that Carousel wasmunicating with us. Wasn''t my very presence in this storyline a form ofmunication?


    ¡°We''ve got a minute and a half. Come on,¡± she said. It must have been incredibly convenient to know when you were about to be On-Screen.


    We walked down the path toward the ce we had been to when the gargoyle first approached us. It was dark again. It wasn''t quite the First Blood yet so didn''t have to worry about getting attacked. I didn''t have a frog figurine in my pocket either.


    As we stood there and waited for our cue to run, I rifled through the scraps of my hoodie thaty on the ground. My sunsses were unsalvageable. It would have been expecting too much to hope that they had made it out unscathed.


    Roxie held up three fingers. Then two. Then one.


    Action.


    We raced across the graveyard. In the distance, we saw two figures running toward us. One of them carried a shlight, and the other figure lumbered behind far more slowly. It was Arthur and Reggie.


    ¡°Roxie!¡± Arthur screamed. ¡°What happened?¡±


    He wrapped Roxie in a hug.


    ¡°It was¡­ a gargoyle,¡± I said. ¡°It was alive!¡±


    Arthur shook his head. ¡°Not a gargoyle,¡± he said. He produced his leatherbound hunter¡¯s journal. ¡°It was a Grotesque. Come on.¡±


    Arthur led us across the graveyard. At the boundary where the graveyard met the forest, was a small shack. It was the exact same shack that we had just been in. The gargoyles that had surrounded it were gone now. The damage they had done to it had also been reversed. I wasn''t sure when that had happened.


    Arthur led us into the small windowless building. It had nothing but stacks of crates and a dusty table in the middle.


    Arthur went through his spiel about the lore of Grotesques. It was the same as thest time give or take a few choice words. Long story short: Grotesques were demonic hibernating statues that gargoyles were designed to protect against. Fire weakens them.


    ¡°Why is it we always end up just burning things to death?¡± Roxie asked.


    ¡°If it ain''t broke¡­¡±


    Arthur opened his duffel and produced the supplies to create Molotov cocktails, a lighter, and a re gun.


    ¡°Want a swallow?¡± he asked Reggie, as he unscrewed the lid from a bottle of spirits.


    Reggie shook his head. ¡°I brought my own. I don''t drink that cheap shit.¡±


    He pulled one of the biggest sks I have ever seen out of his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig.


    His Moxie and Grit rose because of his Liquid Courage trope.


    He held out the sk toward me.


    I grabbed the sk and turned it up. I could use all the buffs I could get.


    The taste surprised me so much that I almost choked.


    ¡°That''ll put some hair on your chest,¡± Reggie said.


    I wasn''t surprised because it was hard liquor. I was expecting hard liquor.


    I was surprised because it was peach tea.


    Reggie¡¯s sk was just another prop like Arthur¡¯s hunter¡¯s journal.


    It worked though; I got the buff.


    After that, we went Off-Screen.


    ¡°OK the n this time,¡± Arthur said, ¡°Everything''s the same except you guys are taking Reggie with you. He can help get you Off-Screen. After you leave, I''m going to run over to the church so I can be around Valerie. That should be enough to set up the cartwheel.¡±


    ¡°Ten seconds,¡± Roxie said.


    We all took our ces and then¡­.


    On-Screen.


    Thump.


    Something hit the side of the building.


    Thump.


    It happened again.


    Roxie moved to open the door just a crack.


    Crash!


    One of the creatures tackled the door mming Roxie back against the table.


    With the door open, three gargoyles were revealed in living flesh. Arthur took a shot at one of them.


    It barely did anything.


    I grabbed one of the Molotov cocktails and lit the wick. I handed it to Arthur.


    Arthur threw it at the gargoyles, engulfing all of them in bright orange mes.


    Bang. One of the gargoyles was decapitated as the slug from Arthur''s shotgun made contact with its now stone face.


    Bang. Another gargoyle was almost torn in half as one of its arms got blown off along with much of its torso. The remainder of its living flesh struggled to maintain some semnce of life, writhing, attempting to stand, before returningpletely to stone.


    Bang. The top of the remaining gargoyle¡¯s head popped right off.


    He got all three this time. Practice makes perfect.


    Roxie closed the door and Reggie moved a stack of crates in front of it. Now, we waited.


    The gargoyles started to tackle the shed from all around us. It wasn''t any less scary the second time. Every time they threw their body against the building I thought they were going toe through. Reggie was poised to remove the crate so that we could leave through the door. Roxie and I stood behind him prepared to make our exit.


    Arthur started to reload his shotgun.


    Off-Screen


    ¡°Nice shootin¡¯, Tex,¡± Reggie said.


    Arthur nodded his head graciously.


    On-Screen.


    The Grotesques surrounding the shed were back at it. They were throwing their bodies against the walls, digging their ws into the wood. We could see little traces of them through the holes in the ts.


    Crack.


    One of the walls started to buckle. They would be through it in a matter of seconds.


    I could hear the wood being torn apart.


    Any second, they would be through.


    Finally, a hole appeared in the side of the building. One demented w of a gargoyle reached through and tore the wooden nk siding off the wall, widening a gap almost big enough for it to fit through.


    Reggie pushed the crates out of the way and opened the door.


    Roxie was the first out. Followed by me and Reggie. As we left the shed, gargoyles started to approach us from the other sides.


    Roxie screamed loudly.


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°Seventy-two seconds,¡± Roxie cried out.


    Now that we were Off-Screen we easily outran the Grotesques. Arthur stayed behind but that didn''t matter much because we had distracted them, they were chasing us. Whichever unlucky ones chose to remain probably didn''tst long. I saw a sh of fire behind us and a few more shotgun sts rang out.


    We ran along a different path than we had before. I thought we were headed back to the church but along a more winding and twisted path. The audience wouldn''t be able to tell.


    ¡°Ten seconds,¡± Roxie said. ¡°Get ready, Reg.¡±


    ¡°I got you,¡± Reggie replied. For such a big guy he was putting up with running pretty well. That made sense in a way. In Carousel, Grit covers endurance and Reggie had plenty of Grit.


    On-Screen.


    We ran for a few moments before Roxie stopped and looked behind her.


    ¡°I think we lost them,¡± she said.


    Reggie started to wheeze and double over. ¡°I need a break. Just a minute.¡±


    Roxie nodded.


    ¡°Over here,¡± she said, taking us to a secluded area between two mausoleums.


    Off-Screen.


    Reggie stood back up straight. He took out his sk and got another drink of Peach tea. I think that one was actually just to quench his thirst.


    ¡°Two and a half minutes,¡± Roxie said.


    I was starting to understand the strategy. I wondered why they were so insistent on going Off-Screen all the time. Characters can die Off-Screen, after all. But they can''t die without context, not a main character at least. Roxie was a main character.


    The camera couldn''t just cut to Roxie being killed. There had to be a setup; a cinematic kill sequence.


    We were interrupting it.


    In the distance, I could hear the Grotesques closing in. Still, we waited.


    ¡°Twenty seconds,¡± Roxie said. ¡°It¡¯s out of our hands now.¡±


    She waved us forward. We continued to run along the path she had chosen.


    On-Screen.


    The gargoyles started to pour out from all around us. It was like they''d been hiding behind the gravestones waiting for the moment to emerge and kill Roxie.


    One got close to her.


    I reached for the gun in my pocket that Arthur had given me, but as my fingers touched the fabric of my jeans, I realized it wasn''t there.


    We had forgotten it.


    I didn''t have a trope that would allow me to bring a gun into a storyline. I had to get one from Arthur. We had forgotten to reestablish that he had handed it to me when we reshot the shack scene, so now I didn''t have it.


    Shit.


    The gargoyle closest to her tried to wrap up her legs. She easily dodged it. She moved through a sea of gargoyles that lunged and jumped at her with the grace of a ballerina. None of the gargoyles could get her because this was her kill sequence. They couldn''t simply hurt her. They had to kill her all in one hit because of her Red Mist trope. These creatures were so inelegant and stupid that they were having a difficult time finding a way to trap her without injuring her.


    Reggie and I piled behind her as she ran. Reggie was strong enough that he could throw the gargoyles. He picked one up in front of me and swung it down on another that was about to tackle Roxie. They collided with a thud, and both tumbled across the ground.


    I didn''t know how long we could do this. We couldn''t dodge them all day. We needed to go Off-Screen but I got the sense that none of the techniques they had used so far could be repeated, not so soon, not within the same sequence.


    But then, suddenly, we were Off-Screen again.


    Valerie.


    Valerie had the ability to force herself On-Screen by having a character moment. I didn''t know what that would be, but it had seeded.


    We continued to run. The Grotesques still chased us, but you could tell that they weren''t going for the kill. A proper kill sequence had not been set up yet.


    ¡°Three minutes,¡± Roxie said.


    Whatever character moment Valerie was having it must have been pretty heavy for that kind of screen time.


    We continued to run. After a minute or two we were finally able to make some distance between us and the Grotesques.


    ¡°This will be it,¡± Roxie said. ¡°I think this is as far as it''ll take us. Should be almost 13 minutes between everything. I was really hoping to get the full 15.¡±


    ¡°You can still make it,¡± I said. ¡°Those things can''t kill you in one hit. You should be able to survive the rest of the movie.¡±


    Roxieughed. ¡°I thought you were supposed to be an expert,¡± she said. ¡°Nothing good is free.¡±


    I didn''t know what she meant.


    ¡°Look at the stars,¡± she said.


    I looked up. I couldn''t see anything at first. Then I noticed that a dark shape was flying around above us. It had wings so big that it blocked out the starlight everywhere it flew.


    I guess you don''t get anything good for free.


    We still ran.


    ¡°Fifteen seconds,¡± she said. ¡°I think Rebirth is at the church. But the arming sequence needs to take ce at the fairgrounds. There were artisanal spirits and all kinds of hand tools there. I''m sure you remember the spotlights.¡±


    Roxie was a lot more observant than me. While I was distracted by the statues and the NPCs and the festivities, and the pretty girl, Roxie had been scoping out weapons.


    ¡°Five seconds,¡± she said.


    I wasn¡¯t ready.


    On-Screen.


    The thing in the sky scooped down above us. We slowed down and ducked so that it couldn''t hurt us. It was a gargoyle. A big one, nearly twice the size of the others. Its wingspan was as long as a bus.


    ¡°Run,¡± I screamed.


    We were running. It didn''t matter.


    The creature swooped by us again. If we didn''t go Off-Screen soon...


    It was toote. This was a kill sequence.


    The flying creature was clearly after Roxie. It swooped by her and let out a w that almost grazed her head.


    ¡°Tell Arthur I¡ª"


    The creaturended on top of her. Her status flicked to Dead in an instant.

 Chapter Thirty-Seven: Whispers in the Dark

    Chapter Thirty-Seven: Whispers in the Dark


    I froze.


    The Grotesque wasn''t facing me. But even then, its hideous features were terrifying. Its wings were big and leathery like a bat and as it turned its head I could see its long jagged needle-like teeth sticking out of its human face. I could only imagine what this thing had been before it got infected by the Grotesque curse.


    With the death of Roxie, my Savvy shot up 11 points. Reggie''s highest stat rose a few points as well. I don''t know if I had a bigger jump because my character was closer to her or because I was at such a low level. Whatever the case, the Grotesque in front of us had its own change in plot armor with the death of Roxie.


    This one''s Plot Armor had been 61. As soon as itnded, it dropped down to 53.


    The 13 or so percent drop across all of its stats affected its Savvy to such a degree that between my buff and its debuff, I was able to see a few more of its tropes.


    Grotesque


    Plot Armor: 53


    __________


    Tropes


    Progenitor


    This creature has the ability to create duplicate offspring.


    Whispers in the Dark


    This creature can sense a yer or NPCs vulnerabilities and manipte them via impulsive thoughts that are perceived as whispers


    Head of the Snake


    The creature with the Head of the Snake trope is the Leader for the scene


    It ys with Its Food¡­


    This creature spends time to toy with its victims. Often, it enjoys the ying more than the killing.


    Where¡¯s the Goat?


    This creature can sneak up on yers with imusible stealth but may not attack until the yers notice some seemingly innocuous clue to its presence.


    Jekyll and Hyde


    This viin has multiple forms. Stone: Grit = 0, Living: Grit = 20.


    One of the newly revealed tropes was called Whispers in the Dark. That exined how the NPC Donald had gotten wrapped up in all this. When he dropped off the box at the lodge he was speaking to the Grotesque. I was wondering how the Grotesque had been speaking to him if it was made of stone.


    I had my answer.


    The creature reared up and appeared to be howling but of course, it couldn''t speak and made no noise other than its poorly formed teeth grinding against each other as its mouth moved.


    I took onest nce trying to memorize the other new trope that this creature bore. Head of the snake. That one must have been given to it because of Arthur''s own trope, cut the head off the snake. But the description had me concerned. It almost sounded like the leader would be able to change in this story.


    That''s when it turned around and looked right at me.


    <em>Riley</em>.


    I heard my own name in my head. A whisper.


    While I was transfixed, Reggie was far more prepared. He grabbed me and started to drag me backward across the graveyard. Eventually, I snapped out of whatever fear or fascination had afflicted me and turned to run with him.


    Without Roxie, our movement was slow. Fortunately, the period just after First Blood is rtively safe. There needs to be a lull in action so that the characters can react to what had just happened.


    It was also fortunate that even though we had run what felt like miles across the cemetery, we were never that far from the church. Our entire chase scene urred within walking distance of it. Carousel wouldn''t care about that. It just needed good footage.


    We ran back to the church. The flying Grotesque took back to the skies but it didn''t attack us. Pretty soon after we started running, we were off-screen again.


    When we made it back to the church, I half-expected it to be overwhelmed by Grotesques. However, as soon as we got there and opened the door I could hear Arthur and Valerie talking. They were off-screen too. We must have been in between scenes.


    As far as I could tell they were nning out Valerie''s character arc. For whatever reason they were whispering. They stood at the back of the church where the priest would normally go.


    Whenever they heard use in, Arthur acknowledged us with a nce and Valerie waved.


    I kept expecting us to go on-screen so that we could have an emotional reveal of Roxie''s death but it didn''t happen.


    Even when we got all the way across the building to them, we were still off-screen.


    "The next scene is in there," Valerie said when we approached as if she had seen the confusion on my face. "I found Donald down there. You can hear him yelling."


    Down where? I followed her gaze. There was a door at the back of the church. It had been covered up by a curtain but the curtain had been moved back and now I could see light flickering under the door frame. I could also hear Donald speaking faintly. It sounded like he was talking to himself.


    "Where does that lead?" I asked.


    "Catbs," Valerie answered.


    "I saw a couple more of the high-level Grotesque tropes," I said.


    Arthur looked at me expectantly.


    "It can talk to you in your mind and tempt you to do things."


    ¡°Well that exins a little bit what''s going on down there,¡± he said.


    ¡°Probably a savvy check?¡± Valerie said with a high inflection at the end like she was looking for Arthur''s input.


    ¡°Probably.¡±


    "There was also another trope," I said. "Head of the Snake. It said that the creature with that trope was the leader for that scene. Is that how your Cut the Head off the Snake trope normally works?¡±


    ¡°For the scene?¡± Arthur looked away for a moment.


    I think that threw him for a loop. It certainly had me.


    ¡°No, that''s not how it normally works,¡± Arthur said. ¡°That exins why Carousel''s got you having a mysterious gift in this storyline. You have to identify which one is the leader. Normally there''s an obvious leader and killing it will end the story or open up an opportunity for you to escape or something like that. Seems like Carousel had a different game in mind.¡±


    That makes sense. It hadn''t been clear exactly why my character needed on-screen psychic powers. Was I designed to be a character to burden the rest of the team? Making one of the weakest yers on the team a character that has to make it to the finale?


    "Be ready to run up to us as youe on-screen,¡± Valerie said.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± I said back.


    Valerie and Arthur had their guns cocked and ready. Arthur opened the door to the catbs and Valerie breached. Soon they were both down the stairs and all I could hear were the echoes of their footsteps mixed with the whispers of Donald somewhere deep in the catbs.


    I sat and chatted with Reggie for a bit. He was exining the technique they used to clear the bowling alley. Apparently, his sister Grace hade up with it. They had everything timed and nned out so that they could divert most of the omens thate nearer the alley and easily clear any remaining storylines. He said that he would show us some time.


    Eventually, I heard loud voicesing up from the catbs. I had trouble picturing exactly how big the underground must have been for it to have taken so long. Must have had a lot of rooms down there.


    As time passed I could hear Donald talking louder and louder.


    ¡°No don''t do it,¡± Donald screamed.


    I could only imagine what he was asking Arthur and Valerie not to do.


    ¡°I have to finish. You don''t understand I have to finish.¡±


    Valerie and Arthur burst from the door with Donald hogtied. Arthur was carrying the man over his shoulder.


    ¡°My family shouldn''t have to die too!¡± Donald screamed. ¡°Don''t you understand? There is no escaping.¡±


    Just as the door had started to open we had be On-Screen.


    We ran toward Arthur and Valerie as if we had just burst into the church looking for them.


    ¡°Arthur!¡± I screamed.


    Arthur nced over at us. He was preupied with handling Donald.


    He nced back again.


    ¡°Where''s Roxie?¡± He asked.


    I couldn''t find the words. Not just my character I personally couldn''t. How would you act in a situation like this?


    ¡°She¡­¡±


    Arthur abandoned Donald and walked toward us, ¡°Where is she?¡±


    Reggie and I looked at each other.


    ¡°She was killed,¡± I said.


    Arthur didn''t say anything at first. He walked to the nearest pew and just as I thought he was about to turn and sit down, he kicked it, sending it flying backward and toppling.


    ¡°Why didn''t you look after her?¡± He screamed. I didn''t know if he was talking to me or Reggie. I suppose it didn''t matter it was for the audience.


    Arthur was breathing heavily and I could see him trying to cover up his tears (or cover up hisck thereof).


    ¡°Where is she?¡± he asked. He walked over to where he had left his duffel and started to unzip it to retrieve a firearm.


    ¡°Arthur,¡± I said, ¡°She''s gone.¡±


    Still, he persisted, grabbing a shotgun.


    He walked over to me and got in my face and asked, ¡°Wasn''t this the kind of thing we had you around for? To make sure things like this didn''t happen?¡±


    I had no answer.


    ¡°Arthur,¡± Valerie said. She walked to him and hugged him. While they had their character moment, I didn''t know what to do.


    After a beat, Arthur calmed down.


    ¡°We have to finish this,¡± he said resolutely. "That asshole has been manufacturing gargoyle statues down there. Hundreds."


    He looked over at Donald lying delirious on the floor.


    He was on him in a second. He lifted Donald up by his shirt cor and said, ¡°Now you tell us everything. These things just killed the person I care about the most in the world. I don''t have to tell you what happens if you don''t talk.¡±


    Donald didn''t react fully to what Arthur said but talking was not a hard thing to get him to do. In fact, after a while, I was wondering if we could get him to shut up.


    If I were to distill down everything that he said, most of which he repeated over and over again, this is what he had to say:


    ¡°If you know the world''s ending, you know the bad guy is gonna win, doesn''t it make sense to be on the winning side? Conventional notions of morality are for peacetime. But they have a waring. They''re going to kill us all. But if I help them, they''ll spare me and my family. It wasn''t an easy decision to make.


    ¡°When I first found the statue buried beneath the catbs, I knew I had found something spectacr. I tried to resist. I really did. I tried burying it back but then it wound up on my porch the next morning. I tried smashing it, but then it would show up again in a different statue. It even took over one of the statues on my frontwn. There was no escape. I had to help it.¡±


    ¡°Why did it need your help?¡± Arthur asked. ¡°If it can just infect new statues, what did it need you for?¡±


    Donald didn''t answer at first but instead grew a ghastly smile. For a moment his sanity seemed to slip through and a look of horror reced the smile.


    ¡°Most of them are just too dumb,¡± he said. ¡°Vicious terrible things.¡±


    He raised his arms and showed the bite marks that littered them to emphasize his point.


    ¡°They were too noticeable. The biggest weakness of the Grotesque.¡±


    What could that mean? The biggest weak¡ª.


    And then I understood.


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± I said.


    Donald started tough.


    ¡°What?¡± Valerie asked.


    ¡°Motherfucker,¡± Arthur said. He understood too.


    ¡°He''s been helping to breed only smart ones,¡± I said. ¡°Culling all of the dumb ones before they can go attract attention.¡±


    ¡°It was hopeless. We would all have died either way, at least this way those that will remain will be able to be lenient,¡± Donald said. ¡°To some.¡±


    Arthur punched him in the face, sending him flying backward onto the ground.


    If you were to ask what the biggest weakness of a Grotesque was the obvious answer would be the fact that it waspletely vulnerable during the day in its stone form. A less obvious but perhaps more intelligent answer would be that Grotesques are weak because most of them are stupid. Most of the creatures I had seen so far on the red wallpaper had such low savvy that I could see all their tropes. That low savvy tranted to being unintelligent, belligerent, and dangerous. That was good for killing a bunch of people, but it wasn''t good in the long run. The stupid ones would attract attention from humans, and they would all be wiped out before they could ever have a chance to actually create the apocalypse they so clearly desired.


    After all, only the smart ones had Progenitor--the ability to spread the curse.


    Donald had been helping kill the ones that were too stupid so that all that would be left, at least initially, would be an army of intelligent Grotesques. All capable of spreading their curse; all intelligent enough to be discreet and to strike without detection. We must have stumbled onto thiste in the game because they had already started spreading their curse en masse.


    Noises started toe from outside. Skittering scratching. I could hear the grinding of stones.


    Donald didn''t react all that much to being punched.


    In fact, he was smiling. As if he''d just been vindicated in his decision to join the Grotesques.


    ¡°He¡¯s here.¡±

 Chapter Thirty-Eight: Extended Arming Sequence

    Chapter Thirty-Eight: Extended Arming Sequence


    ¡°We need to get out of here,¡± Valerie said, grabbing Arthur''s duffel and handing it to him.


    Arthur didn''t put up a fight.


    The four of us ran as fast as we could out of the church. We left Donald tied up. His Grotesque friends would need to rescue him. When we got to the door Arthur had a shotgun up in case anything tried to stop us, but nothing did.


    As we ran out into the courtyard of the church, we saw what had made the noise. Therge, winged creature that had killed Roxie was up on the roof. It didn''t attack us as we left. It probably didn''t want to bring down a fight at that moment. It had to go in and spread its curse to all of the statues that Donald had been manufacturing in the basement.


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°The fairgrounds,¡± I said. ¡°Roxie said that the arming sequence should happen at the fairgrounds.¡±


    ¡°Roxie would know,¡± Arthur said.


    The trip back to the fairgrounds took far longer without Roxie there with her mystifying geography. When we eventually started to get close I noticed that something was wrong. Something was different. It was too quiet.


    The Ferris wheel was still running but I couldn''t tell if anyone was inside its seats.


    The Grotesques had been here.


    As we arrived, we were back On-Screen.


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± Valerie said. She raised her hands over her mouth and nose, evidence of the horror that she saw before her.


    It had been a massacre.


    Many of the festival goers had been able to escape but plenty hadn''t. What remained of them was strewn about the fairgrounds.


    ¡°Just focus on the mission,¡± Arthur said. ¡°The entire town is going to be like this if we don''t stop them.¡±


    ¡°Arthur,¡± I said. ¡°I don''t think we have to kill all of them. I think we only have to kill the leader.¡±


    Arthur turned to me, ¡°You think, or you know?¡±


    I nodded my head slightly as if reassuring myself. ¡°I know. When he killed¡­. When we first saw him, I made a connection. I can''t really exin it, but I saw his weakness. We kill him, they all die.¡±


    I had just made Arthur¡¯s Cut the Head off the Snake trope canon. The audience needed to know.


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°We''ll set up over here by the spotlight,¡± Arthur said. ¡°Reggie, drag a table over here.¡±


    The spotlights were attached to their own unique trailer so that they could be hauled to different locations. They had a logo for a rentalpany, the same one that the moving truck Travis had stolen had. They were powered by portable generators that stood next to them on the ground and ran on gasoline. A little boxy pickup truck was hooked up to one of the spotlights.


    ¡°Found the keys,¡± Valerie said after having fished them out of the pocket of one of the poor NPCs lying around us.


    The entire fairground smelled of blood.


    ¡°How long do we have till they''re back?¡± Reggie asked.


    Arthur shook his head. ¡°Not long. It''s too early for us to do the arming sequence but we can still prep for it. We''re probably going to have a wave of them here soon. I see you''ve got a weapon.¡±


    He was referring to the sledgehammer that Reggie had found.


    ¡°I also found these,¡± he said, tossing three smaller hammers onto the table that he had just hauled over near the spotlight.


    ¡°During the arming sequence, we have to go see if we can find some supplies. Riley, grab that hammer and help me with this real quick,¡± Arthur said.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°When I lift this up, I need you to break that bracket there,¡± Arthur said. He hoisted the spotlight up. I took the hammer and to the best of my ability smashed a small metal bracket that was designed to keep the spotlight from swiveling independently of its motor.


    ¡°These things are weak to sunlight. I bet they''re probably even weakened by the lights at the fairgrounds but this thing has got to do some damage; we''re about to bet our lives on it. When theye you have to aim for the stone portions of their skin. If you hit living flesh you aren¡¯t going to do much but the stone parts will crack.¡±


    He reached into his duffel and pulled out a handgun. He spun it around and then handed it to me, handle first.


    I grabbed it.


    ¡°You think this is going to do anything against those big statues underneath the sheets at the church? You know those things are going to be alive the next time we see them?¡± I asked.


    I had been waiting for some moment On-Screen to make that prediction. I couldn''t have done it whenever I told him that Roxie was dead; that wouldn''t have made sense for my character to do at that moment.


    ¡°Try hitting that sign over there,¡± he said, ¡°Right in the letter ¡®O¡¯. Let us worry about the big ones.¡±


    I looked at where he was pointing. The sign read ¡°staff only.¡±


    I took the gun.


    Arthur started to instruct me with things like:


    Don¡¯t hold the gun so tight but still hold it firm.


    Breathe out before you pull the trigger.


    Keep track of how it shoots so that you can adjust for the next shot.


    Always count how many shots you''ve taken so you know when you have to reload.


    This was intercut with me taking shots at the sign and missing most of them, but in the end, I actually managed to hit right in the middle of the letter ¡®O.¡±


    ¡°You''ll do fine,¡± Arthur said.


    Off-Screen.


    Before I knew it, I noticed that something new had appeared under my poster on the red wallpaper. I had a trope called Mind Over Monster. Arthur had just taught it to me temporarily. That must have been how the Master and Apprentice trope worked.


    ¡°We''reing up on an attack,¡± Valerie said. ¡°I can feel it.¡±


    Arthur nodded. ¡°Okay none of us have to die here. We''re still in the rebirth phase we just y this thing right and we¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    He talked like he was talking to everyone but really, I think he was just talking to me.


    I didn''t know if they were going to try to sneak up on us all at once. They certainly had the tropes they needed to get that done and so far, they hadn''t used it very often. Maybe just knowing that they can sneak up on you is more unnerving than them actually doing it.


    We had liberated another of the spotlights so that it could be aimed independently of its motor. Arthur was going to aim one. I would aim another. Valerie would have our backs with a shotgun.


    And then there was Reggie. Reggie stood out in the middle of a clearing holding a sledgehammer in one hand and his sk in another.


    On-Screen.


    It was time.


    At first, all I heard were scratches. Then I heard thumps; they were knocking into things as they came from deeper in the fairgrounds where they had run chasing their victims.


    And then they emerged.


    ¡°On the left,¡± Valerie cried out.


    With all my might I pivoted the spotlight over so that it shined to Reggie¡¯s left. The spotlight was so bright that it created a visible beam, a shaft of light that stood between him and anything that approached from the left. On his far side, he was protected by a brick building that might have been used for storage. On his right, he was protected by Arthur¡¯s spotlight.


    The first gargoyle emerged. It was a small one that ran right through my beam of light, turned to stone, and bounced off of Reggie''s chest where itnded on the ground with a crack. Reggie was quick to bring down his sledgehammer and shatter it to pieces.


    ¡°Right!¡± Valerie said.


    Another one, bigger this time approached on the right. It was jumping and nearly cleared the beam but luckily Arthur raised his light just in time to turn the gargoyle to stone.


    Smash.


    ¡°Wooo!¡± Reggie screamed.


    Again on the left, then on the right.


    By the time the creatures could get to him either all or most of their body had been turned to stone and all Reggie had to do was shatter them.


    This was our n to conserve ammunition, the one finite resource we had.


    Even when one slipped through hiding in the shadows of their stony brethren, Reggie''s hammer was powerful enough to smack them back into a beam and then shatter them to dust.


    Technically the Grotesques were after me. I had the lowest plot armor. But they would have to get through Reggie in order to get to me the way we had set up our defense. Arthur made it clear that I had to survive to the finale, so they had nned everything in order to make that possible.


    ¡°Up top!¡± Valerie screamed.


    It was the terracotta soldier that Roxie and I had seen when we were here earlier.


    The statue had originally had swords but now those swords had fused into its arms. What''s worse, this one was high-level; it was one of the smart ones.


    It jumped down from the roof right on top of Reggie.


    I tried to move the spotlight fast enough to hit it before it got to him, but I just couldn''t get therge light to budge in time.


    Arthur was quicker. He got his light to move but the damn thing was so smart it stayed on the other side of Reggie, using him as a shield.


    Luckily Reggie had designed his build around buffing his mettle. Even with this thing''s high level, Reggie was able to send it flying backward into the brick building with one swing of his sledgehammer. It was quick to return back to him running at full speed its de arms ready for a strike and its sharp teeth ready to tear into him.


    And then Reggie did something that was far cleverer than his archetype would have you believe he was capable of.


    He turned sideways.


    He was a big guy, big enough to block out the light and keep the terracotta Grotesque from turning to stone. But once he turned sideways, both of the monster''s arms got caught in the light and were unable to deliver the killing blow once it got to him.


    As it neared, he grabbed onto it and snapped its arms off.


    He then swung his hammer and knocked it out into my beam of light. One more swing and it broke to pieces.


    After that, the waves of Grotesques slowed down.


    Eventually, the arming sequence started.


    ¡°We need some of that homemade liquor that you were telling us about,¡± Valerie said.


    I didn''t exactly see where it was, but I was familiar enough with the area to be able to find it.


    We got to work.


    The extended arming sequence trope that Arthur brought with him was a game-changer. An arming sequence can''t get interrupted typically so we spent the next 40 minutes or so assembling Molotov cocktails and preparing for our assault on the church.


    As the needle on the plot cycle tipped closer and closer toward second blood, Arthur and Reggie would make regr eye contact. Reggie seemed to be asking him a question nonverbally. Arthur would signal him, ¡°Not yet.¡±


    I knew what they were talking about.


    It was time for another sacrifice y.


    When my friends and I had yed through our storylines we always just epted whatever first or second blood came to us. The veterans went out of their way to choose when, where, and how first and second blood would ur.


    Onest time, Reggie looked at Arthur asking his silent question. This time, Arthur nodded.


    Reggie took out his sk and swallowed a drink.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°I''m going to go see if there''s a concession stand,¡± he said. ¡°My blood sugar¡¯s getting low.¡±


    ¡°Stay close,¡± Arthur said.


    Reggie took a drink out of his sk and raised his other hand into a thumbs-up.


    He started walking away from the rest of us, drinking excessively as he went. He started to stumble as he walked, to lean on things.


    As he got further away, I could see his plot armor had started to drop.


    We worked in silence finishing up our preparations and loading them into the back of the truck. Then it was time.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°Where''s Reggie?¡± Valerie asked. ¡°Have you guys seen him?¡±


    As if right on cue, a scream echoed through the fairgrounds.


    We all grabbed our guns and ran toward the sound. When we got there, I was horrified by what I saw.


    The figurines from the shop where Roxie had bought me the frog had all been transformed.


    They, plus a few regr-sized Grotesques, had managed to take down Reggie. However, they hadn''t killed him. They just continued to bite and w at him without any clear strategy on ending his suffering.


    I didn''t have to fake the horrified look on my face.


    When Reggie saw us, he yelled, ¡°Help me!¡±


    But it was toote to help.


    Arthur removed his gun from his belt. Reggie saw.


    ¡°Just do it,¡± he struggled to say.


    Arthur aimed the gun at his head and shot him. Valerie threw a Molotov at the creatures. They were all doused. We spent a few minutes destroying them with hammers Off-Screen.


    In the story, Reggie''s character had gotten so drunk that the creatures had been able to get the drop on him.


    In real life, Reggie had pretended to be so drunk that his Totally Wasted trope activated and his plot armor dropped down below mine. He pretended to be so wasted he couldn''t help himself when attacked. What kind of self-control must it have taken to do that?


    It really did take a special kind of person to survive in Carousel.


    With that second blood had been spilled.


    Reggie¡¯s sky next to his body. It had been shredded open and its remaining contents leaked out onto the concrete next to him.


    As I stared at it, I noticed something strange. I could see little ripples being created in the peach tea that had puddled up. Little concentric circles appeared rhythmically in the liquid.


    Pound. Ripple. Pound. Ripple.

 Chapter Thirty-Nine: Go. Faster.

    Chapter Thirty-Nine: Go. Faster.


    Valerie must have followed my gaze and seen the ripples in the puddle.


    ¡°We have to get out of here now,¡± she said. ¡°Run!¡±


    We started running before we even knew what was chasing us. By the time we were halfway back to the truck, that had be clear.


    I nced back over my shoulder and saw booths and carnival games flying through the air behind us.


    As the dust settled, I tried to make sense of the chaos around me. My eyes were drawn to a towering figure in the distance. It had been a thirty-foot-tall statue of a man, but now it was something else entirely - a monstrous gargoyle, with malformed wings that stretched outwards as if trying to attain flight if only they were able.


    I could see the pain etched into its human face, twisted into an agonized grimace. Its long, pointed teeth gleamed menacingly in the low light, and its ws were too long for its hands. It moved like it was roaring, but no sound came out.


    It was the statue of Bartholomew Geist, Carousel¡¯s supposed founder, in the flesh.


    Now a Grotesque. Plot Armor: 48.


    As I watched in horror, the Grotesque stepped forward, its massive form casting a shadow in the starlight. Its eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly fire, and I could feel the ground tremble beneath my feet as it moved.


    The stench of death and decay filled my nostrils as the creature pped its useless wings. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.


    In the face of such a monster, I felt powerless.


    As I watched it destroy everything in its path, I couldn''t help but wonder if there was anything that could stop it. All I could do was hope that we would survive long enough to figure it out.


    Survival was possible, only just, thanks to Reggie¡¯s sacrifice. Second Blood had passed. None of us <em>had</em> to die in this scene¡­ but how would we get away?


    Valerie tried to light another of the Molotov cocktails. She handed it to Arthur in hopes that he would be able to do more with it than she could. As the creature approached us, its thunderous footsteps and the ws that had reced its hands created chasms in the earth.


    The Molotov cocktailnded on one of its feet. Arthur fired his gun and managed to chip off a section of stone on its foot that had been solidified. He might as well have done nothing. The giant statue didn¡¯t notice.


    ¡°Drive,¡± Valerie said, tossing me the keys that she had found.


    As we approached the spotlight and truck, Arthur said, ¡°Help me get the generator in the back of the truck,¡± to Valerie.


    I jumped into the driver''s seat. I wasn''t a good choice to drive, but I was a bad choice for any part of this story.


    Valerie and Arthur hoisted the generator up into the back of the truck. Valerie got up in the back with it and started rifling through Arthur''s guns before finding hisrge shotgun.


    I waited to see where Arthur was going to ride but he never came around to the cab nor did he jump up in the back of the truck before Valerie smacked the roof and yelled ¡°Go go go.¡±


    I floored it.


    The little truck was not designed to go fast. I tried to coax every single ounce of speed out of it as I guided the truck up onto the road. I still didn''t know where Arthur was.


    Until I heard him screaming.


    I saw the spotlight moving around behind us. Arthur wasying down on the small trailer that the spotlight was attached to.


    He was aiming the light.


    It took only seconds for the creature to catch us. If you watched it move, it looked like it was very slowly, lumbering about. However, it was moving at an incredible speed because of its long limbs. It started chasing us down the road.


    It was hard to focus on driving when I was so concerned about that thing following us. I floored the little truck, but this wasn''t a performance model. It was designed to be fuel efficient.


    In the bed of the truck, Valerie was letting off shots left and right. Every time Arthur would turn part of the creature to stone, she would try to get a hit in.


    At first, I thought she was wasting ammo but then I realized she had a n.


    The road between the fairground and the church was curvy. Getting a straight shot on the creature was therefore very difficult because as we went around a curve Arthur had to try to steer the light and keep it on the creature.


    As fast as I could drive the Grotesque was gaining on us.


    ¡°Go. Faster.¡± Arthur said very loudly and very sternly from behind me.


    The creature was reaching out at the spotlight trailer,ing within mere feet of destroying it right along with Arthur.


    ¡°It doesn''t go faster!¡± I yelled back.


    After a moment or two to think, Arthur responded, ¡°Slow down.¡±


    Why the fuck would I want to do that?


    But I did. He had a high savvy and if he had a n, I was more than willing to see if it could work out.


    I slowed down a hair. I tried to keep an eye in the rearview mirror to see what it was he was doing. Previously he had kept shining the light in the creature''s face hoping to blind it or at the very least keep it from biting into us.


    Now he was aiming for the legs.


    <em>Genius</em>.


    I slowed down even more. The limbs were a tough target.


    Boom. Boom. Boom.


    Its footsteps were louder and louder as I slowed down. Arthur¡¯s n had better work.


    Arthur was trying to get therge spotlight trained on the Grotesque legs. He was focusing on its calves and feet. It was taking too long. The creature was moving its limbs fast enough that the light couldn¡¯t rest on them long enough for the entire limb to turn to stone.


    Arthur needed to get the timing right.


    We were careening around corners. Arthur was trying to keep the light on target. I tried keeping the truck as steady as possible for him but there wasn¡¯t much I could do.


    As we rounded arge curve, Arthur managed to keep the light on the creature''s left leg for two, three seconds. Then five seconds.


    The creature lumbered after us, swiping its long ws forward.


    Seven seconds.


    Crack.


    Arthur must have sessfully turned one of its legs to stone because I heard something break followed by a sound that I could only describe as ¡°unscheduled demolition of building¡±.


    The creature had fallen.


    In my rearview mirror, I saw that one of its legs had snapped off.


    Turning it to stone and shooting it wouldn''t easily work on something this size but if you could turn one of its limbs to stone and then wait for it to try to put weight on it then he could use the creature''s own weight against it, causing it to break itself.


    The creature pursued us now on all fours (well, threes) trying topensate for its broken limb.


    It would be harder for that tactic to work again now that its weight was more evenly distributed among its 3 limbs and one partial leg.


    Still, Arthur kept at it.


    Crack.


    Three of the creature''s fingers broke off. Somehow with the pressure that was ced on them, one of them actually jumped into the air and overtook the carnding on the road in front of me.


    Meanwhile, Valerie had spent at least 10 shots. I wasn''t sure how much ammo she even had for that gun. I got the sense that she was trying to get down to thest bullet.


    We had a huge advantage when cornering now because of its destroyed limbs. I took the initiative and sped up a little hoping to give us a little time for the next tactic.


    After a few more bends, the church was right up ahead, we only had a few hundred more yards before we had to turn. I didn''t know what would happen if this thing was still alive when we got to the church, but I had a feeling it would tear the ce down looking for us.


    Eventually, Valerie announced the phrase that I''d been waiting for her to say for most of the drive.


    ¡°I''ve only got one slug left!¡± She said.


    I slowed down. It might not have been enough for the audience to tell but I''m sure that Arthur and Valerie could. In the rearview mirror, I saw Arthur aiming this spotlight up at the creature¡¯s face.


    ¡°Better make it count!¡± he yelled.


    As the creature¡¯s face turned to stone, Valerie took aim and fired herst shotgun shell.


    The round entered the creature''s mouth and exited out the back of its neck, creating a profound crack and explosion as the remaining tissue was not strong enough to hold up the weight of the head.


    The head snapped off and fell to the ground, smashing against the concrete.


    The giant¡¯s body convulsed and twitched as ity on the ground, but it was killed.


    Valerie¡¯s Better Make It Count trope had given her a critical hit with her final round.


    After the worst drive of my life, I turned at the church¡¯s entrance.


    Behind me, Arthur had somehow managed to turn the spotlight around and aim it up ahead at the top of the church.


    Therge, winged creature that had been there was gone.


    Before we got too close to the church, I spun the wheel so that I could turn the entire truck around and have the spotlight in range to aim at the door of the building.


    As we arrived, dozens of Grotesques burst from the door ready toe for us.


    The spotlight created a roadblock, as much as they struggled toe forward, they could never push beyond the pile of petrified gargoyles that built up in front of them.


    That wasn''t a huge relief.


    Because we were about to go into that building.

 Chapter Forty: Not-So-Divine Healing

    Chapter Forty: Not-So-Divine Healing


    The very moment we stepped out of the truck we were in a fight.


    Even with the spotlight aimed at the door, preventing the Grotesques inside from pouring out, there were still thoseing from the graveyard around us. There were dozens of them.


    I had a hammer in each hand. My gun wouldn¡¯t do me much good here. I needed to make every hit count because even with the buffs I had gotten, even with Arthur sharing his Mind Over Monster trope, I had to hit them in just the right spot to get them to go down. If I hit living flesh they wouldn¡¯t even react.


    That¡¯s not even to mention that my abysmal hustle meant I couldn¡¯t hit anything that wasn¡¯t at point-nk range.


    Arthur and Valerie stuck with guns.


    With Arthur''s shotgun depleted of ammo, they were down to handguns and one semiautomatic rifle, but they were both capable shots. They also still had the re gun, but that wasn¡¯t much good in a brawl like this.


    The beam of light from the spotlight created a safe pathway for us as we ran to the church. Arthur carried his duffel full of Molotovs and guns.


    The trouble was we were standing in the very light that kept the horde from pouring out of the building toward us. Fortunately, it took longer for the gargoyles to reanimate than it did for them to turn to stone in the first ce. We had a window of seconds to kill them before they could kill us.


    As we were attacked from the sides we would wait until the creatures got close enough to us that they would start to solidify.


    A small gargoyle attacked me from the left.


    Smack.


    No good I hit living flesh.


    Crack.


    My second hammer found stone and smashed it to pieces.


    Luckily whenever Donald was mass producing these things, he had created them to be quite small. That made sense; he didn''t want to create a bunch ofrge powerful stupid ones. It was more logical for him to create lots of small ones. The small intelligent ones would still be able to spread the Grotesque curse.


    Most of them were only about the size of a terrier or a bobcat.


    The thing was: these weren¡¯t the intelligent ones. In fact, I hadn¡¯t seen any intelligent Grotesques since we had pulled up.


    One or two of the creatures were almost human-sized. Luckily, intelligence didn''t appear to corrte with size. Some of the big ones were so stupid they would step right into the light just to get mowed down with a single shot or strike from my hammer.


    None of the creatures thought to attack the light.


    ¡°Move!¡± Arthur said. We needed to make our way to the door. Though that was thest ce I wanted to be.


    When we finally got to the building, it was like shooting fish in a barrel as most of the gargoyles in this area had been frozen to stone by the spotlight and then had gotten tangled up with each other as they struggled to get through the door.


    Shattering them was easy.


    As soon as they were moved out of the way more woulde out, get turned to stone, and get shattered.


    We still hadn¡¯t found the smart ones. They must have been in the catbs where we were heading.


    If only we could have taken the spotlight with us.


    We almost made it inside without a single injury.


    I didn''t even see where the Grotesque came from.


    I felt it though.


    Its long thin jagged fangs sank into my right leg. I could feel its teeth against my bone, crushing, crunching.


    I was down and screaming before I even knew what got me.


    ¡°Arthur,¡± Valerie said. ¡°Watch my back.¡±


    She pulled out a small hammer. She got right down next to me and lifted my leg up so that the creature attached to me would be exposed to the spotlight. Then she brought the hammer down on its head.


    That was the most excruciating pain I had ever been in in my life. When she broke its head open, the force of the blow sank the creature¡¯s teeth back into the wounds they had just created, nearly causing me to faint. Its teeth with thin and snapped off when she struck it.


    She retrieved a first aid kit from her purse. She began wrapping my leg in gauze or fabric or whatever the stuff was called. Some type of field dressing or bandage.


    ¡°You''re lucky none of these were deep,¡± she said. ¡°We need to leave them in there, so they don''t bleed out. You should have full mobility for now.¡±


    Bullshit. One of her tropes allowed her to partially heal an injury by downying how serious it was to the audience.


    She grabbed a small round pill-sized object from her purse and handed it to me. ¡°This will help with the pain.¡±


    I dropped it in my mouth. It was a candy-coated piece of chocte.


    Regardless, the pain did ease almost immediately. I was able to move my leg again. I could even stand. Valerie¡¯s collection of healing tropes allowed us to just pretend I wasn¡¯t horrifically injured. Despite the damage, I didn''t even have a Hobbled status. And yet I knew that under those bandages, my leg was irreparably destroyed, and my bone snapped.


    Healing magic was very weird in Carousel.


    Something else haunted me about this: I knew that all of the healing tropes Valerie had just used on me were temporary. Soon I would be feeling the full effects of the injury I had just received. That fact was on my mind with every step.


    Even with me out ofmission, Valerie and Arthur were able to clear the Grotesquesing from the cemetery around us.


    ¡°This isn''t enough,¡± Arthur said. ¡°There should be more of them.¡±


    We were On-Screen, so I didn''t know if that was his character talking or Arthur himself, but either way I agreed. The way they talked about it, Donald had been down below in the catbs making hundreds of these creatures. Thousands.


    Was it really possible that he had destroyed so many in his quest to create intelligent Grotesques that we were only met with a few dozen?


    ¡°We didn''t explore the whole catbs,¡± Valerie suggested. She had begun trying to break away the now lifeless stone limbs of the Grotesques that blocked the doorway.


    I did my best to help. Walking on a leg that was destroyed and held together with only a bandage and magic was very difficult to get used to.


    Arthur scanned the skies hoping that he could find some exnation for the missing hundreds of gargoyles by looking there. They weren''t there either.


    ¡°Where are the smart ones?¡± he pondered aloud.


    After a couple of minutes, we broke through the barricade and were back in the church.


    It looked like my prediction about the statues underneath the white sheet was right. They were long gone.


    ¡°Oh God,¡± Valerie said. She was looking up ahead toward the back of the church. At first, I couldn''t tell what it was she was looking at, but then I saw him.


    We had left Donald tied up; we hadn''t really had time to untie him thest time we were here. He was still lying on his stomach, hands and feet bound.


    What was left of him at least.


    It turned out that the Grotesques he had helped to create hadn¡¯t been so keen on sparing him after all.


    As we approached cautiously, we noted that Donald¡¯s arms, legs, and much of his torso had been attacked viciously with tooth and w. I couldn''t even make out distinct bite marks there were so many of them.


    As we got close Arthur nudged him with his foot.


    He let out a painful groan.


    He was still alive.


    Arthur bent down next to him and tried turning him over onto his side so that he could look at him. The man was in terrible shape.


    ¡°Where''s the army?¡± Arthur asked. ¡°Where are all these intelligent Grotesques that you helped make? Where''s the fight?¡±


    I could see Donald''s lips moving like he was trying to talk. Whatever was left of his consciousness was fading quickly.


    Arthur grabbed him by the hair and pulled them upward.


    ¡°Where is this apocalypse you were talking about?¡±


    Donald said something but it was too quiet for me to hear. Arthur put his ear close so that he could try to make out what it was Donald was saying.


    ¡°He¡¯s saying... ¡®Everywhere.¡¯¡±


    Arthur dropped the man back down.


    ¡°We have to find that main Grotesque that you were talking about,¡± he said.


    ¡°Why? What does everywhere mean?¡± Valerie asked.


    The truth was Valerie already knew. We all did. We just had to tell the audience.


    ¡°He already sent them out,¡± I said.


    Arthur made eye contact with me with a subtle nod, confirming my suspicion.


    Donald had already sent out all of the intelligent Grotesques. They were probably in simr packaging to what Jte had received. That was the n. There weren''t going to be huge swarms of intelligent Grotesques at the church. He had mailed them out¡ªhundreds of them.


    ¡°You mean¡­¡± Valerie said.


    ¡°People are dying right now. Everywhere he sent those things,¡± Arthur said. He looked at me. ¡°You better be right about this.¡±


    I nodded.


    At that moment I received an urge that was bing all too familiar. The story was putting words in my mouth. There was something I needed to say as much as I dreaded to say it.


    ¡°Those statues under the white sheets are gone,¡± I said quietly. We had noticed at the moment we got there but our characters hadn''t.


    There was a noise above us. The high ceilings of the church were perfect for concealing the types of enemies we faced¡ªthe ones that could fly. Through their Where''s the Goat trope, they had remained hidden from us until I noticed that the statues were gone.


    Above us, half a dozen flying Grotesques sized from a dog all the way up to bigger than a man, begin gliding down in a swarm of teeth and ws.


    ¡°Into the catbs,¡± Arthurmanded.


    We ran back to the door that had once been concealed behind arge curtain. Valerie opened it and Arthur beckoned me forward. I ran as fast as I could.


    Not fast enough.


    A Grotesque tackled me before I could make it through the door. Unlike the first one I had dealt with earlier that day; this one was actually trying to kill <em>me</em>. In a matter of seconds, its ws had dug into my stomach and my chest up near where my corbone was. The pain was immeasurable.


    I wasn''t able to look down. I think my corbone was broken, maybe even downright shed in two, and that movement was too painful for my body to let me do it. If I were to guess, I would say that the injury was severe. Fatal.


    Arthur was quick to pounce on the Grotesque. He drove it off of me with the heel of his boot and then fired a few good shots at it. Even in its living flesh form, it couldn''t take that many shots from Arthur at such a close range. It jumped back into the air and flew off.


    I couldn''t move.


    Arthur grabbed my hand and began pulling me back toward the door to the catbs.


    I''m not proud to say it but in my panic and pain, I looked up to Arthur and said, ¡°Do it. Finish me.¡± I gestured toward his firearm. My speech was slurred, difficult. Every movement of my jaw sent shockwaves down into my chest. I was bleeding profusely.


    In my defense, I think that his Mercy Kill trope influenced me to say that. I was fatally wounded and in great pain. The words just came out.


    Arthur looked down at me. I think I saw pity in his eyes for a moment. Only a moment.


    ¡°Can''t let you go yet. Still need your gift.¡±


    He dragged me through the door and Valerie pulled it shut behind him.

 Chapter Forty-One: The Grotesque Angel

    Chapter Forty-One: The Grotesque Angel


    ¡°Barely missed an artery,¡± Valerie said. She was trying her best to pretend that the injury I had just sustained wasn''t going to kill me. ¡°You''ll need to take it easy. Looks like you''re not going to be a part of this fight. I can patch you up, but you''re going to need stitches after this. A whole lot of stitches.¡±


    Her voice shook a couple of times during that speech. Her trope required her to pretend that my prognosis was good. That,bined with covering up the injuries, allowed me to continue. It¡¯s the same thing that happened with my leg outside.


    She used up the rest of the bandage material just trying to hide my enormous gashes from view.


    Arthur watched on with a gun raised ready to fight anything that broke through the door and followed us, but the door held. Eventually, we stopped hearing bangs against it. The Grotesques on the other side must have found something else to distract themselves with.


    Maybe it was Donald.


    ¡°You should be able to stand but don''t run. Don''t want to get your blood pressure up. I really don''t want to do this because you just had one but what the hell,¡± Valerie said handing me another one of her pretend pain relievers.


    I swallowed it whole.


    As before, it worked. It took the edge of my pain away.


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°You don''t have long,¡± Valerie said. ¡°Even at my best, I can''t hold off a fatal wound for more than a scene or two.¡±


    Arthur sprang into action. He reached down and grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up onto my feet.


    ¡°We need you to identify this creature On-Screen and then you can die,¡± he said.


    The way he said it was like he thought I actually wanted to die, but he wasn''t going to let me until my shift was over.


    Standing there, broken leg, broken corbone. I think I was even disemboweled and bleeding out. And yet none of that was true because the audience was told it hadn''t happened. I felt like I needed to throw up. This was unnatural.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said.


    The catbs were massive. The chamber that we walked into when we went down the stairs was at least the same size as the church above. Tunnels branched off in multiple directions. It wasn''t clear which way we needed to go.


    The ce was dark and damp.


    Arthur had brought a shlight in his duffel. He aimed it around the room.


    The ce was littered with molds for casting statues. Donald had used them to build new Grotesques. He must have been at this for weeks. Hundreds of bags of concretey empty and strewn about.


    Around them, hundreds upon hundreds of shattered Grotesques were stacked up in the corners of the room. Donald must have just smashed them with a hammer any time they came out stupid and violent instead of smart and cunning.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°So, this is where he made them?¡± I asked. My character was the only one that hadn''t been down here.


    ¡°Ground Zero of the apocalypse,¡± Arthur responded.


    We walked around the room getting a sense of things, allowing the camera to get shots of us taking everything in.


    With every step I took, I knew I was on borrowed time. We needed to get to the final battle soon. Luckily the needle on the plot cycle seemed to be on our side. It wasing fast.


    ¡°Stay here, be careful, wait for us toe back,¡± Arthur said. He pulled another shlight from his duffel and held it out toward me.


    I shook my head. ¡°Give it to Valerie. She needs it more.¡±


    We made eye contact and I think he understood.


    I was safer in the dark. I was safer when I couldn''t see what was trying to get me.


    Valerie and Arthur went off to separate tunnels stating that they would go for 5 minutes and then turn around. That way they could systematically check every tunnel. If one of them didn''te back, the other would go searching.


    I would just kind of stand there and try not to die until I had told one of them which Grotesque was the Leader.


    Fortunately, whenever we got attacked in the church, I had been able to buff both Valerie and Arthur because of my prediction that the creatures underneath the white sheets woulde to life. It wasn''t much but a little Grit and Savvy could go a long way in their hands.


    When they left, I stayed On-Screen. That had to be the most ominous thing possible. I kept expecting to go Off-Screen as the camera watched them explore.


    It didn¡¯t happen.


    I had leaned myself against the wall. Given what I thought was about to happen I started to walk around and examine the room more in the dim lighting that seeped in under the door upstairs.


    As my eyes adjusted, I saw them. They came creeping out of one of the tunnels one at a time. I hadn''t used Oblivious Bystander in near darkness like this.


    As I walked around, six or seven Grotesques of various sizes and shapes started to disperse around the room. I needed to stay oblivious to all of them. I spread out my hands to help me guide myself. I blinked my eyes in an exaggerated way to show exactly how blind I was. I even tried to incorporate a little of the ¡°I''m in so much pain I can''t tell what''s going on¡± thing that I did with Ranger Danger.


    The Grotesques moved around, crossing my path, following me. They were silent for the most part, only making the faintest trace of noise.


    I started to breathe loudly, I gave myself a cough, anything to exin why I couldn''t hear the scratches on the ground around me. Coughing felt excruciating even with Valerie¡¯s magic pain pill.


    Still, I powered through.


    I only had to wait five minutes. If I knew movies, and I did know movies, the tunnel that these creatures had juste out of would be the one we needed to go down. I needed to ry that information to Arthur.


    As I walked along, I was heading straight for a table that Donald had been working at. There was a row of busted Grotesques on that table. At the far end of that row, one of the small live Grotesques had crawled into ce next to the broken ones.


    Dammit. Carousel wanted <em>that</em> scene.


    Everything was lined up. Part of the price of using Oblivious Bystander was that I had to make it entertaining. It was strange using a mostlyedic trope so near the climax of an action movie like this, but here we were. I had almost thought that Carousel wouldn¡¯t give me a chance to use it at all.


    I walked along the desk, my hand feeling among the broken Grotesques. I made my way slowly. As I went along, I could almost feel the camera following me, the tension rising in the audience as they think I¡¯m about to touch one of the living Grotesques.


    There were seven broken Grotesques ending in an eighth that was alive. I made my way past the first, the second, all the way on to the fifth, and sixth.


    Just as I got to the end of the table and was almost to the live Grotesque, I stopped. I had heard a noiseing from the tunnel that Arthur had entered. I could see a faint sh of light.


    I looked behind myself. ¡°Arthur?¡±


    When I turned back, the creature wasn''t there anymore.


    How would my character react to this? It was the set-up for their Where¡¯s the Goat trope. Could I be oblivious to it or did I need to react to be realistic?


    As was my way, I ignored it.


    I could hear Arthur and Valerieing back into the main room.


    I turned to greet them, knowing full well that the creature was somewhere behind me.


    Bang!


    Arthur had drawn his gun and shot something behind me. I turned to look. It was the Grotesque that had been trying to jump-scare me. The point goes to the Oblivious Bystander.


    ¡°Didn''t I tell you to be careful?¡± Arthur said.


    ¡°I could have taken him,¡± I responded.


    Arthur rolled his eyes; he shone the shlight around the room just in time to watch the gargoyles that had entered slink back into the tunnel they hade from.


    Arthur had the same idea I did.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go get them,¡± he said.


    As we followed them along the tunnel, the temporary part of Valerie¡¯s temporary healing job was starting to rear its ugly head. Not only were my bandages literally starting toe off, but I could feel the pain start to return.


    We couldn''t exactly run, we needed to be cautious. Even still every time my right foot hit the ground I wondered if my leg was going to snap.


    As we moved forward, Arthur handed me the duffel. It wasn''t ideal but he needed to be ready to fight and I wasn''t going to be able to do that.


    ¡°When we need fire,¡± he said, ¡°Light one of the Molotovs and hand it to us.¡±


    The duffel was heavy. We had managed to make 15 or so of the firebombs. I only hoped that it would be enough.


    Eventually, the tunnel broke out into anotherrge room, even bigger than the first one.


    <em>Riley, you came back. I didn¡¯t take you for brave.</em>


    The Leader was back in my mind. Whispering in the Dark.


    ¡°He''s talking to me,¡± I said.


    ¡°I assume he''s not surrendering,¡± Arthur said.


    ¡°No luck there.¡±


    <em>You''re toote. My children have spread to the far shores. My brothers will rise. For millennia we have tried and now we seed. Lay down your arms and you will be spared. I promise.</em>


    He must have thought I was really gullible. He had somehow forgotten to spare Donald for all of his efforts. Perhaps he just didn''t have control over his more violent offspring.


    I didn''t know where the voice wasing from at first but then I heard the swish of air above us. I saw the starlight. The room¡¯s roof was raw stone like you might see in a cavern. There was a small opening at the top. Just a pinprick really. The Grotesques that could fly were up there scraping at the hole trying to form an exit.


    I looked around the room as my eyes adjusted to the starlight.


    Down a set of steps from where we were standing, there were dozens and dozens of stone statues. These ones wererger than the ones we had seen. They all had wings.


    One of the Grotesques was going along the lines and awakening the statues with his awkward terrifying kiss. The statue woulde to life with a crack of stone as its features deformed and became more demonic. It would take flight and join those up above.


    I looked for the Leader. Eventually, I saw him. He was flying in the air, a part of the swarm above us. It wasn''t the exact same gargoyle that I had seen earlier. That one had been more animalistic.


    The statue that he inhabited now was far more humanoid. In fact, I think it had once been an angel.


    ¡°He''s the one with the feathered wings,¡± I said. The rest had bat-like wings. The one who had Head of the Snake as a trope didn''t.


    Arthur came over to me and unzipped his duffel. He retrieved from it the re gun that he had brought along with three extra cartridges.


    The Molotov cocktails wouldn''t do us much good unless we could get these things on the ground fighting us.


    He held out his hand. I grabbed one of the Molotov cocktails and lit it. He threw it out onto the floor on the level beneath us. He hit the Grotesque that had been waking the statues.


    After it was on fire, Valerie was able to get a few clean shots off and break off arge portion of its head. She was also able to kill the statue that had just woken up which had also gotten covered in fire.


    With that, the fight was on.


    Not for me. Blood had started to rise up in my throat. I spit it out on the ground. Valerie''s healing trope was about spent. I dropped to the ground, more because sitting down was too difficult than because I couldn''t stand.


    The seams were starting toe apart fast. I leaned up against a wall near the entrance.


    Arthur shot a re at one of the flying gargoyles. As soon as it hit one of the creature¡¯s wings turned to stone and it fell to the ground with a crash. It stopped moving so I assumed that was a kill shot.


    With that, a couple of the flying Grotesques came down to swipe at them.


    ¡°Molotov,¡± Arthur said. When I wasn''t there to hand it to him, he looked back and saw what kind of shape I was in. He ran over and grabbed his bag and dragged it away from me so that he would have ess to it. In the process, several of the bottles of alcohol rolled out onto the ground.


    I had to stay alive. As long as I was alive the Grotesques would attack me, giving Valerie and Arthur the chance to finish this.


    Arthur lit a Molotov and doused one of the flying Grotesques as it approached him from the air. It suffered a simr fate as the one before, losing the ability to fly and careening into a stone wall before shattering.


    <em>Pointless. All pointless.</em>


    The voice of the Leader echoed in my head. He might be right. The gargoyles up at the top we''re carving their way through to the outside world. Once they escaped, that was it. We lost.


    Arthur took another shot with the re. This time he missed, only turning one of the gargoyle''s arms to stone. Not enough.


    Just under a dozen creatures remained unless one of them wanted to go down and start waking up the statues beneath.


    Those that weren''t wing their way through the opening were swarming around like wasps in a huge circle. It wasn''t that there were a ton of them, but they were moving so quickly that it was hard to tell which one was the Leader even though he looked different.


    <em>You cannot resist me. I can see your heart''s desire. You do not want to be here.</em>


    No shit.


    Arthur fired off one more round from the re gun. This one hit one of the Grotesques near the Leader. It went down.


    ¡°One re left,¡± Arthur said. He handed the re gun to Valerie. ¡°Better make it count.¡±


    Then, after having attempted to evade for so long, the circling Grotesque changed tactics. They started to attack.


    One after another, they divebombed Arthur and Valerie, preventing Valerie from getting a critical hit against the Leader because of her Better Make It Count trope.


    Arthur did his best to hit them with a Molotov and break them when they got close. It was made difficult because after burning one, he had to get ready for the next before he could take the first one out.


    All the while, the Leader hid behind his brethren.


    The Leader of the Grotesques was a terrifying creature. I didn''t know if there normally was a Leader for this storyline or if this creature had been crafted specifically because Arthur had brought his Cut the Head off the Snake trope.


    What I could say was that this creature did have one defining weakness, even at night when it was living flesh and virtually unstoppable.


    It hated being ignored. It had been speaking to me off and on all fight. I had mostly not been paying attention. Part of that was because I was dying. The other part was because enemy monologues do start to all sound alike.


    Ever since it began whispering to me, I could feel an urgency pick up in its voice. The longer I went without responding the more frustrated the voice became. At first, it was like he was trying to be friends with me but now I could feel his rage.


    <em>Humans believe that they are superior. They build altars for gods. But whose image do they adorn them with? Mine. Could there be any greater evidence of what you truly fear?</em>


    <em>Come now, join me, serve me and I will spare you.</em>


    A monster with a Godplex. I thought only humans could have one of those.


    <em>I will not be ignored. Pledge your service to me or face my wrath.</em>


    <em>Riley, take your weapon and kill yourrades and you will live. You were always better off alone. Would you even be in this hellish ce if you hadn''t been dragged here by those who imed to care for you?</em>


    The joke was on him. I wasn''t even sure that I could kill Arthur and Valerie with my gun. I didn''t know how the stat matchup worked with friendly fire.


    I assumed that the audience could hear him tempting me so I had to y it up as if it might be working.


    I kept a hand on my gun and held it out, not all the way toward Arthur but I needed to show that I was struggling with the decision. In a way I was. I could feel the temptation to sumb, to betray those around me. It was just so distant behind the pain.


    I dropped the gun and let it rest on the ground.


    Even as Arthur and Valerie were shooting them in the sky, I could see the Leader continuously trying to look at me. I was the target, after all.


    I think I had a way to end this. I was at my end. I had to act.


    ¡°I will not help you!¡± I screamed defiantly. Blood choked me as I spoke but I screamed through it.


    That did it.


    The Grotesque Leader stopped flitting around in the air with his brethren and made a beeline for me. He pounced on me,nding on my leg and crushing my knee. He drove one w into my stomach, undoing whatever positive effect Valerie¡¯s healing had done, releasing my wounds from their bandages and putting me further on my path toward death.


    If I was going to die, I would die executing onest n. Roxie had died to buff my Savvy, after all. Seemed a shame to waste it.


    I reached out toward the Molotov cocktails that had fallen out of the duffle and grabbed one of the bottles. I grabbed onto one of the creature¡¯s horns and then drove the bottle over his head, smashing the ss and pouring mmable liquor over his torso and flooding down onto me.


    After that, I was done. I had nothing left in my body to fight with.


    Pop!


    I heard a noise to my right, like a firework.


    In the corner of my eye, I saw a bright orange fireball.


    My entire body erupted in pain. I hadn''t thought that I could be any more injured but this agony was something new. I wasn''t numb to it.


    I was on fire.


    But so was the Grotesque.


    Bang! Bang!


    Gunfire continued to ring out, this time much closer to me. I couldn''t tell if they managed to kill the Grotesque. I was too preupied with my own hellish existence.


    <em>You fool! You worthless--!</em>


    The Grotesque was speaking to me but I couldn''t hear most of what it was saying. It sounded like it was in pain too.


    All I could think about was hoping that my pain would end.


    After what felt like an eternity, it finally did.


    Bang.


    The pain stopped. All went dark.

 Chapter Forty-Two: Rewards To Die For

    Chapter Forty-Two: Rewards To Die For


    I opened my eyes.


    It was daylight outside. Late evening perhaps. I could see the sun poking down through the hole at the top of the cavern.


    I raised my head. I was alone. Arthur and Valerie were gone. The giant Grotesque leader wasn''t there either, though I suspect that I saw pieces of him lying here and there.


    I looked down at my body. No bandages, no wounds. I was wearing my hoodie again. My sunsses were in my pocket.


    I tried to stand up but my body shook. I could still feel the fire on my skin. I wondered if I''d ever forget.


    It took me a few minutes to bring myself to a standing position. I tried to remember how it was we had gotten here and where I needed to be at that very moment.


    It was then that I realized that the plot cycle was stuck at The End. We had seeded.


    They had seeded, Valerie and Arthur. Had I even made it to the end?


    I suspected not.


    All I remembered was intense pain. Then a gunshot and it was over. I shuddered to even think about it.


    Once I had gathered my nerve and the shakes had stopped, I remembered how we had entered this room and made my way to leave it. The tunnel seemed further now. When I had entered it before I was in really bad shape. Now I was better. I''ve tried not to think about what happened between those two points in time.


    The path took me to the room where Donald had created so many of the Grotesques. Then, I found the stairs up to the doorway to the church.


    As I opened it I heard voices.


    Roxie, Valerie, Arthur, and even Reggie had all made it out and were waiting for me in the pews. Roxie stood closest to me so I looked to her for some exnation.


    ¡°We made it?¡± I asked. My voice cracked like I hadn''t spoken in days.


    Roxie smiled. ¡°How else would I be here?¡± she asked.


    I know that she was making a joke but at that moment I couldn''t really focus on it tough or respond.


    ¡°You did a good job,¡± Valerie said.


    ¡°Thanks¡­¡±


    When she said that Arthur nodded which I think is the same as him saying it too.


    I couldn''t think of anything to say or ask. I was pretty sure that I had just died. I felt like I needed to throw up. Luckily the church was pretty much wrecked at that point so I found a secluded bench and dry-heaved behind it.


    In the distance, I heard someone talking. It was a familiar voice by that point.


    ¡°Congrattions, you won a ticket!¡± Ss the Showman said. His carnival music yed in that slightly off-key way and filled the church with its crooked echoes.


    The others were a bit less shaken up than me. I imagine they had each died plenty of times, save Valerie perhaps who might not have even died once.


    Valerie was the first to press Ss¡¯ red button. This storyline had actually been a little over her level so she got rewarded pretty well.


    I don''t know what tropes she got. The veterans didn''t share the same little ritual of showing each other what tickets Ss had given us. I saw that she got some tropes and one stat ticket which is probably pretty impressive at her level.


    She also received something else something she was very excited about.


    ¡°Arthur, look,¡± she said, holding out the ticket.


    Arthur looked at it and a smile grew on his face. ¡°Looks like we''re in business,¡± he said.


    I got close enough to look at what they were talking about.


    Her ticket read: One Free Voucher for any Group of Six or Fewer aboard Carousel¡¯s Own Excursion Train! Any Included Destination, Any Time. Ticket is valid for a round trip, assuming you make it out alive.


    An excursion train? To get to destinations presumably outside of Carousel? That sounded huge. What kind of ces could you go?


    ¡°What destinations are there?¡± I asked. I felt numb inside and out, but this sounded important.


    ¡°All around,¡± Valerie said. ¡°They''re for storylines that can¡¯t take ce in Carousel. We¡¯ve been trying to get another ticket for a while.¡±


    I thought about what she was telling me.


    ¡°Any destinations to the west?¡± I asked.


    Arthur smiled. ¡°In fact, there are.¡±


    For years they had tried to go directly west. Now they were going to try and take a train west instead. Maybe they would have an easier time getting to the mountain with the lights that way. I wondered if that could work. Would Carousel see that as cheating?


    ¡°It¡¯s worth a shot,¡± Valerie said. ¡°I guess they told you¡­¡±


    ¡°He knows,¡± Roxie said.


    I smiled faintly. I was now one of the few who knew about the Rulekeeper and their attempts to make it west. I still didn''tpletely understand why it was a big secret, but it was nice to know.


    Arthur got tropes. No level up.


    Reggie got two stat tickets and five or so tropes.


    Roxie got the same.


    They all got a handful of coins.


    Then it was my turn. I pressed the red button and¡­ It was like I had won the jackpot.


    Coins and tickets started to pour out of Ss¡¯ receptacle. In the end, I got around 200 dors, five stat tickets, and thirteen tropes. I even got a monster ticket, though only for one of the smaller Grotesques that I had killed with a hammer. I guess I didn''t get the kill for the big one.


    I decided not to use the stat tickets until I had time to clear my head.


    The tropes I received fell out of the machine in two batches.


    With the first batch, Ss said, ¡°It¡¯s a shame to waste a good n. Luckily, in Carousel, we recycle.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure what he meant at first.


    Awarded tropes:


    Raised by Television


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Stat Used: Moxie


    The Film Buff has spent their entire life on the sidelines watching heroes of the silver screen. Though in most of the story, they are a minor character, they can achieve great things by referencing their fictional heroes and trying to emte them.


    When this ticket is equipped, the Film Buff will receive a buff in whichever stat allows them to take a heroic or otherwiserger-than-life action. However, after this action is taken, the yer¡¯s status as a minor character will catch up to them, often leading to disastrous results.


    I must have gotten that for my self-immtion stunt.


    My Grandmother Had The Gift¡­


    Type: Background


    Archetype: Any


    Stat Used: N/A


    In movies, characters that have strong intuitions, but not explicit psychic powers often exin their abilities by referencing a rtive who had ¡°the gift.¡± A yer who equips this background ticket will be able to work this exnation into their backstory to exin their otherworldly instincts.


    The yer may now Equip:


    ¡¤ Animal Whisperer (Adventurer)


    ¡¤ He has a tell (Detective)


    ¡¤ Like a Ma for Evil (Psychic)


    ¡¤ I don¡¯t like it here¡­ (Hysteric)


    ¡¤ I had a feeling about you two (Eye Candy)


    ¡¤ We¡¯re being hunted¡­ (Monster Hunter)


    ¡¤ Don¡¯t Go In There! (Film Buff)


    I don¡¯t like it here¡­


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Hysteric


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The Hysteric has a keen sense of the ominous and strong self-preservation instincts. Using these abilities, they can ferret out omens and help guide their group out of potentially tricky situations.


    That¡­ was Jte¡¯s trope. What kind of sick joke was that? Giving me a fallen yer¡¯s trope? I couldn¡¯t even think. I needed to clear my mind.


    The other set of tropes came out after I had already grabbed the first three. I couldn¡¯t equip any of them. I didn¡¯t know what to think of that.


    When I asked Arthur about it, he said it happens sometimes, though not usually in this amount. He told me to take the ones I don¡¯t want to the pawn shop in the town square. He said the guy there will take them in trade for all kinds of things.


    A Glitch in the Matrix


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Hysteric


    Stat Used: Savvy


    In a supernatural story, characters can often be paranoid as events start to unfold in a way that cannot be exined by naturalw. During the Party and Rebirth Phases, the yer that equips this trope will continue to see events that do not line up with reality, which hint at the true nature of the evil that surrounds them.


    Or maybe you''re just paranoid¡­


    A Story Within a Story


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Artist


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Horror writers aremon protagonists in horror movies. Often the stories that they write have a way of reflecting or predicting the main storyline. With this ticket equipped, the artist will be able to bring a book or work-in-progress prop into the story. By intelligently rying the events and themes of that story in the Party Phase, they can manipterger events and themes of the storyline. This trope takes much practice to control.


    Watching Over You¡­


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Departed


    Stat Used: Moxie


    In a film that touches on departed loved ones sticking around on earth, their presence is often felt by those around them even if it is only a vague emotional embrace. The yer who equips this ticket can buff their still-living teammates¡¯ Grit simply by following them around after death. The stronger the characters'' rtionships on screen before the death of the yer, the stronger the buff.


    Who you truly are¡­


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Outsider


    Stat Used: Moxie


    A character often begins a story believing that their troubled history will define their future, only for circumstances to arise that allow them to ovee their past.


    A yer with this ticket equipped will slowly gain PA boosts and their role will increase as the story progresses, moving them from a minor character at the beginning to a major one at the end. The yer must perform the role as it is assigned to receive the associated buffs and increased screen time. Must begin the story with a lower PA than other major characters.


    Everybody loves aeback story.


    Friends in High ces


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Soldier


    Stat Used: Moxie/Savvy


    In movies, cops and soldiers are often able to act likeplete mavericks and ignore all rules without consequences. One excuse for why they can get away with this is because they have a friend high up inmand who will cover for them.


    When this ticket is equipped, the yer will be able to invoke favor from some fictional character that has direct authority over the situation. Creativity and conviction are required to make this trope function. This ability can be used to gain ess to restricted areas, get out of trouble, or simply to make some quality-of-life adjustments for the yers.


    ¡°Any minute now your phone is about to ring, someone''s going to yell at you, and then you''re going to apologize to me¡­¡±


    This is going to sting a bit¡­


    Type: Healing


    Archetype: Doctor


    Stat Used: Moxie*


    Some injuries are so severe that healing them at all wouldpletely destroy the suspension of disbelief. However, there is a cure for that as well. When this trope is equipped, the yer can heal their teammates with heightened effectiveness as long as they y up how painful the procedure is.


    Making the cure painful can keep the suspension of disbelief intact. However, both the yer and the teammate being healed must consistently act as if the procedure is painful. Sometimes, they''ll need to do more than just pretend.


    identally Captured on Film


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Artist


    Stat Used: Moxie


    If an important character is taking pictures On-Screen in a horror, thriller, or mystery film, there is an 87% chance that those pictures will not only eventually appear On-Screen, but that they will contain some clue that will allow the character insight into the story. Equipping this trope allows the yer to carry a camera into a storyline. Any pictures that they take during the Party Phase have an increased chance of revealing useful information that was not readily apparent at the time.


    Stick to the n


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Stat Used: Moxie


    The job of a good leader is to continue to move the team forward even when all hope is lost. Often in a movie, the survivors¡¯ n will be in shambles and yet they''ll continue forward. When equipped, this trope will allow the yer to get even an apparently failed n back on track simply by convincing the audience that there is still a chance through ate-game rallying speech.


    Back to where it all started¡­


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Detective


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Mysteries often have themes about the past affecting the future. The sins long since forgotten reach forward to strangle us. When this ticket is equipped, the yer will be able to change the setting of the final battle to one of the settings either from the beginning of the storyline or from something that urred in the past, by using a well-spoken and well-reasoned argument for why the plot ¡°will¡± go in that direction. If sessful, the yers will get a brief reprieve in order to scout out and explore the setting before the final battle arrives. This will function as a miniature second Party Phase wherein most believable exploration tropes will be temporarily reactivated.


    You may not be able to change the past, but sometimes you can reexplore it.


    The Intrepid Guide Who Knows The Way


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Adventurer


    Stat Used: Moxie


    What do you need when you need to find a lost ancient tomb? Who will take you deep into shark-infested waters when no one else is brave enough? Who can take you into the most dangerous jungle and then bring you back out again? An Adventure Guide.


    When exploring ces uncharted or long forgotten, the yers will have the option to either hire or invite an NPC guide who has been to their destination before. Beware, the rtionship you have with your guide may make the difference between life and death.


    This guide will provide you with assistance and insights. But if they die, you may not be able to find your way home.


    I didn¡¯t know what to make of these new tropes. I pocketed them and soon left the church with the others. I wasn¡¯t looking forward to what we were going to say about Jte.


    What would we tell her husband?

 Chapter Forty-Three: Keeping Secrets

    Chapter Forty-Three: Keeping Secrets


    On the return to Camp Dyer, Carousel was like a new ce. Jte¡¯s I don¡¯t like it here¡­ trope was transformative. I could see Omens everywhere. No wonder she was freaked out all the time. I even saw things that Arthur didn¡¯t mention as he guided us back.


    When I looked at something that was an omen, I would see a brass disy sign on the red wallpaper with the word ¡°Warning.¡±


    Sometimes, I would get a whole lot more information than that. I asionally got entire posters, with storyline titles, vague suggestions of difficulty level, specific actions needed to trigger the omen, everything. The determining factor appeared to be my Savvy. Low-level storylines I knew everything about. For high-level storylines, I only got the ¡°Warning.¡±


    There was a storyline called ¡°The Look Back¡± that could be triggered by walking through an alleyway and¡­ looking behind you. The poster just showed a man carrying groceries with a look of horror on his face. Its difficulty level was ¡°Get to the car now!¡±


    Whatever that meant.


    I saw another storyline called ¡°Just Deserts¡± that took ce at a sweets shop called ¡°Just Desserts.¡± It was triggered by ordering something and not appreciating it (I¡¯m not sure what that meant exactly). Its difficulty level was ¡°I¡¯m fairly rmed.¡±


    Very informative.


    Most storylines gave much less information than that, but it was amazing to see beyond the veil if only a little. If I was in a better state of mind, I might have enjoyed looking around at all the stuff. That may just be me though.


    As we moved past town toward Camp Dyer, I got less and less information. Things really did get tougher out this way.


    Once we got back to camp, the tension in the air choked any conversation that could start. No one was looking forward to telling people what had happened to Jte. Arthur had assured us that he would be the one to tell everyone. Apparently, that had been something that he and Adeline had done many times over the years.


    As we approached the lodge, we were greeted by a sea of curious yers. What had happened that day was everyone''s business. I didn''t see Bobby among them. I really didn''t want to.


    Adeline greeted us on the trail before we got to the lodge. We stopped to talk to her.


    ¡°Jte?¡± She asked.


    Arthur shook his head. ¡°Disappeared.¡±


    Adeline nodded. I could tell from her face that she did have an understanding of what that meant. They had told me that she didn''t actually know about the axe murderer and yet I got the sense that she knew enough. As far as I knew Arthur and Adeline had been in Carousel for nearly 20 years.


    How had Arthur kept the secret from someone he had known for so long?


    Did he even have a choice?


    As we approached the lodge Adeline was quick to gently get the word out to those outside about what had happened to Jete. Her ¡°disappearance¡± was taken very well. The reaction was somber, but none of the veteran yers seemed to be surprised.


    My friends, however, looked horrified. I couldn''t me them. They didn''t have the <em>understanding</em> yet.


    This was clearly a big event. Even Dina, who only socialized to go out on storylines every once in a while, had stuck around awaiting our return. As soon as we got back her eyes zoned in on me. It looked like she was reading about me on the red wallpaper.


    It was only when we got inside and everyone had gathered around to hear a rundown of what had happened, that Bobby Gill, husband of the deceased, made his presence known.


    ¡°Where is Jte?¡± he asked. He had been worried. You could tell he was a bundle of stress. He was standing with Travis and Co., ironically the exact people Jte had not wanted him to be around.


    ¡°Look, Bobby, maybe we should go outside,¡± Arthur said.


    Travis shook his head, having apparently already figured out the bad news. ¡°I knew it.¡±


    ¡°Knew what?¡± Bobby asked. ¡°Where¡¯s Jte?¡±


    Adaline intervened, ¡°Let¡¯s go outside, Bobby.¡±


    ¡°Why? What happened to Jte?¡± he asked. ¡°Tell me what happened to Jte!¡±


    ¡°She disappeared,¡± Arthur said.


    Whispers echoed throughout the crowd from those who had not already heard. I couldn¡¯t tell what they were saying, but I know they didn¡¯t sound surprised either.


    ¡°Disappeared?¡± Bobby asked. ¡°Where? How?¡±


    ¡°On the storyline we went on,¡± Arthur answered. ¡°She didn¡¯t show up at The End.¡±


    Bobby didn¡¯t get it. ¡°I was telling them; she wouldn¡¯t have gone on a storyline. She has anxiety. Why would she be on a storyline?¡±


    He must have been told she went out on a storyline. He was still deep in denial over it.


    ¡°Just take a seat,¡± Adaline said. ¡°Come here.¡±


    She gestured for him to sit on one of the couches. When he didn¡¯t move, she gently ced a hand on his back, guiding him in that direction.


    ¡°No!¡± he said. He pulled away from her. ¡°Why was she on a storyline? We need to go find her.¡±


    I could only imagine what was going through his mind at that moment. When you hear the word disappeared you don''t think ¡°dead.¡± You think that there''s some hope out there. That was the w in using that term as a euphemism for death.


    And yet, it appeared that everyone else <em>did </em>understand. They knew what"disappeared" meant. They probably even knew why she was gone, more or less. They just didn''t know about the Rulekeeper.


    ¡°People go missing sometimes,¡± Adeline said. ¡°They disappear without a trace. I''m so sorry.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Bobby said. ¡°She would never have gone on a storyline. We talked about it; she was going to wait until I could go with her.¡±


    Adeline exined everything that had happened. She talked about how the box had been delivered specifically for Jete and that there was no way we could have avoided sending her on that storyline.


    She said everything short of "Your wife died because she broke the rules," presumably out of some desire to treat Bobby delicately. It might have been better if she had juste out with it instead of relying on subtlety and tact.


    ¡°She wouldn''t have gone!¡± he yelled. ¡°Not without telling me.¡±


    At that point, many of the others who had been there to witness what had happened tried exining that she had gone on the storyline. Unfortunately, so many people were talking at once that they may have actually made things worse.


    ¡°Who forced her to do this?¡± Bobby yelled.


    ¡°Carousel,¡± Arthur said.


    The outsider, Travis, had the shadow of a smirk on his face. ¡°Arthur forced her. It''s the sort of thing he would do. Any of them would. The moment she became a liability,¡± he said.


    ¡°Travis, get out of here,¡± Adeline said. ¡°You''re not helping.¡±


    Thest time I''d seen Adeline and Travis butt heads, Travis had shown some scant level of reverence to her seniority. That was gone now.


    ¡°I''m not helping because I''m notplicit. You don''t have to be a psychologist to know that that chick had a screw loose, no offense Bobby, she just wasn''t cut out for this ce.¡±


    ¡°We had no choice,¡± Arthur said.


    Travis shook his head. ¡°I don''t know that. I''m taking your word on that. We all are. I heard about what happened. What if you had just left the package there? It could have been gone in a few days. Why is it that in this ce we are constantly struck with situations we have never seen before and yet we''re supposed to trust that you know the right way to handle them?¡±


    ¡°Now is not the time for this,¡± Arthur said through gritted teeth.


    Travisughed. ¡°In Carousel, all we have is time and yet there''s never enough time to discuss things that you don''t want to talk about.¡±


    At that point, the argument ended. Not amicably, but because Reggie had grabbed Travis and started to haul him out of the lodge.


    ¡°You want answers to your questions, Bobby,¡± Travis said as he was being hauled away, ¡°Ask why the kid has her trope.¡±


    Fuck.


    Everyone in the room including my friends, including Adeline herself, turned to look at me. Even the teammates that I had just taken on the Grotesque storyline with hadn''t realized that I had gotten Jte¡¯s trope.


    Every eye in the building was on me.


    ¡°I got it as a reward,¡± I said. I must have sounded really nervous at the time. ¡°From Ss.¡±


    I hadn''t really thought about the implication of wrongdoing. I thought it was just another example of Carousel mocking us. Give the new guy the dead person''s old ticket. That sort of thing.


    ¡°What happened to Jte?¡± Bobby asked in a raised voice.


    I panicked. I wasn''t prepared to answer that question. When Arthur had said that he would tell everyone I had stopped thinking about it. It took me too long to answer. I was acting too nervous. When you don''t spend a lot of time around people you get really bad at it. Most of the people I spent time with came with a pause and rewind button.


    I actually did attempt to tell them what had happened. But when it came down to it, right as I was about to speak, I heard <em>him</em>.


    I heard his breath in my ear. The axe murderer. The Rulekeeper. It was so loud I jerked around to look behind me.


    ¡°I don''t know,¡± I stammered out.


    No one said anything.


    ¡°She¡­¡± How was I supposed to word this in a way that wouldn''t upset the entity that had apparently taken root in my brain? ¡°She didn''t...¡±


    Fortunately, it only took a few moments for Adeline to get her feet back under her after the reveal that I had been awarded Jte''s trope.


    ¡°It doesn''t matter. Carousel does things all the time to twist the knife,¡± she said. ¡°I''m sure this was just part of that.¡±


    ¡°How do we know he didn''t just take it off her corpse?¡± Travis asked. Reggie had stopped dragging him out the door with the revtion that I had Jte¡¯s ticket. As soon as Travis spoke up, Reggie resumed dragging him out. ¡°We should at least check it for blood.¡±


    He was thrown outsideughing.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­¡± I said. At that moment, I was searching for some proof that I was not involved in her death. I didn''t know how seriously people would take Travis'' usations. I said the only thing I could think of. ¡°I was given a background trope for it too.¡±


    I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to look at who it was. It was Roxie.


    ¡°Don''t worry about it. Travis is an asshole; no one''s going to take him seriously.¡±


    I hoped that she was right but with the day''s events, the stress of meeting the Rulekeeper, the stress of dying¡­. I was in no shape to think clearly.


    As embarrassing as it is to admit, it felt like I was about to tear up. Exactly no part of my personality would allow me to show emotion like that in front of people. I had spent decades building walls to prevent that exact thing.


    I pushed my way through the crowd to the little room I shared with Camden and shut the door.


    As I closed the door, I could hear Valerie exined that I had died for the first time that day.


    I stayed there for hours. As silly as it sounds, I contemted breaking the window so that I could leave the room without having to go back out through the crowds of people outside.


    Iid on my bed hoping that sleep would give me a break from all of this, but it was hard to sleep until the sun went down because of the westward-facing window and because I had a million things on my mind.


    How were we going to escape?


    What was the story behind the axe murderer?


    Why had I been given Jte''s old trope?


    I thought about what Ss had said when he gave it to me. ¡°It¡¯s a shame to waste a good n. Luckily, in Carousel, we recycle.¡±


    Was that just Ss saying some canned joke or did it mean something¡­ more?


    As I thought about this, there was a knock at the door. I really didn¡¯t want to answer, but if it was Camden, I couldn¡¯t keep him out of his own room.


    When I opened it, I was greeted by my friends. What was I going to say to them?


    ¡°Riley,¡± Anna said. ¡°We didn¡¯t get a chance to talk. Do you mind if wee in?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if I was in a headspace to talk, but I waved them into the little closet Camden and I called home.


    I didn¡¯t know what to say, so I just let them speak.


    ¡°I heard you took out some monsters with huge Plot Armor,¡± Antoine said. ¡°That¡¯s pretty cool.¡±


    We didn¡¯t know each other very well, so he gave me a dudepliment.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. Most of them technically had no Grit when I did, but it didn¡¯t matter. He was just trying to be supportive.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Anna asked. ¡°It must have been terrifying.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°At parts.¡±


    ¡°You know you can talk to us about stuff,¡± she said.


    ¡°Nothing to talk about.¡±


    There was an awkward silence for a beat.


    ¡°You get any good loot?¡± Camden asked. He hadn¡¯t spoken much since having died himself. But I guess it was his turn to hold the support baton.


    I hadn¡¯t thought much about the awards I had gotten. A spark of excitement ignited in my mind because that was something I could talk about. It was something I could distract myself with.


    I reached into my pocket. It was strange. Even though I had a big stack of tickets now, I hadn¡¯t noticed how inconvenient it was to carry them around until I went to grab them. It was almost like they weren¡¯t even there until you reached for them. Strange.


    Whatever the case, I took out the tickets and started to show them around. Most of them were useless to me. I showed Anna the Final Girl trope I had gotten, Stick to the n, and promised to give it to her. I exined how useful it could be. She conveyed interest, but I think her mind was on something else.


    I showed them the monster ticket with a high-level Grotesque on it. I told them about the pawn shop Arthur had spoken about. I theorized we might be able to trade the monster tickets there.


    Camden was amazed at how many tropes I had gotten, not to mention the stat tickets, which would put my Plot Armor well above his once I used them.


    I read off the array of useless tropes I had gotten: A Glitch in the Matrix, identally Captured on Film, Friends in High ces, A Story within a Story, and Watching over You, were among those that got the most attention. We spitballed at how they might be used for strategy.


    Then I told them about On-Screen, Off-Screen maniption, and how we had been able to keep Roxie alive long enough for a 13% debuff on all the creatures.


    Of course, geeking out could onlyst so long.


    ¡°Was Jte¡­ gone already when that happened?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°We¡¯re just curious.¡±


    Kimberly and Anna gave him scolding look.


    I couldn¡¯t me him. No matter what I said, the question that they would most want to be answered was what had happened to Jte. In my exnation of our exploits in the storyline, I had left her out altogether. She had been gone by the time most of the interesting stuff started.


    I nodded quickly. I held my breath wondering if that simple answer would summon the phantom presence of the Rulekeeper. Luckily, I heard nothing.


    I took out the ¡°I don¡¯t like it here¡­¡± ticket and showed it to them. ¡°No blood, see.¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t think you had anything to do with it,¡± Anna said.


    ¡°Do you¡­ Do you know what happened to her?¡± Camden asked.


    After having died nothing felt real. I felt like I was sleepwalking. Nothing felt important or urgent, not even the dire circumstances of my captivity here in Carousel. But as soon as I contemted telling my friends about the axe murderer, suddenly everything felt real.


    My heart was beating faster than it had been fighting the Grotesques.


    I could hear him as if he was right behind me. I could hear his feet shifting on the ground, his breath in my ear.


    Still, these were my friends, and keeping him a secret felt wrong. It felt like they deserved to know. I''d learned that day that everyone basically knew what happened to the people who "disappeared" but nobody knew the specifics. They also knew why It happened. No one had to be told why Jte had been singled out. Even then, telling them that there''s an actual entity enforcing the rules around here felt important.


    And yet I was afraid.


    I was afraid that I would be endangering them by telling them. I was afraid that I was endangering myself.


    ¡°She just¡­ disappeared,¡± I said, much to my shame.


    And as I scanned their faces¡ªAnna, who was so trusting; Camden, whom I had shared my secrets with as a child; Kimberly, a sweet and honest soul; and Antoine, who might have had the strength to be honest if he were in my shoes¡­


    I could tell that they knew I was hiding something.


    I was alone again.

 Chapter Forty-Four: The Detour

    Chapter Forty-Four: The Detour


    I couldn''t sleep that night. My body yearned for rest, but my mind was relentless. I kept looking out across theke at the mountain Arthur had mentioned. I really wished it had been overcast so I could see the light reflected in the clouds. Just some sign of a way out of here would have made me feel sane.


    I tried talking to Camden about dying, but he wasn''t ready to talk about it and I didn''t have much to say either. I was still numb. It was strange, I kept having these miniature moments of panic where I would forget that I wasn''t dying. Right as I was about to sleep I would suddenly jolt awake and pat my body down looking for the gashes and cuts that I remember receiving.


    They were never there, of course.


    When I had taken a shower, the hot water running over my skin was ufortable. That skin had been burned earlier. It''s like my mind hadn''t really gone back to normal.


    As Iy there, I considered saying all of this to Camden. I could only imagine that he was going through the same thing. But I''ve never been good at talking about things like this and after having been inducted into the small group of people keeping Carousel¡¯s enforcer a secret, it almost felt hypocritical to try and be open about my feelings. Like I didn''t deserve to.


    I contemted exactly how much I could tell my friends about the axe murderer. As I saw it, there were two possibilities. Possibility One: I can''t talk about the axe murderer himself but I am unrestricted otherwise. If that was the case, it would be pretty easy to tell my friends things. I would just have to leave out a few details. Possibility Two: I can''t even acknowledge that I know what happened at all. That one was trickier.


    Arthur and Roxie appeared to have gone with the second choice. They acted like they didn''t even <em>know </em>what happened to people who disappeared. They didn''t hint much at all. They didn''t try to get clever about it.


    All of the other yers had been able to connect the dots over time. You had to y the game. They knew <em>why </em>yers disappeared more or less. They just didn''t know <em>how</em>.


    A further question: did I need to tell them? Most yers followed the rules pretty closely without being told there was a literal axe hanging over their heads. They knew there were consequences. Why risk it if there was nothing to gain? What was the difference between an axe murderer and spontaneousbustion as far as the other yers were concerned? Missing is missing. Dead is dead.


    A final question: how long would I wait before <em>I</em> tried to get clever and ended up saying too much? The problem solver in me wanted to outsmart this restriction. I only hoped that desire would fade with time. I thought about how I might hint things to them, how I might test the boundaries.


    I guess I''m not good at keeping secrets.


    I don''t think I ever fell asleep that night. I just remember eventually it started to get lighter outside and the birds started to chirp and the little campers came out and started chasing each other around ying tag and daring each other to go into the abandoned cabin.


    Morning at Camp Dyer, as always, came without my permission.


    The next morning was breakfast as usual. The veteran yers treated me normally. The ones that I didn''t know that well nced at me for an extra few seconds, but they seemed more curious than unweing.


    Grace had nned for us to eat tacos that morning. Some of the senior yers had just done a run to Eternal Savers Club, Carousel¡¯s version of Costco, where you can get huge savings on bulk items. Of course, I''m pretty sure they just cleared a storyline there and then looted it for everything that was on our shopping list, but either way, we saved a lot of money.


    Every time someone made a run to E.S.C., it was like Christmas came to Camp Dyer. They would bring back bags full of candy, microwave snacks, and whatever other goodies were on sale.


    I sat with my friends. I don''t know if they got over me not telling them what had happened to Jte, but I think that they were developing the <em>understanding</em>, however begrudgingly. They would get it with time. I hoped they would never learn about it the hard way.


    With what had happened to Jte, Adeline had told us that we had to go on storylines more often than before. Just until they knew how long of a break we had before Carousel woulde knocking. I didn''t have to go anywhere but I made it clear that I wanted to go with them if they went on a storyline.


    Truth be told, I don''t think they wanted to go.


    Luckily, Chris, Antoine''s older brother, had apromise for us.


    He told us about a very easy storyline that was more of a brain teaser and was actually kind of fun. He couldn''t tell us details, or at least he wouldn''t tell us details, but he said that our chance of dying was lower than it had been at the Astralist. I guess we should have told him how close we came to dying to the Astralist.


    ¡°Can Ie?¡± Someone asked from behind us.


    I turned to look and, to my surprise, it was Dina, the Outsider who had arrived at Carousel at the same time we had. She hadtched on to a few different teams since we got there. I couldn''t see her plot armor level or any of her tropes because she had that Outsider ability that made it hard to get any insight into her. Guarded Personality, I think it was called.


    She wore her brown leather jacket and distressed blue jeans, the same as she had when she got here.


    That must have meant that her grit was higher than my Savvy. I still hadn''t used my stat tickets. I was contemting sharing them with my friends in order to buy back favor. That wasn''t a smart idea, but I kept it in my back pocket.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Anna said. She gave us all a quick nce as if to say <em>We are letting here!</em>


    Dina smiled. She moved over to the table that we were sitting at right across from me.


    ¡°Do you think I can get you to do a detour for me first? I mean before we go on the storyline that you were talking about.¡±


    It was like she was asking me personally, not the group.


    ¡°What kind of detour?¡± I asked.


    Dina leaned in close. ¡°I need to go see a psychic in town. Lara said that it can be a little bit troublesome to get there unless you have someone with a scouting trope. The trouble is, she told me that person had to be about the same level as me so I can''t ask any of the veterans. I asked Jte but I''m sure you could guess how that went.¡±


    I was taken aback. I didn''t know what to say. The trope that I had gotten from Jte, (I don¡¯t like it here¡­), was a scouting trope. It wasn''t the best one. The information it gave was based on a vague feeling of unease and fear, but it would probably keep us alive.


    ¡°You mean like a real psychic?¡± Kimberly asked. Truthfully, she sounded like she was excited. I think Kimberly had been into astrology back before Carousel. Astrology probably didn''t have the appeal anymore. After all, Carousel had different stars.


    Dina nodded.


    ¡°Are you sure it''s safe?¡± Anna asked.


    Dina shrugged. ¡°I don''t think that Lara would have told me about her if it wasn''t safe.¡±


    ¡°Do you mean Madam Celia?¡± I asked.


    Dina looked surprised. ¡°Yeah, you heard of her?¡±


    ¡°I met her yesterday,¡± I said.


    I coughed. I didn¡¯t want to invite questions about the Grotesque storyline.


    Before we could ask any more questions like ¡°Why do you need to go see a psychic?¡± Dina was up and gone.


    ¡°Meet you out front in an hour?¡± She asked as she left.


    And that was that.


    ¡°Wonder whose turn it is to die now,¡± Antoine said as she walked away.


    Kimberly gave him an exasperated look. ¡°Don¡¯t say that!¡±


    To be fair, it was a good question.


    Honestly, I felt really cool guiding them through Carousel. Arthur had always looked cool when he was telling us what to do to prevent triggering omens. I had likened it to traversing a war zone. Everyone was really afraid of storylines so they listened to every word that came out of my mouth.


    ¡°Switch to the other side of the street.¡±


    ¡°Wait for this NPC to pass.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t stare in that shop¡¯s windows.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t walk too close to the sewer grate.¡±


    Stuff like that. I would have looked a whole lot less badass if they knew that the reason we were avoiding all those things was that I saw phrases on the red wallpaper like "This ce gives me the creeps," "I''m getting goosebumps," "Something doesn''t feel right," and, of course, "Honey, I¡¯m scared."


    If we could have walked in a straight line we would have been there in an hour, maybe an hour and a half. It took us nearly three.


    Ethereal Emporium: Antiques and Spiritual Readings was a standalone shop in an outlet strip next to a restaurant that served baby back ribs and ¡°Johansen¡¯s Fine Furs.¡±


    Once we were in the parking lot, we were home-free.


    As we approached the store, the others waited for me to give the all-clear before they entered. I gave them a curt nod.


    Dina was in first.


    Say what you will about Madam Celia Dane, but her store smelled amazing. I could almost feel my aura cleansing itself with every breath I took.


    When we entered, a bell on the door rang. No one was out front when we got there. The ce was filled with antique furniture and curios filled with strange objects: crystal balls, a rabbit¡¯s foot, various tarot card decks, and other ult items.


    ¡°Watch out,¡± I said. ¡°Some of the things in here are omens. But¡­ you have to buy them to trigger them.¡±


    How convenient. Omens for sale. It was such a hassle to have to go find one on your own.


    Perhaps the most interesting item in the store was a red mechanical box in the corner.


    It was Ss the Showman.


    The only difference was that this model was not powered on. The mechanical fortune teller stayed silent. His lights stayed off. I wasn''t going to risk pressing his button to see if anything happened. I took a moment to examine him up close. I half-expected him to wake up and start jabbering but he never did.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Dina called out.


    We listened intently toward the back of the store. The door had been open so surely an employee was there.


    As we were listening, a loud roar like a lion or bear sounded from across the parking lot.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said, as we stared out the window to see what had made the noise.


    ¡°Greetings!¡± A voice sounded from the back.


    A doorway at the back of the store had been covered in colorful beads that you had to walk through as you passed from room to room. As I turned to look, Madam Celia, the tall serious woman I have met the day before, entered the room through a shower of beads.


    Madam Celia Dane, Proprietor¡ªEthereal Emporium: Antiques and Spiritual Readings. NPC. Plot Armor: 50.


    ¡°You havee for guidance,¡± she said. It wasn''t a question. She said it like it was a fact. It was a good guess; most people who go to psychic shops probably are looking for guidance. Or lost wills.


    Dina stepped forward. ¡°Yes. I heard you might be able to help me.¡±


    Madam Celia gave her a look over. ¡°I may not be able to help you, but I can certainly send you on your path. Come. Sit.¡±


    Celia gestured toward a room near the back that was closed off. We walked in the direction she pointed and entered a small, enclosed room with a giant table in the middle surrounded by seats with overstuffed cushions. The room was dark, and the air was thick with incense.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never done this before,¡± Dina said.


    Madam Celia gave her a smile. ¡°Don''t worry dear. I have enough experience for the both of us.¡±


    We crowded into the room, each taking a seat. We allowed Dina to sit in the chair opposite Madam Celia.


    Madam Celia took one of Dina¡¯s hands and held it. She closed her eyes.


    ¡°You are on a quest,¡± she said.


    Dina nodded, but then, realizing that Celia couldn¡¯t see her, said ¡°Yes, I am.¡±


    Her voice came out weak and vulnerable in a way that I hadn''t expected.


    Madam Celia didn''t say anything for a while. It was like she was somewhere else mentally. Even in the dimly lit room, I could see her eyes moving behind her eyelids.


    ¡°You poor thing,¡± she said. ¡°Dealt an unfair hand.¡±


    Dina didn''t say anything. But she looked very uneasy, sad maybe.


    ¡°And you came here hoping that I would give you the answers. But that isn''t my role here. We all have a role here, in Carousel. You¡¯ll learn that soon enough. You came to this ce as Orpheus, but will you leave with your prize? I cannot tell you the way, but a darker power might be able to.¡±


    ¡°A¡­ darker power?¡± Dina asked. She sounded hesitant.


    ¡°I think it would be very strange for you to turn your nose up at this point,¡± Celia said with the ghost of a smirk.


    Dina looked down.


    ¡°I don''t know what it will take for you to get to the end of your story. But I do know the next step.¡±


    She reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out a ticket. She handed it to Dina.


    ¡°You will need your friends¡¯ help for this,¡± she said. ¡°To get to the end and back again you will need many things, to aplish many feats. Don¡¯t worry, there is a path that will lead you there. You need¡­ a guide who knows the way.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°One step after another,¡± Madam Celia said. She pointed to the ticket that she had just handed Dina. ¡°This is your next step. If only you have the bravery to take it. Now go. Never make the mistake of thinking you have time to waste.¡±


    Madam Celia herded us out of the store and back out into the parking lot. There were still animal noisesing from somewhere in the strip mall.


    ¡°Are you going to tell us about that?¡± Antoine asked.


    Dina didn¡¯t say anything. She took out the ticket and showed it to us.


    We examined it. It was different than the tickets we''d seen before, slightly smaller than a trope ticket. It had no imagery on it but instead, read:


    Now ying


    <strong><em>Antemortem</em></strong>


    Beneath that were directions to a ce called Berryman¡¯s Dive. It ended with "A Private Showing Just For You!"


    ¡°What is this?¡± Kimberly asked.


    I''d been trying to figure that out myself. It presented itself like an actual movie ticket, but the address was to what I assumed was a dive bar. And then it hit me.


    ¡°Madam Celia is a quest-giver,¡± I said. Most of the others looked at me, puzzled.


    ¡°That makes sense,¡± Camden said. He would know.


    ¡°A quest-giver?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°In a video game, a quest-giver is an NPC whose job is to give you a quest to do. A mission. I think that''s what Madam Celia is. You go talk to her, and she gives you directions to a storyline.¡±


    The others took turns staring at the ticket. They all seemed interested. Up until that point, we had only gone on storylines that the more senior yers had vetted. We had never actually tried to let Carousel guide us, but it clearly had the ability to. After all, Roxie had said that there was a tutorial. There <em>had</em> to be quest-givers.


    ¡°You don''t think that what she said was true?¡± Dina asked. I think from the look on her face she really didn''t want me to be right. I think that she wanted Madam Celia¡¯s words to be real and not just an NPC ying a part.


    I shrugged my shoulders. ¡°Has anything actually been real here? Everything''s just a performance stacked on another performance.¡±


    Dina didn''t say anything. She almost looked sad but within a few seconds, she had wiped away any trace of emotion.


    Anna must have sensed the same thing I did. She put her hand on Dina¡¯s shoulder and said, ¡°We can go check it out. It doesn''t hurt to look. Riley can get us out of there if there''s anything dangerous.¡±


    Anna was putting an awful lot of trust in my new trope. She was putting a lot of trust in me. Hopefully, it wasn¡¯t misced.


    Berryman¡¯s Dive was to the north, a mile or so out of town. In fact, it wasn''t too far from Halle Castle. Avoiding omens felt so much more possible now that I could actually see them before we got to them.


    On one of the streets, there was an Open House, where a beautiful colonial home was being sold. We had to literally go around the neighborhood in order not to trigger whatever omen was involved with that house. I assume it had something to do with the fact that the door was left wide open.


    Eventually, we ended up on a dusty road with not much else around. As we walked down this road, dusk started to fall. It never got any darker or lighter. It was just perpetual dusk. Against the falling darkness, we saw it: Berryman¡¯s Dive.


    It was just a small country bar out in the middle of nowhere. A few cars were parked outside. It had arge neon sign with its name on it as well as neon signs with the names of a few of Carousel¡¯s off-brand beers.


    ¡°Are we good to go in?¡± Anna asked.


    I nodded my head. I couldn''t see any omens involved in just entering the establishment.


    ¡°I hope you kids brought your fake IDs,¡± Dina joked. She took the lead as we moved closer to the building.


    I noticed that Camden was hanging back. I turned back to see what was wrong. It was a terrible time to risk ending up in a difficult storyline. I don''t think either of us was in a good mental ce to be fighting for our lives again.


    ¡°What''s up?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said.


    ¡°Okay.¡± If he said it was nothing I wasn¡¯t going to press the issue.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ Look at where we are,¡± he said.


    I looked around unsure of what he meant. He pointed his finger along the road that we had traveled and then along another road that intersected that one. The bar was in the middle of nowhere at the corner of those two roads.


    I figured out what he was trying to point out.


    We were at a crossroads.

 Chapter Forty-Five: The Wager

    Chapter Forty-Five: The Wager


    Berryman¡¯s Dive stank of smoke and stale beer. There was an old Southern rock record ying. I didn''t recognize the music, in fact, I don''t think it was music that you would find in the real world, and yet somehow, I still knew that it was way out of date. This ce was like stepping back in time.


    The furniture was mismatched, and the tables were so old and fogged over with grime that they could probably never be clean. There might have been seating for fifty but there were only ten or so NPCs scattered about.


    ¡°Don''t talk to the guy scratching his arm,¡± I said. My friends looked over in the direction I was staring at.


    It was a skinny man with a big coat and a knitted beanie on his head. He sat at the bar near the front of the building minding his own business. When he scratched his arm, he would pull up his sleeve enough so that you could seerge welts that looked like bug bites.


    ¡°Don''t y number twenty on the jukebox,¡± I said. I had no idea why. I just knew that we did not want to y that song. I saw ¡°This is scaring me¡± on the red wallpaper. I assume that was a fairly serious warning.


    I continued looking around.


    What caught my eye next wasn''t an omen. In fact, I wasn''t the only person to notice.


    ¡°Look at the bartender,¡± Kimberly said.


    He was an older guy. Thick around the middle, unkempt Gray hair. He seemed mild-mannered as he cleaned shot sses behind the bar. He looked at us expectantly, ready to take our orders.


    Eugene. NPC. Plot Armor: 90.


    That was officially the highest Plot Armor I had seen on anything in Carousel and it happened to be assigned to some random bartender who didn''t even have any tropes that I could see. How strange.


    Dina ordered us a round of beers and Eugene got to work supplying them.


    For the most part, the bar seemed safe. More omens mighte and go as the day went on but right now there were only three. The two I told you about and the one in the back. The one that we came here to see.


    At the back of the bar, a man sat at a table. His dark hair wasbed neatly. His face was cleanly shaven. He wore a nice suit, the kind you might see on a Southern gentleman walking the streets of Savannah. He was shuffling cards and nursing a whiskey. There were poker chips on the table. As soon as we walked in, he looked at us and smiled.


    ¡°Nice day today, wouldn''t you say Eugene?¡± He asked.


    Eugene nodded and gave out ackadaisical ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°The only thing that could make it better would be a nice game of cards.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    They went on talking back and forth like that. They never really said anything of substance.


    It was obvious to everyone what was going on here.


    This was the man we hade to see.


    The man ying cards was called Mysterious Gentleman on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°What''s the trigger?¡± Dina asked.


    I scanned the red wallpaper. Everything that I knew about the Mysterious Gentleman was as follows.


    His poster read: The Mysterious Gentleman in <em>Antemortem</em>.


    Mysterious Gentleman


    Plot Armor: 18 (Adjusted from 67 by Show Ticket)


    __________


    Tropes


    Soul Read


    This viin has insight into the yer¡¯s soul. (Moxie)


    A Deal is a Deal


    This viin will not lie about a promise.


    Self-Restraint


    This viin intentionally limits their own power for this storyline.


    Ambiguous Alignment


    The viin is morally gray.


    Bender of Truth


    The viin will always take advantage, when possible, outside of directly lying.


    Unholy


    This creature is weakened by general Demonbane


    If he were a higher Plot Armor, he might have had more tropes. These were the basics. Luckily, it appeared that the ticket Dina had been given lowered its level down to 18.


    The red wallpaper also told me ¡°Get to the Car!¡± was the difficulty level.


    It also showed me how to trigger the Omen.


    ¡°The storyline doesn¡¯t trigger unless you lose a wager with him at a game of cards,¡± I said. Carousel must have set him up as being a character that could help you if you beat him in your wager but if you lost you would have to y the storyline. That was far fairer than most omens.


    Of course, that assumed that he was beatable.


    Kimberly, doing what she could to help, said, ¡°His Moxie is seven. If that matters.¡±


    ¡°So just don¡¯t make a bet and we¡¯ll be fine,¡± Anna said. ¡°And don¡¯t talk to him too much.¡±


    Dina thought about that for a moment. She downed her beer. ¡°No wonder people get stuck here for decades.¡±


    I knew she was about to go wager something against him. She had that look on her face, the same one she had worn when she smashed the pumpkin in The Final Straw II.


    "Buff my Grit," she said.


    "Wait," I said.


    "You can buff Grit, right?" she asked.


    I could. I would have to make a prediction. She must have seen my Cinema Seer trope on the red wallpaper. Allies could usually see each other''s tropes.


    "Buff my Grit," she said again.


    She turned back toward the Gentleman. Carousel must have been paying attention because as she turned, we were suddenly On-Screen.


    I had never even noticed whether we could be On-Screen for the Omen. In fact, I felt like we had always waited to get in character until after triggering it. Apparently, we could go On-Screen at any point on the plot cycle.


    Dammit.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I said.


    "Why?" she asked. She stared directly at me. "What is the worst that could happen?


    She teed me up to make a prediction. This was insane, but if she needed Grit, I had to try. I had a hunch about why she needed it. If I was right, we might be able to avoid this storyline altogether.


    I thought for a moment.


    ¡°I know that the psychic sent us here, but I think this is dangerous,¡± I said. I tried to look frustrated like I couldn¡¯t find the right words. Luckily, that wasn¡¯t too far from the truth. ¡°I feel it; I can''t exin why. I¡¯m not saying psychics are fake. My grandmother had ¡®the gift.¡¯ Heck, maybe some of it rubbed off on me. Or maybe I¡¯ve just seen this in a movie before. Either way, that guy is definitely going to try to steal your soul. I bet he¡¯s not going to y fair either.¡±


    I tried to find a happy medium between my pseudo-psychic background trope and my Film Buff meta-awareness. I would need to practice.


    Dina paused to consider what I had said. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± she said.


    I felt I could talk about the psychic, that I could incorporate her into the story. That''s what she and the other high-level NPCs were for. Carousel wanted a story. Theck of asthmatic breathing in my ears confirmed that I hadn¡¯t broken the rules.


    She walked over to the gentleman. We were close enough that we could hear them speaking, but far enough away that we were Off-Screen.


    ¡°What the hell is she doing?¡± Antoine asked. He looked like he was about to jump out of his seat and go grab her.


    ¡°She wouldn¡¯t trigger the omen on purpose¡­. would she?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°Not on purpose,¡± I said. I think she intended to win.


    We started to get up, hoping to grab her before she could trap us in an unknown story, but before we could get near her, she sat down at the Gentleman¡¯s table and said, ¡°I¡¯d like the make a deal.¡±


    The Gentleman looked ravenous.


    ¡°A deal? I¡¯m just a simple card yer. My money wagered against yours. Is that not a good enough deal?¡±


    He smiled a toothy smile.


    ¡°I hear you deal in things much more significant than that,¡± she said.


    Heughed. ¡°Well for the right stakes, I have been known to go above and beyond. Normally there is a bit more conversation, getting to know each other. What is it you¡¯re looking for? The location of treasure? Do you want power? Fame?¡±


    Dina didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°I want my son back.¡±


    The Gentleman looked legitimately surprised at first, but then he slipped back into his smile. ¡°Where is he? Do you need a map?¡±


    Dina wasn¡¯t amused. ¡°He died.¡±


    A tear escaped her eye and rolled down her face. Otherwise, her expression was cold.


    The Gentleman¡¯s eyes lit up with excitement. ¡°We don¡¯t do that sort of thing here.¡± He paused. ¡°Usually.¡±


    ¡°But you can.¡±


    My friends had stopped short of interrupting them. Could we just grab her and drag her away? The omen wasn''t triggered yet. Still, this wasn''t something we had dealt with before. What if he followed us? What if grabbing her against her will was against the rules?


    ¡°Is this just her character talking?" Anna asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Camden said.


    I didn¡¯t either. That must have been what her quest was¡ªto bring back her son.


    "We may have to y through this one," Anna said.


    If Dina fumbled, we definitely would. Luckily, the show ticket had lowered the difficulty to within our range, if only just.


    The Gentleman grabbed his deck of cards off the table. ¡°I have made all sorts of deals, but bringing a child back to life¡­ that may be more involved. Tell you what. I will tell you how to get your son back if you beat me in a game of poker. But if you lose, I get to name my prize.¡±


    Dina stared him down. ¡°Alive. Unhurt. No sign he ever got sick. And he lives to old age happy, free of all this. No tricks¡±


    The Gentleman was taken aback. ¡°I would never y a trick, not when ites to this. But remember what I said. I will only tell you <em>how to</em> get him back. I promise nothing more than that.¡±


    Dina thought for a moment. She held out her hand.


    He went to shake it but held back. ¡°And I get to name my prize.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Now shake my hand,¡± Dina said.


    The Gentleman reached out and shook her hand. ¡°Oof. So confident. What have I gotten myself into here?¡± he asked yfully.


    He looked up behind the bar toward Eugene, but the NPC wasn¡¯t paying any attention.


    He started dividing out the chips.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Dina said. ¡°Why do you get more?¡±


    ¡°House rules, Darling.¡±


    If I was counting right from where we were standing, he had given himself 180 chips in various denominations. He had given her 160. I didn¡¯t know her Plot Armor because of her Guarded Personality trope, but I did know his. If I were to guess, they had each been given 10 chips per Plot Armor level.


    Dina didn¡¯t say anything.


    The Mysterious Gentleman began dealing the cards.


    Watching them y poker was kind of amusing. I know I should have taken it more seriously, but this game was ludicrous. Every single hand that was dealt was a big hand. Within the first twenty or so, I saw at least three full houses, two straights, and two flushes. This was a movie poker game where every moment was exciting.


    Chips flew across the table.


    I didn''t recognize which style of poker this was. Dina seemed to understand just fine. I could see why she was confident.


    They were staring each other down trying to guess what was in the other yer''s hand.


    Everything that the Mysterious Gentleman did seemed to be going off gut instinct. It probably helped that he could Soul Read, whatever that was.


    But here''s the thing: he wasn''t beating her by that much.


    It was back and forth. At first, I thought that this must have been scripted. There was no way that a demonic entity like the Mysterious Gentleman was actually losing at poker. But truthfully there was <em>one</em> way that Dina could win.


    Her Guarded Personality trope. Up until that point, all it did was prevent me from seeing anything about her on the red wallpaper, but as they yed, I could see the frustration growing on the Mysterious Gentleman''s face. He was having a tough time reading her too.


    I couldn¡¯t see every card yed, but I could tell that sparks were flying.


    As time wore on, he started to take the lead. I didn¡¯t know if he was cheating or if his Soul Read was just too strong, even with her Guarded Personality.


    Once the chips started to stack up in front of him, he started getting cocky.


    "So," she said. "You said you wanted to pick your prize. Want to tell me what that was?"


    ¡°You''ll find out soon enough, my dear," he said. "No need to get in a hurry."


    "Whatever," she said. "We can raise the stakes next game if you''re up for it."


    He smiled wide, unable to resist the bait, "I don''t think there will be a next game."


    Dina remained cold. ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡±


    The Mysterious Gentleman smiled. ¡°If you really want to know my prize, I''ll tell you. I think I¡¯ll take your soul.¡±


    There it was.


    My friends all bumped up two Plot Armor. They had been buffed.


    When I had warned Dina of the dangers of the Mysterious Gentleman, I had predicted that he would try to steal her soul.


    A prediction he just confirmed.


    My Cinema Seer trope had just buffed her Savvy and Grit.


    Her Guarded Personality trope was powered by Grit.


    Whatever insight he was gleaning from her was now even more difficult to obtain.


    Dina smiled.


    I suspected she might also have an insight trope that was helping her, but I didn''t know.


    Now, the game was fairer.


    They went back and forth more. Dina didn¡¯t have a runaway victory, but I could see that the Gentleman was slowly losing his footing. The cracks in his game were showing.


    Within a few dozen hands, he was down to hisst few chips.


    ¡°You are very difficult to read,¡± he said. ¡°Do you know that?¡±


    ¡°All in,¡± Dina responded.


    The Gentleman put in hisst chips. The cards were shown.


    He lost: his three-of-a-kind against her full house.


    Just like in the movies.


    Suddenly, we were Off-Screen. Dina hadn¡¯t tripped the storyline after all. It turned out the Mysterious Gentleman was beatable.


    The Gentleman started tough. ¡°Well yed.¡±


    Dina didn¡¯t waste any time with pleasantries.


    ¡°Tell me how to bring Sean back,¡± she said. ¡°You promised.¡±


    The Gentleman nodded his head. ¡°A deal is a deal.¡±


    The lights in the bar started to flicker. A faint red glow started to emanate around the room, but I didn''t know what the source was. The Mysterious Gentleman closed his eyes.


    He kept them closed for a while. His brow furrowed, confused. Still, he continued.


    ¡°Strange,¡± he said. ¡°How did your son die?¡±


    Dina cleared her throat. ¡°Cancer.¡±


    The Mysterious Gentleman pursed his lips. ¡°I can''t find him. You said that he died in Carousel?¡±


    Dina shook her head. ¡°No. We were in California.¡±


    The gentleman furrowed his brow again. ¡°California? Where is th¡ª¡±


    His eyes shot open. He pressed his hand to his head. It was like he was having a migraine. He started to groan in pain. He threw his body back and forth in his seat.


    ¡°The man on the top floor. He watches us through violet lights. He is the one you need. He looks for dark stories. Like yours. Like¡­ mine.¡±


    He started to look around the room. It was like he had never seen the ce before.


    ¡°How did I get here?¡± he asked. A look of sudden realization. ¡°He¡¯s done it. That sick man, he¡¯s trapped me.¡±


    He started to breathe very hard. His face began to change.


    His teeth grew sharp and started to get longer. His eyes glowed red. I could even see the faintest points start to rise from the top of his head.


    He became overwhelmed by a panicked rage.


    ¡°I have to escape. Where? How do we leave this ce?¡±


    Dina backed up from the table. She backed away until she was near where we were.


    ¡°Is there no escape? We must go t¡ª¡±


    Bang.


    The Mysterious Gentleman dropped to the ground; arge hole had opened up in his forehead.


    I looked to my right and saw Eugene, the level 90 NPC standing with a shotgun trained at the ce the Mysterious Gentleman had been.


    Eugene turned to us. ¡°I had to do it. You saw him. He was¡­ some sort of monster.¡±


    The man spoke without emotion. He was delivering a line, nothing more. He put the gun back under the bar and went back to polishing sses.

 Chapter Forty-Six: Letters from Carousel

    Chapter Forty-Six: Letters from Carousel


    We ran out of Berryman¡¯s Dive like we were being chased.


    When we got down the road a mile or so, everyone was looking to me to make sure that we didn''t trigger any Omens.


    I stopped and listened. Had Dina broken a rule? I didn''t think so. Everything that had happened On-Screen could very well have been something her character said. Still what we had just seen was not supposed to happen. I didn¡¯t need some terrible entity breathing in my ear to know that.


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Did that demon¡­ just¡­¡± Camden asked. He searched for the right words. ¡°Wake up?¡±


    Anna looked at me like I would know.


    Someone was saying something about the demon, I couldn¡¯t listen to them. I needed silence.


    ¡°Quiet!¡± I said.


    I looked behind me. To the left, right. I kept expecting to see the Rulekeeper. Did we know too much now? Were we about to be killed?


    I tried to calm my breath and listen.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Anna said.


    I held up a finger to her, gesturing for her to be quiet.


    I listened.


    Nothing. No loud breathing. No footsteps.


    What had just happened?


    ¡°We¡¯re good,¡± I said. ¡°I think.¡±


    They stared at me like I was crazy.


    ¡°Just checking for Omens,¡± I said. They didn¡¯t seem to believe me but said nothing.


    Kimberly shook her head and turned to Dina. ¡°What was all that about you looking for your son? What were you talking about?¡±


    Good question.


    We all looked expectantly at Dina.


    She stared back. ¡°My son died. I came here to try to get him back. It¡¯s exactly what you heard.¡±


    My friends and I exchanged nces.


    ¡°Is this really the ce to bring a child?¡± I asked. ¡°Assuming that the demon gave him back to you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the reason I came,¡± she said.


    I understand missing your kid¡­ but Carousel is hardly a step up from the afterlife.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Anna said. ¡°Are you saying you came to the dive bar looking for your son, or that you came to Carousel itself looking for him?¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡± Antoine said. ¡°Tell me you didn¡¯t¡­¡±


    Dina was silent for a time. She was contemting telling us something. We were smart enough to shut up and let her make a decision.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want me to say,¡± she said, raising her arms into the air. ¡°I did what I had to.¡±


    She reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved half a dozen or so letters. Some of them were yellowed and well-worn. They were addressed to her with no return address or postage.


    She handed them to us. We found a patch of grass underneath a tree and read them over the next half hour.


    There were seven letters in total. Some were just duplicates and many of the passages repeated each other. I¡¯ve selected the relevant portions below:


    The Letters from Carousel


    Excerpt from Letter One:<blockquote>


    Dear Dina,


    You do not know me, but I have learned the details of your unfortunate situation and I believe that I can help you. Losing a child is a tragedy I cannot imagine. It hase to my attention that you have recently begun contacting palm readers, mediums, and other ult practitioners in an effort to reconnect with your son.


    Look no further. I have a solution you may be interested in: The Game at Carousel.


    Despite its name, I assure you, that which goes on at Carousel is very real. The horrors that live here are real as well. To revive your son, you will need to y the game. Do not worry, the game will teach you its rules. All you need to do is show up and prepare to face true terror. This is a ce where death is only temporary, a concept you might find most appealing¡­.</blockquote>


    It went on to give a very general overview of what the game entailed and then included directions to get to Carousel, the same ones Antoine had been given.


    Excerpt from Letter Two:<blockquote>


    ...


    As the previous letter went unanswered, I can only assume that you have found your peace. If that isn¡¯t the case, I implore you to read further. The way I described Carousel may have disturbed you, I can only imagine what you must be thinking. If I had note here myself and seen the terrifying magic of this ce, I would not believe it either.


    Please see past the horror that lives in Carousel. There is a strong magic in the sublime. Do not lose this opportunity out of fear.


    ¡­</blockquote>


    Letter Three was the same as Letter Two.


    Excerpt from Letter Four:<blockquote>


    ...


    There is a force that binds us. Your tragedy is connected to the tragedy of every other being, even my own. Many stories find their conclusion at Carousel. Yours is a story within a grander story, do not hesitate to seek its resolution.


    You may fear what I have written. However, if you seek otherworldly intervention, you need toe to another world. I have been moving the pieces into ce for you. I will have everything ready when you arrive¡­</blockquote>


    Letter Five was a rehash of previous letters.


    Excerpt from Letter Six:<blockquote>


    ...


    I heard that you found religion and lost it all in a short time span. Unfortunately, the answers you were given were not those that you desired. Come to Carousel; here lie the answers you seek if you are brave enough to find them.


    The odds are slim. The monstrous beings I have described are ever-threatening. Only you can make the choice for yourself. If you take it, you may have an important role in whates to pass. You may even be able to bring him back, Dina. I have hidden nothing from you because your choice must be an informed one. That is imperative. I am not selling you on a miracle. You will have to earn it, and escape will be almost impossible, but I will be Watching Over You¡­</blockquote>


    Excerpt from Letter Seven:<blockquote>


    ...


    I recently heard that you have been in a dark ce. That you considered¡­ giving up. Please, if death is something you are willing to try in your quest to see Sean again, why not risk death here? There is a n. If only the actors involved stick to it, we may all benefit from your arrival, most of all, Sean...</blockquote>


    All of the letters were signed ¡°A friend at Carousel.¡±


    ~~~


    After we had all read the letters, we were in shock.


    ¡°Well,¡± Dina said. ¡°Now you know.¡±


    I couldn''t even think straight. Dina hade here willingly. The letters didn''t specifically say what was going on here, but they were very clear that this ce was horrific and inescapable. Who would make that choice?


    ¡°You knew?¡± Antoine asked. He was more surprised than he was angry.


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    Anna had a very mature reaction. ¡°That¡¯s very... brave of you¡­¡±


    ¡°She should have warned us,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Why didn''t you tell us what we were getting ourselves into? You were right there?¡±


    Dina shrugged her shoulders. ¡°I assumed you knew too. Why else would you press that button? Why else would you even be there?¡±


    Antoine didn¡¯t have a response. He let out a frustrated breath and turned away for a moment.


    ¡°You came here thinking that you were going to get your son back? Here? Do you still think that?¡± he asked. ¡°You were tricked. The same way we were tricked. Carousel said whatever it took to get you here.¡±


    Dina narrowed her eyes and said, ¡°Maybe. But if it was all a trick then why is it still stringing me along? Why did it send me to the demon?¡±


    He was stumped. He started tough. ¡°It looks like we found the only person in Carousel who wants to be here.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand. In the outside world¡­ I had no hope.¡±


    Antoine took a few deep breaths.


    ¡°And you have hope here?¡± Antoine asked gently. ¡°This ce might actually be hell. Did you think of that? That¡¯s what I lie in bed and worry about at night. We might be in hell right now.¡±


    He sounded like he was in disbelief that someone could see this ce as anything other than a nightmare.


    "Antoine," Kimberly said softly. "It''s okay."


    He went and sat down in the grass next to her.


    ¡°The first time I have had hope in years was when I was killed and then came back. It was proof to me that this ce was real, that death could be defeated. That is <em>not </em>hell. If that can¡¯t give you hope, then we just don¡¯t understand each other,¡± Dina said.


    I thought back to the first day we were here. She had broken one of the rules of The Final Straw II on purpose just to test this ce. She had gotten beheaded, but she had gotten her answers.


    ¡°How long ago did you start getting letters?¡± Kimberly asked. "Some of them look older."


    ¡°Three years ago.¡±


    Anna reached out and put her hand on her arm in aforting gesture. ¡°It must have been a difficult decision,ing here.¡±


    Dina¡¯s eyes began to tear up. ¡°I just didn¡¯t want to go through another Christmas without him. Figured if it wasn¡¯t real, all I wasted was my time. Packed up my van and drove here.¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t imagine,¡± Anna said.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Camden said. ¡°Did you say you didn¡¯t want another Christmas without him?¡±


    Dina nodded. ¡°He loved the lights. We used to drive around the rich neighborhoods and take pictures of them. It¡¯s¡­ hard¡­ to even see them now.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying you arrived in Carousel¡­ right before Christmas?¡± he rified.


    ¡°Yes¡­ why?¡±


    Camden was on to something. We arrived at Carousel just after our junior year of college let out for the summer. How was it possible that Dina left for Carousel in the winter and arrived at the same time we did?


    Anna sat down cross-legged on the grass. She peered quizzically at Dina. Next to her, Kimberly leaned forward, her hands resting on her knees as she furrowed her brow. Camden stood a little ways back, his arms folded across his chest as he listened intently to the conversation.


    "It''s May. Maybe June now, I can''t tell. When did you get here?" Anna asked, her eyes fixed on Dina.


    "I got here in early December," Dina replied, one of her eyebrows raising slightly.


    "That doesn''t make sense," Kimberly interjected. "You got here when we did."


    "What year did you get here?" Camden asked, his voice low and curious.


    Dina''s expression shifted; her curiosity was reced by concern. "2011. When else?" she said.


    My friends and I exchanged nces, our disbelief evident on our faces. Anna shook her head in confusion. "That''s not possible," she said, her voice tinged with skepticism.


    She was right. It wasn¡¯t possible. Not anywhere but Carousel, at least.


    ¡°We got here in 2022.¡±

 Chapter Forty-Seven: Happened A-Pawn

    Chapter Forty-Seven: Happened A-Pawn


    Dina said that she arrived in Carousel in 2011. We got here in 2022. Either someone was very confused, or Carousel didn''t really care much about continuity.


    The thing was... I had never heard of that happening. None of the veteran yers had mentioned anything like that and that isn''t the type of thing that you can just leave out. After all, most of the groups lured to Carousel could be linked to other yers that were here when they arrived. Just like how Antoine was "invited" by Chris. It was only on asion that someone would arrive without having some connection to other yers.


    "That can''t be," Antoine said. "Chris left eight years ago and he''s been here for eight years. Not to mention, there have been two or three teams since then."


    Dina furrowed her brow.


    ¡°The letters talked as if things were being moved into ce,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe...¡±


    She didn''t finish her thought.


    She started walking back toward town.


    ¡°Maybe what?¡± Antoine asked.


    She nced back at us as she walked. ¡°Maybe it isn''t a coincidence. Any of this.¡±


    We stood up and chased after her.


    ¡°You think we were brought here for you?¡± Camden asked.


    She shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Makes me sound egotistical, doesn''t it?¡±


    It sounded like she was suggesting that she started driving down the road to Carousel in 2011 and didn''t actually arrive until we did because¡­ we were supposed to help her save her son. That sounded a little out of pitch with what we knew of Carousel so far. Why would Carousel care about saving some kid? That''s assuming it you could call Carousel''s intentions for the kid "saving". Horror movies aren''t known for happily ever afters. Ever seen Pet Sematary? Sometimes dead is better.


    Surely, this was all just part of the cruelty of the entity we were all captive to. It was ridiculous to think that Carousel had told theplete truth to Dina in those letters. There had to be an angle.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Kimberly asked.


    We had just been following Dina.


    ¡°I thought you had a storyline that we were going to do. Wasn''t that the whole reason you came out today?¡± Dina answered.


    Anna ran up ahead of Dina. ¡°Stop. We have to talk about this.¡±


    Dina shook her head. ¡°We have to keep moving forward. You know everything I know. You cane to your own conclusions about whether or not you¡¯re going to help me. I''m not going to sit around and wait like all those people back at the lodge.¡±


    ¡°We can do both," Anna said. "We can talk things through and keep pursuing it."


    Dina gave a half-shrug.


    "Anyway, we have a storyline to do today. Let''s try to work together on it, okay?"


    "Fine by me."


    They both started walking toward town. I moved up ahead so that I could scout out omens.


    It urred to me that the storyline we were headed toward was on the other side of town. I had an idea.


    ¡°I think we should stop by the pawn shop in the town square. Arthur told me about it. It¡¯ll only take a bit. It''s on the way, I promise.¡±


    No one objected. That was good enough for me.


    Navigating through town was more difficult than going through the outskirts. There were more omens packed closely together. Luckily, I was able to get us through. All it took was a ton of stress and an extra helping of caution.


    We couldn''t go directly through town square. That ce was filled to the brim with omens. We could only go there in between scenes like thest time. Luckily there was a way to get to the pawn shop without going through town square.


    There was a back alley.


    Now I know what you''re thinking: the back alley must be filled with omens.


    You''d be wrong. There were only three.


    One was inside a dumpster. I didn''t know what it was but I could hear it growling. Another involved a man wearing a tinfoil hat and talking to himself. Those were easy to avoid.


    The third was a little bit trickier. There was a green ooze rising up out of a sewer grate. The sewers of Carousel had to be filled with storylines because this was the third omen I had seen rted to them.


    ¡°Don¡¯t step in the ooze,¡± I said.


    ¡°Avoid the glowing sludge?¡± Camden asked with a grin. Maybe he was starting to get past his first death. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d heard him joke since¡­ who knows when.


    ¡°You''ll just have to trust me,¡± I answered.


    Everyone made it past with little trouble.


    Once we were through the alleyway, we had made it.


    We gazed up at <em>Happened A-Pawn Pawn Shop</em>. Our destination.


    Walking into the pawn shop, I immediately noticed that something was different about this ce. Nearly every object in the entire store disyed information on the red wallpaper. I''m not just talking about omens, though there were those too, I mean everything.


    The guns hung up on the wall behind the counter told me how much ammunition they could hold and how powerful they were. I hadn''t really considered the idea that some weapons might be more powerful than others. I mean obviously, I know a handgun isn''t as deadly as a shotgun or a rifle, butparing rifles to each other felt ambiguous and pointless when it was the user''s Mettle that actually mattered.


    There weren''t just guns, there were knives, swords, and weapons of all sorts. A mall ninja would go crazy in this shop. If there were ever a citywide zombie apocalypse, this would be the first ce I would go.


    But the supplies didn''t end there. There were things that might not seem useful at first nce. The shop was filled with all types of props, outfits, and tools.


    There were hunting supplies, hiking supplies, and an entire section devoted to used art supplies. There were canvases, one of which was an Omen, paint, and a portable easel. There was a typewriter that you could carry around in its own little case. There were musical instruments, cameras, and a variety of other electronics.


    The selection of Omens was even greater than that at the psychic¡¯s shop.


    ¡°Do not touch anything,¡± I said to my friends as we walked in.


    ¡°Riley,¡± Anna said, ¡°I think¡­ I think we can see them too.¡±


    ¡°The Omens?¡±


    She nodded her head.


    This ce really was special.


    As I looked around at everything the shop offered, my eyes eventually rested on a familiar sight. In the corner of the shop, broken down and inoperable, was Ss the Showman. He didn''t move; he didn''t speak. His lights were off. And yet I could never really feel like he wasn''t watching.


    In addition to seeing information about the objects in the shop, I could see their cost and rarity. I could also see whether any of them required special tropes to be able to use in a storyline. Some said that tropes were required, and others said they were merely rmended.


    After looking around the shop for a while, I saw under the ss of the counter, a collection of tickets. Tropes of all kinds. The red wallpaper told me how rare each one was. I took twenty minutes just to read them all. Unlike the other objects in the pawn shop, these did not have prices on them. I suspected I would have to haggle.


    While looking through the tropes on the red wallpaper, I noticed there was information that didn''t appear on the card itself. It was something called an ¡®Aspect.¡¯ It appeared to modify the base archetype. I had heard some of these words thrown around before at the lodge but never knew any context for them. If this were a video game, an aspect appeared to be a subss or something like that. I imagined I would need a special trope to see aspects outside of the pawn shop.


    Name Archetype Aspect Type Stat Effect Rarity A Rare Find Antiquarian N/A Perk Savvy The yer will be presented with valuable artifacts that, if recovered and kept undamaged, will increase the loot won at the end of the storyline ?? Alignment Reveal Outsider Stranger Action Moxie A yer who has kept their involvement with the main cast ambiguous until the Finale can then reveal they are an ally, boosting all of their stats. Keeping a distance from the main storyline is more difficult than it seems. ???? Amateur Paranormal Investigator N/A N/A Background N/A The yer has always been interested in the paranormal and likes to spend their nights and weekends hunting ghosts, goblins, and cryptids. Grants ess to the following tropes: Trail Cam (Adventurer), identally Captured On Film (Artist), EVP (Psychic), Sleuth''s Starter''s Kit (Detective), Legacy Hunter''s Journal (Monster Hunter), and Ouija is Just a Boardgame (Psychic). LEVEL I. ??? Are their feelings real? Femme Fatale N/A Buff Moxie If the yer strikes up a budding romance with an ally, they will both get higher Grit for the remainder of the storyline or until the question of the yer¡¯s true feelings is answered. ? Call in the Military Soldier Commando Rule N/A Changes the win condition to waiting out until after the military arrives. The yer must contact them first. The yer will see a countdown until victory. Enemies will be more aggressive and better at finding yers. Be cautious when equipping this trope, as storylines will scale to a level justifying military intervention. ????? Chatan Psychic ultist Action Moxie Revealing oneself to be a fraudulent psychic (or being revealed) invalidates all predictions (good or bad) and psychic abilities. If performed at the Rebirth midpoint, it also rids the story of its supernatural qualities and morphs the story into a more realistic scenario that only appeared supernatural (when usible) ???? Clue Magnifier Detective N/A Insight Savvy When examining a scene, the yer will receive applicable clues on the red wallpaper. A magnifying ss or simr can be used as a prop to great effect. ? Don''t Dead Open Inside Any N/A Insight Plot Armor Increases the frequency of on-scene, explicit information rted to the plot or enemy. ??? Eagle Scout N/A N/A Background N/A The yer was in the scouts growing up. The following tropes can be equipped: Know Your Knots (Adventurer), Prepared for the Outdoors (Adventurer), I Need Duct Tape and Towels (Doctor), Follow the Leader (Wallflower), A Keen Sense of Direction (Adventurer), Monsters Fear Fire (Monster Hunter), and The Benefits of an Active Lifestyle (Athlete) ??? Fight Magic with Magic Monster Hunter N/A Rule Plot Armor Allows the yer to bring ult objects into the story that are usable for hunting monsters, creatures, or supernatural entities. As yer PA increases, they can bring more items and more useful items. ?? Flickering Lights Departed N/A Action Savvy The yer can cause lights or other electronics to flicker as a means tomunicate with living allies. The higher the Savvy, the higher the control over the flickering. ? Fresh Meat Outsider New Kid Rule Moxie Revealing oneself to be a new student, employee, etc. during the Party Phase will cause ornery or pugnacious NPCs to gravitate toward you, increasing the odds of the yer finding useful information, endearing the yer to protective NPCs, and letting allies go Off-Screen. ?? Give him the hook! Comedian Joker Action Moxie Telling a bad joke on purpose lowers PA ??? Golden Rule Wallflower Underdog Insight Moxie Being kind to NPCs can result in them striking up a useful friendship that can be used to obtain information Off-Screen. ? Hang a Lampshade Film Buff/ Comedian N/A Buff Savvy Pointing out a clich¨¦ or unrealistic n buffs the nner''s Savvy and increases the likelihood of sess. ?? Human Shield Guardian N/A Buff Grit When protecting an ally from damage, the ally will, to the extent usible, not take damage. The yer will take it instead. ? I had a troubled childhood Outsider Criminal Rule Moxie The yer gains proficiency with lockpicking, hotwiring cars, and other criminal skills if they convincingly portray themselves as having a criminal history. ??? Intimidation is Charisma Bruiser Bully Rule Mettle In situations that involve persuasion and intimidation is a usible means to persuade, the yer''s Moxie is equal to their Mettle ?? It''s All In Your Head Doctor Psychiatrist Action Moxie Allows the yer to prescribe medication to temporarily dampen or eliminate mental trauma--even if that trauma is caused by real supernatural beings. This can protect them from otherworldly tormentors and even suppress possession, if only for a while. ?? Kick the Dog Outsider Criminal Action Moxie Doing an evil or revolting act in the Party Phase lower''s user''s plot armor but ensures they will have a cinematic death after at Second Blood. ? Limber Athlete Fitness Expert Buff N/A Allows the yer extra Hustle when doing a task that requires flexibility ? New In Town Outsider New Kid Insight Moxie Introducing yourself in a friendly manner will increase the odds of NPCs reciprocating, giving directions, or general advice. ? Not Important Enough Wallflower Extra Rule N/A As long as the yer does not engage in the plot, they will not be targeted by an intelligent enemy with no specific motive to do so. Prevents being targeted for both First and Second Blood. After the Midpoint, they will be considered Written Off and will not be permitted back On-Screen except through the effect of another Trope. ??? Not Just a Pretty Face Eye Candy Beauty Buff N/A The Eye Candy''s Moxie is used in ce of Savvy when the highest Savvy ally is dead, unavable, or has a n fail. ???? Peek over the shoulder Wallflower Stand-In Insight Moxie The yer can get a peek at an NPC''s current scripted action by getting physically close to them. ?? Photographic Memory Schr Sleuth Perk Savvy The yer can store limited visual information on the red wallpaper. ?? Pointing Out The Obvious Hysteric Defiant Buff Moxie Reiterating obvious problems ad nauseum will buff allies'' Grit and Savvy. ? Pregnancy Reveal Any Female Character N/A Buff Moxie Revealing pregnancy On-Screen buffs yer''s PA and increases lover''s Mettle upon death. ??? Prepared for the Outdoors Adventurer N/A Rule N/A Allows the yer to bring standard outdoors equipment, such as climbing gear, hiking equipment, etc. ? Save the Cheerleader, Save the World Damsel N/A Rule N/A Changes the win condition to rescuing the yer, assuming they are sessful in being kidnapped or put in prolonged risk of harm. ? Shared Experience Final Girl Leader Rule N/A The Final Girl''s exploits will increase the loot of all yers, regardless of involvement in the storyline ??? Sitting by the Phone Wallflower Underdog Rule Moxie After establishing friendships with allies early in the story, the yer can sit out much of what follows until they are called in (through a usible method) for help in the Finale. Engaging in the plot will invalidate this trope. The yer is considered Written Off until they are called back in. ???? The Bulletproof Table Soldier G.I. Rule Moxie In a Fight Scene, anything the character hides behind will be imbued with the movie magic required to stop projectiles, ws, acid, or simr attacks. Must be at least usible and the portrayal must be convincing. ?? The One That Got Away Hysteric Craven Rule N/A Upon the death of the rest of the party, the Win Condition changes to escape. yer will be able to perceive a safe zone. However, in any sequel storyline, you will be targeted first. ????? Third Eye Cam Psychic Seer Insight Savvy The yer will be able to see the deaths of other yers and NPCs in real-time. Whether they can reveal that information On-Screen, depends on the nature of the story. ???? Trail Cam Adventurer N/A Insight Savvy Allows the yer to ce video cameras around the setting in an attempt to capture proof or information. ??? Unconscious Revtion Artist N/A Insight Savvy The yer will subconsciously include hints to supernatural phenomena into their artistic work, be it a book, painting, or the like. ??


    Ever since I got back from the grotesque storyline, things had been awkward between my friends and me. They sensed that I was hiding something from them. I wanted to make it up to them. The collection of tropes under the ss appeared to bergely random, but there were a few tropes that I thought my friends could use. I had just gotten a bunch of money and a bunch of useless tropes.


    I figured that I could get them something, maybe as an olive branch. I had about 230 dors and nine tropes. I hoped that would be enough.


    ¡°If you see anything you could use,¡± I said. ¡°I might be able to help you buy it. I mean, I just got a lot of money. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything better to spend it on.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Antoine said, ¡°Just need a little.¡±


    He was holding a wooden baseball bat that cost 60 dors. His tropes would give him a bonus for using that and allow him to carry it into most storylines. Seemed like a good buy.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I want,¡± Kimberly said in frustration. I couldn¡¯t me her. There was no obvious prop that Eye Candy might need. A purse, maybe? But she brought one with her and never used it in storylines so that was probably not right either.


    ¡°I could get you this Pregnancy Reveal trope,¡± I suggested.


    She looked at me like I had pped her.


    ¡°Just because... it would be useful. It¡¯s a buff,¡± I said. ¡°Or not. It¡¯s probably too expensive anyway.¡±


    Did she just take that as rude?


    At first, I thought I might have offended her, but then she startedughing.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°But I don''t want any jokes.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to¡­¡±


    She shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Good.¡±


    Camden was easy. He wanted Photographic Memory.


    ¡°It would have made the Astralist a breeze,¡± he said.


    That was three friends down.


    ¡°Anna?¡± I asked.


    She looked through the selection. She didn''t seem to find anything that appealed to her, though, I think she was just being polite.


    ¡°You''re already giving me that other final girl trope,¡± she said. ¡°You don''t need to get me anything else. Unless that one ends up being affordable.¡±


    She pointed to Shared Experience.


    I could see that being useful. It wouldn¡¯t have much in-story use, but ensuring every yer got good rewards was a good effect.


    I started thinking about what I would want for myself. There were a couple of tropes avable that I liked. Hang a Lamp Shade and Don''t Dead Open Inside would both work for me and seemed useful. But something else caught my eye.


    A portable tape yer. Yellow stic. Thin metal headphones with yellow earpads. The kind that sat on your ears, not covered them. The kind you might have seen back in the 90s. They were bright and visible. They were perfect for someone who wanted to pretend that they couldn''t hear you.


    They cost 80 dors. They didn''t require a trope to bring them into a storyline unless you were trying to listen for ghosts, in which case you would need a trope for that. The record function would not work without the associated trope for that either. It didn''t matter. I just needed them as a prop.


    There was a tape inside of it that read 90s Instant ssics. I imagine they were made-up 90s songs like every other made-up thing in Carousel, but they would do the trick.


    Sunsses + Headphones = Truly Oblivious.


    Combine that with a newspaper and I would be nearly untouchable when using Oblivious Bystander.


    Now where was that shopkeeper?


    I found a little bell on the counter and rang it.


    From the back of the shop, someone with a deep voice yelled, ¡°I¡¯ming, I¡¯ming.¡±


    Momentster, a door near Ss the Showman opened up and arge man walked through it. He was 6 and a half feet tall and built like a truck. His hair was cropped short. He wore an unbuttoned, short-sleeved cored shirt with a white undershirt and cargo shorts.


    Taron ¡°Tar¡± Bellows. Owner, Happened A-Pawn, Pawn Shop. Plot Armor: 50.


    ¡°I see you''ve raided the ce,¡± he said. He came behind the counter and pulled out a small pair of reading sses. He stretched them over his face and looked down at me through them. ¡°Now what do you need me for?¡±


    I cleared my throat.


    ¡°We were hoping to buy some of these tickets,¡± I said.


    ¡°And a baseball bat,¡± Antoine added.


    ¡°And a baseball bat,¡± I said. ¡°And maybe that Walkman.¡±


    Tar looked over where I had pointed. ¡°Walkman?¡±


    ¡°The tape yer,¡± I said. Walkman wasn¡¯t a Carousel brand.


    ¡°Bat and tape yer is 140. What tickets you looking for?¡±


    I pointed out Photographic Memory, Pregnancy Reveal, and Shared Experience.


    He gingerly grabbed them from behind the counter. Hisrge fingers made the tickets look small.


    ¡°This one is fifty,¡± he said, cing Photographic Memory on the counter.


    I quickly realized I wouldn¡¯t have enough money.


    ¡°These are 200 and 210,¡± he said about Pregnancy Reveal and Shared Experience respectively.


    I went over budget quickly.


    ¡°I have some for trade,¡± I said. I pulled out the ten tickets I had gotten from Ss after the Grotesque storyline andid them on the counter. I grabbed the one I had promised Anna and took it back.


    ¡°Let¡¯s take a look,¡± he said.


    He began shuffling through them and rearranging them. I didn''t know if he was sorting them by rarity or what.


    ¡°You''ve got some good stuff here,¡± he said. ¡°Friends in High ces, now that is a useful ticket. Why would you want to part ways with that?¡±


    ¡°I can''t use it.¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°Watching Over You,¡± he said. ¡°Not as rare, still useful.¡±


    He put Watching Over You down right next to Friends in High ces.


    Friends in High ces. Watching Over You.


    I paused. Friends in high ces watching over you. Was that just a coincidence? Strange.


    Anna leaned over and said, ¡°We also have some money, if that¡¯s not enough.¡±


    She put 110 dors on the counter. All of theirbined earnings.


    ¡°Just in case,¡± she said.


    ¡°A glitch in the matrix. Did that one confuse you or are you just not interested?¡± He asked.


    I was puzzled. Did he not realize that not everyone could use every ticket?


    He ced a glitch in the matrix down on the counter.


    ¡°identally captured on film, now that is a run saver,¡± he said. ¡°You ever thought about bing an artist?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he said.


    He ced identally Captured on Film next to a Glitch in the Matrix.


    A Glitch in the Matrix. identally Captured on Film.


    ¡°Lot of good stuff you have here. Almost hate to take it off you.¡±


    ¡°Wait a second,¡± I said. I grabbed the tickets I had received from Ss after the Grotesque storyline.


    A Glitch in the Matrix.


    A Story Within a Story.


    Watching Over You¡­


    Who you truly are¡­


    Friends in High ces.


    This is going to sting a bit¡­


    identally Captured on Film.


    Back to where it all started¡­


    The Intrepid Guide Who Knows The Way.


    These titles¡­ was there¡­


    ¡°You know, kid,¡± Tar said, ¡°I got my favorite show on in the back. I¡¯m really not looking to haggle and trade. Tell you what: since the boss isn¡¯t looking, how about I just take the cash? Easier that way.¡±


    I looked him in the eyes. They were dark. He met my gaze.


    ¡°What do you say? Just the cash? You keep those tropes. Just in case. They might grow on you.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Good. Now get out of here. I¡¯m closing up shop.¡±


    I gathered the tickets and the Walkman. Antoine got his bat. We handed Tar the money. We turned to leave. Never even got to discuss the going price on the monster tickets we had been collecting.


    ¡°Come back soon, you hear. We have a rotating stock. Never know what we¡¯ll have.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Anna said as we left.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Was there something wrong with your tickets?¡± Camden asked.


    There was almost certainly something wrong. The titles of the tickets I had received from Ss¡­ I think they had a message. I hadn''t noticed it before, but the way the NPCid them out in front of me like that...


    What was it that Roxie said happened to old Film Buffs?


    That they started thinking Carousel was talking to them?


    Maybe they were right.

 Chapter Forty-Eight: A Message from High Places

    Chapter Forty-Eight: A Message from High ces


    I needed somewhere to think. We were too close to town square. There were omens all over and many of them moved around. It was too dangerous to stay. I had to guide the group across town in the direction of the storyline we were headed to as I searched for a ce where I could stop and examine the tickets.


    Eventually, I found a park bench and table a few miles away from the storyline we were headed to. I looked through the tickets I had received from Ss as a reward forpleting the Grotesque storyline.


    ¡°What is going on?¡± Anna asked. She peered over my shoulder as Iid out the tickets on the table.


    I didn''t know how to express what I was thinking. These tickets seemed like they were more than just a reward. I hadn''t noticed before because I was so focused on what they did that I didn''t stop to consider what they actually said. It almost felt like they were a message but... the message wasn''t obvious. There were a few things that I had noticed though.


    ¡°In the letters that you have Dina,¡± I said, ¡°The writer says something about how they''re watching over you. Right?¡±


    Dina shuffled through her letters and found the excerpt that included that. ¡°Watching Over You. Each word is capitalized.¡±


    ¡°Just like this ticket?¡± I asked holding the Watching Over You ticket in the air.


    I ced the ticket down on the table. Then I put the Friends in High ces ticket right above it, just as the pawnshop owner had.


    Friends in High ces, Watching Over You¡­


    I startedying out my other tickets so that my friends and I could get a good look at them.


    ¡°The pawn shop NPC alsoid these next to each other,¡± I said. "I think he was trying to tell me something."


    A Glitch in the Matrix. identally Captured on Film.


    Dina sat across from me and started searching through her letters for other phrases.


    Camden hunched over the table. ¡°The psychic said Dina needed a ¡®guide who knows the way.¡¯¡±


    ¡°She did?¡± I asked.


    Iid The Intrepid Guide Who Knows The Way out on the table.


    ¡°A Story Within a Story is in the letters,¡± Dina said. ¡°So is Stick to the n, kind of.¡±


    ¡°So, they¡¯re just out of order?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Camden said. ¡°Either that or each of them is a reference to something.¡±


    We started rearranging the tickets in hopes that we would find an obvious message whenever we put them in a certain order. At most we only found snippets. If all the titles were supposed to beid out into a single message, then that message was not supposed to be a coherent sentence.


    ¡±You said that you met the psychic before,¡± Anna said. ¡°Did she say anythingst time?¡±


    I tried to think back but truthfully much of that entire encounter was a blur in my memory.


    ¡°She said something about learning our roles,¡± I said. ¡°I don''t know if that helps.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like it might be rted to ¡®Who you truly are¡­¡¯¡± Camden said.


    I shrugged.


    If that was true then that only left two tickets unounted for: This is going to sting a bit¡­ and Back to where it all started¡­


    ¡°A Glitch in the Matrix identally Captured on Film,¡± Camden started. He paused to look over the tickets. ¡°Back to where it all started?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said.


    ¡°Back to where <em>what </em>started?¡± Antoine asked. He had stayed out of our puzzle-solving up until that point. ¡°Us getting here? The town itself?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s the town, then we could check out the town¡¯s founder,¡± I said. ¡°I got a close look at a statue of him in the Grotesque storyline. Roxie said there¡¯s information about him in storylines all over town. Bartholomew Geist.¡±


    We discussed some possible theories on what the tickets could mean. All we could know for sure was that there was a message intended inside them. There were just far too many coincidences to deny that. The question was: what was the message?


    Perhaps a better question was posed by Antoine.


    ¡°What was the purpose of giving you all of this?¡± he asked. ¡°Are we really saying that we think there are people somewhere trying tomunicate with us? Surely you''re not saying Carousel itself sent you this?¡±


    No one had an immediate response.


    ¡°A friend in high ces,¡± Dina said. ¡°The letter said that my tragedy was tied to other people¡¯s tragedies, including his own. I think there''s someone else stuck here. In fact, I think there are a lot of people stuck here; not just the yers.¡±


    We took a moment to think about what that might mean.


    ¡°The demon,¡± Kimberly said.


    Dina nodded. ¡°Maybe all NPCs.¡±


    The crossroads demon had said he was trapped here. Of course, he could have been talking about his character. Demon¡¯s being trapped in ces wasn¡¯t exactly rare in movies. The outburst we saw had seemed much more real than scripted though.


    ¡°Or this is all just Carousel entertaining itself,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Don¡¯t you think the other yers would have known if something like this was going on?¡±


    He did have a point. It did seem like the kind of thing Carousel might do if you interpreted everything that had happened as being intentional cruelty. The veteran yers had spent decades trying to get west toward the other side of that mountain but with every step they took a new obstacle appeared. What if this message was just a new version of that exact same thing?


    What if we just started pulling the thread and we never get to the end of it? What if there was always another message and another lead until we ended up as hollow shells of the people we started as just like all the veteran yers?


    There was one thing though.


    ¡°Roxie told me that other Film Buffs had imed Carousel was talking to them. Secret messages or something like that. Maybe¡­¡± I said, gesturing to the table. ¡°Maybe this is the same thing.¡±


    ¡°What happened to the other film buffs?¡± Anna asked. ¡°There aren''t any others back at the lodge.¡±


    I cleared my throat.


    ¡°They disappeared,¡± I said. I wondered if there was ever going to be a time when I could say that without looking over my shoulders.


    ¡°Right,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Disappeared. Like Jte?¡±


    I shrugged.


    I still hadn''t decided what the exact nature of this secret was. Did I simply have to keep the existence of the Rulekeeper a secret? Or did I have to keep my knowledge of what happened a secret? I still hadn''t decided. Until I knew I was just going to have to y dumb and hope they could read between the lines.


    Antoine looked like he was about to say something, but Camden spoke first.


    ¡°If these letters and these tickets were intended to clue us in about some hidden message, that would mean that everything that happened was nned out by whoever this friend in high ces is,¡± he said. ¡°Dina was dyed arriving here for 10 years until we showed up. And then everything was put into ce so that you would go out on that storyline and get awarded all these tickets. But wouldn''t that imply that the entire Grotesque storyline was intended from the beginning? How could that be possible? Didn''t it only happen because Jte refused to y?¡±


    I hadn''t considered that. Was our friend in high ces an opportunist or had they been orchestrating events from the beginning?


    ¡°When Ss gave me the trope Jte had, he said ¡®It¡¯s a shame to waste a good n. Luckily, in Carousel, we recycle,¡± I said. ¡°At the time, I didn¡¯t really understand what he meant by ''n.'' I thought he was just saying something scripted or witty, maybe.¡±


    Dina smiled. It might have been the first time I saw her give a full smile since the corn maze.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves here,¡± Anna said. ¡°We still don¡¯t know if this whole thing is malicious or not.¡±


    Antoine looked like he had a lot of things he wanted to say. He was pacing back and forth. Eventually, he stopped and said, ¡°We came out here to run a storyline. Let¡¯s do that and then we can go talk to Chris about this stuff. He¡¯s been here for years. He¡¯ll be able to tell us if Carousel does this sort of thing.¡±


    After a little more discussion which mostly went in circles, that became the n. I collected all of the tickets and put them back in my pocket.


    But how could I think about a storyline at a time like this?


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing that''s the omen,¡± Antoine said.


    Ahead of us was a busted gate leading to private property. Where normally a gate like this might say something like ''Trespassers will be Shot'' or something simr, this one went a different direction.


    <strong>Say no to the Carousel Turnpike!</strong>


    <strong>Beware! Enter at your Own Risk!</strong>


    <strong>They join you as you go!</strong>


    <strong>You will think they belong!</strong>


    <strong>No Camping</strong>


    <strong>No Hiking.</strong>


    <strong>The Turnpike Will Doom Us All</strong>


    <strong>Keep count of your group.</strong>


    The signs were put around the gate in no particr order. They were hastily painted on chunks of old plywood.


    On the red wallpaper, my scouting trope called this storyline <em>Even More Stories from the Campfire: Fatal Folktales</em>. Its difficulty level was, ¡°Something Isn''t Right Here,¡± which I assumed was not the highest difficulty. I was still figuring out how the scale worked.


    ¡°We trigger it by agreeing to join the teenagers behind the bush,¡± I said. All I knew was how to trigger it. I hadn''t seen the teenagers yet.


    Everyone turned to look. There was a bush about 15 yards onto the property. If you squinted, you could see that two figures had hidden in the bush and were staring out onto the property.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Anna said. ¡°Before we go, we should really be able to see your tropes, Dina. Just in case we need to know.¡±


    Dina considered this. We had been told that Outsider¡¯s information on the red wallpaper was hidden, even from allies. It was because of a trope they got early on.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Dina said.


    Suddenly, Dina appeared on the red wallpaper. I hadn¡¯t seen her there since the corn maze.


    Before we went in, I used my spare stat tickets to boost my Moxie, Hustle, and Savvy. I don''t know why I put it off. Guilt over the circumstances of how I got them, maybe? Whatever the case, I had to use them. It might make all the difference in the storyline.


    Here were our stats and tropes before we tackled the storyline:


    yer Stats


    Riley


    Antoine


    Anna


    Kimberly


    Camden


    Dina


    Archetype


    Film Buff


    Athlete


    Final Girl


    Eye Candy


    Schr


    Outsider


    Plot Armor


    20/2


    16


    18


    14


    15


    16


    Mettle


    1


    4


    4


    1


    2


    2


    Moxie


    7


    2


    4


    5


    2


    2


    Hustle


    4


    5


    3


    3


    2


    3


    Savvy


    7


    1


    2


    1


    6


    2


    Grit


    1


    4


    5


    4


    3


    7


    Tropes:


    Riley:


    TROPE MASTER


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Sees enemy tropes. Lose half of PA


    CINEMA SEER


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Buffs Savvy and Grit of Allies by predicting cinematic and impactful plot elements


    OBLIVIOUS BYSTANDER


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Any Minor


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Cannot be targeted while convincingly acting oblivious to the enemy


    ESCAPE ARTIST


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: usible escape ns boost Hustle


    CASTING DIRECTOR


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Insight into yer roles in storylines


    RAISED BY TELEVISION


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Buffs relevant stat when takingrger-than-life or cinematic action inspired by Tv or movies but attracts a downturn in fortune soon afterward


    MY GRANDMOTHER HAD THE GIFT¡­


    Type: Background


    Archetype: N/A


    Stat: N/A


    Effect:


    The yer may now Equip:


    ¡¤ Animal Whisperer (Adventurer)


    ¡¤ He has a tell (Detective)


    ¡¤ Like a Ma for Evil (Psychic)


    ¡¤ I don¡¯t like it here¡­ (Hysteric)


    ¡¤ I had a feeling about you two (Eye Candy)


    ¡¤ We¡¯re being hunted¡­ (Monster Hunter)


    ¡¤ Don¡¯t Go In There! (Film Buff)


    I DON''T LIKE IT HERE...


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Hysteric


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Gives yer insight into the location of Omens and how to avoid activating them


    Antoine:


    IT''S PART OF THE UNIFORM


    Type: Buff/Rule


    Archetype: Athlete


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Higher Mettle when attacking with sports equipment. yer may take sports equipment into most storylines


    GYM RAT


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Athlete


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Buff Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory


    JUST WALK IT OFF


    Type: Healing


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Heals Hobbled status by walking


    THE PLAYBOOK


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Athlete


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Can see the phases of a coordinated n on the red wallpaper. Can tell when their time to act is. Must know n to perceive it.


    Anna:


    LAST ONE ALIVE


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Cannot die until the party is killed


    WHO¡¯S WITH ME?!


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: In Finale, Allies gain a buff to relevant stat when assisting the yer.


    LET¡¯S NOT FIGHT


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Stopping infighting buffs the Savvy of all involved


    A KIND FACE


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: When speaking with NPCs during the Party Phase, they are more likely to reveal important plot information


    STICK TO THE PLAN


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Can make an apparently failed n usible again by rallying allies in a manner that convinces the audience that sess is possible


    SHARED EXPERIENCE


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: yers will gain loot based on the ticket holder''s efforts even if theirs were not impactful. yers with greater efforts will not be hindered


    Camden:


    EUREKA!


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Schr


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Helps find important information with text.


    RIGHT TOOL FOR THE JOB


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Schr


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Buffs Savvy and Mettle when fighting an enemy with their weakness.


    ZIPPOS ARE CHEAP


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Boosts Savvy for ns that expend Zippo lighter


    HIDE AND SEEK


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: When hiding during a Chase Scene, the yer and chaser''s Savvy will bepared instead of their Hustle


    PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: Schr


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: VIsual informationmitted to memory will be disyed on the red wallpaper


    Kimberly:


    CONVENIENT BACKSTORY


    Type: Buff/Perk


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Can change backstory to assist with the current task. Buffs relevant stat.


    SOCIAL AWARENESS


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Can see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs.


    LOOKS DON¡¯T LAST


    (Not brought into the storyline)


    GET A ROOM!


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Exploration with loved interest during the party boosts the odds of important discoveries


    A HOPELESS PLEA


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Any


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Asking to be released forces the captor to explicitly deny the release


    PREGNANCY REVEAL


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any Female Character


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Revealing pregnancy will buff the Grit of yer and buffs lover''s Mettle upon death


    Dina:


    GUARDED PERSONALITY


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Outsider


    Stat: Grit


    Effect: Resists all insight abilities including basic visuals on the red wallpaper


    AN OUTSIDER''S PERSPECTIVE


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Outsider


    Stat: Savvy


    Effect: Alerted to information that is new, out of ce, or unusual. Does not necessarily understand info''s significance, only its presence.


    BETTER LATE THAN NEVER


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Outsider


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: Buffs Mettle and Hustle if the yer waits until Finale to assist allies On-Screen against the enemy.


    A HAUNTED PAST


    Type: Background


    Archetype: N/A


    Stat: N/A


    Effect: The yer is haunted by a tragedy in the past. This informs everything they do in a story.


    The yer can now equip:


    ¡¤ Informative shback (Psychic)


    ¡¤ You Get Used To It (Final Girl)


    ¡¤ Unfinished Business (Departed)


    ¡¤ I can¡¯t die until I know (Detective)


    ¡¤ You carry it with you (Soldier)


    ¡¤ Encouragement from Beyond (Psychic)


    ENCOURAGEMENT FROM BEYOND


    Type: Perk/Insight


    Archetype: Psychic


    Stat: Moxie


    Effect: Positive reminders of what has been lost will soothe the yer when stressed, scared, or in pain. May even provide useful information.


    With that, we headed off into the field.

 Chapter Forty-Nine: The Straggler

    Chapter Forty-Nine: The Straggler


    As we started walking toward the teens hiding in the bush, I leaned in toward the group and said, ¡°Just from that title I can tell you that this is probably a horror anthology.¡±


    <em>Even More Stories from the Campfire: Fatal Folktales</em> had all the generic hallmarks that you woulde to expect from a movie that was really just multiple short stories put together. More than that, it sounded like it was a sequel to an anthology series.


    ¡°How does that change things?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± I admitted. ¡°I don''t know if this is just one of the stories or all of them. Just be ready.¡±


    ¡°Maybe after we finish one story we unlock the next one,¡± Anna suggested. "Maybe we get a ticket or something."


    I shrugged. That sounded a little generous.


    Usually, in a horror anthology, there was a frame narrative or outer story. Often, someone inside that story tells the other stories in the anthology, sometimes simply reading them from a book. Other times a horror anthology could be several interwoven stories happening all at once.


    I really hoped it wasn''t the second option.


    We walked along the path until we reached the bush where the two teens were crouched down looking out into the field.


    The needle on the plot cycle was pointed to omen still. We hadn''t triggered the story yet.


    The realization that I was about to be back in a storyline suddenly hit me. ¡°Don¡¯t forget to stay in character On-Screen,¡± I said.


    Most of them looked my way and nodded in a way that signaled ¡°We know.¡±


    They had never done anything to make me think that they would intentionally break character, but still, I worried.


    As we approached, the two teens noticed us and stood up.


    One of them, the short young man with a backward baseball cap on his head and an oversized jacket, said ¡°I thought you were going to chicken out.¡±


    My friends and I exchanged nces.


    ¡°Nope, not us,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We''re not afraid of anything.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± the second teen said. He wore a t-shirt and jeans that were designed with really wide legs like you might have seen twenty years ago. He finished the look off with gelled hair and a seashell ne. ¡°You¡¯ll get to prove it. Old Man Akers shot thest kids who snuck onto his property.¡±


    Their names were Rudy and Jake, respectively. NPCs, Plot Armor: 3. They might have been fourteen or fifteen.


    ¡°Welle on,¡± Rudy said, turning his cap around. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    They turned to leave.


    ¡°Is this a kid¡¯s story?¡± Camden asked.


    I wasn¡¯t sure. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s for kids, that means it¡¯s less scary, right?¡± Kimberly asked.


    You <em>would</em> think that wouldn¡¯t you?


    As we followed them, the plot cycle switched from omen to choice to party. We were officially in the storyline.


    Looking at my friends, I noticed that nothing appeared on the red wallpaper to tell me what their roles in the story would be. I didn¡¯t know if that was because we didn¡¯t have specific roles, or because of the fact that this was an anthology.


    The pasture was bordered on both sides by forest. The sun was setting and it would be nighttime soon. It was setting fast enough that I was pretty sure it would be dark by the time we got to where we were going. We were Off-Screen as we walked with asional exceptions.


    By the time we saw the truck, the sun was already gone from the sky.


    ¡°Shh,¡± Rudy said, ¡°He could be anywhere near here.¡±


    There were hay bales ced sporadically around the pasture. The bales wererge and appeared to circle around the location where the truck was.


    We could see an orange glowing from the other side of the truck. There was a campfire.


    Jake and Rudy hid behind one of therger hay bales and waved us over toe hide with them.


    On-Screen.


    Jake turned to us and said, ¡°I dare you to sneak around to the other side of the truck.¡±


    I wasn''t sure who he was talking to. The others must not have been either because they didn''t respond.


    After a moment, he added, ¡°I thought you guys were so brave.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you do it if you¡¯re not afraid,¡± Antoine said. ¡°You just want us to do it because you don¡¯t have the nerve.¡±


    Rudy started tough. ¡°He¡¯s right. You do it.¡±


    Jake looked flustered, maybe a little scared. ¡°Then youe with me!¡± He said to Rudy.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Rudy said, ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The two of them departed from behind the hay bale and slowly crept toward the truck. With every step, they got slower and less sure of themselves. As they got to the truck, they didn''t quite know what to do next, so they waited for a bit before taking onest look back at us and sneaking around the other side.


    Off-Screen.


    Then we waited.


    And waited.


    ¡°I think they¡¯re dead,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°Better them than us,¡± joked Antoine.


    We waited some more.


    ¡°It''s possible we''re going to have to go over there to make this thing go forward,¡± I said.


    ¡°You do it,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°You have higher Grit than me. What are you afraid of?¡±


    Antoine started to respond but then stopped when Anna started to speak.


    ¡°You two are as bad as they are,¡± Anna said. ¡°We should all go over there.¡±


    On-Screen.


    I guess it was decided. We all stood up and slowly made our way to the truck. One by one we peeked our heads around and slid to the other side.


    Rudy and Jake were sitting on logs around the campfire roasting hotdogs on the end of sticks. As we approached, they started tough.


    ¡°Want some?¡± Rudy asked. ¡°He has a bunch.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Anna asked. ¡°Don¡¯t eat his food.¡±


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s not eating it. Don¡¯t want it to go bad,¡± Jake said.


    Dumb little kids in movies are worse than the creepy little kids in movies. That''s my official opinion.


    ¡°What are you doing on my property?¡± a voice asked from behind us.


    Great.


    There were several audible gasps as we all turned around to see an old man with a cowboy hat and long graying hair. He wore work clothes and boots. Folded over his left arm, was a double-barrel shotgun. He walked slowly, his years informing his every movement.


    All I could see from him on the red wallpaper was his name. Weird.


    ¡°Stealing my food?¡±


    ¡°We were just borrowing it,¡± Jake said. ¡°We¡¯ll pay you back. Please don¡¯t hurt us.¡±


    Old Man Akers didn''t seem as angry as I might have expected. Instead, he looked worried.


    ¡°You kids shouldn''t be out here. Don''t you know about this ce?¡± He asked. ¡°Don''t you know that this property is haunted by all manner of foul things?¡±


    ¡°We just wanted to see,¡± Rudy said.


    Akers simply took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.


    ¡°Well go ahead and sit down. There''s no use running away now. You''d never make it out. Best stay here around the fire.¡±


    We gathered around and found logs to sit on. Old Man Akers pulled a chair out of the back of his truck and sat down next to a blue cooler, presumably the one that held the hot dogs.


    ¡°You have no idea what sort of predicament you''re in,¡± he said. ¡°Thisnd is cursed five times over. Maybe six. You''ll be lucky to make it out alive.¡±


    Rudy and Jake looked at each other and then at the rest of us.


    ¡°You¡¯re just saying that to scare us,¡± Rudy said.


    ¡°I said it because it¡¯s a fact. Haven''t you ever heard any stories about this plot ofnd? If you had, you would never havee here.¡±


    ¡°We just thought they were rumors,¡± Jake said.


    ¡°Yeah well, that''s just because whoever told you didn''t tell the story right. They left out the important parts. The parts that chill you to the bone and make certain that you will never make the same mistake as the people in the story.


    ¡°Well gather around. We might have just enough time for me to tell you how much trouble you''re in. I''ve lived on thisnd my whole life. I know everything there is to know about the things that go bump in the night around here.¡±


    Here we go. Looks like we got option one: a frame story where someone tells other stories. Might have been too early to say, but I thought we lucked out. Then again, we still didn''t know how things worked.


    ¡°Well, the first story happened almost a year ago tonight. Out in the woods to the west. Another group of kids, a few years older than you, they decided toe out and see if the rumors were true. It just so happened; they weren''t the only ones visiting me that night.¡±


    Suddenly, the campfire was gone. It was reced by a metal barrel with scraps of wood inside burning along with a few smoldering crumpled balls of newspaper.


    We weren''t in the pasture anymore.


    Anna, Kimberly, and I were huddled around the burn barrel next to a forested path. Antoine, Dina, and Camden weren''t there.


    We were Off-Screen.


    The sensation of instantly being somewhere else was strange and disorienting. It tickled my brain. We looked at each other with strange smiles on our faces.


    I looked around us. The others were nowhere to be found. Something else had changed. My Casting Director trope had activated. We finally had roles on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°We''re student journalists for Carousel University,¡± I said. ¡°We''re out here investigating some disappearances. We think that the police missed something after a couple of hikers and a woman whose car broke down went missing.¡±


    ¡°That exins this,¡± Anna said, lifting a 90s model instant print camera and a notebook into view.


    I dug into my pocket. I also had a camera like that.


    Kimberly produced one just like it.


    ¡°Anna, you¡¯re the editor. Kimberly and I are just reporters.¡±


    They nodded.


    We heard yelling in the distance, not far up the path.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°Let¡¯s check that out,¡± Anna said. ¡°Camera¡¯s out.¡±


    Kimberly and I nodded.


    The stars in the sky were just bright enough to guide our path. We crept in the direction of the sound. The forest was thick. If we left the path we probably wouldn''t find it again.


    ¡°It looks like there''s a house up there,¡± Anna said.


    We found a tree to hide behind as we peered up toward the house. There was a light up there like the kind that mighte from antern. People were arguing.


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°That¡¯s Camden and Antoine,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Who¡¯s thatdy with them?"


    She answered her own question as she got a better look. "Roberta? An NPC?¡±


    I peeked over at them and looked at the red wallpaper.


    ¡°They¡¯rewyers for the city trying to convince Old Man Akers to sell his property so they can build a turnpike,¡± I said. Antoine and Camden had gottenpletely different roles than we had. That exined why they had an NPC with them¡ªsomeone to tell them what they were doing there because they didn''t have me.


    ¡°Look, we¡¯re talking about a lot of money here,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to live the high life, doing whatever you want?¡±


    ¡°I already do!¡± Akers said. ¡°You don¡¯t understand how much trouble you¡¯re in. These woods do not like outsiders.¡±


    I whispered to Anna and Kimberly, ¡°Carousel¡¯s really got Antoine¡¯s number, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    I think practicingw was among the things that Antoine wanted to do with his life. Politics was another.


    ¡°Hush,¡± Anna said.


    Old Man Akers started yelling again, ¡°I¡¯m telling you, you have to go right now. It isn¡¯t safe to be here!¡±


    ¡°Is that a threat?¡± Roberta, the NPC, said.


    ¡°Lady, the things that walk in these woods do not threaten. You need to march out of here now. The three of you. Either stay together or walk alone. Never just walk with only one other person. You won''t know they are among you until it¡¯s toote.¡±


    ¡°This guy¡¯s a joker,¡± Roberta said in a whisper yell that was clearly meant to be heard by everyone. She looked back at Akers. ¡°If you ever want to get serious, we can make it worth your while. The city doesn¡¯t have to get your consent, you know. They can exercise eminent domain and snatch this ce up at the market rate. If you y ball, we can skip all the court costs.¡±


    Akers wasn¡¯t having it. ¡°Get off my property. Now, together. Remember this: the number that entered will always be the number that leaves. Whether all three of you will be among those leaving is another question.¡±


    On-Screen.


    ¡°What is he talking about?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°Do you think that has something to do with the missing people?¡±


    ¡°Who knows,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of stranger things.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Tony muttered. It was almost like he had just woken up. His clothes were filthy like he¡¯d been wearing them for days. His face was gaunt, his hair was hastily tied back behind his head.


    ¡°We need to make a n. Get closer to the house. And we can¡¯t let thosewyers see us,¡± Anna said. ¡°Where¡¯s your camera?¡±


    She was looking at Tony.


    He held out his hands slowly. They were empty.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Anna said, ¡°Get documentation.¡±


    At thest moment, she said, ¡°Let¡¯s stick together. No groups of two. No harm at least humoring him, right?¡±


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°We need to get a message to Antoine and Camden,¡± Anna said.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I interjected.


    I looked around at the four of us. Our status on the red wallpaper had changed. I could still see all of the usual information, but there was something extra. It was the same for all four of us. It was all bad news. We were allbeled as monsters:


    Straggler


    Tropes


    Undetectable


    This creature warps the mind of its victims so that they will not notice that it does not belong, despite all the evidence.


    By The Book


    This viin can be defeated by properly understanding its lore and following its rules.


    Fate Worse Than Death


    This creature does not want to kill its victims, though, in the end, they will wish it had. Victims are Written-Off instead of killed.


    Non-Combatant


    This viin cannot be attacked On-Screen until it attacks the yer or is otherwise identified as hostile. Attacking it will not be effective, nor will it change the story. It will cause the yer to go Off-Screen for a time.


    Which One Do I Shoot?


    yers will not be able to differentiate this creature from other yers through the mere use of observation, insight tropes, ormon sense. However, these,bined with clever ns and an understanding of lore, may suffice.


    Marked Exits Only


    The yers will not be able to escape the setting except by following the rules.


    Bloodless


    First and Second Blood need not involve injury or death in this storyline.


    It¡¯s All Riding on This!


    The yers will win or lose at the Finale. They cannot bepletely defeated until then.


    We were in big trouble. These rules meant that any of us could be a monster.


    I had counted four of us.


    I had the memory of doing it.


    Didn''t I?

 Chapter Fifty: The Rules of the Forest

    Chapter Fifty: The Rules of the Forest


    ¡°What is happening?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°Why does the red wallpaper say that I¡¯m a monster?¡±


    She started to back away from us.


    ¡°It says that we all are,¡± Anna said. She looked at me. ¡°Do you know what''s going on?¡±


    I looked from Anna to Tony to Kimberly. ¡°Yeah. It messes with our minds so that it blends in.¡±


    I exined all of the tropes to them as best I could. Truthfully, the entire experience was incredibly difficult to describe. I had known Anna since we were kids, and yet, looking at her¡­ I didn¡¯t know for sure if she was an ally. Somehow, my mind just couldn¡¯t process simple logic.


    Kimberly and Tony, I hadn¡¯t known for as long. Either of them could be a Straggler, whatever that was, and I would have no idea.


    It was like I was adding all of the evidence up, but when it came time to make a conclusion, nothing appeared on the other side of the equation.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°We should leave,¡± Tony said. His voice cracked and he coughed hard.


    Anna shook her head. ¡°We can¡¯t leave until we find evidence of what happened to these people. We¡¯re reporters first and foremost. We have a duty to find the truth.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°With what that guy was saying about there being something dangerous about the forest, I agree with Tony. We should just go.¡±


    ¡°We came here to do a job. We should at least investigate before giving up, right?¡± Anna said.


    We had to move forward. We couldn''t just leave, but we also had to y our characters and had no idea what was going on.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just make it quick,¡± I said.


    Kimberly and Anna nodded their heads. Tony seemed more hesitant.


    ¡°Hide,¡± Anna said.


    Thewyers were walking back down the path straight toward us. Our characters wouldn''t want to be seen. Arguably, we might want to interview thewyers, but that didn''t fit the scene as well. We would have to let Antoine and Camden take care of themselves until we could get a chance to talk to them Off-Screen.


    We ducked down behind some bushes to let them pass. As they went by, Tony stood up and went right after them. He walked with a slight limp, but he was moving as fast as he could trying to catch up.


    ¡°Tony, get back here,¡± I hissed as he left. He didn¡¯t listen to me.


    ¡°What is he doing?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°I have no idea. He''s an idiot,¡± I said.


    ¡°I guess he''s going that way,¡± Anna said as thewyers and Tony disappeared in the distance. They didn''t seem to react much at all to his arrival, perhaps that was a viable choice for his character to take.


    ¡°Now we have to stick together, the three of us. We need to look around this house and see if we can find evidence of the missing hikers or the woman. On the off chance that there''s not a supernatural entity involved,¡± she said with hefty sarcasm, ¡°We¡¯re going to have to actually find out what happened to these people.¡±


    We got closer to the house. As we did, we saw Old Man Akers standing at the back of his pickup truck. There was a dirt road that led out of the forest in a different direction than the one we hade from. He was fiddling with something in the back of his truck. As we got closer I was able to tell that he had shovels, a pickaxe, and simr tools tucked into a storagepartment in the bed of his truck. He was closing it up as we arrived.


    ¡°This way,¡± Anna said.


    She directed us around to the left in the opposite direction that Akers was facing. As we circled the property, we crept past a woodshed filled with firewood, a propane tank, and a small generator under a tarp. Nothing useful.


    As we moved closer to the actual house, a small log cabin that looked like it could have been built a hundred years ago, we noticed something.


    Leaning up against the side of the cabin, were two hiker''s backpacks.


    ¡°Look,¡± Anna said.


    ¡°Should we take a picture?¡± Kimberly asked. "For evidence?"


    Anna nodded. That was what our characters would do. Why else would we have cameras?


    Kimberly held up her camera and snapped a photo. The camera let loose a sh and a loud mechanical noise as a photograph began poking out of the front of the device.


    ¡°Shoot,¡± Kimberly said under her breath. ¡°Do you think he heard that?¡±


    Anna waved for us to get closer to the backpacks. ¡°If he did then we only have a few seconds.¡±


    We ran up to the side of the house. Anna grabbed one of the hiking packs, and I grabbed the other.


    ¡°Go,¡± she said. We ran back out into the forest, just out of view of any prying eyes.


    Unfortunately, none of our characters had thought to bring a shlight. We started rifling through the backpacks looking for some clue as to who they might have belonged to. As I sunk my hand into one, I found a small square leather object. A wallet.


    ¡°What were the names of the hikers?¡± I asked.


    Anna pulled out the notebook that she had started the storyline with. She flipped through the pages, trying to read them by a ray of moonlight.


    ¡°Here it is,¡± she said. ¡°Edgar and Norman Barns. Brothers.¡±


    ¡°Edgar Barns,¡± I said, holding up a Carousel driver¡¯s license.


    ¡°Maybe it wasn''t monsters after all,¡± Anna said with a smile.


    Of course, it probably was monsters. But this would be a great clue to help move the story forward.


    Footsteps. A crunching twig.


    Someone was walking toward us from the direction of the house.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Old Man Akers said loudly. ¡°I know you¡¯re out there. You had better not be those damnwyers. If you are among the living and you would like to stay that way, show yourself.¡±


    ¡°Dammit,¡± I said.


    ¡°Leave the packs,¡± Anna said quietly.


    She stood up and raised her hands. ¡°Don''t shoot,¡± she said. ¡°We''re just student reporters from U of C. Don¡¯t shoot.¡±


    ¡°Come out here,¡± Akers said. ¡°I¡¯m not going to shoot you.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯reing out,¡± she answered.


    We stood up and slowly walked out from behind the bush.


    ¡°What are a bunch of kids doing out here this time of night? Don''t you know what this ce is?¡±


    ¡°We''re here looking for some missing people. That''s all.¡±


    Akers rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. It was much the same as he had done around the campfire for the frame story.


    ¡°Welle on out here and I''ll talk to you, but don''t be sneaking around my property,¡± he said.


    We did as he asked.


    ¡°You kids are in way more trouble than you realize being out here. Just had to run off a fewwyers for the same thing. But with thewyers, I''m not so concerned. Come on around front.¡±


    We followed him around the side of the house to where thergentern on the back of his tailgate was set up.


    ¡°So, ask your questions,¡± Akers said.


    Anna took out her notebook. ¡°We''re here investigating three missing people. We think the police missed something.¡±


    Akers nodded in understanding. ¡°Police chief doesn''t send anybody into the forest. He understands. Might be the only person around here who does.¡±


    ¡°Understands?¡± Anna asked.


    Akers nodded. ¡°Understands that these woods are not to be entered by settlers.¡±


    Anna took a moment to think about what he had said. ¡°We''re just looking for three people. Have you seen anyone around here? Two hikers, Edgar and Norman Barns-¡±


    She took out her notebook and started flipping through the pages again until she found what she was looking for. She looked at it for a moment, almost as if she thought she had read it wrong, ¡°-and one woman who was in a traffic ident nearby, Dina Cano. She''s been missing about a week.¡±


    Dina was in an ident near here? No wonder we hadn''t seen her yet. We needed to find her and exin things. She must have been confused having arrived alone.


    ¡°Never heard of them,¡± Akers said, ¡°Though I suppose you saw those hiking packs that I found in the forest. You can look through those to see if they give you any clues. Truth be told I think you''re toote. The Stragglers got them by now.¡±


    ¡°The Stragglers?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°The Stragglers. They wander through the woods looking for neers to pass on their curse. Same creatures that you need to be worried about if you would ever like to make it out of here.¡±


    Anna, Kimberly, and I exchanged nces.


    ¡°Is that what you were talking about with those people earlier?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Akers smirked. ¡°Heard that, did you? Thought I would try to warn them. I ought to try to warn you too.¡±


    ¡°Are we in danger?¡± Anna asked.


    Akers nodded his head. ¡°May even be toote.¡±


    ¡°Can you tell us about them?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°Sure can,¡± he said.


    ¡°Do you mind if I write this down?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°Do whatever you like, just pay attention.¡±


    ¡°If you want to survive you''ve got to learn the rules. No one wants to learn the rules, not until it''s toote. I suppose the best way to tell you about the Stragglers is to start from the beginning.


    "It started here hundreds of years ago back before the town even existed. The people that lived here first, the originals, they understood this forest and thisnd. They respected it. They knew that it was different, that it was charmed. They never took anything from it, not timber, not flora, not fauna, not without asking for permission first.


    ¡°They lived that way for many generations. But then the settlers came. The locals tried to warn them, to tell them to respect the forest. At first, it seemed like the settlers would listen. The original inhabitants even taught them how to ask for permission to enter the forest. The forest granted them permission, only allowing five or fewer to enter at a time and to only take what they could carry--to be responsible and respectful.


    ¡°Itsted that way for a year or two, but then the settlement grew. The settlers got greedy. What they saw in the forest were vast resources. One year in the spring they sent in twenty workers to gather timber. With them, they sent in a team of oxen that could haul entire trees out of the forest. In doing this they broke their promise to the forest. So after they''d worked a day, they went to leave. Only five made it out. The rest were stuck to wait in the forest, to wait until they could find someone to rece them.


    ¡°And so it goes that curse has be thew of thend. There is no peace between the settlers and the forest anymore. Any who enter will be beset upon by the Stragglers, those that did not make it out of the forest. They look to find someone to take their ce, to take their curse. Over the centuries most of them have seeded. However many enter will leave, though the Stragglers may be among them.¡±


    Anna chewed on her bottom lip. ¡°Are you saying that''s what happened to the missing people? That they got lost in the forest and became Stragglers?¡±


    Old Man Akers shook his head. ¡°There are a lot of things that could happen to them around here. But that''s a likely choice. Never know; months from now, a year, a decade, your missing people might juste wandering out of the woods one day having found someone to rece them. In fact, you may be the very ones to rece them yourselves.¡±


    He smirked.


    ¡°Well I hope not,¡± Anna said. ¡°So if someonees out of the forest and wants to join our group we shouldn''t allow them to, right?¡±


    Akersughed. ¡°Won''t be that easy. You won''t know a Straggler when you see one. Everyone I tell this to doesn''t believe me but I hope you will. To you, it will just seem like a person who''s a part of your group. You won''t be able to tell them from anyone else. The forest alters your mind. In fact, wouldn''t be surprised if someone in your group right now is already one of them.¡±


    Who? Anna? Kimberly? ording to their tropes, you wouldn''t even be able to tell them apart throughmon sense. What other way could there be?


    ¡°So if they attack us how do we kill them? Monsters have to have weaknesses, right? How do we keep ourselves safe?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Weapons won''t offer them an escape from their curse, I''m afraid. I understand your temptation to think of them as monsters, but I would encourage you to think bigger than that. Whatever they are; they''re trapped here, bound by ancient magic. It''s hardly fair to judge them by it. They are what they were when they entered. These Stragglers were people once. They may well be people again one day.


    "I''ve seen it happen many a time. In fact, nearly sixty years ago, one of the original settlers made it out of the forest after centuries of wandering. His mind was mostly gone but you could see the relief on his face, finally being free.


    ¡°He ran from the forest, ran until his feet bled. Didn''t take long. He had been walking for so many years that even being free of the curse wasn''t enough to return him to perfect health.


    "Of course, the man that reced him is still there. I see him from time to time. When they first get there, you can tell they have a hesitance to pass their curse on to someone else but as time goes by, they get over that.¡±


    Anna was writing this down diligently in her notebook. ¡°If you don''t mind me asking, why do you think you haven¡¯t been cursed?¡±


    Old Man Akers chuckled. ¡°I have permission to be here. The entities that roam this forest and thend around it leave me alone. Those that don''t, I know how to take care of.¡±


    ¡°You''re saying we''re screwed?¡± I asked.


    Old Man Akers chuckled again.


    I continued.


    ¡°You say they have to wait for someone toe as a recement. Haven''t we already reced them?¡± I asked. "Couldn''t they just leave as soon as we showed up?"


    He shook his head. ¡°Not quite. Shaking the curse isn''t that easy."


    He grabbed hisntern off the bed of his truck and started walking back toward his cabin.


    "They only got two ways of getting out of here. They either need to pass their curse onto you directly after separating you from your group, or they need you to lead them out while leaving their recement behind. Otherwise, they can wander in circles until kingdome and they won¡¯t so much as find the tree line.¡±


    So, they had to interact with us to get out. If one of them managed to worm their way into our group, they could head out of the forest with Tony, Anna, and Kimberly, leaving me behind to wander.


    ¡°What if thewyers show them the way out?¡± Anna asked. ¡°Are we trapped?¡±


    ¡°You just worry about you. Let thewyers worry about thewyers. They can only leave with the amount they entered with, same as you.¡±


    That meant that even though we were in the forest at the same time as thewyers, we didn''t count as being in the same group.


    ¡°Shit,¡± I said, ¡°Tony.¡±


    Anna looked at me curiously, but then I could see that she got it.


    ¡°We need to go now,¡± she said.


    Tony was a part of our group. If he left the forest, he could bring three Stragglers with him, leaving us as recements.


    We thanked Akers and then left.


    We had to hurry.


    I looked at the plot cycle. First Blood had just been struck. In this story, it didn''t mean literal death or injury, but something bad must have happened. Hopefully, it hadn''t happened to us.

 Chapter Fifty-One: The Contradictions

    Chapter Fifty-One: The Contradictions


    We weren''t a mile down the trail before we ran into thewyers. It¡¯s not that they had been taking their sweet time, no, they were walking back toward the cabin.


    Antoine and Camden gave us a sh of acknowledgment when they saw us. They were quick to drop it though. They couldn¡¯t be sure if we were really their friends.


    The other sevenwyers didn¡¯t acknowledge us.


    Even Tony didn''t seem happy to see us.


    ¡°Was this the way to the exit?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°We got turned around somewhere. Somehow.¡±


    That didn''t seem possible. It was a pretty straightforward trail back to the parking lot. Literally, it was a straight trail--how had they managed to get turned around?


    Unless¡­


    Unless they had a Straggler with them. They could only leave with the amount that they hade in with. If they had a Straggler, they would have too many people and they would never find the exit. But which one didn¡¯t belong?


    Thewyers had the strangest looks on their faces. Like they were angry or sad. One of them, a man wearing a id shirt and a yellow construction vest, was silently crying. Thesewyers certainly were acting funny. They didn¡¯t seem to like each other much either. They refused to stand close to each other.


    I noticed that one was missing.


    "Didn''t you have anotherwyer with you?" I asked. "A woman?"


    Antoine nodded. "We had two. Dina and Roberta. They got mad and left together after we got lost."


    They had found Dina... I hoped that she was okay.


    It was strange. He had just called Dina awyer. Wasn''t Dina one of the missing people from Anna''s notes? How could that be possible... Unless--


    ¡°Did you all hear what that guy in the cabin was talking about?¡± Camden asked. ¡°Crazy stuff. Did you talk to him?¡±


    We didn¡¯t say anything at first. Was Camden a Straggler looking for information? Did Stragglers even need information?


    ¡°We talked to him,¡± Anna said. ¡°Learned a few things.¡±


    She took her notebook out of her pocket. "I wrote it all down here."


    They made eye contact for a moment. Neither fully trusted the other. Slowly, Anna held the notebook out for Camden.


    He was just as slow to grab for it. He flipped through it for ten or fifteen seconds before handing it back.


    ¡°Interesting stuff,¡± he said. ¡°Very interesting.¡±


    If Camden was who I thought he was, then he now knew everything. Anna had taken notes from Old Man Akers¡¯ story. Between Camden¡¯s Eureka and Photographic Memory tropes, he would know almost everything we did.


    Or he was just ying the part in hopes of tricking one of us to take his ce in the forest?


    Who knew?


    There were other things we didn¡¯t know. Things like: how to tell Stragglers from non-Stragglers. Akers made it out like it was possible, but as I gazed around the group in the moonlight, I was lost. Truly lost.


    This was a mind teaser. There had to be some way that we could use clever nning and lore knowledge to tell everyone apart. We needed to figure it out quickly too. There were around fifteen Stragglers out there in the forest¡ªenough to rece every single one of us.


    ¡°Tony missed the whole conversation,¡± Anna said. ¡°Ran off before we even met the guy.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Tony said. ¡°I just really wanted to leave.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Antoine said. ¡°How do you know Tony?¡±


    ¡°He goes to school with us,¡± Kimberly answered.


    Camden and Antoine looked at each other. Camden started to back away from Tony.


    ¡°Tony is a member of ourw firm. He came here with us,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°No,¡± Tony said. ¡°Wait.¡±


    Camden''s look of confusion turned to one of horror. At first, I was confused too but then I managed to follow the same logical trail that he had.


    The scales fell off my eyes.


    ¡°No that can''t be,¡± Anna said.


    She must have figured it out too.


    Tony had to be a Straggler. I couldn''t believe it. I thought back to everything we had been through. We both worked for the school paper. Didn¡¯t we? Did I?


    Was it possible Camden and Antoine were lying?


    It was like half my brain was missing. I was all questions and no answers.


    What I knew is that Tony was my friend from school. Yet, he was apparently awyer that was hired by the city. Both could not be true.


    The forest tricks you into thinking that Stragglers belong. Tony had attempted to join two different groups, so he had two different backstories. The contradiction was enough to wake us up to his true nature.


    He was cursed.


    He was a Straggler.


    This must have been how we were supposed to figure out who the Stragglers were. You learn a piece of their lore¡ªin this case, the fact that the forest tricks you into thinking you know them¡ªand then you find contradictions.


    You had to find some indirect way of figuring out who they were.


    ¡°No, please let me exin,¡± Tony said. He was trying to think, he closed his eyes and breathed rapidly, willing his addled mind toe up with an exnation. ¡°Just a second.¡±


    He began to cry.


    As I looked at him, I suddenly realized how ragged and ghoulish he looked. He had been out here for a long time from the look of it. I had noticed and yet¡­ I had never really <em>seen</em> him.


    ¡°Please. Please,¡± he said. ¡°I can''t stay here any longer. Please.¡±


    Everyone started to back away from him. The group ofwyers looked particrly upset. He dropped to his knees.


    ¡°Just let me go. I promise I''ll bring someone back for you. I won''t be long. Please.¡±


    ¡°How is that possible?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°How can he¡­¡±


    She was having the same problems that I did. Now it was obvious that Tony was a Straggler, a cursed being forced to walk endlessly for the sin of having entered this forest. And yet, Tony was my friend. I knew him. We hade here together.


    Or so I thought.


    ¡°We need to split up,¡± one of thewyers said. ¡°We should all just run out of the forest. There could be more of them.¡±


    I was waiting for someone to suggest that. Akers made it seem like splitting up was a viable option, but truthfully, it was just a good way to leave someone behind.


    ¡°No!¡± I screamed. ¡°We don''t want to leave the forest. Not yet. Not until we''re sure that there are no Stragglers with us. They can only leave with us if we stay together. We need to head back to the cabin. That¡¯s the onlyndmark we have all been to. As long as we stay together and don¡¯t try to get out of the forest, they can''t take our ce.¡±


    ¡°That makes no sense,¡± one of thewyers said through chapped lips, ¡°We were just there. You¡¯re just trying to get us to go deeper into the forest."


    He was a tall man named Nichs. We wore a threadbare long-sleeve shirt and a climbing harness. As he spoke, he moved his fingers through his mess of hair.


    "Please!" Tony yelled, "This isn''t fair!"


    He jumped to his feet and approached Kimberly, who screamed as he got close.


    ¡°Please,¡± he said. ¡°We can figure something out. Don¡¯t scream.¡±


    She backed away.


    Antoine started to move to protect her, but at thest moment, it looked like the fear that she might be a Straggler left him staring at her in confusion.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not resort to violence here,¡± Anna said, looking at me and Antoine expectantly.


    I paused, confused at what she was looking at me for.


    Then I realized: Let¡¯s Not Fight was one of her tropes. If she broke up a dispute between two yers, all involved would get a buff.


    That meant she could tell who the yers were simply by trying to activate her trope. If the people she was talking to were yers, it would work. If not, at least one of them was a Straggler. It would probably also prove she was a yer.


    I imagine it would have worked too. If we had time to test it out.


    Tony had finished crying. He got up from his knees and walked toward me. Of course, he picked me. I had the lowest Plot Armor. He grabbed onto my arm and started pulling me away from the group.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said, ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here.¡±


    I struggled against him as he pulled me. I had to assume that our Mettle scores were tied because I was making no progress.


    I started pulling against him.


    Thewyer, Nichs, came to my aid. He grabbed onto my arm and pulled me away from Tony.


    ¡°Get out of here,¡± he said to Tony. ¡°Get back.¡±


    I backed away into the darkness. I needed to find my way back to my friends. I looked over in their direction.


    Most of thewyers had split as soon as Tony started getting aggressive. Those idiots were doomed.


    To my left and right, figures beganing into view. It was thewyers or maybe it was someone new. Other students from U of C?


    ¡°Riley,e here,¡± Anna called.


    ¡°Yeah, Riley,¡± a voice called out from the darkness. ¡°Come this way. We¡¯ll go together.¡±


    All attention was on me. Many of them were saying my name. Anna, Camden, Nichs, thewyers, and even Tony.


    But who could I trust?


    What group had Ie in with? Anna, Kimberly, Tony, Austin, Pietro, and Jaime, right?


    No, that wasn¡¯t right. Tony was a Straggler.


    But if he was a Straggler, maybe Jaime or Kimberly was too. How could I tell?


    If I joined a group and walked out with them, could I be leaving my friends behind?


    I had to make a decision quickly.


    They were all drawing in toward me.


    ¡°The cabin,¡± I said. ¡°Go to the cabin!¡±


    I started running away from the people surrounding me. I had some idea of where the cabin was because of the direction the trail led. I needed to stay parallel with it. I also needed to stay away from everyone. With my high Hustle, that part was doable.


    While I was running, the plot cycle struck Second Blood.


    I knew splitting up was a bad idea. I just had to trust that my friends, whoever my real friends were, would be able to figure things out without me for a while.


    I needed to use Oblivious Bystander.


    Unfortunately, no matter how high my Moxie was, Oblivious Bystander would not work in a chase scene. No one would believe I was just jogging along.


    This was going to be tricky. I needed to stop running and start being oblivious. How would I sell that though? Could I really just be the most careless guy on the?


    I needed to figure it out. It was the only way I could guarantee that I was safe. In fact, I had a theory that it would allow me to separate the Stragglers away from the yers.


    I was working on the assumption that you could indirectly determine if someone was a Straggler, even if you couldn''t know by looking at them. I thought Oblivious Bystander might just do the trick.


    When using the bystander trope, my own perception was unimportant. All that mattered was the audience. If the audience knew who the Stragglers were, then watching one sneak up on me would create tension.


    So, theoretically, if someone approached me and Oblivious Bystander activated, I could safely assume that they were a Straggler. The opposite might have also been true. If someone could approach me without activating the trope, then they must not be a Straggler.


    The question was, how did I convincingly pretend to be oblivious? I had just been osted by at least one Straggler. I had my new pair of headphones and the Walkman. How realistic was it for me to use that right now?


    I had a n.


    I would act panicked and out of breath. I would then put on my Walkman and visibly calm down as if the music soothed me. All I needed was an excuse to listen to music in a haunted forest while being hunted by cursed people. I hoped it would work because the forest was too dark in most ces for me to put on my sunsses.


    I just had to hope this Walkman was worth the money.


    I ran until I was out of breath. I put my hand to my chest and tried to show that it was visibly shaking. I closed my eyes like I was holding back tears. Then I took my headphones from my pocket and put them over my ears. I bent over and breathed in deeply and pushed to y on the Walkman. The volume was down next to nothing. I took deep breaths and let myself calm down. I even hummed to the music.


    That would have to be enough. My Moxie was high. I had invested heavily in it. That should be enough to make up for the <em>slightly </em>unrealistic timing of my moonlight serenade.


    I had to hope I didn¡¯t get approached while I was getting things working. I started walking through the forest in the direction of the cabin.


    Within a few minutes, a shadowy figure was trailing me. I didn''t pay them any mind. I became aware that I was On-Screen; I probably had been for a while. I continued to walk like I hadn''t noticed anything at all.


    I continued to walk forward. The figure followed but never came close.


    This was so much easier than humming to myself to try to drown out noise.


    I got a good enough look at him in my peripheral vision that I could see his name was Thadeus. He was dressed in a ripped old cotton shirt. He was barefoot.


    The more time went on the surer I was that Thad was a Straggler. He had clearly activated Oblivious Bystander.


    He followed me for a time. When I went Off-Screen, he left, off to find someone else.


    I actually smiled to myself like an idiot. Of course, then I was back On-Screen.


    Another figure appeared behind me. It was Pietro, my friend from school. Except, he must not have been. Oblivious Bystander activated. He followed me but only got close enough to let the camera see. He too faded into the distance with time.


    Then there was another.


    And another.


    And another.


    How many of thosewyers had been Stragglers?


    How many fellow students were, for that matter?


    I soldiered on.


    ¡°Dina?¡± a voice cried in the distance. ¡°Where did you go?¡±


    It was Roberta, one of the NPCwyers. I zigzagged to keep her out of my eyeline.


    ¡°Dina, why would you do this? We were friends. Please, I¡¯m scared. I want to go home.¡±


    My character didn¡¯t react. I was listening to music, after all.


    ¡°Din-¡° she cried out. She appeared to notice me. She grew quiet.


    It was like I could see Roberta slowly realize what was happening as soon as she saw me. She started to follow. Of course, as I suspected, she was cursed. If I had to guess, she had been cursed by none other than Dina.


    Dina had been a car crash survivor in the woods for a week. That was her role. Somehow, she had convinced some of the others that she was awyer. The only way that could happen was if she was a Straggler.


    Dina had started the storyline as cursed but was probably already out of the forest now. Cutthroat, even if Roberta was just an NPC.


    Roberta, like all of the other Stragglers, eventually gave up. There was really no point in chasing me once I knew. It wouldn¡¯t be cinematic. I would just run from a Straggler. They needed someone who still thought they were safe.


    I smiled to myself as I stepped out of the thick part of the woods and into the space where the cabin sat.


    I froze.


    I hade face to face with Kimberly. I hadn''t seen her at first because the forest was so thick. She was standing up next to Old Man Akers¡¯ truck, her slender arm reaching through the tiniest crack in his driver''s side window, attempting to grab onto the lock.


    She looked at me. I looked at her.


    Was she a Straggler?


    I had no idea. I thought I knew her, but I couldn''t trust my memory. After all, I thought I knew Tony.


    I turned and ran.

 Chapter Fifty-Two: The Last Truck Out

    Chapter Fifty-Two: The Last Truck Out


    I circled back around to the backside cabin. I took a long path. There was no sign of anyone, yer or Straggler. The cabin lights were off and the windows were shuttered. Old Man Akers was probably inside waiting out the horror that was going on in his backyard.


    I heard voices on the other side of the cabin.


    I slowly made my way around, making sure to keep away from open clearings where I could be easily seen.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just leave,¡± a man¡¯s voice said.


    ¡°It would be faster if we drove,¡± a woman said. It was Kimberly. She was still there.


    ¡°We don''t have the keys. Let''s just walk down the road. We''ll be out of here in 30 minutes. It''ll all be over,¡± another man said.


    ¡°No, it''ll be fine,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I had to write an article on car thefts on campus. I learned how to hotwire a truck just like this one. Won''t take more than a second.¡±


    She had just used Convenient Backstory.


    I heard the sound of the pickup truck¡¯s door opening and quickly shutting, followed by the clunky thunk of an old-fashioned manual car door lock.


    I moved around until I could get a view of what was happening.


    Kimberly sat in the cab of the truck. She was fiddling with something under the dash. Even from a distance, I could see that she was nervous, scared. I truly wanted to believe that she was my friend. That she had actually entered the forest with me but my mind wouldn''t help me find that conclusion.


    I was a distance behind the truck, looking at her through the back window. I remembered seeing shovels and other tools in apartment in the back of the truck. If I could only get over there, I could grab one.


    But could I even use it? Stragglers couldn''t be attacked until they attacked you. Not a bad way to test for a Straggler, if a little risky.


    Two men were with her. Had they been there before?


    I didn''t get a good look.


    I recognized one of them. I had seen his face on his driver¡¯s license. It was Edgar Barns, one of the missing hikers. I suspected that meant the other man was his brother. I looked at their names on the red wallpaper to confirm my suspicions.


    The Barnes brothers stood outside the truck. Edgar was by the driver''s side door and Norman was by the passenger side. It was crazy to think that they had managed to survive in the forest for so long without their packs.


    Did they know about the Stragglers?


    ¡°What¡¯s taking so long?¡± Edgar asked.


    Kimberly cleared her throat, ¡°I''m just trying to loosen this panel so I can start the truck. It''ll only take a minute.¡±


    Edgar moved his hand to the door handle. ¡°Just let me in; let me try.¡±


    Kimberly responded with a note of fear in her voice, ¡°I got it. It''ll be done soon.¡±


    ¡°We don''t have to take the truck,¡± Norman said. ¡°We can just walk. We follow this dirt road it couldn''t be more than a couple of miles until we''re free and clear.¡±


    Kimberly stopped fiddling with the panel under the dash. ¡°You know what I think I want to go find Anna.¡±


    ¡°We don''t need Anna,¡± Edgar said. ¡°We need to get out of here just the three of us.¡±


    They started to pull the handles on the doors, trying to force their way into the truck.


    ¡°We really just need to leave,¡± Norman said. ¡°Please.¡±


    I couldn''t see Kimberly¡¯s face but she sounded like she was¡­ I couldn''t put my finger on it. The magic of the forest prevented me, but if I had to guess she might have sounded confused maybe even scared but with my addled mind, I was having difficulty putting that together.


    Was one of them Straggler? Were they all Stragglers? In my mind, it felt possible that none of them were and they were just all so afraid that they were acting strange.


    ¡°I would just really like to go,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Will you¡­ will you let me go?¡±


    There was a brief silence.


    As if it was against their will, the brothers said one after the other, ¡°No.¡±


    Suddenly, it was like a shroud had been lifted. I saw before me two Stragglers attempting to persuade Kimberly into leaving the forest with them.


    They had unwillingly revealed themselves.


    Kimberly had a trope called A Hopeless Plea. It forced captors into revealing whether they would release her. She''d gotten it during the Astralist storyline. Truthfully, I couldn''t think of a good use case for such a trope; it seemed mostly like it was designed to mock her.


    But she had found a way to make it useful. How much of this had been her n? Putting herself in a position where the two men would trap her so that she could get them to reveal themselves. Logically, the trope would only work on the Stragglers. By revealing that they would not release her, they had outed themselves and simultaneously exonerated Kimberly.


    I could see all three of them clearly now. Kimberly was my friend. The Barns brothers were Stragglers.


    Kimberly moved her hands under the dash. The truck roared to life.


    From the other side of the clearing, three figures emerged: Anna, Camden, and Nichs.


    Anna was holding one of the shovels from the back of the truck. The three of them jumped into the back, pushing the Barns brothers as they went. The brothers tried to get in with them, but they were pushed away.


    Had this all been a trap to weed out some Stragglers?


    I looked at the plot cycle. Not only was this likely a trap, but it was also the Final Battle. I had missed it dodging Stragglers in the forest.


    Kimberly put the truck into gear and backed up away from the Stragglers. She was moving toward me, backing the truck in a circle so that she could turn around. The others hunkered down in the bed of the truck.


    Any second, they were about to drive down that dirt road leaving me behind.


    I ran after them. I yelled, but the roar of the truck must have masked my scream. I was in trouble. I needed some way of signaling them. I considered throwing my Walkman at them. I reached into my pocket and found the camera.


    In ast-ditch effort to get their attention, I started firing off shes. The camera was doing its best to keep up.


    sh.


    sh.


    sh.


    Kimberly mmed the brakes.


    I ran up to the back of the truck and grabbed onto the tailgate. No sooner were my feet off the ground than the truck took off again.


    I pulled myself into the back.


    "You had better be real," Anna said.


    We drove until we were out of the forest.


    The Plot Cycle switched to The End.


    Suddenly, we were back in front of a campfire.


    Anna, Kimberly, Camden, Dina, and I had all made it.


    Antoine was gone.


    I tried to figure out how that had happened. My mind was clear now that we were out of the forest. Anna, Kimberly, and I had escaped together. We all made it.


    Dina had been a Straggler and had been reced by Roberta the NPCwyer. She made it.


    But Camden and Antoine had a group of three as well with Roberta. Roberta was reced by Dina. Antoine must have been reced by that man in the climbing gear who, surprisingly, was not actually awyer.


    Dammit.


    I looked around at my friends. They were alling to the same realization. We had left him behind. Kimberly was crying.


    "That doesn''t sound that scary," one of the teenage NPCs said after Old Man Akers finished his story.


    "You don''t think so?" Akers said. "Well, if you want scary, I think we have time for another story."


    ¡°This story takes ce nearly ten years ago,¡± Old Man Akers said. ¡°Back when a local investment firm funded a huge operation to reopen the mine on the southeast side of the property. They would soon figure out why it had been closed in the first ce.¡±


    I was staring at the ce Antoine had been sitting. His baseball bat was still there. The realization dawned on me that we would have to y through each story minus the yers we lost along the way. This one might end up being moreplicated than I originally thought.


    Suddenly, I was in the very back seat of an SUV. These were back-to-back.


    I looked around.


    Anna and Camden were in the middle seat. Kimberly was upfront.


    Driving was a man in his early thirties. He had well-groomed brown hair and a cocky smile. He was wearing a brand-new thick button-up shirt, the kind you might see on a blue-cor worker, but this guy didn¡¯te across as blue-cor. His hands well-manicured.


    I could tell because his left hand was on the steering wheel and his right hand was on the center console, his fingers intertwined with Kimberly¡¯s.


    She looked shocked to find herself holding hands with him, but she didn¡¯t say anything. She looked back at us, trying to maintain herposure. She had been crying around the campfire. Now, she had a bright face full of makeup.


    The thing is, I recognized the guy driving.


    It was Nichs.


    I had only seen him twice and only for a brief moment each time. Nichs was the Straggler that had reced Antoine in the forest, leaving him trapped there. This story was set eight or nine years before that story though.


    ¡°You guys feeling lucky?¡± Nichs asked.


    We all said yes, though we weren¡¯t quite sure what getting lucky would mean for us that day.


    I looked around at each of my friends to see what our roles were in that story.


    Kimberly was Nichs¡¯s fianc¨¦ and the daughter of the main investor and partner in Nichs¡¯s mining operation.


    Camden was his lead geologist and mine engineer whose research had led the firm into pursuing the endeavor.


    Anna and I were Nichs¡¯ employees.


    Except, we weren¡¯t. We were really working for a group called S.T.P. or Stop The Poison, an environmentalist organization protesting the dig site on Aker¡¯s property. We were undercover, trying to get proof that Nichs¡¯spany was using dangerous and polluting extraction methods in their mining operations.


    There were someyers to this one.


    ¡°I can almost taste it. Gold, Amethyst, Sapphire. The find of a lifetime,¡± Nichs said.


    Camden, who was flipping through a thick folder filled with scientific graphs and walls of text, said, ¡°I¡¯ll remind you that a find of this¡­ abundance is one that should be taken with a grain of salt.¡±


    Nichs shook his head. ¡°You told me that, but I just can¡¯t imagine that Ehbert Mining would fabricate all of their reports.¡±


    Camden looked like he had more to say but held his tongue.


    ¡°You can confirm their readings when we get there. There is no way they would lie about the property. Not when they are dealing with someone as notoriously litigious as my father.¡±


    ¡°Will do,¡± Camden said. He looked back at me and gave me an exasperated look.


    ¡°Look, honey,¡± Nichs said, ¡°The local baristas got here before we did.¡±


    At first, I wasn''t sure what he was talking about. However, as we pulled up onto Akers¡¯ property, we were passing a dozen or so protesters holding signs. There were signs saying things like ¡°There is no safe mining¡± and ¡°Save the animal refuge.¡±


    The protesters had blocked off the entrance to the property.


    ¡°You capitalist pigs are going to poison the drinking water of dozens of protected species. Find it in your heart to change,¡± a woman yelled.


    I recognized the voice.


    I shifted so that I could get a better look at who it was that was screaming at us.


    It was Dina. She wore a button on her shirt with the letters S.T.P. She was a part of the same organization that Anna and I were, though she was obviously not undercover.


    An egg hit the windshield of Nichs'' SUV.


    ¡°Those motherfuckers,¡± he said.


    ¡°Here let me wash it off for you,¡± one of the protesters, an older man with long hair said. He sshed a bucket full of dirty scummy water onto the windshield. ¡°This was taken from near your mine down in Cleake. You expect to do that same thing to an animal sanctuary?¡±


    ¡°A sanctuary?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Camden flipped through his folder. ¡°There''s a designated animal refuge to the east. That''s what all these environmentalists are concerned about.¡±


    "Pfft," Nichs muttered.


    An animal refuge to the east, a haunted forest full of Stragglers to the west. This mine was right in the middle of all the action.


    Eventually, we were able to make it through the gate and onto the property. The mine was at the back, far past where we had sat around the campfire, to the right of the forest where Old Man Akers'' cabin was.


    When we got there, there were already a dozen or so work trucks and a multitude of people running around getting things ready. There were lots of workers ready to get into the mines as soon as they were opened up.


    As we drove closer, we were driving downhill further and further until eventually, we got to the ce where the mine''s entrance had been carved out of the earth. There was no mountain above it as I had always pictured mines to have. It was just dug down into the earth. The rocks that the cavern entrance was carved into were solemn and gray.


    Old support beams were being reced by newer struts of both metal and wood around the entrance.


    As we got out of the SUV, Nichs yelled, ¡°Why am I standing in mud?¡±


    A worker with a white hard hat, one of the higher men on the totem pole I assume, approached and said, ¡°Just got the draining system online. Things got a little wet. It rained a lotst week.¡±


    ¡°Is the mine flooded?¡± Nichs asked. He had clearly not thought far enough ahead to consider this possibility.


    ¡°The mine is sealed,¡± Camden said. ¡°Unless groundwater seeped in at a higher rate than usual, the inside of the mine should be dry, mostly. This assumes the maps you gave me are urate. If not, we can drain it, though the budget and schedule will take a big hit. There are more details in the report.¡±


    Nichs looked annoyed at thisment.


    As we approached the mine, we stopped off at a truck and put on hard hats and bright neon vests. I could see how excited Nichs was to get into the mine.


    He would have to wait. Old Man Akers walked over to us and approached Nichs.


    ¡°Please reconsider,¡± Akers said. ¡°You do not know what you''re getting yourself into. What lies beneath the surface on thisnd ought to stay there.¡±


    Nichs was having none of it. ¡°Well, it''s not going to. I own it.¡±


    He pulled out a folded stack of papers. They were longer than ordinary paper and far more ornate.


    ¡°I''ve told you this 100 times. I have the mineral rights to thisnd for the next-¡± he unfolded the paper and read through it, ¡°-93 years out of a 150-year leasehold. What''s in this mine is not yours to keep.¡±


    Old Man Akers shook his head in disappointment. ¡°The mine was sealed for a reason."


    ¡°Yes,¡± Nichs said. ¡°And it''s being opened for a better one."


    ¡°I cannot help you,¡± Akers said.


    That wasn''t strictly true. He could tell us what was in the mine, but that didn''t seem to be his modus operandi.


    Akers turned tail to leave, but before he did, he looked at me, Anna, and Camden. ¡°How much is he paying you to follow him to your doom?¡±


    He didn''t stick around for a response.


    Off-Screen.


    Nichs walked around ordering people to do this and that. He didn''t seem entirely too knowledgeable about the process or the operation but you could tell that he really liked being in charge.


    My friends gathered around to get some information. I exined to them all of their roles.


    ¡°That exins this,¡± Anna said, retrieving a small, discreet film camera from her pocket. ¡°I was wondering why I needed it.¡±


    I checked my pocket. I had one too. They were small cameras nothing but a button and a sh bulb. Comparable in size to the telephone receiver.


    ¡°Any tropes?¡± Camden asked.


    ¡°Not that I can find,¡± I said. ¡°Whatever the monster is here it must be inside the mines.¡±


    ¡°My report says that this mine makes no sense,¡± Camden said. ¡°It says that this whole thing is impossible. Dozens of different types of jewels were reported along different strands inside the mine. My official rmendation was that they didn''t pursue this operation. Nichs and his father were the ones that pushed it through. I have some documentation on that.¡±


    He held up the folder containing all of his character''s scientific information. ¡°I think there''s something more going on with them. Keep your eyes peeled.¡±


    ¡°Where is his father?¡± Anna asked.


    We all shrugged.


    ¡°Well, maybe that''s something that his fianc¨¦ should ask him,¡± I suggested, looking over at Kimberly.


    Kimberly rolled her eyes. ¡°I don''t even know if my tropes will work on him,¡± she said. ¡°Get A Room and Pregnancy Reveal both require me to have a romantic interest. Can I use an NPC for that? If I do, do I have to pick that one?¡±


    Truthfully, I wasn''t sure whether they would work. I had always pictured her using those on fellow yers. ¡°It''s worth trying,¡± I said. ¡°The audience shouldn''t know the difference.¡±


    Kimberly got quiet for a moment. ¡°He''s the one who¡­ left Antoine in the forest, right?¡±


    Anna nodded her head.


    ¡°I didn''t even realize,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°Just try to find out what you can,¡± Anna said. ¡°I understand if you don¡¯t feelfortable.¡±


    Kimberly nodded.


    ¡°It looks like things are about to start,¡± Camden said.


    The workers were gathering around the entrance to the mine. Arge yellow crane had been constructed above the entrance. Huge cables were wrapped around something near the opening of the mine.


    On-Screen.


    We moved closer for a better look. The entrance to the mine had been sealed shut by what looked like concrete, rebar, and huge pieces of timber. Thick metal cables were attached to the seal. Men with drills had been chipping away at the seal, breaking it down until it could be hauled away. They were almost through.


    ¡°Here we go!¡± Nichs yelled.


    Kimberly walked up beside him. He put his arm around her. ¡°Almost there,¡± he said.


    There was arge earth mover with a jackhammer attachment up near where the concrete seal was. It was working on breaking the concrete while the crane up above drew its cables tight. I could hear the physical strain in the metal. The jackhammering echoed all over the property.


    Crack!


    Something had burst. Suddenly, the concrete seal came flying out of the entrance of the cave, being hauled up into the sky by the crane.


    As it did, arge chunk of the concrete swung over and crushed the earth mover from the side, almost injuring its operator.


    As the seal was being lifted away, a burst of wind sted forth from inside the mine. It was one of the strongest gales I had ever felt.


    But the wind itself wasn''t what shocked me the most.


    What shocked me was that the burst of air sounded almost like a scream.

 Chapter Fifty-Three: A Search in Vain

    Chapter Fifty-Three: A Search in Vain


    ¡°No time like the present,¡± Nichs said loudly to all of those nearby. His voice cracked. I don''t know if it was because of the strange screaming sound or because he was just nervous. ¡°The investors will be here tomorrow. We''ve got to get things ready.¡±


    The workers began running around trying to bring loads of trucks toward the mouth of the mine. They all looked like they were worried about getting yelled at by Nichs. I couldn''t me them.


    ¡°Tomorrow?¡± I asked.


    Nichs nodded.


    ¡°Why are theying so soon?¡± Anna asked. It might have been better to let her ask the questions. I had a high Moxie, but she had a trope that specifically helped her get information from NPCs. Until I understood how the game worked behind the scenes, I was probably better off letting her take care of it.


    Nichs ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous affectation. ¡°We promised a lot of things to get this project funded. Investors want to see where their money went.¡±


    He put his arm around Kimberly and began walking toward the mouth of the mine, yelling inanemands to the workers nearby.


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°Something''s definitely up,¡± Camden said. ¡°I''ve been looking through this file some more. They really cherry-picked my report to try to get this mine project going. My character has no idea why they''re so confident there will be paydirt down there.¡±


    I didn''t understand it either. In fact, if I were to guess, I''m not sure that Nichs knew everything. Despite his blue-blooded upbringing and his projected confidence, he seemed nervous. Maybe it was just because they''d taken a gamble on this mine. Maybe it was something else.


    ¡°We''re going to find out what''s going on sooner orter. Something tells me we''re not going to be happy when we do,¡± I said.


    Progress moved slowly in between scenes. There was an elevator right at the entrance to the mine. It was in a state of disrepair. NPCs were working around the clock trying to fix it so that it could be used by the investors the next day. I wondered how this kind of thing would work off-screen. I thought maybe the elevator would be magically fixed, but no. They were actually working on it, swapping out parts and messing with the electrical systems.


    Being an NPC must have been a really thankless job.


    On-Screen.


    Nichs and Kimberly eventually made their way back to us.


    ¡°Get suited up,¡± he said. ¡°We''re not going to wait around getting nothing done. I intend to see gold by sundown.¡±


    He pointed us over toward a table that had been set up next to a truck. The table had climbing equipment on it. We walked over to it and started putting on harnesses. Luckily, the table also had shlights that we could use.


    Nichs took off his vest and jacket and handed them to Kimberly. He started to put on his harness. As he did it, I noticed that Kimberly had subtly started to pull the deed he had waved at Akers from his jacket pocket.


    ¡°Are youing down, Hun?¡± he asked her.


    Kimberly paused. I think she was legitimately having a hard time deciding. I couldn''t me her. If I had a choice not to go into the clearly haunted mines, I would have a tough time too. Part of the trouble was guessing what her character would do. It was unlikely that her character would want to climb down the side of a shaft into a mine.


    ¡°I think I''ll stay up here,¡± she said. She wrapped his jacket and vest around her arms, concealing the deed.


    ¡°You can wait for the elevator,¡± he offered. ¡°Might be a little dangerous climbing down there, but I have to do it. It''s my job.¡±


    Kimberly smiled. ¡°Be careful, won''t you?¡±


    He smiled back at her. ¡°I''ll be fine.¡±


    I had no idea how to repel down the side of a mine shaft. To my left, the elevator was still being repaired. Workers were strapped to the metal scaffolding that held the elevator in ce. They were busy grinding and welding.


    We were climbing down a small wall right next to the elevator. A long, thick rope was tied off at the mouth of the mine and dropped down the hole that we would be climbing down. I had no idea how to do it.


    Nichs did, but he was sparing with the instructions.


    ¡°Put this around the rope pull it tight and slowly let yourself down,¡± he said.


    Anna did seem to understand what he was trying to say so I was able to watch her do it first. I was told to go next. Camden would be after me. Nichs stayed at the top with Kimberly. Ironically, Kimberly was the only member of our team who could teach herself how to do this in an instant with her Convenient Backstory trope and she didn''t have to do it at all.


    Have I mentioned that I''m afraid of heights?


    At every step, I thought I was going to fall to my death. The rope went through arge carabiner. We had to control our own descent. I was in no hurry to get to the bottom.


    After Anna had called up that she was down, I started my climb. I probably took 5 minutes longer than she did. By the time I got to the bottom I was exhausted, and my heart was racing.


    There was a burst of static like a radio tuned to a channel without a signal. I didn''t know where it wasing from, but it sounded like it wasing from where Anna was.


    Anna started patting her clothes down searching for the source of the sound until eventually she found it in a small pocket of her jacket. She had a small square device attached to ten feet of thin wire. She pulled it out of her pocket along with all of the wire.


    We had been switching back and forth between On-Screen and Off-Screen as we descended. Now we were On-Screen.


    I held my shlight up to the device that she was holding. It was a small radio.


    ¡°Anna, do you copy?¡± A broken-up voice sounded from the device.


    We looked at each other. We had to stay in character, but this development surprised both of us.


    She brought the device to her mouth, pushed the small button on the side, and said, ¡°I hear you. We''re in the mine. We don''t have a great signal.¡±


    There was silence for a moment.


    ¡°We found an air shaft,¡± the voice said. ¡°We might be able to shimmy down. Is it safe?¡±


    Anna looked up at me hoping that I would have the answer. I shrugged.


    ¡°It looks safe but the boss ising down soon.¡±


    ¡°Be sure to get pictures of anything we can use. We''ll stand by.¡±


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°STP?¡± Anna Asked me once we had a moment of privacy.


    ¡°That would make sense,¡± I answered.


    Our characters were secretly a part of the environmental organization called STP and were sent here to get evidence against the miningpany. I didn''t know where that plot thread was going to take us. Now I was starting to get an idea.


    We could hear Camdening down from above.


    Anna quickly wrapped up the little radio and put it back in her pocket.


    I took my shlight and started shining it around the room where we had found ourselves in. There was nothing that stood out as an immediate threat. The ceiling for most of the room was only six feet high. It was supported with old beams of wood that were wider than I was.


    There were two tracks leading off down the main paths. They must have been for mine carts though I didn''t see any carts there.


    A main path went off to the left and another went straight forward. To the right, was the bottom of the elevator.


    The entire space was ustrophobic and utterly quiet. I couldn''t see the source of the screaming sound. I began hoping that it was just the wind rushing through the tunnels.


    After Camden made it down to the ground, Nichs was right after him. He didn''t walk step by step like we did, instead, he let himself fall quickly, slowing his descent by pulling on the rope. He was clearly experienced at this.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± Nichs said. He started looking around the room like he was expecting to see stacks of gold right in front of him. ¡°Where is the nearest vein?¡±


    Camden pulled his file folder out from under his shirt where he had stored it for the climb down. He grabbed a map and started familiarizing himself with it.


    ¡°Right this way,¡± he said.


    ¡°There''s supposed to be an untouched vein right through there. They estimated it as being worth millions of dors and <em>if </em>their measurements are correct, it probably is,¡± Camden said. He pointed toward a small crevice off of the main path we had taken.


    We shined our shlights over in that direction. It would be a tight squeeze for all of us. I could see Nichs'' smile growing wide as we walked closer. The two of us had to Crouch down because the ceiling was so low. Now, trying to squeeze into ce through a gap that had not yet been widened was going to make things even more difficult.


    Nichs sent Anna in first. He followed afterward.


    It took him a minute to squeeze through the gap. While I stood there I noticed how humid it was down here in the mine. I''d expected it to be drier. I swore that I could hear drips in the distance but I couldn''t say where they wereing from or if they were just in my mind.


    Camden squeezed into the area we were headed and then I followed behind him.


    When we got there, Nichs'' smile had disappeared.


    ¡°Is the gold deeper in the rock?¡± He asked. ¡°We need it to be something very visible and obvious so that the investors feel confident and don''t end up pulling the plug on this.¡±


    Camden consulted his notes again. I held the shlight for him so that he could see.


    ¡°ording to their reports, there should be visible veins of gold right where we''re standing. That was the im at least,¡± he said.


    ¡°If it says that they''re here then they''re here,¡± Nichs said.


    Except they weren''t.


    I''ve seen pictures of gold mines before. Glittering metallic veins creeping through stone walls. Old-fashioned miners giving toothless smiles to the camera as they present a promising vein.


    There was nothing here. It was just in brown and gray rock.


    ¡°This must be a mistake,¡± Nichs said. ¡°You must have misread the map.¡±


    Camden humored him. He retraced our steps along the map but they led straight to where we were now.


    We spent at least an hour on and off screen looking around hoping to find some crag filled with gold. Nichs swore that the map must have been written incorrectly and that the real vein was nearby so we scoured the area looking for any sign.


    All we found were more minecart tracks and more brown and gray rock.


    That''s not quite true. We also found water leaking down the walls forming little streams that eroded their own miniature canyons in the rock beneath our feet.


    ¡°I thought you said it would be dry down here?¡± Nichs said.


    ¡°This is dry for a mine like this,¡± Camden responded.


    We went Off-Screen, yet the story continued.


    Nichs was about to say something heated, but before he could we heard yelling in the distance. Back the way we came, someone was yelling Nichs'' name.


    ¡°Oh what now?¡± He asked.


    A worker with a white hard hat, the same one who had exined the drainage system, was yelling for Nichs.


    ¡°What? Don''t you know we''re doing something?¡±


    The worker held up his hands in a supplicating gesture. ¡°I just thought you ought to know that your father is almost here,¡± he said.


    This news must have surprised Nichs because a sh of fear appeared on his face.


    ¡°He''s not supposed to be here today.¡±


    The worker shrugged.


    We followed him back to the entrance. In the hours that we had spent down in the mines, the NPCs had managed to fix the elevator. We took it back up to the surface. Personally, I was very d to be out of the mines.


    But something was strange.


    We had been Off-Screen ever since the NPC with the white hard hat, Gary, hade to get us. We didn''te back On-Screen for a long while.


    As we left Nichs took off his hard hat and started running his fingers through his hair. He was clearly not prepared to see his father.


    He turned around and looked at us. ¡°Don''t say that we didn''t find the gold. Say we didn''t get to it yet.¡±


    We all agreed.


    Outside the mouth of the mine, Kimberly was waiting for us. Nichs gave her a distracted side hug and then continued walking forward.


    As soon as Nichs was gone, Kimberly practically threw the deed to Camden.


    ¡°See if that tells you anything,¡± she said. ¡°I thought it might.¡±


    Camden opened it and flipped through it quickly. A look of surprise grew on his face.


    ¡°That''s interesting,¡± he said.


    ¡°What?¡± Anna asked.


    He turned the deed around so that we could look at it. Specifically, he was focused on thest page where the signatures were.


    The agreement was a leasehold for mineral rights, a temporary transaction. It was signed by thend owner, a Dous Akers, and by the owner of Ehbert Mining (thepany that opened the mine), Gerald Hesper.


    ¡°So?¡± I asked.


    Camden grabbed a piece of paper from his folder and held it out.


    ¡°Hesper is Nichs¡¯st name,¡± he said. ¡°Gerald is his father.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    What it meant was that there was a mystery. Gerald Hesper had been the one to open this mine. Hispany had probably been the one to seal it. Why were they now trying to reopen it? And why had they lied about there being gold?


    ¡°It means we¡¯ve been lied to,¡± Anna said.


    Overhead, I heard a helicopter. I turned to see a sleek ck chopper heading directly for us. Itnded in the t pasture beyond where the earth started to descend down to the mouth of the mine.


    As the doors opened, three ex-military types in ck suits exited and then turned to assist an elderly man who needed a wheelchair once he was on the ground.


    Gerald Hesper. NPC. Plot Armor: 35.


    His three bodyguards were called Guards on the red wallpaper. They also had plot armor of 35.


    As Nichs ran out to greet his father, my friends and I looked around at each other and wondered where this story was going and how these high-level NPCs yed into it.


    Even as Hesper, Nichs, and his guards came down into the recessed area to greet us, we didn''te back On-Screen. Surely this would be something the audience would need to see.


    What was going on?

 Chapter Fifty-Four: The Waters Below

    Chapter Fifty-Four: The Waters Below


    The older Mr. Hesper was a tight-lipped and introspective man. When he saw his soning, he nodded in greeting. He sat in his wheelchair like he was a king on his throne. His guards slowly pushed him down the steep incline to the mine opening.


    Nichs went for something that might have been a hug, but it wasn''t reciprocated, so it ended up just being a shoulder touch.


    Hesper wore expensive work clothes that he must have purchased when he was a much younger man because they were now several sizes toorge for him. He must have been seventy or eighty years old.


    ¡°I didn''t know you were getting in this early,¡± Nichs said.


    Gerald Hesperrgely ignored his son¡¯sment, responding only with a polite smile.


    ¡°Have you been down into the mines yet? Is the elevator in working order?¡± He asked.


    Nichs cleared his throat. ¡°We took a short journey into the mines. Had to climb down myself, but we were only just about to go search for the gold veins when we got word that you had arrived. The elevator is repaired now. I told them we had to have it done as soon as possible. We couldn''t wait for tomorrow.¡±


    Hesper nodded.


    Nichs gestured toward Kimberly, ¡°You remember my fianc¨¦ Kimberly Madison from the holidays?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡±


    Kimberly nced over at us for just a moment before walking forward and putting her arm around the man in the wheelchair.


    She had her hand ced gently on her stomach. I thought she was about to do her pregnancy reveal, but as the old man looked up at her with his stern, piercing gaze, she lowered her hand and backed away from him.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice seeing you again,¡± she said.


    I thought that it was strange she didn¡¯t attempt to use her pregnancy reveal trope there, but maybe she simply thought better of it.


    Then I realized why.


    We were still Off-Screen. If the audience didn¡¯t see her reveal, it wouldn¡¯t work. d she was paying attention.


    I still didn¡¯t know why we weren¡¯t on camera. An important-seeming character had just been introduced. The only thing I could think of was that Dina was doing something even more important. Even then, we had been Off-Screen for so long¡­


    ¡°I do hope that you will be joining us in the mines?¡± Hesper asked.


    Kimberly was hesitant.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think she ought to stay up here?¡± Nichs interjected. ¡°After all, there are safety concerns. We wouldn¡¯t want to endanger her.¡±


    ¡°I would think someone who wants to be a part of the family would want to see what the family does,¡± Hesper responded.


    Nichs looked to Kimberly, pleading with her to understand as he said, ¡°I suppose she should be alright. I fixed the elevator, after all.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Hesper said. ¡°Now, shall we go find the treasure?¡±


    I thought it was strange that a man in a wheelchair would want to go into a mine that had been abandoned for decades, but the plot was clearly leading us there. I knew Hesper was up to something nefarious. If I had to guess, he was hoping to leave the mine without the wheelchair. Maybe even without us.


    But my character wouldn¡¯t know that, not quite. The script clearly had us trudging back into the mines.


    I was nervous in a way I had yet to be in a storyline.


    I had never been able to get a nce at any enemy. Hesper was technically an NPC, so I couldn¡¯t read him. Reading enemy tropes was my main method of getting a grasp on a storyline. Without that, I felt like any terrible thing could happen.


    The mine itself didn''t reveal any tropes like the cornfield in The Final Straw II or the castle in The Astralist.


    I had no idea what I was walking into. This must be what it felt like to not be a Film Buff. It was scarier.


    With the elevator fixed, getting back down into the mine was as easy as pushing a button. As we descended into the darkness my heart rate started to rise.


    A nce at the plot cycle told me that First Blood had passed. Maybe something was going on elsewhere after all. Dina might have an exnation, assuming we found her.


    Only time would tell.


    Last time moving through the passages of the mine took a long time because we were unfamiliar with the area.


    This time it took a long time because we were led by a man being pushed in a wheelchair on the long uneven ground. Every time we came to a tight hallway his guards would have to pick his chair up and force it through.


    We went down the same path we had originally. I was eager to get to the same area that we had found before and see if Hesper would exin why there was no visible gold there despite the map saying that there was.


    It wasn''t meant to be.


    Ten minutes into our journey, we were led off the path that we had traveled on before, deviating far to the left down a narrow corridor that we had all but ignored on our first trip through.


    ¡°This area isn''t marked on the map,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°Oh really?¡± Hesper replied, ¡°Strange.¡±


    He wasn''t even keeping up the pretense of having never been to this ce before. He was leading us around by memory. Maybe that was just because he was an NPC offscreen and didn''t need to exin because the audience wasn''t watching, but it seemed off.


    After we had walked for ten minutes, I saw light up ahead of us. It flickered and moved like a shlight. After a few moments, it shut off.


    I could hear scuffling up ahead.


    Two of Hesper¡¯s guards moved forward, a shlight in one hand, a pistol in the other.


    ¡°We can hear you there,¡± one of the guards said.


    There was silence for a moment.


    The guards ran forward and we could hear more movement.


    ¡°Get on the ground,¡± one of the guards said. His voice echoed back to us from ahead.


    As we rounded a corner, we were able to see the people involved.


    It was Dina and the long-haired activist who had thrown an egg at Nichs¡¯ car. Dina was on her knees. Maybe she could have run for it, but one look at the guard¡¯s Plot Armor would probably prevent that. He would have high enough stats to catch her or kill her if he wanted to.


    All that was left to do wasply, so she did.


    The long-haired activist, however, stood still.


    His name was Corey on the red wallpaper. He was an ordinary NPC with three Plot Armor.


    He stood still as the guards held their guns on him and Dina. He didn¡¯t even really seem to be paying them any attention.


    ¡°Looks like we have some uninvited guests,¡± Hesper said. I could see him smiling. ¡°They cane too then.¡±


    And then he just kept going. The guard pushing him wheeled him around Dina and the NPC, Corey.


    No more dialogue. No confrontation. No exnation.


    That didn¡¯t make sense. Finding activists in his mine should at least bring about more than a simple line.


    And why were we still Off-Screen?


    Everyone was here now. What was the camera looking at? Was the camera even on?


    Something was very wrong here.


    Two guards behind us. One in front of us pushing Hesper.


    Dina and Corey walked directly in front of me, Anna, Camden, and Kimberly. The other yers and I looked at each other nervously. We all knew something was wrong.


    All of that was very concerning. It wasn¡¯t the most unsettling thing going on though.


    Soon after we began walking through the tunnels, Corey, the NPC activist, started to talk. No one asked him a question. No one spoke back to him. To top it off, we were still Off-Screen, so this dialogue was certainly not scripted, at least not for this scene.


    Yet, he talked.


    And talked.


    I could only conclude that he was broken. We had seen that NPCs could break free from their scripts and ¡°wake up.¡± The card-ying demon had done as much.


    This was different. This was more like he hadn¡¯t broken character; he was just in the wrong scene.


    Was the storyline itself broken?


    Hesper, Nichs, and the guards didn¡¯t even so much as acknowledge him as he spoke despite the fact that he was talking about Hesper. As he spoke, tears formed in his eyes.<blockquote>


    ¡°The first thing you got to understand is that this is not about mining gold. This is about keeping the gold they have. The evidence inside this mine will be enough to keep them tied up in the courts for years and possibly even in prison.


    ¡°It all started 30 years ago. What you gotta understand is that this ce wasn''t always this type of mine. It was a gravel pit originally. That¡¯s why the entire area around here is dug out.


    ¡°Then they found the cavern and started mining. That would have been about thirty-two years ago. A couple of yearster, they start reporting findings of gold and jewels. But something strange started happening on the outside.


    ¡°The animals in the refuge next to the mine, they start going crazy. They be aggressive; they stopped eating. They started fighting with each other. Ecologists, biologists, zoologists, they didn¡¯t know what was going on. Entire ecosystems in that forest just disappeared within a matter of weeks.


    ¡°Something they were doing in this mine was making that happen. I don¡¯t know if they were using chemicals or some weird type of sonic vibrations, but it was making all the animals around here go cuckoo.


    ¡°It was so bad, even the government started looking into it. Next thing you know Hesper pulls out of the mine and seals it shut. Theye up with some excuse. They say it¡¯s a business decision. Or they say that the owner¡¯s wife just died and he¡¯s too bereaved to move forward.


    ¡°I say that¡¯s bullshit. They were trying to dodge fines andwsuits. They ended up greasing the right palms and getting out of the whole thing. We didn¡¯t have any evidence of what they were using in the mine, so they just walked away Scott-free.


    ¡°Now that it¡¯s being opened back up by the same guy, we know we only have a limited amount of time toe in here and find evidence of what they¡¯ve done before they destroy it all.


    ¡°Have you seen any chemicals or strange machinery that you don¡¯t recognize?¡±</blockquote>


    No one responded. Finally, Corey stopped talking. No one acknowledged it but it was very strange and out of ce.


    We went through several different forks and tunnels before we found our destination.


    The ce they brought us looked a lot like any other pathway in the mine except for one thing¡ªthere was arge crack in the wall.


    It was big enough for a person to fit through and it was dripping wet. A slow trickle of groundwater leaked down from the top of the crack all the way to the bottom.


    For the first time in a long time, we were finally On-Screen.


    Kind of.


    The light flickered. We were mostly On-Screen though.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°A miracle,¡± the old man answered. ¡°My miracle.¡±


    He turned from Anna to Nichs.


    ¡°You know I love you,¡± Gerald said ¡°Ever since the day you were born you were my favorite person. Even more than your mother.¡±


    Nichs looked confused. ¡°Thanks¡­ Dad.¡±


    ¡°I could never tell you my n for this ce. I always wondered if you would still go along with it if I did. If you would understand. But that would be asking too much of you.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying?¡± Nichs asked.


    ¡°You had toe on to thisnd. You had toe into this mine. You had to do it of your own volition. I truly believe that there is power in consent, in choice. You chose to enter thisnd despite all warnings. Maybe you''ll make another choice just one more, for me.¡±


    Nichs looked around at all of us. He was speechless.


    ¡°It was 30 years ago that I found the water. You can hear it down there if you listen. It¡¯s almost like it¡¯s talking to you.¡±


    His voice was almost dreamy.


    He was right, I could hear subtle sshing from the hole in the wall. Echoing up through the crack in the wall.


    ¡°Jump into the water,¡± Gerald said. ¡°Of your own free will. It will be so much more powerful that way. I know that¡¯s the mistake I madest time.¡±


    ¡°Wait what are you talking about?¡± Nichs asked.


    ¡°Jump into the water. I always imagined what it would be like down there, but I was never brave enough to look. Please be braver than I was.¡±


    ¡°Dad, you¡¯re scaring me.¡±


    Hesper looked to the ground, resigned.


    ¡°I should have known it was too much to hope for, but your gift will be wonderful either way.¡±


    The guards, whose guns had been aimed at Dina and Corey, aimed their guns at Nichs instead.


    ¡°Go into the water.¡±


    Hesper looked exhausted.


    ¡°Dad, what are you saying?¡±


    ¡°Turn me around, I can¡¯t look,¡± Gerald said. He actually sounded sad.


    One of his bodyguards turned him around and the other two began training their weapons on Nichs.


    ¡°Go in.¡±


    Nichs didn¡¯t make a move. He seemed to have just realized how serious this was.


    One of the bodyguards grabbed hold of Nichs and started shoving him into the crack in the wall. Another trained his weapon on Nichs in case he managed to get away and the third had his weapon on¡­ us.


    Running would be useless. If they wanted to shoot us, they wouldn¡¯t miss. Their stats were high enough to ensure that. If they wanted to chase us and catch us, they would seed at catching at least some of us.


    Nichs pleaded with his father. He tried fighting back but that was futile. The bodyguard was too strong, and the threat of the bullet was scarier than the threat of the unknown.


    After a struggle, he dropped into the hole to the sound of a ssh a few secondster.


    ¡°Why?¡± Nichs called up through the hole. He had survived.


    Hesper¡¯s bodyguard turned him back around. He didn¡¯t mind seeing what was about to happen. Not to us.


    ¡°Unfortunately, you won¡¯t be of much use to me but still I can¡¯t have you talking. Into the hole. It¡¯s where you¡¯re going alive or dead.¡±


    That was fairly persuasive.


    The Off-Screen light was flicking faster and faster.


    We were led to the hole one at a time to drop down into whatever watery beneath. Even though I knew it was futile, my mind worked in a million directions looking for alternatives. The problem was: when you don''t know the script you don''t know if the alternatives are worse.


    The next part of the story was down that hole. Hopefully, at least down there we would stay On-Screen.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Kimberly said, attempting to summon every ounce of emotion she could. ¡°Please don¡¯t do this. I¡¯m pregnant.¡±


    If her Pregnancy Reveal trope was going to work, it would have to be that moment. The trope was all about eliciting sympathy from the audience after all. We were technically On-Screen too, even if the light was flickering.


    It certainly didn¡¯t elicit sympathy from Hesper himself.


    Hesperughed, ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re telling the truth. I¡¯m afraid it doesn¡¯t matter. I made this decision a long time ago.¡±


    A cartoonishly evil horror anthology viin. I was wondering if we would get one of those.


    I had a feeling that this interaction is why they were NPCs instead of enemies. Although they were antagonists, they were only here to get us into the water below. That was their purpose. We weren¡¯t meant to fight them. We would lose if we tried.


    Anna was the first of us. Then Camden, Dina, Kimberly, and Corey, who spent the entire time cussing out Hesper as if he knew him personally. Gerald Hesper paid him no mind.


    When it was my turn, I lowered myself in. As soon as I got close, I could feel a strange tangible force on my skin. There was something down there. I could try for a thousand years, and I would never describe the sensation.


    With one look back at the guns and Gerald Hesper, I dropped through the hole in the wall.

 Chapter Fifty-Five: The Unknowable

    Chapter Fifty-Five: The Unknowable


    As I dropped into the crack in the wall, I immediately found myself sliding down a steep incline. The rock was slick and wet. My feet scrambled against the stone, seeking to stop my fall or at least slow my descent, but years of erosion had rendered the surface smooth.


    I reached out my hands as I fell, wing for even the slightest ledge to grab hold of. All I managed to do was catch a fingernail against a small bit of rock, which pulled my nail backward until it snapped off.


    That should have hurt, but by the time I realized what had happened, the pain was drowned out by something else.


    As soon as my feet hit the water, my body became ovee with an intense sensation of fear. I don¡¯t mean to say I was simply afraid in the way one would normally be in that situation. I felt a palpable reaction all over my body. If you have a fear of heights, you¡¯ll understand how your body shuts down when exposed to a steep fall. It was like that but a hundred times more intense.


    My stomach quivered. My legs turned to jelly; my arms felt like they were no longer under my control. The water was only knee-high, yet I was fighting for every breath. I couldn¡¯t stand; I couldn¡¯t swim.


    I felt <em>it</em> on my skin like sunshine bearing down on me. Except it wasn¡¯t a bright light. It was the darkness itself that pressed against my skin. The force wasing from something in the darkness to my right. My body refused to even breathe in that direction.


    But what was it?


    I could feel a power radiating from something in the darkness. I couldn¡¯t even look in that direction with my eyes closed the feeling was so intense. Luckily, being able to feel the direction it wasing from meant that I could move away from it.


    I struggled. I couldn¡¯t walk, not at first. I was stumble-falling in the direction away from the pain, from the fear.


    But why was I running?


    A dark rity rose from inside me. Thoughts were being put in my head.


    Why was I sshing through the water so pathetically? Why not just stay and be consumed?


    I had nothing to live for. My family¡ªMom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa¡ªthey were gone. My death would mean nothing. What was I fighting against?


    The others needed to escape to get back to their families, but I didn¡¯t. I could give up. Just stop. What joy. I could just stop fighting. I was unimportant in the grand scheme. Heck, I was unimportant even in the lesser scheme. I was of no help. I was useless.


    These thoughts rushed through my mind. I was powerless against them. I felt a crushing weight on my chest. It was like I would never be able to move on from this moment. I kept waiting for each thought to be myst.


    And yet, my feet kept moving.


    Why?


    Stripped of my human desire to live, what was left that kept me moving away from the inevitable?


    I struggled forward, tears in my eyes. I breathed only when I remembered to. Why was I even trying?


    With every inch forward I trudged through the water, my mind cleared a little more. The pain, the fear, they began to ease. They didn¡¯t disappear, not by a long shot. They became distant. They wormed their way back down where they hade from.


    As I made it further from the area of influence of the darkness, I realized that I heard voices in the distance, back the way I hade from.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do,¡± Anna screamed. ¡°Tell me what to do!¡±


    ¡°Anna!¡± I screamed. She didn¡¯t answer me. I don¡¯t think she even heard me.


    ¡°I can¡¯t keep going,¡± she said, ¡°I can¡¯t keep going.¡±


    ¡°Follow my voice!¡± I screamed. She didn¡¯t show any sign of hearing me. She kept muttering to herself.


    I heard weeping further in the distance. It was Camden. The sound was interspersed with sshing as he struggled to move in my direction.


    ¡°Sean?¡± Dina yelled. ¡°Where are you? Sean?¡¯


    Dina was talking to her dead son in the distance.


    Even with my eyes closed, I could see my close allies on the red wallpaper. All of our statuses were lighting up like a Christmas tree. Every single status was flickering on and off. Not just the obvious ones like Unscathed or Incapacitated. Mutted was flickering. So were Infected, Hobbled, Fight Scene, Off-Screen, and the rest. Even our Dead status flickered.


    Being near the thing in the darkness waspletely short-circuiting the very magic that made Carousel run.


    We were all in a Chase Scene, but with what? An invisible force? An emotion?


    ¡°This way,¡± I screamed. ¡°Come this way!¡±


    I was still afraid to open my eyes. Whatever lurked in the darkness still held such power over me, even from a great distance.


    ¡°Why won¡¯t he look at me?¡± Nichs sobbed. ¡°Why won¡¯t he look at me?¡±


    He was still back where we had been dumped out by the sound of it.


    I heard sshing, someone fighting the water.


    Did I dare attempt to go back and save them?


    No. I limply rested on my knees. Tears rolled down my face. I couldn¡¯t go back. I couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Sean, don¡¯t run away from me like that. You can¡¯t run away from Mommy.¡±


    There was a pause like she was waiting for a response. I swear, in the distance, I thought I could hear the chains of a swing set.


    ¡°I know baby, but what if I can¡¯t find you?¡± she asked. It sounded like she was reliving a memory or something like it. Her voice was soft, motherly. Nothing like the Dina I knew.


    For a few moments, she was silent. I didn¡¯t know what was happening in her mind, but it sounded better than what was happening in real life.


    I sat and listened to the others struggle. I couldn¡¯t bear to go back and find them. The radiating fear and pain were something I could never take willingly, as ashamed as I am to admit. Even from a distance, my Incapacitated status red just by thinking about walking back in that direction.


    ¡°Sean! Don¡¯t go, baby.¡± Dina screamed through tears. ¡°Don¡¯t go.¡±


    Then there was silence. Whatever daydream she was caught in was over.


    ¡°I¡¯ll find you,¡± she said quietly.


    Her status on the red wallpaper was cleared. No Incapacitation, no injuries, nothing. Her Encouragement from Beyond trope appeared to be enough to snap her out of the mental panic that had befallen us.


    She had stood up. I could hear her walking through the water.


    ¡°Hello,¡± she screamed.


    ¡°Over here,¡± I yelled back, forcing myself to remember to breathe.


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± Anna said weakly. She had made it as far away as I was. She must have been twenty feet to my left.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± Kimberly said softly. She was near Anna. I hadn¡¯t heard her speak since we got down there.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Dina said. She was near Camden. He had gone from weeping to whimpering. For as close as he was to the force emanating in the distance, I couldn¡¯t me him.


    I could hear Dina lifting him up.


    ¡°We¡¯re not going to die here,¡± she said.


    She was guiding him toward me in the darkness.


    ¡°Riley?¡± she said as she got close.


    ¡°Right here,¡± I said.


    She brought Camden close. He had started breathing normally. I grabbed onto him when he got near and helped lower him down beside me.


    ¡°My brothers and sisters are going toe here looking for me,¡± he said to me as soon as he realized it was me. ¡°There¡¯s nothing I can do. They¡¯re going to get stuck here too. What do we do?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to say.


    Dina waded back in the direction she hade and retrieved Nichs, who still repeated ¡°Why won¡¯t he look at me¡± over and over even for a few minutes after he had gotten to safety.


    As Dina went back again for Corey, our long-hair hippie NPCpanion, I started looking around the cavern.


    It took real bravery to even be able to open my eyes. I know that makes no sense, but it felt like life or death.


    I looked in the direction I had been crawling. There was darkness. Behind me, the terrifying force emanated toward us.


    I heard sshing. Dina had found Corey the NPC. I heard him take a deep breath as she brought him above water. That was a close one.


    ¡°I was almost there,¡± he said in a strange, uneven voice.


    Anna and I had barely made it on our own. Dina had managed to help the others. That was good news, though by helping us she lost some Outsider buffs for the finale. Oh well.


    ¡°How was this supposed to be a simple fun storyline?¡± I asked. Chris had described it that way. Fun. He used the word fun.


    No one answered me.


    There is no way that this was the same storyline he was talking about. Our group almost drowned in two feet of water because we lost the will to live. Something was different. Something was wrong.


    Storylines could change from one iteration to the next. In the Delta Epsilon Delta storyline, the killer changed every time you yed it. What had happened to make this storyline like this?


    We were Off-Screen again.


    Judging by the sounds of sloshing water in the distance, the cave system was huge. Hundreds and hundreds of feet in every direction.


    ¡°What is an Unknowable Host?¡± Anna asked.


    I didn¡¯t know what she was talking about at first, but then I realized that I had worked so hard not to look in the direction of the terrible force that I had not looked it up on the red wallpaper.


    Unknowable Host (Deceased)


    Plot Armor: 150


    Tropes


    Evil Never Dies


    It only changes form.


    Not Yours to Control


    Characters who encounter this being¡¯s power will misunderstand it in their attempts to harness it, to disastrous ends.


    Minion Maker


    This creature is able to summon or create low-level monsters to do its bidding.


    Dark Aura


    This being has an aura with wide-ranging affects, from fear to somebination of status ailments. Bypasses stats on first exposure.


    This entity in front of me must have been massive. I mean the size of a skyscraper. If the revolting feeling in my mind when I looked at it was any indication, it was hundreds of feet from one side to the other. I couldn¡¯t see it in the darkness, but I could still feel it.


    ¡°It¡¯s dead,¡± Dina said.


    It sure was.


    I told them about its tropes. Truthfully, there were many more that I couldn¡¯t read because of our level differential. I could only imagine what this thing could do or could have done when it was alive.


    Off-Screen, NPCs usually stay quiet. There are cases where they continue to y their parts like the paramedics after I got stabbed. You can speak freely around them Off-Screen and they will just ignore you. They rarely try to interact with you.


    This broken storyline was an exception. Almost all of our interactions were Off-Screen. Even then, nothing prepared me for Corey the eco-warrior. He continued to ramble off about pollution and nuclear waste and who knows what as soon Dina dragged him away from the Unknowable Host.


    ¡°He has not stopped talking since the story started,¡± Dina said. Corey ignored her.


    His theory seemed to be that the thing in the darkness was radioactive waste dumped by thepany. Maybe he was rehearsing his lines. Maybe he just really loved his job.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to have to have a talk with Chris,¡± Camden said.


    No kidding.


    ¡°You have any idea what¡¯s going on?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°Well, Hesper Sr offered his kid to the dead thing. I¡¯m guessing he doesn¡¯t know much about it. I assume he gets something as a reward. Maybe health, money, I don¡¯t know. Could be he owes the thing already and is paying it back, but¡­ I¡¯m not sure.¡±


    It felt like Hesper didn¡¯t know what was going on down here. The entity¡¯s tropes suggested that Hesper misunderstood something crucial.


    ¡°Could exin how they pulled so much gold out of this ce,¡± Camden suggested. ¡°Assuming that part was even true.¡±


    It could. Given the uplicated nature of the storyline so far, I could believe it was that simple.


    The Off-Screen status started to flicker again, never staying lit for more than a few seconds. What was going on?


    ¡°I need to look at it,¡± Corey said as soon as the camera returned. ¡°We need proof of what they dumped down here. If it¡¯s radioactive they¡¯ll go down for good.¡±


    ¡°If it was radioactive, we would be cooked by now,¡± Camden said. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t even make it out of the cave.¡±


    ¡°I need to see it,¡± Corey responded.


    ¡°No!¡± Several of us screamed. We were all terrified to look at the creature.


    Corey ignored us. ¡°I lost my shlight. Does anyone have one I could use?¡±


    He wasn¡¯t just being stubborn. There was something wrong with him. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t have the tropes to learn things about NPCs.


    ¡°How much water did you drink?¡± Dina asked.


    ¡°I need to see it,¡± he said. I could hear him digging through his pockets. He grabbed onto something.


    I could hear him operating some mystery object in his hands. He was winding it.


    A camera! He must have had one like we did.


    ¡°Close your eyes!¡± I screamed.


    I warned everyone in the nick of time too because a few seconds afterward, I heard a sh go off as a camera snapped a picture.


    Corey dropped the camera in the water as he let out a yelp of pain.


    ¡°Oh, dear god,¡± Dina yelled. I wasn¡¯t sure why at first, maybe it was just a reaction to his behavior.


    No. It was something else.


    She had noticed it before me.


    Corey the NPC had changed. He was now Corey (Possessed). Plot Armor: 3.


    He was an enemy. Unlike most possessed enemies, he had no trope that would disguise him from us on the red wallpaper.


    Corey (Possessed)


    Plot Armor: 3


    Tropes


    Eyes of the Host


    This creature is a scout for the enemy.


    Hive Mind


    This creature¡¯s mind is linked to that of simr creatures.


    Immortal Servant


    This creature will not die of natural causes


    Gradual Infection


    After this creature is infected, it can take several scenes for them topletely turn.


    Truthfully, he was likely infected when he almost drowned, but he was still an NPC then. We would not have been able to tell. Now that he hadid eyes upon the creature, he was a full-on minion. The Plot Cycle clicked to Second Blood. We still didn¡¯t know what First Blood was. In this broken storyline, there may not have even been one.


    ¡°Corey,¡± Dina said. ¡°You okay?¡±


    He took a moment before answering.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°This isn¡¯t so bad.¡±


    His voice was dreamy if slightly monotone.


    Corey was definitely gone. His Gradual Infection trope oversold how gradual the infection would be.


    ¡°We better go,¡± Anna said. She sounded like she was feeling better. Not perfect, but better.


    We had to let Coreye with us. Our characters wouldn¡¯t know he was an enemy, not until he attacked us, of course. Then he would have to get the chop.


    Exploring a cave in utter darkness was one of the most nerve-wracking things I had ever done. The water made things even worse than the darkness. I could hear sshing in the distance. Was that simply the water flowing down the sides of the cave or was there something over there?


    Eventually, we turned a tight corner and, as we did, we saw light.


    There was a small round beam of light shooting down from overhead. The hole in the ceiling was perfectly round. It was manmade.


    ¡°Is that-¡° Anna started to say. She didn¡¯t finish her sentence because as we walked closer, it became exceedingly clear what we were looking at.


    It was an old-fashioned well. The kind you get water from.


    The lighting was like something out of a movie. The bright light did not diffuse through the darkness, no, it stayed a beam all the way down to the ground. It looked like a spotlight shining in the darkness.


    A long, thick rope hung down from the center of the hole, stretching fifty feet down until it ended at a small, wooden bucket. The bucket hung right over the water, hovering right about it without touching it.


    In this small circle of light, the water was clear and blue.


    ¡°That rope looks brand new,¡± Dina said.


    She was right. This wasn¡¯t an old rotten rope. This had been reced recently. The bucket also looked well-maintained.


    ¡°Oh lord,¡± I said, ¡°Look.¡±


    I pointed to the ground beneath the bucket.


    Glistening in the spotlight, were countless coins. Thousands of them. Coins of all shapes and sizes. Gold, silver, copper. Most were old, some were even older. Most were the kind Carousel gave away, though one or two looked much older. Their lettering had mostly worn away, but they were not modern or written in English.


    There weren¡¯t only coins. There was jewelry with rubies, diamonds, and emeralds.


    ¡°Treasure,¡± Nichs said. That was the first thing he had said in twenty minutes.


    ¡°It¡¯s a wishing well,¡± Kimberly said.


    That made sense. I looked up toward the circr hole at the top. I couldn¡¯t see through to the other side. What I could see were roots. Hundreds of wispy roots poked through the ceiling above. I could only see near the well, but I was sure they were all over.


    ¡°I think we¡¯re under the forest,¡± I said.


    Camden retrieved his character¡¯s folder, now soaking wet and falling apart. He found a map of the cave and estimated our location.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°We should be right under the forest on the west side of the property.¡±


    Anna, Dina, and I looked at each other. We knew what that meant: Stragglers.


    ¡°We could climb out,¡± Nichs said. ¡°This rope looks sturdy.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you can,¡± Dina said. ¡°I couldn¡¯t.¡±


    We knew why we shouldn¡¯t climb that rope. It would lead to the forest with the Stragglers. We didn¡¯t want a repeat of thest storyline. Our characters didn¡¯t have any idea. Luckily, not being able to climb a fifty-foot rope is a pretty good excuse.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Anna said. ¡°Let¡¯s find another way.¡±


    Nichs kept his eye on the rope. ¡°Okay,¡± he said hesitantly.


    It just dawned on me that he was still wearing his climbing harness from earlier that day. The first story with the Stragglers took ce in nine or so years. He was wearing the exact same outfit he wore in that story when he escaped with us in the truck.


    That reminded me.


    ¡°I get this feeling like we aren¡¯t alone,¡± I said. ¡°I feel like we¡¯re being watched. Whatever that thing in the darkness was, I don¡¯t think it was here alone. We need to get out of here.¡±


    Cinema Seer couldn¡¯t buff my allies if I didn¡¯t make predictions.


    The others nodded. They suspected we weren¡¯t alone too.

 Chapter Fifty-Six: The Servants

    Chapter Fifty-Six: The Servants


    We began moving away from the light of the wishing well. There was something deep inside me that truly did not want to leave the light. The darkness ahead of us was surely safer than the darkness behind us but it was still darkness.


    Nichs kept looking behind us as we walked, his eyes appeared to be focused on the glittering gold beneath the bucket. I didn''t know what if anything would happen if he tried to take it. If there was an enemy trope associated with it, I should be able to see its presence even if I couldn''t identify what it actually was. The same thing had been true about the pumpkin disys in The Final Straw II.


    At the end of the day, when you find treasure in the same cave as a dead eldritch deity, it''s best not to take it.


    The Off-Screen light was still misbehaving, though not as bad as it had before. It flicked on every few seconds.


    As we moved forward I could have sworn I heard a clicking sound ahead.


    "Stop walking," I said quietly.


    Everyone stood still and listened. Sure enough, the clicking continued.


    We looked in the direction we thought the sound wasing from. Nothing appeared on the red wallpaper which meant that it wasn''t likely to be the deity from before. Spotting enemies on the red wallpaper generally requires getting a visual. The deity had been an exception, probably because of its aura.


    All of us had shlights except for Corey who had lost his. Up until that point we''d been hesitant to shine them into the distance out of fear that we might somehow have gotten turned around and that we were facing the Unknowable Host again.


    Slowly, Anna raised her light further and further out across the water.


    Twenty yards ahead of us, we saw the source of the noise.


    It was a woman.


    She was wearing a threadbare nightgown and holding one of those old heavy-duty metal shlights. The bulb had burned out, but still, she clicked it off and on.


    As soon as she came into view, she appeared on the red wallpaper.


    Martha Hesper (Possessed). Plot Armor: 3.


    She had the exact same tropes that Corey did, though she was further along in her infection. She didn''t react when the light shined on her.


    Not hard to guess who this was. Gerald Hesper¡¯s wife had befallen some tragedy around 30 years ago ording to Corey''s rant earlier. Thanks to her Immortal Servant trope, she was alive. In fact, if she weren''t so pale and gaunt, I would almost say that she looked like she was still in her early 30s, the same age she presumably was when she got here.


    Every instinct told me to run away. The problem was we couldn''t go off of instinct alone. Our characters would probably be very spooked by this woman, but how certain would they be that she was an enemy? That was the question. Could we run from her or did we have to feign concern? More importantly, what was the best decision for the story?


    As I considered this, Anna decided for me.


    ¡°Hello,¡± she said. She began walking toward the woman. Anna was a very kind and considerate person. I hoped that that wouldn''te back to bite us.


    We followed her along. Martha Hesper did not move. As we got closer, I could see her more clearly. Her wrists must have been bound with rope when she was brought here. It had been so long that the rope had frayed and rotted. Her hands were no longer bound but the ropes still hung limply from her wrists.


    The Off-Screen still flickered.


    ¡°That can''t be,¡± Nichs said. ¡°No¡­¡±


    Looked like Nichs finally figured out who we were walking toward.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked. I could guess what he was talking about but we had to let the audience know somehow.


    ¡°That looks like¡­¡± he started to say. ¡°But it can''t be she¡­¡±


    He recognized her as his mother.


    ¡°It''s Martha Hesper,¡± Corey said. He had a strange nk smile on his face. There was very little left of the anxious paranoid man that had entered the cave. Only a small sliver of his personality was still there.


    ¡°No,¡± Nichs said. ¡°Her ne went down when I was a baby.¡±


    ¡°Well, this is one reason to seal up the mines,¡± Dina said.


    ¡°It looks like..." Nichs started to say. He pulled his wallet from his pocket and flipped through it to find a small photograph. He stared at it in disbelief. "This can''t be real. That can''t be her.¡±


    Through all of this, Martha Hesper didn''t respond to anything. She had stopped clicking her shlight though.


    ¡°Tell us exactly what your father''s rtionship is with this mine,¡± Anna said.


    Nichs furrowed his brow. He was having a very difficult time figuring out what was going on.


    ¡°Dad found the mine when he was digging for gravel. He thought he might be able to turn his luck around. Took a couple of years to get the mine set up properly to get the equipment needed for this type of operation. Gravel is a lot simpler. He didn''t really have to go underground.


    ¡°Couple yearster he starts finding gold and jewels. The mine is worth millions. But he has a bad run of luck. One of the banks where he kept his money copsed. Come to think of it one of his other mines copsed too. A factory he owned burned down.


    ¡°Between that plus the cost of equipment and the price ofbor after his workers unionized, he ended up going bankrupt. Couldn''t catch a break. He showed me one of his old ounting books. After pulling up hundreds of thousands of dors in jewels and just over a million in gold, he didn''t make a dime.


    ¡°Then my mother. Then she¡­¡± He looked up at Martha Hesper. "Dad was devastated. He sealed up the mine and let thepany go bankrupt. It got bought by some other holding group. We were just able to buy it back with some investor funds. It was our big project.¡±


    He turned away from us and ran his fingers through his hair.


    Click.


    Click.


    Click.


    Martha had begun clicking the shlight again.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Corey asked.


    ¡°We find a way-¡°Anna began answering, but just as she did, she was interrupted.


    ¡°He doesn''t speak,¡± Martha said.


    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t he speak?¡± Corey said.


    They both started to breathe in and out quickly.


    ¡°What are hismands?¡± they both asked. ¡°We must wait. We must wait.¡±


    ¡°Corey?¡± Dina asked.


    She looked at us. ¡°He must have hit his head on something. He''s acting funny.¡±


    He was. His infection was taking hold.


    Sometime during this conversation, Second Blood was struck. I still wasn''t certain what First Blood was, but I hoped it wasn''t Kimberly.


    We went Off-Screen for real--no flickering.


    ¡°There we go,¡± Dina said.


    "What is going on with the camera?" Kimberly asked.


    I had a theory, but I wasn''t ready to say just yet.


    "Maybe we took the wrong path somewhere," Anna suggested.


    ¡°So, the servants are just waiting for orders, but their master is dead?¡± Dina asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s my take,¡± I said. The Unknowable Host was still acquiring servants passively even though it was dead. I wondered what else it could do while dead.


    ¡°Mine too,¡± Anna added.


    ¡°Did anyone swallow that water?¡± Camden asked. ¡°I can¡¯t remember if I did.¡±


    ¡°I think we¡¯d already know if you did,¡± I answered. ¡°Do you feel the desire to gaze upon Carousel-Cthulhu?¡±


    ¡°Definitely not.¡±


    ¡°Then I think we¡¯re fi-¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s gotta be nuclear waste,¡± Corey said. ¡°That¡¯s all it could be. Just nuclear waste. I¡¯m already dying. Drifting away.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Dina said.


    Corey stood still. I shined my shlight over at him. He didn¡¯t react. A tear fell down his cheek into his beard.


    ¡°When is it over?¡± Corey asked. ¡°Is it over soon?¡±


    No one answered for a moment.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Anna answered. ¡°It''s over soon.¡±


    In response, Corey gently sobbed, though most of his face stayed wooden.


    We all looked at each other.


    ¡°It was nuclear waste. That¡¯s how it ends. Nuclear waste. That¡¯s what Hesper''s hiding down here. That¡¯s all. Maybe it¡¯s just radiation? I took a picture. Barrels of sickly green nuclear waste. Report him to the government. That can be it? That can be it? Right? Next time?¡±


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Dina said.


    ¡°Is he¡­¡± Anna said. ¡°Is he talking to us?¡±


    I had no idea who he was talking to. He was losing it. Not just within the story.


    In an instant, Corey¡¯s expression changed from one of horror and confusion back to a gaunt nk look the same as Martha''s.


    ¡°How can that be my mother?¡± Nichs asked. ¡°She''s my age.¡±


    ¡°And how long has she been your age?¡± I asked. ¡°You see those restraints on her wrists. I don''t think she came in here willingly. Those things have rotted off.¡±


    Nichs was clearly having a very difficult timeing to terms with what he was seeing.


    Meanwhile, Martha''s clicking got faster and faster.


    Anna took notice of her. She shined her shlight over at Martha. I only just noticed that Martha had her broken shlight pointed behind us. She clicked faster and faster.


    Was she trying to show us something?


    We turned slowly and lifted our lights to the water behind us.


    Hundreds, thousands of bright green eyes reflected back at us. They came in all sizes. Small, barely sticking out of the water. Large hovering above the water.


    I squinted to try to see what we were looking at.


    Deer (Possessed)


    Plot Armor: 3


    Tropes


    Teeth of the Host


    This creature will eat for the enemy.


    Hive Mind


    This creature¡¯s mind is linked to that of simr creatures.


    Immortal Servant


    This creature will not die of natural causes


    Gradual Infection


    After this creature is infected, it can take several scenes for them topletely turn.


    A possessed deer stood closest to us. It might have been a hundred yards away. Behind it, were dozens of other deer. Dozens of wolves. Hundreds of squirrels, rabbits, and every manner of woond creature. They weren''t moving. Some of the small creatures simply floated on the top of the water. Others had sunk down into the water but still didn''t seem too bothered by it.


    Anna, Dina, Kimberly, and Camden each got a boost in Savvy and Grit.


    My Cinema Seer ability was activated by us finding Martha and the animals.


    Martha and Corey had a trope called Eyes of the Host that made them scouts for the eldritch entity.


    The animals were the Teeth of the Host. Their job sounded a little scarier.


    "I guess we know what happened to all the missing animals Corey was monologuing about earlier," I said.


    With the Unknowable Host dead, was it possible that his servants would not attack us? Truthfully if I didn''t know any better, I would say that they were all wondering that exact same question.


    Martha had tried to warn us they were over here. It appeared to be some sort of subconscious message from the woman still trapped inside. She wouldn''t have done that if we were perfectly safe.


    The animals didn''t move.


    I shined my shlight at Martha.


    ¡°Where''s the way out?¡± I asked. She didn''t respond.


    ¡°Nichs,¡± Anna said. ¡°You have to ask her. I think she knows who you are.¡±


    Nichs was frozen as he watched the animals slowly move toward us. He turned his head slowly toward his mother. He was struggling to find words.


    ¡°Which way?¡± He managed to get out. ¡°If you are who they say you are. Please.¡±


    For a moment she did nothing.


    Then she slowly moved her shlight pointing it in a direction opposite the animals and to the right a bit. She started to click her shlight again.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. ¡°Come with us.¡±


    She didn''t respond in any meaningful way. She stood still and stopped clicking her shlight. Corey stayed with her.


    We started to move in the direction she had pointed.


    "What''s going on?" Kimberly asked as we waded through the water.


    After a moment, I realized she was looking at me.


    "I think we''re behind the scenes somehow," I said. "Those animals are just standing by. Something went wrong."


    This part of the cavern grew narrow and the water started to get more shallow as we moved forward.


    I could see what she was calling the exit. There was a steep incline ahead of us, not quite as steep as the one that we had entered through. We would be able to climb it.


    We started the climb. Rocks cascaded beneath our feet with every step. This area was not natural. These rocks looked like they had been chipped away by human tools. This was the result of the mine.


    At the top of the steep incline, there was a small crevice just big enough for us to squeeze through.


    We each climbed up into the area above.


    On-Screen. This time, there was no flickering.


    As soon as I got through the crevice, I went to stand up and knocked my hard hat against the ceiling. This area was under five feet high. We would have to crouch if we were going to move through this tunnel.


    I shined my shlight back and forth. We were in a small tunnel with minecart tracks.


    Sitting in front of us, was an empty minecart. Except it wasn''t an ordinary minecart. This was a handcart. It had a handbrake and one of those double-sided handles where two people would grab a hold of each side and take turns pushing it down in order to make the minecart move along the tracks. The metal had been painted industrial yellow but had mostly been worn off from use.


    There were two shovels and a pickaxe in the cart.


    We started hearing haunting howls behind us. The animals had woken up.


    A sign was hung on the outside of the handcart: "Use With Caution."


    ¡°You''ve got to be kidding me,¡± Dina said when she saw it.


    It was clear what we were meant to do here. We were back in the script it seemed. The tunnel was too short for us to run through. We were meant to ride out.


    We piled into the mine cart. Camden operated the brake. Kimberly and I took turns pumping the handles to make the mine cart move forward. After 30 years you''d think something like this wouldn¡¯t be in working order. This one, however, came to life with a loud creak. Grease dripped down the mechanism as we pumped it. It almost looked like the handcart had been maintained recently. A white hard hat wasying on the floor of the cart.


    This device was used to get miners from one side of the mine to the other quickly without having to dig a tunnelrge enough for a man to walk through.


    It wasn''t designed to be faster than a possessed wolf.


    Luckily, after we got started, it turned out that the direction we were moving was downhill. The cart started to move faster.


    Camden was ready with the break preventing us from getting too much speed built up. We started racing along the tracks. Eventually, we left the short tunnel behind but by that point in time we were going so fast that we couldn''t exit the cart.


    We broke out of the tunnel into arger cavern. The tracks curved around the side of the cavern.


    The animals followed us, snarling and snapping anytime they managed to get close.


    Anna, Dina, and Nichs held the shovels and pickaxe. They smacked any animal that got near us.


    The tracks were designed by a madman. They went inrge circles around caverns, even hairpin turns that we barely made around. To add problems to this, we could barely see where we were going. All we had were our shlights. The lights in the mine were not on.


    It wasn''t exactly a roller coaster, but I got the feeling it was meant to be for our entertainment, not the audience''s. It was like an amusement park dark ride.


    Perhaps this is what Chris meant when he said that it was fun, but I was still skeptical. On bnce, I would say that this hardly made up for the dead entity that made me question whether my life was worth living.


    Of course, I wasn''t sure we were actually supposed to have encountered the dead god. I think that was where things went wrong.


    Anna smashed her shovel against the head of a wolf as it snipped at her.


    "Look," she said, pointing beside us.


    I looked. It was Martha Hesper standing beside the tracks as we passed. She had left the cavern. She just stood there. She didn''t attack. It was like she was only there to be a jump scare.


    After more distance, we saw Corey doing the same. Then we saw the foreman who had worn the white hat earlier that day. He must have gotten infected at some point in time. He was bloody and covered in bite marks.


    There were more. Miners mostly. They were spread out throughout the ride looking gaunt and pale and ghostlike. We hadn''t seen them in the cavern below, though we had not explored it fully.


    The human enemies only showed up for glimpses and then disappeared. None of them attacked.


    ¡°Over there,¡± Dina said, pointing across the cavern. ¡°I know where we are. That sign. That''s the air shaft where Corey and I entered.¡±


    Camden pulled the brakes as we got close. A high-pitched squeal echoed through the cavern.


    The animals were hot on our trail. We had to move quickly.


    The air shaft was steep, but it was so narrow that you could put your arms to the side and help yourself climb to the top.


    Soon, we emerged from the mines. Judging from my surroundingsing up and the directions we had taken underground, I would have to say that we were in the wilderness refuge.


    As we exited the air vent, Dina and Camden moved arge metal grate over the opening. The animals would be able to move it if enough of them could get to it, but with the narrow shaft, that seemed unlikely.


    That was the Finale. The End woulde soon, but it wasn''t here yet.


    The minecart chase was closer to the tone I was expecting from this storyline than the Unknowable Host was. The question was: why had we been forced to take that detour?


    That couldn''t have been in the script.

 Chapter Fifty-Seven: What Does It Want?

    Chapter Fifty-Seven: What Does It Want?


    The storyline was nearly over, yet we hadn''t reached The End yet. There was something further to get done.


    We raced back to the mine entrance where Nichs'' SUV was parked. When we arrived, we saw that the workers had left.


    Off-Screen.


    So we were back to that.


    Hesper was sitting in his wheelchair at the entrance to the mine. His guards were carrying boxes as they walked past him and disappeared into the area where the elevator was. Hesper had one of the boxes next to him. He was reaching into it and messing with its contents.


    ¡°What are they bringing in?¡± Anna asked.


    Hesper lifted one of the items out of the box as if to examine it. I saw it glinting in the sunlight.


    "It''s gold," Dina said. "Boxes of gold."


    "Why would he be bringing boxes of gold <em>into </em>the mine?" Kimberly asked.


    That was a good question. He had clearly thrown his wife into the caverns in exchange for something. Was it gold? Sess? Who knows.


    ¡°Maybe he was trying to return ill-gotten gains,¡± I suggested.


    Nichs shook his head. ¡°I don''t know what he''s doing but he didn''t have any gains. Not from this mine. He went bankrupt after this venture. It was his most embarrassing personal failure. He was humiliated. And then our ne went down. The crash put him in a wheelchair and killed my moth-¡°


    He stopped talking as he realized that the story he had been told must not have been true.


    "I''m going to trap them in there," Nichs said.


    "What?" Anna said. "We can leave now. They aren''t going to stop us."


    Nichs ignored her.


    "We need to jam the elevator," he said. "Then we can have a talk."


    "They have guns," Anna said. "We should just leave."


    Finally, Nichs acknowledged her. "And what happens when they discover we have escaped? You think they''ll just let us be? They threw us into that pit to die. Threw his own son... They''re not just going to let us walk free."


    That was probably true, but it didn''t really affect us. Still, our characters would likely be motivated by that logic. It was clearly scripted as much as anything was scripted in this broken storyline.


    ¡°We just need to see if there''s an emergency shutoff,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°Do you want to get that close?¡± Kimberly asked. "They have guns."


    "We''ll wait until the elevator has lowered some and then jam it up," Nichs said, looking around for some means of doing so.


    "That might work," Kimberly suggested, pointing to the earth mover that had been used to unseal the mine.


    Nichs'' eyes lit up.


    Nichs scurried toward the earth mover. He got into the operator''s seat and found its key. As Hesper and his guards started moving into the elevator, he started trying to turn the machine on and get it moving. Yet, he clearly didn''t know how to operate it very well. He started moving forward clumsily, lowering the jackhammer attachment on the front of the machine into the ground on ident.


    "Let me do it," Kimberly said. "My dad had a construction business. I know how to operate it."


    Her Savvy jumped up as her Convenient Backstory ability kicked in. I didn''t think it would work off-screen, but then, I don''t think we were supposed to be off-screen in this scene anyway. The storyline was still broken. In fact, I noticed that the story went off-screen for anything involving Hesper, as if he and the big dead thing in the mines were somehow being hidden from the audience, glitched.


    After a few more failed attempts at operating the contraption, Nichs finally relented and let Kimberly try. Thanks to her ability, she was able to make it work well enough.


    ¡°It''s now or never,¡± Camden said. ¡°Hesper is about to get back on the elevator.¡±


    Of course, we couldn''t just walk away. Not really.


    We needed a final word from Hesper. An exnation.


    Kimberly''s savvy was pretty high right now. Odds were, her n to use the earth mover would work. It wasn''t too far-fetched even by real-life standards. By movie standards, it was practically guaranteed.


    One of Hesper¡¯s guards wheeled him around into the elevator along with a stack of boxes and his other guards. The mine elevator was slowpared to a normal elevator.


    As soon as the metal gate closed and that elevator started to descend, Kimberly kicked the earth mover into gear and drove it as fast as it would move down toward the entrance to the mine. From there, she didn''t slow down much at all. She lifted the scoop of the earthmover so that it would knock into one of the support beams for the elevator and bend it over into the motor ry.


    Crunch.


    Rerereererere.


    The motor was bound up and could no longer lower the elevator. Smoke started to pour out of the motor. As I ran up to the mouth of the mine, I could smell the internalponents of the motor burning. The elevator car had gotten stuck. The top of it was just below ground level. Hesper and his men were trapped just far enough underground that we didn''t have to worry about getting shot.


    The elevator supports were bent and the brakes had locked up.


    Kimberly backed the earth mover up and waited to ensure the elevator was stuck before shutting it off and getting out.


    Nichs ran up behind me. ¡°Dad. What the¡­ What did you do?¡±


    ¡°Nichs,¡± Hesper said. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    He sounded surprised.


    ¡°What am I doing here?¡± Nichs asked. ¡°What are you doing? What did you do to my mother?¡±


    Hesper didn''t respond for a moment.


    ¡°Your mother died in our ne crash,¡± Hesper said. He said it without emotion.


    ¡°She''s still down there,¡± Nichs said. ¡°I saw her. You tied up her hands.¡±


    More silence.


    ¡°Son, Listen to me. This is all a misunderstanding. Just help me out of here and I''ll exin everything.¡±


    ¡°Exin everything now,¡± Nichs said. ¡°Exin it and then I''ll see if I''ll help you out of there.¡±


    Hesper yelled out in frustration. ¡°Just do as I tell you.¡±


    Nichs didn''t answer. ¡°You just tried to kill me. I''m never doing anything you ask me again.¡±


    ¡°If it wasn''t for me you wouldn''t be here,¡± Hesper said.


    ¡°Why do you always say that?¡± Nichs asked.


    More quiet contemtion.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t what I asked for.¡±


    Nichs looked taken aback. ¡°I never asked for a father like you either.¡±


    Hesper started tough. ¡°I don''t mean like that.¡±


    For a moment he stopped speaking. Then, he took in a deep breath.


    ¡°The first thing I put in was a gold watch,¡± Hesper said. ¡°I told people it was a $10,000 watch. It wasn''t but it was still more expensive than I could afford. I scraped it while trudging through the mine looking for the copper ore my idiotic geologist said would be there. Every rock without pay dirt was a reminder of my failure. And then I scuffed my watch. It loosened the strap too. I could have had it fixed but I was frustrated.


    ¡°A crack had opened up in the mine wall a few weeks earlier. We had dug too far to the west. I threw my watch in just to hear it crash against the rock below. Of course, all I heard was a ssh. I regretted it immediately. I wanted my watch back, but what could I do?


    "I continued looking for copper ore and found none. I fired my crackpot geologist. Thepany he worked for tried to get my business back. I didn''t have any money to pay them but they didn''t know that. One of the owners visited my office and gave me a gift. He said that it retailed for over $10,000 and that it was a token of his appreciation for our long-standing business rtionship. When I opened it, it was the very same kind of watch I had just thrown into the mine. I thought it was a cosmic joke.


    ¡°But it ate at me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it was more than a coincidence. I couldn''t fight the urge to throw something else into the cavern just to see if I could get more back. We had been looking for copper in the mine. I went to the bank and got myst hundred dors out in one-cent pieces. They were made of pure copper back in those days. I threw them into the mine. The next day, one of my guys finds a vein of copper.


    "I just knew it wasn''t a coincidence. I went to the bank and got every loan I could and turned it all into gold. I tried one piece at first and then when that worked I put the rest in.


    ¡°Within a few months, I had turned things around. I was pulling more gold out than I could even believe. I ounce I threw in turned into five ounces in the mine. But the happy days didn''tst. It came time to tally things up. Costs,bor, interests on my loans, repairing equipment,wsuits, one of my mines down south copsed. My bank went out of business because of fraud and I lost millions. After all was said and done I only had a hundred dors left. And that isn''t including the cost of opening the mine to begin with."


    He startedughing.


    "I was broke. Ruined. The grand fool I was, I mined out every single bit of gold I could find. I should have left some in and then sold the mine to save on time and expense.


    ¡°After finding out that even with my unending supply of gold I wasn''t making any money, I¡­ I got frustrated."


    He paused for some time.


    "When our ne crashed into theke, I thought I would die, but I didn''t. I was so disappointed. Instead, I was injured. I couldn''t feel my legs. Your mother made it out alive. We searched for you for days, but your body was long gone. You were too young to swim.


    ¡°Your mother was crazed over losing her baby. I was enraged. I wasn''t fortunate enough to be sessful nor was I unfortunate enough to die. I decided to ask the mine for onest favor. Your uncle, whom I had shown the mine and its magical properties, helped me. I couldn''t shake this feeling that the waters wanted something more personal, more substantial. I dreamed about it at night. With a sudden realization at that moment, as Iy in my hospital bed, the water didn''t want to trade gold for more gold. It wanted something more. That had to be it.


    ¡°So your uncle and I gave it your mother. I asked for my legs back. Pleaded with it. It wouldn''t tell me what it wanted. It wouldn''t tell me anything. All I heard were sshes. Your mother cried out for you. She was never so interested in being a wife as she was in being a mother. You should know that.


    "I waited in vain for my miracle and it never came. I could not walk. I left the mine defeated. When I returned to the hospital for treatment, hoping perhaps that the doctor would give me some miraculous news, I was instead greeted by the police. A fisherman had found you on the shores of theke. You were alive. After days and days, you had been found alive. It was impossible.


    ¡°You were not what I asked for. Why would it not tell me what it wanted? I would have given it anything. See, I think my mistake was that I didn''t get Martha''s consent. I think that must have been it. She did not walk into the mines willingly. But you did. I was certain that would be enough, but apparently, it wasn''t. Why won''t it just tell me what it wants? I tried to figure out how to profit from the mine but I couldn''t.


    "Soon some government agencies started asking about pollutants. I couldn''t have them poking around, not with your mother down there. I sealed up the mine, nning to open it in a few years once I had a better n and some more money.


    "After some worse luck, we lost thepany to bankruptcy. I put the past in the past, but this has been eating at me for thirty years... What does it want?¡±


    Hesper had a madness in his voice. A crazed obsession. I knew that the Unknowable Host could passively create servants, but it was more than that. I think using its power also infected you in a different way. One of its many unreadable tropes must have caused this.


    It was nice to have a bad guy not try to justify himself or convince you to go along with their n. It was a change of pace.


    Nichs could notprehend what he was hearing.


    He didn''t have very long.


    Outside of the mine, the sound of a motor starting up echoed through the gravel pit.


    ¡°What''s that?¡± Anna asked.


    No one knew.


    We began running out of the entrance of the mine. As we did, water started to trickle down into the entrance. At first, it was a single stream but it grew and grew until a small river of water began sshing its way down the entrance.


    ¡°The water pump,¡± Camden said.


    The mine drainage system was situated outside and up around to the left. When we turned and got a view of it, we found Corey smashing the controls with a nk expression on his face. The pump wasn''t just blowing water back into the gravel pit where it ran down into the entrance of the mine, it was sting water everywhere, dozens of feet into the air. Much of it was getting out onto the fields to the east.


    When he caught sight of us he turned. ¡°We weren''t supposed to stop the spread,¡± he said. ¡°I think this is what he wants.¡±


    Corey smiled.


    We heard yelling from inside the mine. The water reached Hesper. Hope he wasn''t thirsty.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Kimberly asked.


    "We leave," I said.


    ¡°Any of that water that doesn''t get back in the mine is going to end up in the water table,¡± Camden said. ¡°I''m guessing that''s how the animals got possessedst time.¡±


    ¡°We need to go,¡± Anna said. ¡°Look.¡±


    She pointed out to the field next to the gravel pit. The animals had made it out of the air shaft. They stood watching us. They didn''t attack. That part of the story was over.


    ¡°What about the machine?¡± Dina asked.


    ¡°It''s gas-powered; it''ll run out in a few hours,¡± Camden answered. "Besides, I don''t think those animals will let us near it."


    With the workers all gone, there were far fewer vehicles near the gravel pit. Nichs'' SUV was still there.


    We loaded into the SUV, but before Nichs started the engine, he paused. He handed the keys to Kimberly.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I''m going back to get my inheritance and my mother,¡± Nichs said. ¡°Go home. I''ll be back in a little bit.¡±


    He leaned over and gave Kimberly a kiss.


    He ran away from the SUV back to the table where we had gotten our climbing gear. He started grabbing things off the table. I didn''t know what he was getting but he seemed to have a good idea of what the equipment was.


    ¡°Is he going back in the mines?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Surely not.


    Nichs gathered all of the things that he needed and tossed them into the back of the truck near the table. He opened up the door and fished a key from his pocket.


    He turned on the truck and started to drive away from the entrance to the mine. He drove west.


    ¡°He¡¯s going for the wishing well in the Straggler Forest, isn¡¯t he? The money at the bottom?¡± Camden asked. "I wonder what the deal was with that."


    "I think we''ll find out soon enough," I said. As I watched him drive away, I noticed something familiar. ¡°You guys recognize that truck?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the same one Akers had?¡± Anna answered.


    ¡°I think it will be,¡± I said, as the needle on the Plot Cycle clicked toward The End.

 Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Akers Plot

    Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Akers Plot


    Suddenly, we were back around the campfire. At least we had all made it out this time.


    ¡°What was making the animals act so weird,¡± Jake asked. ¡°Why would they attack like that?¡±


    Why would they attack? Had he not been paying attention?


    ¡°No one knows,¡± Akers answered. ¡°Some say it was the ghosts of all those who had died in the mine. Others say it was a disease. Me, I think that nature itself got upset at the scarring of thend and decided to take revenge. I suppose we will never know.¡±


    I looked around at my friends. We were all confused.


    The story was pretty clear about why the animals attacked. Wasn¡¯t it? They were possessed by the eldritch entity in the cavern.


    It was true that at many moments throughout the story, we were Off-Screen. The most notable of which was when we were around the Unknowable Host and the Off-Screen light was blinking continuously.


    It was like only we were shown the dead thing in the mines. Only we knew about the entire Hesper plotline. That left two likely possibilities. One: the storyline was broken. This seemed unlikely because surely one of the other teams would have seen it and Chris would never have rmended the storyline. Two: someone pulled some strings to show us something.


    ¡°You know,¡± Akers said, ¡°I think we have time for onest story. This one is really thest one though. This one took ce over two hundred years ago when a settlement near my family¡¯s im started getting attacked by horrifying creatures in the night.¡±


    In an instant, I was sitting on a wooden bench on top of arge wagon. I could hear the clip-clop of a pair of horses in front of me pulling the wagon. I slowly realized that their reins were in my hands. I had no idea how to direct a horse, but I don''t think it mattered. The horses were NPCs. They knew where to go. I just had to pretend like I was directing them.


    The roads were dirt, the scenery forested andrgely untouched. No barbed wire fences, no buildings.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t fair that we were sent to fetch Cousin Walter. We should be back with the others. I wanted to see what happened to the settlement across the vale in the night. I can only imagine that it has beenid to waste,¡± a young man said.


    I only realized that he was sitting next to me when he spoke. I needed to say something.


    ¡°We do as we¡¯re told,¡± I said.


    ¡°We always do,¡± the young man said.


    I looked at him. He might have been sixteen. Dark hair and a mischievous smile. On the red wallpaper, he was called Dous. He was a standard NPC.


    ¡°I told grandfather that I loathed Walter,¡± Dous said. ¡°He teases me so. He calls me Doug. What kind of name is that?¡± he huffed. ¡°A terrible name.¡±


    ¡°Walter is family,¡± I said.


    ¡°That¡¯s what Grandfather said. He went after me with a rod when I told him I would note.¡±


    I examined myself. I was not wearing my hoodie. I was wearing a loose white cotton shirt and¡­ pants, unlike anything I had worn before. I had no sunsses or headphones. I was dressed like something between a pirate and a pilgrim. So was Dous.


    What year was it?


    On the red wallpaper, I could see my role was to be Dous¡¯ brother. I was tasked with keeping him in line. That was it. That was my whole role.


    My friends and Dina were nowhere to be found.


    ¡°The settlers got what they deserved. We had a im to the whole vale before they arrived,¡± Dous said. He twisted his face into one of disgust. ¡°I cannot fathom why Grandfather permitted them to build so close to ournd.¡±


    My job was to be a stand-in so that Dous could catch the audience up on exposition apparently. I had nothing to contribute to this conversation. I had no idea what he was talking about.


    ¡°Grandfather has his reasons, I¡¯m sure,¡± I said.


    ¡°Perhaps. I do not think it will matter soon. Their settlement will notst another night likest night, I am certain,¡± he responded.


    Off-Screen.


    Dous stopped talking and sat still as the NPC horses continued to drag us along on our path. It was nice to see NPCs acting like actual NPCs again.


    Our trek took us from a narrow wagon path to arger more established road. Still, there was no one to see for miles. The area was all wilderness. There were some forks that could have taken us in various directions.


    Some of thendmarks were recognizable. We saw a sign directing us to Culling Creek, which was the area where the Grotesque church was in that storyline. Mostly, though, evidence of human civilization was few and far between.


    Eventually, we were let out onto arge clearing that had been crossed every which way by wagons and cattle. On the other side of it was a wooden building with a water trough and horse posts along the front. Two people sat outside the building along with somerge parcels bound with ropes.


    One of them was a man dressed in a cloak, breeches, and a strange sort of hat that would have gone out of use hundreds of years ago. On the red wallpaper, his name was Walter. He was probably a few years older than me.


    Next to him, sitting on top of a crate, was a woman in a conservative dress and a crude bo. I recognized her immediately. It was Dina.


    She had her eyes on us the moment we approached the clearing.


    Her role was to be Walter¡¯s new wife and a neer to the Akers'' im.


    As we approached, Walter finally noticed us right as we came upon them. He grew arge, cheerful smile and waved to us enthusiastically.


    ¡°Cousins,¡± he called out as we arrived. ¡°Time has treated you so well. Young Doug, you have grown tall since ourst meeting. Soon, you¡¯ll be strong enough to best a bear in a wrestling match!¡±


    Dous barely acknowledged Walter and jumped off the wagon. He started loading the parcels into the wagon.


    ¡°Riley,¡± Walter said. As I stepped down off the wagon, he embraced me in a hug. ¡°I would like you to meet my new wife. We met at the delta and were married within a fortnight. Isn¡¯t it wonderful? This is Dina.¡±


    I looked over at her. ¡°How do you do?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m sure the family will be thrilled.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Walter said. ¡°Grandfather had threatened to wed me to a donkey if I didn¡¯t find a suitable wife. I am certain he will be pleased.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± Dina said. She smiled politely. I sensed that she was not loving her colonial clothing.


    ¡°Rope, nails, wax, leather,¡± Walter said. ¡°That and more. Everything Grandfather requested. It took me some time to procure it all.¡±


    I looked it over. ¡°You have arrived at a time when the supplies are much needed,¡± I said. That sounded like something that would be true.


    We began helping Dous load the parcels and packages onto the wagon. The wagon was barelyrge enough to fit it all. Soon after, we all boarded the wagon and started our journey back. Luckily for me, the horses knew the way,


    The trip back took almost all day.


    When we arrived back at Akres'' property, I hardly recognized it. In the present, it was a giant scraggly in with two forests on either side. But 400 years ago, it was a lush green valley paradise. Thend had not been cleared for farnd yet though there were a few plots here and there growing wheat, tobo, and other staple crops.


    We were back on a narrow path. No road just two ruts that the wagon wheels fit into perfectly.


    ¡°I am so excited to be home,¡± Walter said to Dina. ¡°The delta was exquisite but there is no ce on earth like this valley. I am so excited to show you our new home. I built a cabin just before I left. Little did I know that I would soon be housing my own family there.¡±


    ¡°Sounds wonderful,¡± Dina said.


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Walter agreed. ¡°At night we build a campfire andmune with each other under the stars. Uncle Timothy has mastered the art of winemaking. We have many fine summers toe.¡±


    As we pulled further down the road, we approached a small, humble house with two men outside hammering wooden nks over the windows.


    ¡°Hello there, Mark,¡± Walter said. ¡°Say, why are you battening down the hatches? There haven''t been thieves about, I hope?¡±


    The NPC, Mark, a long-bearded red-headed man called back, ¡°Ahoy Walter, you back from the delta already? Have to make safe from the beasts.¡±


    ¡°See you tonight,¡± Walter called back as the wagon kept going. I didn''t know how to stop it. The horses were in charge. ¡°I will tell you all about my travels,¡± Walter yelled behind us.


    Walter looked back at Dous and me curiously. ¡°Have there been bears or wolves in the vale?¡±


    I had no idea what was going on. ¡°Dous could say more than I could,¡± I said.


    Walter looked expectantly at Dous.


    ¡°Mark is a fool,¡± Dous said. ¡°The beasts have only attacked the trespassers to the east. We have no reason to cower in the dark.¡±


    ¡°Beasts have attacked the settlement to the east? Do they need our assistance? I have two strong hands if they are of use,¡± Walter said.


    At this suggestion, Dous absolutely fumed, ¡°We should not expend our efforts on their behalf. This is our valley. They should leave.¡±


    ¡°Dous,¡± Walter said. ¡°That is no way for us to be. They have not, to my knowledge, ever done us any harm.¡±


    Dous turned from Walter and said nothing more.


    ¡°I should like to speak with Grandfather,¡± Walter said. He reached his hand over to Dina¡¯s and held it. ¡°I have a new wife to protect. These beasts need to be dealt with.¡±


    As we got further down the road, we came across more and more houses being boarded up. At the end of the road, there was arger collection of houses surrounded on all sides by the beginnings of a 15-foot-tall wooden barricade. The barricade was simply trees stripped of their limbs and sharpened at the top. The barricade was far from beingpleted, but men and women were busy at work constructing it.


    ¡°What does grandfather have them building?¡± Dous asked. ¡°And who is that?¡±


    I followed his gaze toward the center of the collection of homes. There was an older man named Theodore Akers on the red wallpaper. He had a sturdy build despite his age and the way he moved was like that of a younger man. As we got closer I could hear his booming voice.


    He was talking to two gentlemen who wore green cloaks. The cloaks had seen better days. One of the men was Camden. His role was the son of the leader of the Lord¡¯s Glory settlement. The other man was simply called Brent on the red wallpaper.


    Theodore Akers nced up at us as we approached and a smile grew on his face.


    ¡°Blood of my blood, Walter you''vee home,¡± he said.


    Walter energetically jumped down from the moving wagon and ran to his grandfather. The senior Akers wrapped him up in a big bear hug.


    ¡°Grandfather,¡± Walter said. He pointed back to the wagon. ¡°I have news.¡±


    Theodore looked to the wagon, spotted Dina, and looked back to Walter. ¡°You¡¯ve found a woman to marry?¡±


    ¡°I already married her,¡± Walter responded with a big grin.


    Theodore grabbed his grandson up in another hug and then quickly move to the wagon to reach his hand up for Dina¡¯s so that he could help her down.


    ¡°May I help the newest Mrs. Akers down,¡± he said.


    ¡°You may,¡± she said.


    ¡°And may I know your name, my dear,¡± Theodore asked.


    ¡°Dina,¡± she answered with a smile.


    Theodore smiled. ¡°A beautiful name. I am so d to meet you. Come, I should like to show you your new home.¡±


    He helped Dina down as various NPCs started unloading the wagon in the background.


    ¡°Thank you for retrieving them, Riley,¡± Theodore said. ¡°Please help our guests with whatever they need.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Grandfather,¡± I said.


    Theodore, Dina, and Walter walked off on a tour around the homestead.


    The area was very well developed to my eye, boasting many homes, barns, storehouses, and other buildings you might expect in a small town. The people that walked around the acres property were likely rted to my character. Children yed, and men and women worked on constructing the barricade.


    There was little sign that this ce would be the hauntednd that I had entered hours ago. I didn''t even know where the Straggler Forest was or, rather, the forest that would be the Straggler Forest.


    I approached Camden. He acknowledged me with a tight smile.


    ¡°I''m supposed to give you whatever it is that you require,¡± I said.


    The man next to Camden, Brent, said, ¡°We are much obliged. We are in a desperate situation over at Lord¡¯s Glory.¡±


    ¡°I have only just heard. Am I to understand that you were attacked?¡± I said. Eventually, I was going to get one of these NPCs to tell me what was going on.


    Brent nodded his head ¡°Creatures in the night, horrifying ungodly things. They destroyed much of our home and raided our livestock. I don''t know how our settlement is to continue without your family''s generosity.¡±


    Off-Screen.


    Going Off-Screen meant that I didn''t actually have to help them, which was great because it sounded like a huge distraction.


    Wordlessly, Brent walked over to a horse that had a very small wagon hooked up behind it. NPCs started to load a small amount of material onto the back from the supplies that Walter had retrieved.


    ¡°What do you have?¡± Camden asked.


    I shook my head. ¡°My whole job is to follow this little kid around,¡± I said. ¡°All I know about you is that you''re the son of the founder of the Lord''s Glory settlement, whatever that means.¡±


    Camden nodded. ¡°I don''t know much more than that. That settlement was ravagedst night. Whatever those creatures were, three settlers disappeared. Some houses got knocked down.¡±


    ¡°This doesn''t really make sense,¡± I said. ¡°When Old Man Akers told us about the straggler curse, he never mentioned monsters attacking in the night. You think you would have brought that up. This should be around the time the forest became the Straggler Forest, right?¡±


    Camden shrugged. ¡°This whole storyline has been weird. Hopefully, this part is better.¡±


    ¡°Are Kimberly and Anna with you?¡± I asked.


    He nodded. ¡°I haven''t got to talk to them much. I''m not allowed.¡±


    Brent waved for Camden toe to him.


    Theodore, Dina, and Walter joined them. I ran to catch up. Dous wasn¡¯t far behind.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°Riley,¡± Theodore said, ¡°I want you and Dous to go with Brent and guide them through the forest to the west. Their food stores have been greatly diminished. Help them gather food from the abundance of the forest. They will be sending five of their best foragers over to take absolutely as much as they can carry. Understood?¡±


    Dous got a sour look on his face but said nothing.


    Theodore gave Dous a strict look. ¡°Do as I tell you. We need to showpassion now more than ever, don¡¯t you understand that?¡±


    Dous marched away in a fit.


    ¡°Go look after him,¡± Theodore said to me.


    I ran after Dous and caught up to him.


    When he saw me, he said, ¡°We are going to risk everything to help these strangers. It makes no sense.¡±


    ¡°We may need their help,¡± I said. ¡°What if the monsters attack us? They could help defend us.¡±


    Dous had a strange look on his face. ¡°I hope the monsters chase them out of the valley.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know where to steer the conversation, so I asked him something that I have been curious about since the Straggler storyline. ¡°Do we need to get permission to enter the forest to the west?¡±


    Dous looked at me with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Grandfather just told us to go there. We have permission.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t we need permission from the forest itself?¡±


    Dous looked at me like I was speaking a foreignnguage. ¡°Why would we need permission from the forest? It is our forest. We can do as we like.¡±


    Hadn¡¯t Akers said that the forest was magical and required permission to enter and harvest things from it?


    ¡°Permission from a forest?¡± heughed. ¡°What kind of nonsense is that?¡±

 Chapter Fifty-Nine: They Come in the Night

    Chapter Fifty-Nine: They Come in the Night


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why he helps those settlers. Every chance we get to let them either die off or abandon their settlement, he saves them. He gives them our food, our supplies,¡± Dous said.


    We were alone at a trailhead leading into the western wood. I was apprehensive about entering. If I understood the geography correctly, this was the Stragglers'' Forest, or at least it soon would be. All I knew was that I didn''t want to be inside of it when it became cursed.


    ¡°Maybe he''s just being kind,¡± I said. I didn''t really need to say much to make Dous go off on long tangents about how much he hated the settlers to the east. It was a subject that he could speak on for hours. Every moment we were On-Screen, he would strike up some new angle on why the settlers were dangerous or otherwise uneptable.


    ¡°They can barely tan a hide,¡± he said. ¡°It''s a wonder they didn''t freezest winter. They cut down so many trees for firewood that their forest is ravaged so now they have toe over to ours.¡±


    While we waited, Dina broke away from whatever she was doing and came to join us. ¡°Theodore said that you might show me the forest to the west,¡± she said. She held up a basket that she''d been carrying. ¡°I may not know how to build a fortress but I can pick berries and mushrooms.¡±


    Off-Screen, Dous would just stand around and throw sticks and rocks at trees in the distance.


    An older woman dressed in manyyers of fabric and a hand-knitted shawl set out on a path toward us. She moved slowly. Much so that I wasn''t even sure that she was walking toward us. I thought maybe she was just out for a random NPC stroll so that she could be in the background of a shot somewhere.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°Dous, Riley, care to aid an old woman as she searches for barnok berries?¡± She asked as she drew near. ¡°Thiste in the day I''m afraid to wander off. They say that there are terrible creatures about.¡±


    ¡°They won''t hurt you,¡± Dous said. ¡°I think they''re only here after the settlers across the valley.¡±


    The old woman smiled. ¡°I''ve never known a beast to have such discerning taste.¡±


    Dous didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°We''ll go with you,¡± I said. ¡°But grandfather has us waiting on some of the settlers. He wants us to help them gather some food.¡±


    ¡°Terribly generous of him,¡± the woman said. On the red wallpaper, her name was Esther. She was an ordinary NPC as far as I could tell.


    ¡°Foolish you mean,¡± Dous said. ¡°They will raid it as they have the forests to the east and we will all starve.¡±


    Esther smiled. ¡°I was worried that my father''s pessimism had been bred out of our family. Then I realized that it is alive and well in you, grandnephew. In fact, I recognize quite a few qualities of his in you. He used to think that we would starve every winter and be overrun by pigers every summer.¡±


    Dous threw arge rock at a tree in the distance. ¡°What else but pigers would you call the settlers to the east?¡±


    ¡°Fools,¡± Esther said. ¡°Harmless fools.¡±


    Dous smiled. He liked hearing the settlers referred to as fools. ¡°Fools indeed. Last year, they cleared a parcel ofnd that had a dozen berry bushes,¡± Dous said, looking over to Dina to gauge her reaction. ¡°Cleared through them with axes and fire. Didn¡¯t even know what they had done.¡±


    ¡°Our family was no better when we first came,¡± Esther said. ¡°My father had been a rich man when he purchased thisnd outright. A merchant. Spent his fortune making up for one mistake or another out here his whole life. Of course, Theodore thinks he buried his treasure on thend somewhere and never told anyone¡­¡±


    She started tough.


    ¡°Our family never hunted an entire herd of deer only to let the meat spoil, did they?" Dous said. "The Lord¡¯s Glory settlement did. Thought they would leave it to dry, turn it to jerky. They left it to rot. Grandfather gave them much of our dried venison so they wouldn¡¯t starve that winter.¡±


    ¡°My brother is a generous man,¡± Esther said. ¡°I haven¡¯t any idea where he learned that from.¡±


    Dous¡¯ face remained in the same sour position that it had been in. ¡°Then when their goats and sheep died off for no reason, Grandfather gave them some of ours for milking and shearing and they ended up eating those too.¡±


    He really wanted Dina to dislike the settlers too.


    Estherid a hand on Dous¡¯ shoulder. ¡°You are giving them no grace at all. They have had many ill-fated summers. They do what they must to survive.¡±


    ¡°They could leave,¡± Dous said. ¡°They could leave this ce and return to whatever ce they are from.¡±


    Esther shook her head. ¡°They came here seeking peace. They came here seeking God. We have no right to deny them that. They have not infringed our im.¡±


    ¡°Close enough. Timothy says they practice a strange religion. That they worship a strange god,¡± Dous said.


    ¡°Hush now,¡± Esther said. She turned to the east. ¡°You are working yourself into a dark ce. We should not speak of this when they arrive.¡±


    Dous red at Esther behind her back.


    Worshiping a strange god? Did that mean that the Lord¡¯s Glory settlement was a cult? I would need to figure out which Lord they served. Perhaps he was taking "the long sleep" in a cavern below us.


    ¡°We need to stay away from great grandfathers well,¡± Dous said. ¡°We don''t want them to learn where it is.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Esther said, she leaned toward Dina. ¡°They might try to drink from it. The water is foul, though you cannot tell that from the smell.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Dina said. "I''ll be careful."


    ¡°It was his favorite spot,¡± Dous said.


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Esther said. ¡°He used to go there to pray. My father would pray for hours. And we needed it. We had our fair share of setbacks.¡±


    Dous looked to the ground contemtively. ¡°He used to take me out there. Before he passed. He wouldn''t let any of the others go with him when he prayed. But he would let me.¡±


    I think Dous was quite fond of that memory.


    ¡°That''s very nice,¡± Dina said.


    ¡°The settlers would probably try to pray to their god there,¡± Dous said. ¡°We can''t have that.¡±


    In the end, we didn''t have to wait that much longer for the settlers to send over the five they selected. Those that came carried huge baskets. I didn''t think they would have time to fill them before the sunset.


    Anna, Kimberly, Camden, the NPC Brent, and another NPC were those selected. The final NPC had no name at all on the red wallpaper but was merely called Gatherer. She didn''t talk much.


    We were On-Screen so I couldn''t talk with my friends about anything they had experienced yet.


    ¡°We do not have long,¡± Brent said. ¡°We will not take much. We would gather from the forests to the east but the beasts came from therest night.¡±


    Dous didn''t answer. He simply started walking down the trail into the woods.


    ¡°We''re happy to help,¡± I said. Then I turned to follow him.


    Off-Screen.


    We followed Dous. The group moved at a slow pace to amodate Esther. Dous would asionally get far out in front of us and then have to circle back impatiently. He didn''t have any dialogue when this happened. Unlike thest miniature story, the NPCs behaved like proper NPCs here.


    As soon as I could, I fell back to Anna, Kimberly, and Camden.


    ¡°Are you guys in a cult?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Camden said with a faint grin.


    ¡°They won''t even let me speak to any of the men there,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I''m not using Pregnancy Reveal in this one to save my life. They would probably lock me in the barn with the dairy cows.¡±


    ¡°Last night the settlement got absolutely torn to pieces,¡± Anna said. ¡°They worship some hooded figure. I don''t know much about it. Even with my A Kind Face trope, they won''t talk to me. Camden has to talk.¡±


    ¡°Wish I''d put a few more points in Moxie,¡± Camden said. ¡°They''re really freaked out. They think that these monsters are an attack from the devil.¡±


    ¡°What are they?¡± I asked. "Based on the descriptions I had gotten they could be anything.¡±


    Camden shook his head. ¡°No one has seen one. People can hear them. Men just go missing.¡±


    ¡°Carousel must be waiting to reveal what they are until First Blood,¡± I said. ¡°I''ve just been following that kid around. He really hates you guys.¡±


    ¡°They call you Outsiders,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°They think you are sinners because you y music and don¡¯t pray. But they think you are kind.¡±


    They had better.


    ¡°Kimberly and Anna are sisters contemting leaving the settlement,¡± I said. I decided to take the opportunity to clue them in on their roles in the story.


    ¡°That makes sense. My character has a coin purse that she keeps hidden,¡± Anna said. ¡°Camden¡¯s fake dad is a jerk.¡±


    Camden¡¯s character was the son of the settlement¡¯s leader. He nodded in agreement with Anna¡¯s statement.


    I wasn''t quite sure how our characters'' arcs would intersect again. Maybe my character would have to help Anna and Kimberly escape? Hopefully, I had something to do other than babysit Dous.


    We spent an hour or two gathering berries, mushrooms, and nuts from trees. Dous was very careful not to let anyone out of his sight. Sometimes we were on-screen. Sometimes we were off-screen. I got the feeling that this was just going to be a montage. There was no dialogue.


    The NPCs weren''t really gathering much into their baskets. They were miming it. No one would be able to tell.


    The sun did eventually begin to set. I waved goodbye to my friends as they set off across the valley back to their settlement.


    ¡°There will be no bonfire tonight,¡± Theodore said. ¡°All must be ready to take up arms in case the devils that gue our neighbors decide to turn to us next.¡±


    The entire Akers n had gathered behind the newly constructed wall encircling several buildings at the center of the property. Their weapons were simple: axes, des simr to machetes, pitchforks, etc. The exact type of weapons you might expect to find in a ce like this.


    ¡°We will divide up watch to ensure that we all get rest. We have a long night ahead of us. Bring the children and elderly into my home andy them to sleep. The rest of us will take turns patrolling as our watches up.¡±


    I was given a metal pitchfork and first watch.


    ¡°Keep an eye on Dous,¡± Theodore reiterated when he saw me. Crystal clear. Why did this kid need so much supervision? Was he killing the neighborhood cats or something?


    Small stands had been built along the inside of the wall so that the men posted on them could survey the area. Unfortunately, many of the buildings on the property weren''t within the walls. It was simply impractical to hope to build a wall big enough in such a short time.


    Walter, Dina¡¯s NPC husband, patrolled the area with a musket, ever-vignt.


    ¡°This is a waste,¡± Dous said. ¡°They aren''t going to attack us.¡±


    ¡°You don''t think so?¡± I asked. He had stated this multiple times. I was starting to get curious about why he was so certain.


    ¡°Our family has been here for generations,¡± he answered. ¡°If they were going to attack us they already would have.¡±


    Still, I thought there was something he wasn''t telling me.


    Night had fallen. Hours had passed with no sign of any monsters.


    Then there was a cry. An inhuman cry echoed across the valley and sent a chill down my spine.


    It was followed by another and another. Each of them wasing from the east.


    A howl in pain rang out with them.


    In the darkness, I couldn''t see far. My eyes scanned the walls waiting for one of those cries to be closer.


    Dous listened too. We were Off-Screen, but still, he almost had an amused look on his face.


    The carnage across the valley must have carried on for thirty minutes. The camera returned sporadically to get reactions from the folk to the sounds. Then, all was silent for a while.


    ¡°I think the settlement must be gone now,¡± Dous whispered.


    I could only hope that my friends were okay.


    The Akers on watch stood silently. Each face was more terrified than thest. The quiet grew more and more stressful. Even the livestock, which had been corralled within the fortress, did not dare break the silence. My ears strained to give me information about the outside world.


    For the longest time we waited, the NPCs around me visibly shaking.


    I didn''t know if it was my imagination, but I swore I could hear creatures walking outside of the fence. I tried peeking out gaps between the logs but I wasn''t able to see anything.


    For ten minutes, I waited.


    Then I heard something outside. It was like the sound of teeth chattering.


    Crash.


    ss broke in the distance. Someone forgot to cover a window.


    ¡°No,¡± Dous said, ¡°It couldn''t be¡­¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re here!¡± one of the men said from atop a stand looking over the fence.


    Quickly all of the NPCs that were supposed to be asleep were called from inside by those who were awake and came from the buildings within the impromptu fortress, readying themselves as they walked.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be,¡± Dous said.


    But it was.


    Loud crashes started echoing around the fortress. Doors and windows were being broken from the houses that hadn¡¯t been walled in.


    Something started to bang against the gate.

 Chapter Sixty: The Cloven Women

    Chapter Sixty: The Cloven Women


    ¡°They¡¯re just¡­¡± a man yelled from atop one of the viewing tforms. I couldn¡¯t see his face, but I could hear the confusion in his voice. ¡°They¡¯re...¡±


    ¡°What is that you say?¡± Theodore called out.


    ¡°There are no monsters,¡± the lookout said. ¡°There are women wandering about. Maidens.¡±


    Whatever was outside struck the gate again. The lookout should have been able to see whatever it was, but something had transfixed his attention in a different direction.


    The animals in the corral had started making noise. They pushed against the sides of their enclosures.


    Off-Screen.


    This mini storyline seemed to be functioning normally. I assumed that if the camera was not on us, it must have been on the other side of the valley. I could only imagine what Anna and the others were going through.


    The needle on the plot cycle struck First Blood.


    With the camera elsewhere, the gate was not going to open. The NPCs were stuck on a loop of waiting for the gate to break down so that the scene could continue. Men stood their ground holding their weapons up in attack position against the unseen enemy.


    Among us, there were only three muskets in total. Walter, Dina''s character''s new husband, held one and the other two were in the hands of men perched on top of two of the buildings within the newly built walls. I predicted that they would be useless.


    Dous stood next to me in fear and confusion.


    ¡°What is happening,¡± Dous said to me as soon as we were On-Screen again. ¡°It cannot be. Why would they¡­¡±


    He was drowned out by the louder banging on the gate. Men had been stacking anything they could find in front of it. Whatever was on the other side was strong enough to send anything they stacked flying. Wood was splintering off the other side with every blow.


    I wracked my brain for some prediction that I could use for Cinema Seer to buff Dina, but I could think of none at the moment. Our part of the plot had very little information about the monsters. Anna and the others might have known more than me at this point. Luckily, Dina already had a huge Grit stat, so she likely wouldn''t be able to use the buff that much anyway.


    ¡°Ready yourselves,¡± Theodore cried. He had a hard look in his eye. A focused look. Even at his age, he stood tall and tried to project bravery for his kin.


    I had my pitchfork prepared. It would take a lot of work to make any real use of it. I had not foreseen a direct fight like this. I always thought I would be able to sneak around and avoid danger. At the very least, I expected any fights to happen in the Finale with Anna around so that she could buff my Mettle.


    So much for that. I had focused so much on making my Oblivious Bystander strategy work that I had neglected my preparation for an actual fight.


    ¡°They need our help,¡± the lookout said from atop his perch near the wall. He was looking at something beneath him. He didn¡¯t look scared or confused anymore. He was almost smiling.


    He jumped off his stand over to the other side of the wall.


    ¡°Jeffrey!¡± someone from the crowd yelled.


    Momentster, we heard the NPC Jeffrey screaming as something struck him so loud I could hear his bones breaking. This sent the Akers into a fearful uproar.


    Bam.


    Crack.


    They would be through the gate soon.


    Dina gathered beside me. Her stats were better than mine for a fight. Not that much better, but still.


    Bam.


    The gate blew open. The boards and crates that had been used to hold it closed were no match for the creatures outside.


    As the gate crumpled from thest strike, I saw¡­ nothing.


    Nothing at all but a shadow fading into the tree line.


    But I heard something. Whispering. I couldn¡¯t discern actual words, but I could hear iting from a distance. It was a fascinating sound. SO pure and sweet. I couldn''t ce it. Had I heard it before when I was young and things were better?


    Dina grabbed me by the back of my cor. Suddenly, I looked around to realize that I had walked five steps forward without even knowing it.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± she screamed.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± I said.


    Something was pulling me forward. It was pulling several of the men forward.


    ¡°Stand your ground!¡± one of the women in the back screamed as half a dozen men began slowly walking forward.


    I heard whispering again. It was different. This time, it had no effect on me. In fact, it sounded closer to an animalistic bray than human speech.


    But the handful of NPC men were still mesmerized by it.


    Those affected inched their way toward the smashed gate. Those unaffected did everything in their power to stop them from leaving.


    ¡°They weren¡¯t trying to get in,¡± I said. ¡°They were trying to let us out.¡±


    Sure enough, just as I said that an older man on the front lines broke free from his kin and started running out into the darkness following the tantalizing whispers.


    As he ran, he threw down the spear he had been holding and yelled out, ¡°I¡¯ming! All will be well.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t though. He started screaming as something crushed him in the darkness.


    This was how we spent much of the next few hours. The camera jumped back and forth between us and other things. When it was on us, the whispering would return and one of the NPCs might break for the exit while the other tried to throw up a barricade.


    There were more screamsing from across the valley whenever it was their turn to be attacked.


    Even I was not spared the hypnotic effect of the whispering. Sometimes the whispers sounded rough and unappealing, other times they were soothing and beautiful. Dina was there to stop me when I couldn¡¯t snap myself out of it.


    My theory was that there were multiple monsters in the shadows. Some had lower Moxie, so their whispers didn¡¯t work on me. Others had enough Moxie for their spell to send me stumbling toward the exit without a thought.


    Dina and the other women werepletely unaffected.


    First Blood was long gone by the time we made it to the midpoint of Rebirth. We had lost several NPCs at that point.


    The monsters¡¯ calls were strong, but it appeared they could only affect one victim each at a time. By that logic, there must have been six of the creatures waiting for us out in the dark.


    I heard the whispering again. This time, it was so strong I was almost out of the broken gate before Dina could stop me.


    I ¡°woke up¡± with Dina and an NPC wrangling me to the ground.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m better.¡±


    That one was powerful.


    I could almost feel its whisper like it was a physical force on my ear. I looked out into the wood where the beasts hid.


    It must have been time for the reveal because as Iy there with Dina¡¯s arm mped around my neck, I saw a woman walk out of the forest. five more followed her.


    They were women. Just women. The lookout had been correct before his demise. They were pretty. They wore long dresses that draped down over their feet.


    ¡°Oh god,¡± Dina said with a quiver in her voice.


    What was she so shocked about?


    Most everyone had the same dumb confused look on their faces that I probably did. We scuffled back into the ruined fortress. I retrieved my pitchfork which I had dropped moments earlier on my way out toward the forest.


    There were six of them. They didn¡¯t seem threatening. Yet, I felt a familiar force on my mind like I had with the Stragglers. I could tell I was being manipted, but I couldn¡¯t tell how.


    ¡°You got anything?¡± Dina asked me. I could see the fear in her eye. Whatever it was she saw scared her deeply.


    But why?


    They looked harmless.


    Shit, I needed to think. Dina had wanted me to use Trope Master on them. In the moments since then, I almost forgot. My mind was fuzzy. I focused on the one that stood in front of the others.


    Cloven Woman


    Plot Armor: 22


    __________


    Tropes


    Subus


    This creature targets men, usually through seduction.


    Vited Lore


    This creature is acting outside of its normal behavior. This includes ignoring some of its tropes.


    Pale Imitation


    This creature is an artificial or false version of a traditional monster or entity.


    Judgement Call


    This creature only kills those who it has deemed unworthy or immoral.


    Undetectable


    This creature warps the mind of its victims so that they will not notice that it does not belong, despite all the evidence.


    The Evil Version


    Many folklore creatures have versions that are good, neutral, and evil depending on story and context. This creature is the evil version.


    Whispers in the Dark


    This creature can sense a yer or NPCs vulnerabilities and manipte them via impulsive thoughts that are perceived as whispers.


    Nonbatant


    This viin cannot be attacked On-Screen until it attacks the yer or is otherwise identified as hostile. Attacking it will not be effective, nor will it change the story. It will cause the yer to go Off-Screen for a time.


    Arms of the Host


    This creature will take up arms for the enemy.


    That was a lot to process in a small amount of time. At the time, the thing I noticed was that it was a Non-Combatant, which made sense. Whispers in the Dark was familiar. The stronger Grotesques had the same trope, but for them, it manifested differently.


    Non-Combatant might have been useful information though. What it meant to me was that the Cloven Woman probably didn¡¯t need a lot of Grit if its build was logical. Why invest points into Grit when you cannot be attacked?


    We might stand a chance.


    One of the Cloven Women, the one that appeared to be the leader, walked forward to the nearest man, the red-bearded cousin I had seen earlier. She made eye contact with him. He did not attack her as she got close to him. He was under her spell. She was the highest Plot Armor among them.


    ¡°Run!¡± a woman screamed from behind me.


    ¡°Kill it,¡± Dina yelled.


    Several of the faster-thinking Akers stepped forward to try to intercede, but they were too far away.


    The red-bearded man did nothing but look back at us strangely as she approached.


    As she neared him, she reached her hand up to the side of his face, caressing it. Then she grabbed his beard and pulled hard. He fell forward onto the ground. Then, she stomped his head. It might as well have been an egg under her foot.


    Everyone screamed at the sight of it. Whatever men might have been entranced by the women suddenly snapped out of it and started to attack.


    The creatures were strong and fast, but they were wary of the weapons facing them. The muskets fired upon them every time the guns could be reloaded. If the shots hit, they would only leave scrapes. Nothing substantial. None of the shooters had good enough Hustle to get a good shot in.


    Walter shot his musket at one of the Cloven Women as she threw three men across the ground into the wall. His shot did nothing. She didn¡¯t even turn to him.


    The leading Cloven Woman caught sight of Dous and began approaching. In the background, the other monsters threw men around and stomped them to death every time the camera returned.


    Dina and I raised our pitchforks. Dous had a crude spear that he held out in a panic.


    She moved forward, trying her best to dodge the points of our weapons.


    ¡°This shouldn¡¯t be happening,¡± Dous said. ¡°This isn¡¯t what I wanted.¡±


    The Cloven Woman lunged at Dous, but he dropped back behind Dina and me. In the corner of my eye, I saw Walter frantically trying to reload his weapon.


    The Cloven Woman still had her eyes on Dous as she lunged around Dina, attempting to grab him. She wasn¡¯t even trying to get at Dina, despite Dina being in arms reach.


    But Walter didn¡¯t see that.


    ¡°Dina!¡± he yelled. In an instant, he jumped between Dina and the monster, trying to point his musket at the attacking woman¡¯s head.


    The woman struck him so hard that his musket went flying. He was cast to the ground with a thud. Then the woman lifted a foot and stomped Walter¡¯s chest with a sickening crunch.


    Her... foot?


    As I stared, I realized that she didn¡¯t actually have a foot. She had a hoof. A cloven hoof.


    The wool was lifted from my eyes in an instant. How had I not seen?


    This monster wasn¡¯t a woman, not a human woman. She was a terrifying hybrid of woman and beast. Deer, goat, I couldn¡¯t tell which. Her eyes wererge like a doe¡¯s eyes and her look was wild and untamed.


    Her magic had stopped me from seeing that.


    Now that my head was clear, I jumped toward the musket that Walter had dropped. I picked it up and aimed it at the Cloven Woman. My Hustle was surely high enough to get a hit.


    Bam.


    She screamed out an animalistic yelp in pain as the shot tore across the bridge of her nose and struck her left eye.


    As high as my Hustle was, my Mettle wasn¡¯t enough for the kill. It was enough to blind her though. The Cloven Woman pounced on me and drove her hoof down onto my leg. I was able to move it out of the way enough that it only made contact with my foot, crushing three of my toes.


    The monster still screamed out in pain from her lost eye.


    I screamed out in pain because of my crushed toes.


    However, its pain didn''tst long because Dina drove her pitchfork into the beast¡¯s back.


    As I suspected, the creature had low Grit. Together, we were strong enough that it fell to the ground, dead.


    As I looked back at the other women, they saw their dead leader and drew back. The other Cloven Women still looked like humans to my eyes, but I found that if I intentionally focused on their hooves, suddenly I would see their true form. Just ncing at them wasn''t enough. You had to look at them purposefully.


    Off-Screen.


    The women didn¡¯t leave. Instead, they pulled back into the shadows and started whispering again.


    The screams across the valley were getting closer. That meant the survivors of the Lord¡¯s Glory cult were running this way.


    And bringing more monsters with them.


    I noticed that Second Blood had passed. We were in the Finale and the needle on the plot cycle was ticking along steadily.


    The Final Battle wasing.

 Chapter Sixty-One: The Secret

    Chapter Sixty-One: The Secret


    All of the short stories within this storyline had gone by quickly, but this one even more so because I wasn¡¯t even in the main plot. Anna, Kimberly, and Camden had taken care of that. Dina and I had been in small snippets of screen time.


    That was about to change.


    I could hear the sounds of travelers in the night¡ªmore than forty people by my guess¡ªmaking their way through the woods toward us. They were screaming, praying, pleading¡­


    And dying. Every few seconds, I would hear the echoes of a man screaming along with the sickening sound of him being stomped to death.


    It made sense, then, that when I finally saw the fleeing survivors of the Lord¡¯s Glory settlement, it was mostly women left. There were only five men among them. Camden wasn¡¯t there.


    There were nearly thirty women. There were dozens of children with them ranging from infants to teenagers. The babies and toddlers cried inconsbly.


    Theodore Akers walked to the edge of the broken gate.


    ¡°Who goes there?¡± he called out. ¡°Are you of the Lord¡¯s Glory settlement?¡±


    One of the women moved to the front of the group. It was Anna.


    ¡°Please,¡± she said. ¡°Our homes are destroyed. Please help us. The Lord¡¯s Glory settlement is gone.¡±


    Theodore hesitated. The monsters looked like young women to his eyes, after all. He wouldn¡¯t have known if these were more of the same.


    ¡°Look to their feet,¡± I shouted. ¡°The women that attacked us had cloven feet.¡±


    This was news to most of the men in the camp, as well as some women. They had beenpletely fooled.


    Theodore looked back at me with a furrowed brow.


    ¡°Our attackers had the legs of deer or goats,¡± I said. Hoping to convince him. ¡°Look at their feet. If they are human, you will be able to tell.¡±


    Theodore wasn¡¯t sure.


    ¡°He tells the truth, Theodore,¡± Esther, his sister, called out. ¡°They are the Cloven Women of legend. They have the feet of a doe. They lure careless or violent men from campfires and kill them unseen.¡±


    The other Akers family member who had seen the beasts'' true nature chimed in in support.


    Theodore relented.


    ¡°Welle in,¡± he said. ¡°Hurry. And show us you are human.¡±


    The refugees did. They began running in.


    I spotted Dous backed into a corner. He would make eye contact with me every time I looked at him. I suspected the script need us to clear the air before the Final Battlemenced. Dous had a confession to make.


    As NPCs began roughly rebuilding the gate, which amounted to stacking things back in front of the entrance, I approached Dous.


    ¡°What did you mean when you said this wasn¡¯t what you wanted?¡± I asked.


    Dous was distraught. ¡°I couldn¡¯t have foreseen this, brother. I only wanted to do as our great-grandfather did. I was charged with protecting thisnd. He said Grandfather Theodore was too weak to do it.¡±


    ¡°What did you say?¡± Theodore yelled. He joined us as soon as I had initiated the confrontation. Many other Akers joined him.


    ¡°I¡­ Grandfather,¡± Dous whimpered. ¡°I was doing as I was told! I only made my wishes to help us!¡±


    Theodore looked at him with disgust.


    ¡°My father?¡± Theodore asked. ¡°He showed you the well?¡±


    Dous nodded.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if my character knew about the properties of the well, so I didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°We had it sealed,¡± Theodore said. ¡°You opened it back up?¡±


    Again, Dous nodded. "I only wanted to push them away. It doesn¡¯t listen,¡± he said. ¡°I can¡¯t figure out how to ask it to do what I want. I do not know what to offer it. I asked it to turn their milk sour and it did, but then they ughtered their milking goats as diseased and you offered them some of ours. Everything I did to run them away, you ruined!¡±


    ¡°You fool. The powers of that well are not to be meddled with.¡± Theodore said. ¡°My father spent his life and his fortune at that well and all it brought us was heartache and pain. It always takes just as much as it gives. No more, no less. You have doomed us.¡±


    Dous, like his great-grandfather before him and Hesper after him, had taken to offering things to the waters underground¡ªto the Unknowable Host. Like Hesper, he could never get what he wanted. In a sense, he would always break even.


    Theodore approached his grandson and struck him upside the head.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Dous cried. ¡°It was my job. He said you wouldn¡¯t want to know.¡±


    ¡°His mind was gone!¡± Theodore asked. ¡°His heart was devoted more to the well than to his family. Now he¡¯s done the same to you.¡±


    Dous fought back tears. He approached Theodore and said, ¡°I can fix it. I can go wish this all away.¡±


    ¡°What was it that you wished for?¡± I interjected.


    Dous looked down at the ground. ¡°I wished that the men across the vale would be driven away.¡±


    The men.


    The power in the cavern took him literally. They summoned creatures that would target the men. That''s wish-making 101 in movies.


    ¡°I can undo it,¡± he said. ¡°Just let me go back to the well.¡±


    Theodore looked at Dous with a mix of fiery anger and sheer disappointment.


    I had an idea.


    ¡°Let me take him,¡± I pleaded with Akers. ¡°We can saddle horses and have this madness ended before sunrise.¡±


    Truthfully, a horse was the only way I would make it to the well. I was Hobbled, after all.


    Theodore wasn¡¯t sure.


    ¡°We need men here to defend the keep,¡± he said.


    I shook my head. ¡°No, we don¡¯t. The monsters only attack men. It is women that should defend us. If women are on the front lines, the monsters will not kill them.¡±


    I finally had a prediction for Cinema Seer. It was something substantial too. My biggest problem with that trope was that my predictions could be so inconsequential that even if they came true, my allies wouldn¡¯t get a buff. This was different.


    It was a risk though. Attacking men didn''t mean they couldn''t attack women, but I was fairly certain. The one Dina and I killed hadpletely ignored her.


    Esther limped her way into the conversation.


    ¡°Brother,¡± she said. ¡°These creatures only have ire for men, don¡¯t you see? They have no love for men, but in legend, they are protectors of women. I do believe your grandson is correct.¡±


    Theodore was ufortable.


    ¡°How will I forgive myself if I send women into battle while the men hide?¡± he said. ¡°What if he is wrong.¡±


    ¡°If he is wrong,¡± she said. ¡°You will not be here to forgive yourself or otherwise.¡±


    Theodore reluctantly nodded. He turned and began instructing NPCs to arm the women.


    ¡°One more thing,¡± I said. ¡°We need cotton or wax. Anything that can clog a man¡¯s ear.¡±


    When the Cloven Women attempted to lure the men out, the air was thick with their whispers. They had the same trope that the Grotesques had: Whispers in the Dark. The difference was that the Grotesques¡¯ trope manifested differently. Theirs caused impulsive thoughts. The Cloven Women actually whispered.


    If we couldn¡¯t hear them, they couldn¡¯t hypnotize us.


    This sort of thing always worked in movies. In real life, blocking your ears only muffles things, but in the movies, it blocks soundpletely, whether you are blocking a siren¡¯s song or a hypnotic suggestion from your girlfriend¡¯s racist parents.


    ¡°We have wax,¡± one of the NPCs suggested.


    Of course, that was part of what Walter had brought back with him from the delta.


    Theodore nodded his head. He rested his hand on my shoulder in a show of approval. I got the feeling that my character wasn¡¯t one of his favorite grandchildren. He had over a dozen, after all. Maybe I could change his mind tonight.


    ¡°Do as he says,¡± Theodore yelled. ¡°Men, block your ears. Do not allow any sound through.¡±


    One of the NPCs produced a b of orange-yellow wax from inside one of the buildings. The men began breaking off portions and stopping their ears with the stuff.


    In the movie Get Out, the main character used chair stuffing, but we were using wax just like they had in The Odyssey.


    Off-Screen.


    As the NPCs worked on repairing the gate, distributing wax to the men, weapons to the women, and saddling the horses, I found Anna and Kimberly. Dina soon joined us.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Camden?¡± I asked.


    Ann shook her head. ¡°We had to leave him. His leg is broken. He thought hiding was his best chance of survival.¡±


    ¡°Dammit,¡± I said. ¡°Did you hear about the well?¡±


    Anna nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll go with you,¡± she said.


    I nodded. ¡°I think Carousel wants you to. The NPCs are saddling up five horses.¡±


    ¡°What happened with the cult?¡± Dina asked.


    Anna shook her head. ¡°The leader has been trying to get their deity to listen for years, but the results are only so-so. He thought thend was cursed. He figured that if he did some ritual to cleanse thend, his god would listen to him again. He was going to sacrifice us as virgins.¡±


    We had a briefugh at that.


    ¡°Camden freed us just as the monsters attacked. It was a bloodbath. They were disappearing left and right. There were originally two men for every woman. They scattered. I don¡¯t know how many survived.¡±


    ¡°Just for the record,¡± Kimberly said, ¡°I thought of plugging the men¡¯s ears earlier but none of them would talk to me.¡±


    Guess they got what they deserved.


    The battle was set. Dous and I had mounted horses. For our protection, we brought with us three women randomly chosen from among volunteers. Kimberly, Dina, and Anna all volunteered. We were briefly On-Screen for this moment. We needed some exnation for why they wereing with us.


    We reverted to Off-Screen as the NPCs moved into ce and the monsters regrouped to attack.


    Between us and the gate, a line of women held their weapons. The men stood behind them ready to step in if my prediction was wrong.


    I could still hear through the wax somewhat, but the NPC men couldn¡¯t. They were method actors.


    On-Screen.


    The newly rebuilt gate crumbled in one hit. It wasn¡¯t a barrier at all to the monsters.


    There were whispers in the air, but as long as I pretended not to hear them, they had no effect on me. As far as the audience was concerned, I couldn¡¯t hear anything.


    After none of the men were affected, the Cloven Women decided on a direct assault.


    They moved in through the gate a few at a time. They stared at our formation. With the women in front, they hesitated to do anything.


    They began whispering again, but not to us. They weremunicating with each other.


    Soon, the wooden walls of the fortress were inundated with heavy blows as the Cloven Women tried to break them down. The walls consisted of heavy sharpened logs driven deep into the ground. They were much sturdier than the gate. They wouldn¡¯tst forever, but they would buy us time.


    The monsters approached the front lines of NPCs. When they did, they were met with a flurry of swinging weapons warning them off.


    I sensed an internal struggle in the eyes of the Cloven Women. Their lore said they were protectors of women, but then they had a trope that stated they would act outside of the rules of their lore. They demonstrated that by attacking the settlements. That was against their nature as Esther described it.


    They were supposed to punish young men who chased after or otherwise harmed women. They weren¡¯t meant to kill all men. But they had thrown that part of themselves to the side under the influence of the Unknowable Host. After all, it was the Host''s power that had brought them here, pulled straight from a fairytale.


    Would they be willing to harm a woman under the deity¡¯s influence or would their original nature prevail?


    Despite a desperate rage building in their eyes, they resisted.


    They refused to harm a woman.


    Kimberly, Dina, and Anna all received a buff from my Cinema Seer ability. It was a three-point boost. Two in Grit, one in Savvy.


    The women began driving back the monsters. The Cloven creatures had no choice but to move back as their sisters continued trying to break the walls of the fortress.


    As soon as they were clear of the now open gate, it was time for the rest of the n to go into motion. I willed my horse forward. I didn¡¯t actually know how to ride a horse. Luckily, as I had learned earlier when driving the wagon, these horses were NPCs. They didn¡¯t need me to tell them what to do. I just had to hold on.


    That was quite difficult to do.


    Dous and I were out the gate right behind a few of the armed NPCs. They gave us just enough room to squeeze through and make our way out.


    The horses were more than happy to get away from the Cloven Women, so they ran fast and free in the direction of the well.


    I thought we were home free until I learned something the hard way: the Cloven Women were fast too.


    In fact, they were as fast as a deer.


    The race in the moonlight was on.

 Chapter Sixty-Two: A Lesson in Wishing Well

    Chapter Sixty-Two: A Lesson in Wishing Well


    Even though the horse ran even, graceful strides, every hoofbeat sent a jolt of pain up my leg from my shattered toes. An onlooker might have thought I had ridden a horse all my life as I guided the creature through the trees and over obstacles. Of course, that couldn¡¯t be further from the truth. The NPC horse knew the way. I was a passive rider. Pulling the reins did nothing except help me to hold on.


    Dous rode ahead of us. He was the only person that knew the way to the well. I watched his face, looking for some trace of the madness that I suspectedy underneath his foolish angst. Invoking the power of the Unknowable Host came with a cost, after all. It had driven Hesper to sacrifice his wife and attempt to do the same to his son.


    Dous continued to invoke that power time and time again even as every wish turned back on him.


    As I watched, I saw his hand hover over to his right ear several times. He was picking at the wax plug¡ªthe only thing standing between us and the Cloven Women''s spell. I couldn¡¯t tell him to stop; he wouldn¡¯t be able to hear me. Instead, I just watched as he touched it, rubbed it, and fidgeted with it every moment he could get one of his hands off the reins.


    Shadows danced alongside us as we rode. The Cloven Women weren¡¯t attacking directly, but still, we kept our weapons at the ready. Truthfully, I wasn¡¯t sure if I was coordinated enough to use my pitchfork while riding a horse. Luckily, the threat of it kept them at bay for a time.


    Dous held out his hand, directing us to follow him through a tight footpath that weaved between somerge trees. The horses followed him without missing a beat.


    I could hear very little but hoofbeats and heartbeats echoing inside my ears. Everything outside was muffled.


    I saw a hand waving in the corner of my eye. I ducked down, believing it to be the hand of one of the Cloven Women, but I soon saw that Anna was trying to get my attention. I looked over at her. She mimed that she had seen Dous messing with his earplugs. She was mouthing something. I couldn¡¯t tell what.


    I could see the creatures moving behind us to the left and right. The horses were faster than them, but only just.


    We broke from the footpath into a clearing. Ahead, we saw a cobblestone path leading up to a well sticking out of the earth. Arge rocky leaning against the side of the well, that was probably what had been used to seal it before Dous moved it.


    Someone had spent a lot of time creating a stone pathway, a bench, and a flowerbed around the well. All of it had be overgrown and run down with time, but I imagined that Dous¡¯ great-grandfather had really devoted himself to this ce. It was his temple.


    We were a hundred yards out from the well when Dous reached up to his right ear and rubbed it for the twentieth time. This time, the wax plug lodged within it came dislodged and fell from his ear down to the earth.


    His horse slowed down almost immediately. He mindlessly dismounted before his horse even came to a stop. He fell to the ground undeterred. Anna was yelling something that I couldn¡¯t make out.


    Dous looked at us, then past us. He started walking forward, then running.


    ¡°Stop him!¡± I yelled.


    Anna reached out to him to no avail. The horses turned toward him but steering them toward an unscripted goal was a fool¡¯s errand. Horse riding likely required a special trope. Luckily, we had someone with a trope that could do the trick.


    Kimberly handled her horse with grace and skill. She must have used her Convenient Backstory ability. I wasn¡¯t able to hear her do it. She had rerouted her path so that she rode right past Dous, she swung the end of the crude spear she was holding like a club and crushed Dous¡¯ nose with it. He stumbled backward onto the ground.


    I jumped off my horse and fell forward onto him. I quickly removed the stopper from my ear and shoved it into his. The pain in my foot was immense. At this point, getting him back to that well was too important. I wasn¡¯t sure if someone other than him could undo his wish. I¡¯m not sure anyone else would want to, with the effect it had on people who tried.


    Suddenly, I heard the sounds of the night again. I quickly put my finger in my ear to ward off the spell of the Cloven Women.


    Dous was dazed. He stood up and Anna beckoned him forward back to his horse.


    All around us, I could see a dozen or more of the Cloven Women arriving at the tree line.


    ¡°Hurry!¡± I screamed as I scrambled back to my horse. My injured foot was useless. Stepping on it sent a shock through my body. I fell down to the ground before I could make it.


    Fighting against the Hobbled status required Grit, a stat I had woefully neglected.


    As the others rode off toward the well, I struggled to even stand. My foot had swelled, and my joints were stiff and unbending.


    My horse took off toward the well as soon as it saw the other horses going. I was alone, failing to stand in the middle of a clearing. I could hear the others screaming as they realized I had been left behind.


    The Cloven Women started running toward me.


    I tried crawling away, but I knew if they got to me, that was pointless. My pitchfork had fallen somewhere when I jumped off my horse. I only had one hand. The other had to block out the sound of the monsters¡¯ whispers.


    It didn¡¯t really matter. They were beyond whispering. They weren''t even trying to project their human form. They were pure monsters now.


    I really only had one thing going for me: I was not the lowest Plot Armor male near the Cloven Women. Normally, I could count on being targeted because of my halved PA. It was even lower than normal now as my Hustle had been cut by being Hobbled. Still, with Dous nearby, a level 3 NPC, the monsters would <em>technically</em> target him first.


    Of course, that didn¡¯t mean they would ignore me. That would be too much to hope for.


    The first Cloven Woman to reach me was small. She kicked me as she passed by, which dislocated my shoulder on contact. The second creature picked me up and threw me. I couldn¡¯t do anything to stop her.


    I could hear someone yelling my name. I think one of them, maybe Dina, was trying to get to me.


    Something hit my face. A hoof? It could have killed me if it tried.


    My nose was broken. I wasn¡¯t sure how long this could go on. Whenever the Mutted status clicked on, my Plot Armor would drop even further, perhaps even enough to lower me below Dous and permit a kill.


    I was Incapacitated by the blow as Iy on my back. I blinked rapidly to try to wake up my senses to the world around me.


    I could hear them running over me. Most of their hooves dodged gracefully around me. Others stepped on me¡ªmy legs, my chest, my stomach. Still, they wanted Dous. One made a purpose to stomp on my dislocated arm as she passed by with the herd, snapping it like a twig.


    Iy there unmoving.


    My mind drifted into a dazed dream as I waited for the story to end. The needle on the Plot Cycle was nearly to The End. I don¡¯t know how long Iy there.


    The Final Battle, a race to the well, was over. Whether I lived or not, we would beat the storyline. After all, the Cloven Women would not attack my remaining teammates.


    I heard something walking up near my head.


    A Cloven Woman?


    One of my friends?


    No.


    I opened my eyes.


    It was a deer.


    I turned my head and looked up toward the well. My friends were running toward me. Around them, a dozen or so deer pranced off into the forest. The Cloven Women were gone.


    I could hardly move. I had some broken ribs, I could tell.


    ¡°Riley!¡± Anna screamed as she got to me. She was crying. I must have looked pretty bad. I had taken a hoof to the face.


    She stopped down beside me.


    I looked up at her. One of my eyes was swollen shut.


    ¡°It worked?¡± I mumbled. I realized as I tried to speak that I was missing teeth.


    ¡°They disappeared,¡± Dous answered from somewhere I couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Riley, I¡­ did not know this would happen. I did <em>not </em>ask for this.¡±


    He started to cry for a moment while repeating that he didn¡¯t know this would happen.


    Off-Screen.


    The Final Battle was over, yet the storyline did not end. We waited for a while hoping to see the needle move forward but it didn''t. Eventually, Dous remounted his horse he went and found wherever it was that mine had run off to and brought it back so that I could be lifted up onto it. Apparently, we weren''t going to get the easy way out. We had to go back to the Akers Plot.


    The ride back was a lot slower than the ride there. It was still dark outside but sunrise must have been just around the corner.


    On-Screen.


    While riding through the thick forest, we heard someone talking.


    ¡°Who is that?¡± Anna whispered.


    I wasn''t sure. It was a man''s voice.


    ¡°Not a bad ce to build,¡± a man said defiantly. "Plenty of lumber here."


    ¡°Quiet down,¡± another voice said. ¡°What are you trying to attract those monsters?¡±


    We rode along until we spotted the source of the voices. Beyond the thick brush, there was a small opening where the decrepit remains of a covered wagon sat thick with moss. A group of meny underneath it in hiding. They had stacked up sticks and other debris to try and hide themselves, but I could hear them. What''s more, I could see them on the red wallpaper as I stared at them.


    They were NPCs. Nothing special. Only one of them had a name: Cooky.


    I assume it was a nickname.


    As we rode by, the men stopped whispering to each other.


    ¡°Who''s under there,¡± Dous cried out.


    The men didn''t answer for a moment.


    ¡°Refugees,¡± a voice said. ¡°Only refugees.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t see Dous¡¯ face, but from the sound of his voice, I could tell he wasn''t happy. ¡°What are you doing on ournd?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No disrespect,¡± the voice said. ¡°We havee from the Lord''s Glory. There are monsters about. When we heard them start to attack, we fled. Please, do you know if the Lord''s Glory survived?¡±


    ¡°This isn''t yournd,¡± Dous said. ¡°You shouldn''t be here.¡±


    ¡°We fled for our lives,¡± the men pleaded.


    ¡°I told him this would happen,¡± Dous said as he turned to me. ¡°They would use this as an excuse to take ournd. He¡¯ll have to listen now.¡±


    Dous was obsessed.


    Anna and Kimberly stayed quiet. Their characters were trying to flee the cult so they must not have felt led to try and help its members.


    ¡°Let''s go,¡± I said to the best of my ability. ¡°I need to get back.¡±


    ¡°And just leave them here?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± I said. It was difficult to talk, let alone talk loudly.


    I could hear Dous mumbling to himself. Soon he urged his horse forward quickly. I thought about saying something to the refugees hiding underneath the old wagon, but my mouth hurt and I just didn''t care. The storyline was over. The others must have had the same idea.


    Kimberly nudged her horse to move forward. The other horses followed.


    Off-Screen.


    When we arrived back at the Akers Plot, we noticed that Dous was not there. Neither was Theodore for that matter. Dous had ridden in this direction. I had assumed he wasing here. NPCs started caring for the horses and one of them began tending to my wounds. The storyline just wouldn¡¯t end.


    We sat together, all of us, while the NPCs around us worked on repairing the damage from the attack. They had survived. The Cloven Women had followed us.


    On-Screen.


    Dous arrived on horseback.


    Something about him had changed. I couldn¡¯t see what though, but then, I was not at my sharpest. My mind and body ached with pain as Iid back on a bale of hay.


    He sat down near us.


    Off-Screen.


    There was a scene change. I could tell because all the NPCs stopped what they were doing and the sun began rising in the sky. The NPCs moved into their new ces.


    About fifteen minutester, we were On-Screen again.


    ¡°I took care of it, brother,¡± Dous said proudly.


    ¡°Took care of what?¡± I asked.


    He came close and stood over me.


    ¡°I went back to the well. I told Grandfather about the trespassers in the wood. That they even said they were nning to rebuild there. He didn¡¯t care. So, I went back.¡±


    ¡°What did you do?¡±


    He started tough, a nervous, crazedugh.


    ¡°I asked the well to curse any trespasser who entered without permission,¡± he said. ¡°To make them wish they had nevere.¡±


    Of course, he did.


    ¡°Someone had to protect thisnd, this family,¡± he said as he held out his hand. There was a bloody cut on his palm. It hadn¡¯t been there before. ¡°I think I figured out what it wants¡ª¡±


    An NPC approached and cleared his throat. He was one of Akers¡¯ cousins. I didn¡¯t catch his name.


    ¡°Have either of you seen Grandfather?¡± he asked.


    We said that we hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°That¡¯s strange.¡± He said. ¡°He went to help some disced settlers from the Lord¡¯s Glory.¡±


    The NPC looked west and scratched his head.


    ¡°He said they were in the western wood. I¡¯ll have to go find him," he said, as the needle on the Plot Cycle clicked over to The End, "It''s not like him to get lost. He was supposed to be back hours ago.¡±

 Chapter Sixty-Three: The Bad Luck Magnet

    Chapter Sixty-Three: The Bad Luck Ma


    For the final time, we appeared back in front of the campfire. Camden was gone. He either died or hid for so long that he was Written Off. Either way, it was just the four of us, Dina, Kimberly, Anna, and me. My injuries had healed, so I was no longer in terrible pain.


    But something else had changed. When I had been in thest story, I noticed there was something off about Dous, the young character who had been so obsessed with removing perceived trespassers that he had, apparently, created the Straggler curse itself.


    There was something about him I couldn¡¯t put my finger on, something being hidden from me.


    He had offered his own blood in exchange for hisst wish¡ªthe conclusion of the same years-long Eldritch-induced mania that had corrupted Hesper.


    He was no longer an NPC. He was an enemy. I didn¡¯t find that out until being transported out of the story. Over two hundred years had passed between that story and the present. And yet, Dous was still here. He had been here the whole time.


    Dous ¡°Old Man¡± Akers


    Plot Armor: 35


    __________


    Tropes


    Unreliable Narrator


    There may be a kernel of truth to this viin¡¯s tale, but it is best not to take them at their word.


    Telegraphed Reveal


    While an astute observer will know there is something strange about this character, the specifics will be hidden from the yer until the end of the story. The red wallpaper and insight tropes will not help you here, though logic might.


    Curse of Life


    This viin will wander the earth until they remove their curse.


    Mouth of the Host


    This viin will speak for the enemy.


    Narrator


    This character can tell stories that the yers must y through.


    Nonbatant


    This viin cannot be attacked On-Screen until it attacks the yer or is otherwise identified as hostile. Attacking it will not be effective, nor will it change the story. It will cause the yer to go Off-Screen for a time.


    ¡°What were the creatures in the dark?¡± Jake, one of the two teenage NPCs from he beginning of the story, asked.


    Dous Akersughed. ¡°No one knows. Some say they were sirens, attacking the cult for the way they treated the women. Others say it was spirits of thend, offended that the cult worshiped a foreign god on their soil. I couldn¡¯t say for sure either way.¡±


    Again, it appeared that the story Akers told Rudy and Jake was different than the one my group had yed through.


    ¡°But when youe outte on a night just like tonight,¡± Akers continued. ¡°And you are very quiet, you can almost hear the whisp¡ª¡±


    Akers stopped talking.


    He slowly looked away from Rudy and Jake, turning his head over to Anna, Kimberly, Dina, and me.


    ¡°Wait,¡± he said. There was a twinge of¡­ desperation, I think, in his voice. ¡°No. you weren¡¯t supposed to see that. That wasn¡¯t what happened! How did you see that?¡±


    He stood up.


    ¡°That couldn¡¯t be what happened,¡± the old man put a hand over his face. ¡°It wasn¡¯t my fault. Thisnd is cursed five times over.¡±


    He fell to his knees.


    ¡°The forest cursed the settlers because they did not ask permission!¡± he screamed.


    The scenery changed, melted away.


    We were back inside the Straggler¡¯s Forest right in front of Old Man Akers¡¯ cabin. It was the scene where he had exined the Straggler¡¯s Curse to us.


    ¡°The settlers didn¡¯t listen. They took more than they were allowed! That¡¯s why they were cursed,¡± his voice came from somewhere above us. The Old Man Akers in front of us was looking around, wondering where the voice wasing from.


    From all around us, Stragglers began appearing from the surrounding area. They were not the same Stragglers we had seen before. These were mostly members of the Lord¡¯s Glory cult. I could tell from their clothes.


    They weren¡¯t all cult members.


    Among them, several members of the Akers n stood. In the center was Theodore Akers, the patriarch of the family who had gotten trapped there when Dous created the curse.


    ¡°No,¡± Dous cried. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to! I didn¡¯t ask for this.¡±


    Unlike the other Stragglers, which stepped toward us menacingly, Theodore Akers did not. He stood still, unwilling to attack.


    ¡°The old man always thought he was so noble, didn¡¯t he?¡± Dous Akers continued to narrate. ¡°Well, it took fifty years for that to change. Time changes all.¡±


    The Stragglers changed. Now, they were gaunter, more decrepit. Their clothes had worn out. Theodore Akers had lost weight. Now, desperation appeared on his face. His time as a Straggler had stolen his restraint and better nature. He attacked along with the rest of them.


    We ran toward the ce we knew the exit to be.


    Our Hustle stats were higher than the Stragglers''. We soon left them behind as we ran to escape. It turned out that running was a pretty good strategy if you knew the rules before entering.


    Before we could get to the exit, Akers spoke up again. ¡°But then you would know all about escaping the Stragglers¡¯ Curse, wouldn¡¯t you? You left your friend in the forest to rot. Ever wonder what a hundred years cursed to wander in a forest will do to a person? Let''s find out.¡±


    Suddenly, a Straggler appeared in front of us, sitting down against a tree. He was gaunt. His clothes were worn down to threads. The muscles that once made up his frame had now atrophied away. He barely had the presence of mind to look our way.


    It was Antoine.


    Kimberly ran toward him screaming his name.


    Anna pulled her away. He was an enemy now. We could only save him by ending the story.


    We emerged from the Stragglers¡¯ Forest. We were free.


    For a moment.


    ¡°The mines where all those poor men died, their lingering spirits reaching out and possessing those whoe near, man and animal alike. But you didn¡¯t like that story either, did you?¡±


    We were transported again. This time, we were back in the mine.


    ¡°How did you find the cavern beneath the well? Why did you go there? You were just supposed to ride the minecart and escape. There was no evil entity in the mines. No waters brimming with power. It was only the possessed, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Sounds started to stir behind us. wing, scuffling.


    ¡°Run!¡± Anna screamed.


    We didn¡¯t have to be told twice. We ran forward along the underground tunnel as the possessed animals from the mine story chased us.


    ¡°That man from the forest wasn¡¯t supposed to be there. How did you know about him?¡± Akers said.


    The area in front of us opened up. There were trees there now, trees like those from the Straggler Forest. Standing amongst them was Nichs. He was a Straggler again. Beside him was his mother, still possessed, still the Eyes of the Host.


    They didn¡¯t attack us but watched us as we ran by.


    As we ran, dozens of possessed people began appearing around us and grabbing for us. They were miners, mostly. Corey, the activist NPC who had been with us in the cavern below also appeared. He lurched out at us as the others had done.


    ¡°Why did you go off track?¡± Akers repeated. ¡°What did I do wrong? You weren¡¯t even supposed to see the monsters hiding in the shadows, but you did.¡±


    Suddenly, we were out of the mines.


    We were running through dark woods. Something in the darkness whispered to me. I covered my ears as I ran. If they attacked, I was helpless.


    But they never did. I never saw a single Cloven Woman. All I saw were figures moving about in the shadows.


    We ran out into the clearing where the well was in the Cloven Women storyline. The young Dous Akers was at the well. He was slicing his hand and letting blood drop down into the well.


    I could hear Akers¡¯ voice even with my ears covered. He was distraught.


    ¡°This couldn¡¯t be what happened,¡± he said. ¡°This mustn¡¯t be what happened.¡±


    And then we were back around the campfire.


    Akers had copsed onto the ground. He was sobbing.


    ¡°That is not what happened,¡± he said. ¡°That is not the story! I can change the story, please let me change the story!¡±


    Around us, the monsters were gone. Rudy and Jake were¡­ all over the ce. Maybe they had gotten attacked while we were running from Akers¡¯ narration.


    We turned and ran away from thend. As we did, the Plot Cycle hit The End for the final time.


    We waited at the entrance to the property for half an hour. Camden got to us in ten minutes. He exined how he had survived.


    ¡°Luckily, my leg was broken, so every time they whispered to me I would try to walk out to them and the pain would snap me out of the trance. Then I hid under the fallen church. Used a pole as a lever to lift up a piece of timber and lower it back down on my foot. Pinned myself down under there. They couldn¡¯t see me. I couldn¡¯t leave. Then I passed out from the pain.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t sure if he died or not. He just woke up on the ground when the story ended.


    Clever n. Still got Written Off.


    Antoine still wasn¡¯t showing up. We were talking about going in to look for him, but we weren¡¯t sure if the Stragglers¡¯ Forest was operational still.


    So we waited.


    ¡°There,¡± Dina said finally.


    Antoine shuffled toward us from the western side of the field.


    ¡°Something¡¯s wrong,¡± Dina said under her breath.


    She was right.


    As he drew near, he looked exactly as he had when we had entered the storyline, young and healthy, but his face was nk, trapped in a thousand-yard stare. His legs marched forward in an uncoordinated manner as if his mind barely had the will to move them.


    He was crying.


    ¡°He¡¯s Incapacitated,¡± I said. His Incapacitated indicator shed the same as mine had been when I was stabbed. For me, it was because I was in great pain and had lost blood.


    Why was his going off? We had just been healed at the end of the storyline.


    We ran across the field to him.


    As we drew near him, I saw the distant, broken look in his eye.


    Oh no.


    As Kimberly got to him, she grabbed him in an embrace, and he fell to his knees. Camden and Anna helped catch him from falling all the way over.


    Tears rolled down his cheeks slowly in a continuous stream. He barely even registered that we were there.


    How long had he been in that forest?


    He raised his hand. Crumpled in his fist was a ticket. I couldn¡¯t read what it said.


    ¡°Look at his tropes!¡± Dina said. Her Outsider¡¯s Perspective ability had alerted her to them.


    I did as she said. Sure enough, there was something very strange: Antoine had two tropes equipped that he had not possessed when we entered the storyline.


    Where had he gotten them?


    They were two of the most potent tropes I had ever seen in Carousel.


    Bad Luck Ma


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Any


    Stat Used: N/A


    Sometimes, one character has all the bad luck. They fail at everything they attempt and make the other characters lookpetent byparison.


    With this ticket equipped, the yer will be first in enemy targeting priority regardless of Plot Armor. All of their stat checks will fail. On the other hand, Allies will receive a buff in every stat check as long as the yer with this ticket is alive and not Written-Off. If an enemy casts a spell or aura on the party in any form, the yer will be affected first.


    If equipped to a Wallflower, the buffs to allies will be permanent if the yer survives to the Finale.


    Some people are born with all the luck. You should invite them to your funeral.


    Failing every stat check was the same as having a zero in every stat.


    On the bright side, this trope effectively buffed every ally in any stat they used while they were using it.


    Wait¡­


    You were having a nightmare¡­


    Type: Perk/Healing/Action


    Archetype: Any


    Stat Used: Moxie+


    In horror movies, the audience often has a view into the character''s memories and nightmares. At the end of the sequence, the yer wakes to realize that the scene the audience has just witnessed (usually in a montage or in shes) was actually just a nightmare.


    Traumatic Memories:


    With this ticket equipped, the yer can temporarily repress or¡ªat its greatest strength¡ªpermanently heal mental trauma by pretending that a traumatic event was actually only a nightmare that the yer has been woken up from.


    Doomed Sequences:


    The paramount application of this trope will allow the yer to undo entire sequences within the storyline by presenting them as simply being a dreamed event¡ªhealing allies and giving the yers a second chance. The yer must be a main character and have interacted with the enemy of the storyline before using this trope. The story can only reset to the midpoint of Rebirth. This application will fail if not perfectly executed and in line with the narrative.


    Be warned: unless the yer has established Psychic abilities, the second version of events will bepletely different than the original version.


    The yer must be ¡°woken up¡± by an ally whom they have an established connection with. Its effectiveness will depend on both of their Moxie.


    Wake up from the nightmare of the past. Wake up to the horror of the present.


    That one was¡­ really good. If used perfectly you could undo Second Blood and a botched Finale. That was incredible. Of course, Antoine surely didn¡¯t have the Moxie to pull that off, but still, he could use that trope to¡ª


    ¡°Look at his nightmare trope,¡± I screamed. ¡°Look. It can heal mental trauma. Read it!¡±


    Kimberly was kneeling down over Antoine. She was tearfully trying tofort him. She had been so preupied that she had not paid any attention to his tropes until I drew attention to it.


    ¡°How did that¡ª¡± Kimberly started to ask. She read the trope on the red wallpaper. ¡°What do we do?¡±


    Antoine moaned dully. He must have been a Straggler for ages.


    ¡°Will that trope even work?¡± Dina asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Anna said. ¡°It has too.¡±


    Healing tropes of all kinds tend to work outside of storylines, especially the mental health perk tropes. All of the veterans had their favorites. Reggie used one of his alcohol topes regrly. Valorie always had her little candy ¡°pills¡± on her. No one goes through these storylines without losing some portion of their sanity. Tropes like this helped you get some of it back.


    I couldn¡¯t remember seeing a trope that imed it could permanently cure trauma at its highest power. That was very powerful.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Kimberly asked again.


    ¡°Do we need to get him to a bed?¡± Anna asked. ¡°It says he has to be woken up.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Justy him down. We don¡¯t need it to be perfect. It just needs to be good enough for now.¡±


    ¡°Lay him back,¡± Camden said.


    Kimberly helped lower him to the ground.


    ¡°Close your eyes,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Justy down.¡±


    Antoine looked over at her. He suddenly appeared to recognize her. He breathed quickly.


    ¡°Close your eyes,¡± she said. She gently ced her fingers over his eyes.


    He did as she said. Still, tears leaked out the corners of his eyes.


    Kimberly took a few deep breaths and tried to calm herself. She was going to give everything she had to this. In a storyline, this would probably not work. Antoine randomly sleeping in a field would not fit most narratives.


    But we were outside of a storyline. That shouldn¡¯t matter as much.


    I hoped.


    I didn''t know where this trope hade from or how he had gotten it. I wasn''t even sure it would work. I just had to wait.


    Kimberly ced her hand on the side of Antoine¡¯s face. ¡°Wake up,¡± Kimberly said softly. She moved her other hand onto his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re having a nightmare.¡±


    Antoine¡¯s eyes shot open. He breathed in a deep breath. He looked around at each of us.


    He grabbed Kimberly up in a hug. All the while, he was crying andughing with pure joy and relief.


    This continued for several minutes. Antoine would cycle between fits of joyful relief and horrified tears. The trope hadn¡¯t healed his mindpletely¡ªwe were far too low level to expect that¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t catatonic anymore.


    ¡°I am so sorry,¡± Kimberly said. She had been crying too. ¡°I am so sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to leave you behind.¡±


    Antoine pulled back from her and said through a lump in his throat, ¡°You didn¡¯t¡­ It wasn¡¯t your fault. It was him.¡±


    He pointed a finger back across the field in the direction of the gate.


    ced there, where he had not been before, was Ss the Showman.

 Chapter Sixty-Four: Secrets of Carousel

    Chapter Sixty-Four: Secrets of Carousel


    I had never seen Antoine like this. Even when he had stab wounds and broken ribs, he stood tall and pretended it didn¡¯t bother him.


    At that moment, he waspletely vulnerable.


    It took a while to get the story out of him. He didn¡¯t remember some of it. Maybe it was because he was in the forest for so long. Maybe because it was now, partially, a fading dream. As he spoke, he would pause for a few seconds. He might have been haunted by the memory or simply been trying to remember. I don¡¯t know.


    "Someone told us to meet back at the cabin but I didn''t wanna go," Antoine said, his voice filled with uncertainty. "I don''t have any insight tropes that could help me tell the difference between a straggler and my friends. The old guy said that you would be OK if you were all by yourself. I decided to make a break for it. I figure I just take myself out of the equation. As long as I didn''t bring any stragglers with me it shouldn''t matter.


    "It would have worked too. I must have been almost out of the forest when I heard him. Ss. Appeared right beside me. He said I¡¯d won a ticket. Riley''s always talking about how he got his Oblivious Bystander trope in the middle of a storyline so I figure that''s what''s happening to me. I press the button and he spits out two tickets. And then he disappeared as soon as I grabbed them. Suddenly, there were six stragglers on top of me.


    "I tried to get away, but I couldn''t outrun any of them. I couldn''t figure it out at first. I didn''t know anything about that damn trope he gave me. That stupid trope... No matter how fast I was running or where I went, they were right on my tail. I ran to where I thought the exit was supposed to be but I could never find it because they were with me. I was panicking. Thirty minutester and suddenly I look at the red wallpaper and I had be a Straggler. No more confusion. I knew what I was and what had happened.


    "I kept waiting for the storyline to end, but it didn''t. I watched the plot cycle. The needle was stuck right before The End. It would almost get there but then it would click right back ticking back and forth but never actually getting to The End. It was like it was broken.


    ¡°I don''t know how long I was there. The sun never rose. I never had food or water or sleep. I just kept waiting for the story to end. I don''t even remember when it did. Suddenly I woke up and I wasying in the field with you."


    Kimberly wrapped him up in a hug and cried into his shoulder.


    ¡°What the hell,¡± Dina said.


    ¡°Why would Ss do that to him?¡± Camden asked. ¡°Giving him a trope that would guarantee he ended up getting stuck there?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Anna said.


    I had an idea, but I didn¡¯t want to say anything until I was sure.


    I turned from the group and marched back to the gate to where Ss was. Dina followed. The others stayed with Antoine.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re interfering directly now, huh?¡± I asked as I saw the mechanical man.


    ¡°You won a ticket. Hehehe.¡±


    I nodded. Of course. He wasn¡¯t going to juste out and talk to me.


    Dina was quick to press the red button. She got a stat ticket, a trope, and something else along with a handful of coins.


    ¡°I knew something was wrong with that storyline,¡± I said. I had to assume that Ss, or whoever was controlling Ss, could hear. ¡°Chris wouldn¡¯t send us on a busted storyline. You did it, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Ss didn¡¯t respond. His mechanical arms continued to move and his little silver shlight turned on and off.


    ¡°Riley,¡± Dina said. She held up one of her tickets. ¡°Look.¡±


    I took a quick nce at it.


    Wait a second.


    I pressed the red button and got a stat ticket, a trope, and¡­ something else along with some coins.


    The something else was a ticket that simply read:


    Congrattions!


    You found secret lore: Secrets of Carousel #6: The Dark Water


    Bring this ticket to the Carousel Public Library to collect your prize. Collect ten for a huge reward!


    ¡°Beneath the stygian depths of those ursednds lies the cadaver of an unfathomable abomination, decayed and deste, hailing from a ne beyond the grasp of mortalprehension, where time and space intertwine in grotesque amalgamation. Those audacious souls who dare to feign dominion over the lingering puissance shall forever remain oblivious to the insidious sway it holds over their very thoughts, for their consciousness bes a mere puppetry, enmeshed in the service of an enigmatic primogenitor. In solemn silence, its devoted thralls patiently awaitmands that shall nevere, forever trapped in a maddening cycle of anticipation and despair. A malevolent force permeates the air, subtly and insidiously, causing dreadful transformations and disfigurements to all that bask in its baleful aura. The indigenous popce once believed that the ursednd was besieged by a multitude of evils, yet their misconceptions betray their feeble understanding; for in truth, a singr abhorrence reigns supreme, exerting its insatiable dominion over the forsaken territory even in death.¡±


    ¡°In Carousel, I envision a haven for souls of every stripe. Without each member of our growingmunity, we wouldn¡¯t be the town we are today.¡± -Bartholomew Geist, Founder of Carousel.


    Secret Lore¡­.


    We had been in a secret version of the storyline. But how? And what was different about our version? Did the other yers not know about the dead entity underground? We needed to get back to Chris and the other yers so that we could ask them what had happened in their versions.


    This didn''t sit right with me. Finding something significant on <em>ident</em>... Something was off. I needed to figure out what it was.


    Eventually, Antoine, Kimberly, Anna, and Camden made it all the way to the gate.


    ¡°Is it talking?¡± Kimberly asked.


    I shook my head.


    ¡°Can it even hear us? Is it just a machine or is there someone there?¡± Kimberly asked, enraged.


    ¡°You won a ticket, hehehe,¡± Ss said.


    Camden pressed the button. He got the same things Dina and I did. So did Anna afterward. Kimberly eventually came around.


    Antoine was hesitant to press the button, but he powered through. I could tell that the sight of the machine affected him.


    They all got the same Secret Lore ticket and a trope.


    Kimberly got two stat tickets instead of just one.


    After Antoine got his rewards (which included twice as much money as everyone else) Ss started to speak again.


    ¡°The stories can be pretty gruesome here in Carousel, but at least you get to be the star of the show!¡± he said. ¡°Hehehe.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck does that mean?¡± Antoine asked with a mixture of anger, sadness, and desperation.


    Ss didn¡¯t answer, but still, I got a hunch.


    ¡°I think he can only talk in prerecorded quips,¡± I said. ¡°He can¡¯t just talk to us straight up.¡±


    When I said that, Ss turned his head to me and said, ¡°Aren¡¯t you a smart cookie? Be careful, some of the monsters around here have a sweet tooth! Hehehe.¡±


    Then, he disappeared.


    ~~~


    I received a blue ticket:


    Location Scout


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Any


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Before any movie can begin production, the filmmakers must find locations for the shoot. Finding the perfect venues to shoot the film is important to make the moviee to life.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will receive a list of all primary filming locations within the storyline. The higher the yer¡¯s Savvy, the more expansive the list bes. If equipped to a Film Buff, the yer will be able to scout a limited amount of this information <em>before</em> entering a storyline.


    At higher levels, the yer will receive locations that the story <em>can </em>go, not simply the ces it <em>will</em> go.


    Of course, even if you know where the film takes ce, your final location will probably be the morgue.


    Kimberly received a red ticket:


    That¡¯s What I Said!


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Any


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Some characters get no respect. Even when they have a good idea, the get overlooked and have their ideas stolen by someone else.


    Normally, a n¡¯s sess or failure is a factor of two things: the innate usibility of the n and the Savvy stat of the person that came up with the n. A yer with this ticket equipped can have their ns and ideas ¡°stolen¡± by higher Savvy allies, with the ally seemingly rephrasing their very same idea. When this verbal exchange urs, the n¡¯s sess will be gauged by the Ally¡¯s Savvy.


    Ally: ¡°We should sneak in through the window and surprise them.¡±


    Group: ¡°That¡¯s a great idea. You¡¯re so smart.¡±


    yer: ¡°Wait, when I said that you said it was stupid!¡±


    Camden received a green ticket:


    The Immobile Genius


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Schr, Doctor


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Why is it that smart people in movies are always unable to enact their n themselves? They always have to exin their n to some good-looking cool character who then has to goplete the mission while the actual smart person sits back and waits.


    When the yer equips this ticket, they will be able to send allies off to enact a n instead of doing it themselves. In doing so, the ally will gain a temporary Savvy boost proportionate to the yer¡¯s Savvy. Any knowledge passed to the yer to perform the task will appear on their red wallpaper. If the yer has been Hobbled or Captured, the buff willst long enough to rescue or otherwise assist in relocating the yer.


    ¡°Now listen to me very carefully: when you get there, you need to flip the switches in the correct sequence or we¡¯re all doomed.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying there¡¯s no pressure?¡±


    Dina received a blue ticket:


    Outside Looking In


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Outsider


    Stat Used: Savvy


    In a world filled with action and attention, it''s challenging to avoid the spotlight. However, there are moments when observing from the shadows can provide a clearer understanding of the situation.


    Equipping this ticket grants the yer the ability to discern ideal spots to linger, granting them a vantage point to observe events without actively participating in the narrative.


    Not all characters are destined to be in the limelight.


    Anna received a purple ticket:


    Along for the Ride


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Stat Used: Savvy


    In a group, members with less Plot Armor can be picked off one by one, but when they travel together in a vehicle, their fates are tied together.


    With this ticket equipped, when allies are gathered together in a vehicle or simr, the entire vehicle will be considered to have the yer¡¯s Hustle stat. In the Finale, it will also have their Grit.


    A huge percentage of people in modern society die in car wrecks. In Carousel, they usually die right afterward.


    Antoine received a red ticket:


    Time Out!


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Athlete


    Stat Used: Grit


    In a movie, a fight can oftenst so long that the camera can cut away to give the audience a break. When the camera cuts back, the fight is still going, often having changed location as thebatants throw each other around the scenery.


    When equipped, the yer can call timeout in the middle of a fight just by saying or signing it. They will go Off-Screen the very second the yer starts to do this. The enemy will be far less aggressive Off-Screen, though they will still fight and will not be kible during this period. The yer can flee; however, the fight will resume as soon as the timeout ends regardless of the yer¡¯s action. The higher the yer¡¯s Grit, the longer the break.


    Don¡¯t be afraid to take a breather. Just know it may be yourst.

 Chapter Sixty-Five: A Theory

    Chapter Sixty-Five: A Theory


    We made it back to Dyer¡¯s Lodge before sundown.


    Antoine was still visibly withdrawn and distant. His eyes were red and watery. It was enough that when we walked back into the Lodge, people noticed. Dyer¡¯s Lodge was never the happiest ce on earth, but most people breathed a sigh of relief when they walked through the doors.


    ¡°Is he¡­ hurt?¡± Grace asked as we walked by her. She was on the couch reading a book but looked up as soon as we came in.


    ¡°Bad run,¡± I said quickly as we walked by.


    Antoine was looking for Chris. I didn¡¯t know what answers he might have; at this point, we knew our version of the campfire storyline was highly unusual. Still, we needed confirmation. We needed to know what exactly had happened differently.


    I already had my suspicions.


    ¡°Chris!¡± Antoine yelled as we moved to the center of the entryway.


    yers looked up from all over to see what the ruckus was about. Chris was upstairs in the nook where all the unsolved treasure maps and riddles were kept. When he saw Antoine, he immediately knew something was wrong. I think he had insight tropes to help with that, though I didn''t think to look at the time.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Chris said. He ran down the stairs two at a time. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I got trapped in¡ª¡± Antoine started to say. The very thought of what he had experienced brought back a flood of emotion that caught in his throat and stopped him from talking.


    Chris grabbed Antoine and led him to a nearby couch.


    He looked back at us. ¡°Tell me what happened now.¡±


    Anna, as usual, spoke for us. ¡°He got trapped in the storyline we went into. The Straggler Forest. He was there for¡­ we don¡¯t know how long.¡±


    ¡°Stragglers? What?¡± Chris said. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense.¡±


    A crowd of concerned yers surrounded us. They began whispering to themselves. One thing that was evident was that they had all done the Akers campfire storyline before.


    ¡°I was caught by the Stragglers,¡± a man in the back said. It was one of Reggie and Grace¡¯s teammates, one of the Bruisers. ¡°I was only there for a half hour. Barely even realized I had been caught before the game ended.¡±


    He chuckled to himself at the thought.


    ¡°Our storyline glitched,¡± I said. I had wondered if the Axe-Murderer might be upset for me mentioning it, but I didn¡¯t hear a peep from him. ¡°He was stuck in the first storyline in the anthology after the rest of us left.¡±


    At that, the people surrounding us were confused.


    ¡°Glitched?¡± Lee, the silver-haired Wallflower fisherman asked. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Lee doesn¡¯t know what technology is,¡± Todd, the Comedian said. ¡°It¡¯s like a record skipping, Lee. It messed up, broke.¡±


    ¡°Oh, dear,¡± Lee said. "I didn''t know that could happen."


    The crowd parted ways and Arthur came through.


    ¡°Tell me everything,¡± he said to Anna.


    So, she did.


    She told him about leaving Antoine behind in the Straggler Forest, the glitching second storyline in the mines with the Unknowable Host and Hesper, and the final storyline with Dous and the Cloven Women. Then she told him about Ss the Showman interceding to make Antoine fail.


    Arthur was interested but offered no answers. "How do you know the storyline broke?" he asked. "Maybe this creature just had a powerful trope."


    The others in the crowd liked that theory more. It was safer.


    Now that they understood his condition a little better, they started to offer solutions.


    A Doctor archetype named Jordan gave Antoine a pill to make him fall asleep right there on the couch. They figured that actual sleepbined with his new ¡°You were having a nightmare¡­¡± trope would help him shake much of his mental fatigue. It might not be permanent, but if not, the other yers offered to share some of their mental health tropes until he was able to manage.


    Antoine was soon asleep. A peace spread over his face. Kimberly sat near him, ready to wake him and activate his trope at the slightest turbulence in his sleep. Chris stayed with them for hours. Hearing about what his little brother had experienced has devastated him.


    The conversation continued elsewhere so as to not disturb Antoine.


    ¡°You guys are just being paranoid,¡± Todd said with a smile. ¡°Ss does that type of thing all the time. A year after I got here, he appeared to me in a storyline that starts on a ne and gave me a Comedian trope called Rubber Bones that gave me higher Grit but made me more ident-prone. My parachute didn''t open all the way. I got horrifically injured, but I also got a background trope called Near Death Experience that I still use to this day.¡±


    Other people had simr stories.


    If they expected us to believe that everything was business as usual, they weren¡¯t doing a good job. I refused to believe this was normal.


    After a minute of discussing Ss, they all started recounting their experiences in the Campfire Stories storyline. One thing remained constant: the Straggler''s Forest. After that, you would get two different mini storylines. We didn¡¯t have to worry about spoiling the story because everyone had already done it. Some of the stories actually did sound fun as Chris had promised.


    ¡°We got the mines,¡± Grace said. ¡°Didn¡¯t see any undead god, but we did the minecart race thing. Barely managed to fit my boys in the cart. Then we did the mutant bat hunt with the rifles. Bruisers don¡¯t have Hustle though, so they just smacked them with tree branches.¡±


    This elicited someughter.


    ¡°We repeated it a dozen times trying to get the treasure hunt one,¡± Todd said. ¡°We got the minecart race, the dirt bike race with the ghost horses, the bat shootout, and a few others. We also got the one set in the past with the monsters whispering in the dark, but there was nothing about a wishing well.¡±


    As they told their stories, none of them had heard of the wishing well. To them, the Cloven Women had been a glorified game of shlight tag. They ran through the dark woods trying to avoid getting lured away by unseen voices.


    More significantly, none of them had seen the Unknowable Host, or Hesper for that matter. In fact, no one remembered the owner¡¯s son, Nichs, being there. In fact, the mine owner was usually a role for the yers to y.


    It wasn¡¯t like this was a niche little storyline either. On the contrary, many had yed it multiple times trying to find new mini-games and hoping they would get a storyline with otherworldly moonshiners and buried treasure. Only a few had seeded.


    That was the reason Chris knew it so well. He had gotten the treasure years earlier.


    After they had told their stories and the mood started to calm, I showed them the secret lore ticket. ¡°Has anyone gotten one of these?¡± I asked.


    They seemed vaguely familiar with them, but most had only heard of them second-hand. The former generation had dismissed them as being tied to high-level storylines and they had believed them to be inessible. They were apparently wrong.


    Upon passing around my secret lore ticket, one of the yers I had never spoken to in-depthughed. ¡°I got one of these. A million years ago. Sure.¡±


    He was a small man in his mid-thirties named Lucas. His poster on the red wallpaper showed him screaming at an axe that was lowering into the frame.


    Lucas Lewandowski is The Hysteric. Plot Armor: 44.


    He was a jumpy guy who spoke very enthusiastically even when talking about everyday things like the weather. Every morning, he could be seen draining an entire pot of coffee into an insted jug and walking around camp with it taking big swigs every few minutes.


    ¡°What do you want to know?¡± he asked, eager for attention.


    Anna looked down at Antoine on the couch and decided to take the lead. ¡°Did the storyline glitch?¡± she asked. ¡°Did the story go Off-Screen or did any of the NPCs act funny?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°Well, thest part. I don''t know about any glitches. The story went off the rails for a bit and we were Off-Screen for it. It¡¯s actually an interesting story.¡±


    He took a big swig from his jug of coffee.


    ¡°We were just fooling around, this was over a decade ago, mind you, so my memory isn¡¯t fresh. We were trying to see how much we could power up one of my tropes called Too Pathetic To Kill. It¡¯s Moxie-based and prevents you from being killed as long as you act, well, pathetic. Harmless. But its odds of working go down every phase of the plot cycle.


    ¡°We had a n though. We would get a bunch of strong buffs and buff my Moxie through the roof. Then we would go to a storyline and see if we could make me immortal. We tried it a few times. It worked pretty well. The problem was, if I ever tried to help fight or ever acted brave, it would stop working permanently. So not viable in most storylines.


    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t matter. We decided to clear through a¡ª¡± he paused, closing his eyes and lifting his finger while he was in thought. ¡°I¡¯ll be vague because of spoilers. We decided to clear through a particrly tough storyline. It was way over my level but I had some heavy hitters with me. A home invasion sher. There are plenty of those out there, right? Anyway, this one was weird. I tried acting all pathetic, sad, pitiful, things that had worked before.


    ¡°Except in this storyline, they didn¡¯t work. Not even a little. My Moxie should have been high enough, but still, these shers didn¡¯t even hesitate to kill me. So then we tried to find out why. We tried everything to figure it out. Maybe they¡¯ve got a ridiculous Moxie? Too high for the trope to work? Nope. Brought in an Eye Candy. Their Moxie was super low.


    ¡°Maybe they had a trope that prevented it from working. That¡¯s our next thought. Nope, got an Outsider¡ªhe''s gone now¡ªwith a Betrayal trope called Evil All Along¡ª¡±


    He looked over at Anna. ¡°What? You furrowed your brow.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a betrayal trope?¡± she asked.


    Lukas held up a finger and closed his eyes for a moment while he thought about the best way to exin it. ¡°A Betrayal trope allows you to betray your team for some benefit. There are a bunch of them. Some are useful, some less so. I¡¯ve got a Hysteric one that allows me to betray someone in First Blood and get them killed by the bad guy, but guarantees I get killed as Second Blood. Pretty good Blood Control.¡±


    (Lukas was the only person at the Lodge who called manipting First and Second Blood, ¡°Blood Control¡±)


    ¡°Anyway, this one was a good one. It allowed an Outsider to betray their team and reveal that they were on the side of the bad guys the entire time,¡± he smiled a big smile, ¡°In doing so, the Outsider can then see the enemy¡¯s tropes because he is on their side. He can sneak over Off-Screen and tell you everything. ¡®Course, then you have to kill him in the Finale, but still. It is really useful to know the enemies¡¯ tropes.¡±


    I¡¯d have to agree with that.


    ¡°Anywho, that didn¡¯t work. He said they are all normal shers. No tropes to exin how they are resisting my trope. It was infuriating. There was no exnation. But we didn¡¯t give up. We kept trying. We were obsessed at this point.¡±


    Lukas stopped talking for a moment to gulp down his coffee.


    ¡°We decided to pull out an old trick from treasure hunting. We invited a yer who had a Departed advanced archetype. Departed be ghosts when they are killed. Couldn¡¯t get him toe until we told him the Betrayal trope didn¡¯t work. Then he was suddenly interested. I forget his name, he¡­ well, he¡¯s gone now for many years.


    ¡°Hees with us. Gets killed for First Blood and then he¡¯s a Departed, floating around unseen looking for some exnation for why these killers are resisting my trope. But the story was just a sher without any supernatural elements, so of course he couldn¡¯t reveal himself, but he could give us hints Off-Screen. Then he found it: there were other ghosts there. The strangest thing. These ghosts had 90 Plot Armor in a 60 Plot Armor storyline. They must''ve had tropes that block even most psychics from detecting them. Must have had a trope that countered mine too.


    ¡°Turned out this simple home invasion storyline wasn¡¯t actually just a sher: it was a haunting. The victims were responsible for a bunch of people dying and were being haunted. The killers were all possessed, but the ghosts were so strong no one could detect that. On that run, the story went in a whole different direction. We had yed through this storyline dozens of times at this point, mind you. It changedpletely.


    ¡°By the end, we had to escape as the ghosts killed the NPCs that had killed them years earlier. Mind-blowing. As you said though, we were Off-Screen for some bits, but I didn¡¯t think too much of it at the time. If you y through the storyline today, you would never think there was anything supernatural involved, but there is.


    ¡°When we finished the storyline, we got one of those tickets, talking about some massacre in Carousel years ago. Traded it in for a treasure map a couple of yearster. Still, it was quite exciting at the time.¡±


    After a while, everyone dispersed. I found myself on the back deck watching the sunset. I figured that the others wouldn¡¯t know much about the glitch. If they had, that would havee up at some point. Even Arthur didn''t seem too interested once we described it. They all exined that NPCs often keep talking Off-Screen to help push you to the next scene or just in case the camera came back on suddenly. They said the camera could have been cutting in and out due to one of the creatures¡¯ tropes.


    I don¡¯t want to say they dismissed it, because they didn¡¯t, but they certainly didn¡¯t seem as rmed about it as we had. They were certainly interested, but it wasn''t the game-changing revtion I expected it to be. If anything, they were more interested in the secret lore ticket than the glitch.


    Soon, Dina, Anna, and Camden joined me on the deck. They were all tired and confused, I could see it in their eyes.


    Camden slumped down into a chair near me.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± he asked.


    I shrugged. ¡°A million things,¡± I said. ¡°They seem to think the glitch was just one of the Host¡¯s tropes messing with us.¡±


    ¡°Well, they¡¯ll see it for themselves soon from the looks of it,¡± he said.


    Inside, many of the veterans had rearranged some couches and brought in a chalkboard to devote to the Secret Lore investigation. The energy inside was electric. Soon, they would be running the Campfire storyline for themselves to try and reproduce our run.


    Dina watched them. She actually looked happy to see them working.


    ¡°Looks like they¡¯re going to figure things out for us,¡± she said. ¡°Finally, they¡¯re doing something useful.¡±


    Ann shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re not being fair,¡± she said. ¡°You heard them talking. They thought all of the Secret Lore was locked behind high-level storylines.¡±


    Dina didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°You all think the Secret Lore will show us the way out?¡± Camden asked after a beat.


    No one said anything at first. It was too early to guess.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. ¡°I couldn¡¯t say.¡±


    I must not have sounded too confident.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think so?¡± Dina asked. ¡°It has to be important.¡±


    I shrugged.


    ¡°It may be important, I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t think it¡¯s the way out?¡± she asked as if it were an usation. ¡±You don¡¯t think it will lead to saving my son?¡±


    From the moment I picked up that lore ticket, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that there was something off. Antoine¡¯s suffering aside, this whole thing was too easy.


    ¡°We stumbled into it,¡± I said. ¡°This is supposed to be a story, right? That¡¯s what we concluded from the letters Carousel sent you and the messages on the tropes Ss gave me.¡±


    We hadn¡¯t had much time to discuss this.


    ¡°So?¡± Dina asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t pretend to be a movie critic or anything, but I do know some things. In a story, the main character can stumble sideways into a B plot, but they can¡¯t stumble forward in the A plot,¡± I said. ¡°We went out on some random storyline and just happened to uncover a huge plot development? That isn¡¯t how it works. We are supposed to seek things like that out.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re reading into it too much,¡± Dina said.


    I was assigned Film Buff for a reason. In fact, if my understanding was correct. I didn¡¯t want to argue with her though. I shouldn¡¯t have said anything.


    Camden spoke up. ¡°Ss interfered. We didn¡¯t stumble into it. Ss showed it to us.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s just a theory. I think we need to keep our eyes open is all.¡±


    Anna changed the subject after that.


    I should have waited to bring up my reservations.


    The veterans inside were dissecting what we had told them and were making battle ns. I was actually looking forward to seeing them in action.


    More than anything, I couldn¡¯t wait for them to go through that same storyline, if only so they could see the glitch for themselves. I wondered if they would exin it away then.


    I went inside to watch them discuss their ns. They hadn¡¯t been able to share much with us in that regard on previous storylines because they didn¡¯t want to spoil important stories and cause us to miss out on experience and loot. Now, we could actually learn from them.


    And I couldn¡¯t wait.

 Chapter Sixty-Six: The Brainstorm Montage

    Chapter Sixty-Six: The Brainstorm Montage


    By the next morning, much of the Lodge had developed a fascination with the concept of Secret Lore tickets. They wanted to get secret lore tickets of their own.


    Not the whole Lodge, of course.


    ¡°Those things are a waste of time,¡± Arthur warned us, as he and the other high-level yers prepped for their own mission. ¡°The yers that were here when I got here obsessed over those things for years and all they ever got was a few trinkets. They¡¯re all vor and no substance.¡±


    ¡°We should pack it up then,¡± Roxie whispered to Grace with a smirk after Arthur was out of earshot. ¡°Those folks never missed anything.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t speak ill of the dead,¡± Grace said, while stillughing at her remark.


    We had arranged the couches in a big circle with a couple of coffee tables in the middle. Arthur took the stairs up to where he, Adaline, Chris, Todd, Valorie, and a couple of other strong yers were running through their ns. Something involving a travel agency.


    Grace had the corded telephone that was at the Lodge in herp. The receiver was in her ear. She was on hold.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m still here,¡± she said into the phone. ¡°What do you have for me?¡±


    She listened intently as the person on the other end spoke. She had a notepad and pen in her hand. She pretended to write things down on the sheet but didn¡¯t need to. She had a trope that would transcribe information like that onto the red wallpaper whenever she mimed writing it down.


    ¡°Uh, huh,¡± she said. ¡°Thanks, Harvey, you¡¯re the best.¡±


    She hung up the phone.


    ¡°My friend at the station says that a Nichs Hesper went missing near the property in question about a decade ago. Made a point to tell me how strange it was that there was no follow-up. The case file was empty. Wasn¡¯t even a search.¡± She smiled as she spoke. ¡°Harvey drew special attention to Nichs above the other missing people. Definitely confirms that he¡¯s important.¡±


    Grace was a Detective archetype. She had a trope called My Friend at the Station that allowed her to call her titr cop friend for information on a storyline. It was a scouting trope so it could be used without even being in a storyline, much like my I don¡¯t like it here¡­ trope.


    Around thirty veteran yers had taken an interest in finding these tickets. Lukas the Hysteric who had found one over a decade earlier had suddenly stepped in as our resident expert on the subject, despite having admitted that he had never managed to find a second lore ticket.


    Apparently, about twelve years earlier, the yers stopped being interested in Secret Lore. Rescue Tickets had just disappeared and there was a period where yers were failing storylines left and right before they adapted to a more cautious style of y. As I understood it, yers used to routinely y storylines even ten levels over their Plot Armor and their style of y was risky as well. None of that was done anymore.


    When the dust settled, the remaining yers deemed Secret Lore too dangerous to be worth it, especially since they could not find any Secret Lore storylines in the lower levels. Until we found one, that is.


    Lukas listened to Grace¡¯s information intently.


    ¡°Yes, Grace,¡± Lukas said, sipping his coffee. ¡°That¡¯s good work. Definitely good information.¡±


    That''s what he did. He agreed with everyone. Even when people were arguing, he agreed with both sides.


    The first step of their investigation was retracing our steps, so to speak. The idea was that stumbling onto a Secret Lore ticket is not very useful. They wanted to find out how a yer might detect the presence of such a ticket in the first ce. Relying on luck was not enough. They wanted to be able to find more tickets afterward, after all.


    ¡°What do you have, Lara?¡± Grace asked.


    Lara, the Psychic archetype, was cycling through her binder of tickets, trying to find a scouting trope that would give her new information.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Lara answered. "I can¡¯t find anything that helps me detect the presence of the being they describe."


    She was clearly growing frustrated.


    ¡°It was really high level,¡± Anna said. She sat on the same couch as me. Dina and Camden were nearby. Antoine and Kimberly were off together trying not to think about the Straggler Forest.


    ¡°It would have to be,¡± Lara answered. ¡°It just looks like a normal storyline to me.¡±


    I furrowed my brow. ¡°It¡¯s weird, in stories, Psychics usually have a tough time around eldritch entities. It¡¯s strange that you can¡¯t see it.¡±


    ¡°It was the same way with the ghosts in the storyline I found my ticket in. Psychics didn¡¯t even know they were there,¡± Lukas said.


    Grace stood up and stretched. ¡°Maybe when Garrett gets back, he¡¯ll have something.¡±


    Garrett was a Soldier archetype who floated around from team to team. He had a handful of abilities for scouting out enemies.


    The other yers weren''t as concerned with finding out information. They were focused on figuring out how to trigger the secret lore version of the storyline as painlessly as possible. They interrogated my friends and me for hours. They wanted to know every single detail.


    We were pretty quick to conclude that getting the Straggler/NPC Nichs out of the forest was essential.


    The first trouble there was trying to get Nichs out of the Forest given the fact that the Straggler¡¯s curse made it difficult to know friend from foe. A further and bigger problem was that when they did get Nichs out, they would be leaving behind a yer who would end up in the same boat as Antoine. Nobody wanted to risk being stuck in that Straggler Forest for who knows how long.


    Those were only the first two problems. On top of that, we stressed to them exactly how mentally taxing being in the presence of the Unknowable Host was.


    They said that they were taking it seriously but most of them appeared to think that it was nothing they couldn''t handle. I wasn''t sure about that but I didn¡¯t know what other kinds of horrors they hade across. They took mental health tropes just in case.


    Truthfully, a problem we didn¡¯t speak about much was whether you could spoil a secret storyline and make it so that other yers could not trigger it. Roxie seemed to think you couldn¡¯t that spoilers don¡¯t matter after you¡¯ve yed through a storyline. There were lots of times they would discusspleted storylines and variations of those storylines and it didn¡¯t seem to matter. I hoped she was right.


    If she wasn¡¯t, all of their efforts would be in vain.


    It was interesting watching them work on the problem. Up until this point, we had never been able to sit in on their prepping sessions. They were worried about spoiling important storylines for us so we just weren''t included in those conversations.


    They nned out how to find secret treasure and other consumables. They theorized about how to get a perfect run in a storyline, a feat that was heavily rewarded.


    This time was different. We couldn''t be spoiled on this storyline because we had already run it.


    We actually had a seat at the table for this one.


    The first strategy they came up with to avoid getting stuck in the Straggler Forest was something called Scared to Death. It was a Hysteric trope. The way it worked was simple: when you are confronted by an enemy, you pretend to have a heart attack or a stroke, and then you die. You actually die. Your death will count as First Blood if you time it right.


    Their thought was that if five yers entered the Straggler Forest and then one died of a heart attack, four yers could leave along with Nichs without anybody having to worry about staying in the forest for who knows how long.


    Lukas thought of this n himself. Not only was it his trope, but Lukas had a few screws loose and was always willing to die.


    The problem with this n is that it left too much uncertainty. If there was no one to pass his curse on to, would Nichs be allowed out of the forest? Or was the whole thing about the number that entered always having to be the number that left thing literal? Could it be that simple?


    Luckily, Roxie had a better idea.


    She observed that the only time an NPC was brought into the forest was when one of the yers started the game as a Straggler and would need to pass their curse onto the NPC to get out. This was what Dina had done to the NPC Roberta.


    ¡°But what happens if we bring in an NPC of our own?¡± Roxie suggested.


    She presented the group with three of her tropes that could do just that. One was an Eye Candy trope called Carry the Bags, which allowed her character to have a hired assistant or servant. Her second, Hired Muscle, worked the same way, but with a hired bodyguard.


    Her final trope was called Meet My Mark, a Femme Fatale trope that allowed her to enter the story with an NPC on whom she was running a scam. Usually, the NPC in question would have money, information, or ess her character was trying to get from them that would further the storyline.


    The first two cost money to use and limited the yer¡¯s role to something that could conceivably have a servant or bodyguard. Not a big deal. The third was a risk because she would have to be a Femme Fatale to use it and doing so might alter the storyline so much that the secret ending wouldn¡¯t trigger. Advance Archetypes had that problem.


    ¡°That is stone cold,¡± Reggie, Grace¡¯s Bruiser brother said.


    It was quite cold-hearted. But it was a good idea.


    ¡°Think about it,¡± she said. We need someone for the Straggler to pass his curse to. Why not an NPC?¡±


    No one could argue with that.


    The problem then was making sure Nichs got out in the first ce. This one was solved pretty quickly, funny enough. One of the Bruisers had an Advanced Archetype called Bounty Hunter. The Bounty Hunter had all sorts of tropes for finding and capturing NPC or enemies. One of them, It¡¯s Just Not Your Day, was a rule trope that guaranteed the yer would run into their target at the beginning of the story.


    Other yers had to figure out their own ways. Lara used one of her Psychic-ultist tropes to scry for Nichs and another trope to ward off Stragglers that weren¡¯t Nichs.


    Still, others simply nned to wander around until they found him and then drag him out with them. It''s not like he would argue.


    It turned out that there were more tropes that could bring an NPC into a storyline with you, though they were usually for very specific use cases.


    It took them three days to make it work. Making sure that the right Straggler got out was the biggest hurdle in practice.


    Roxie and her team ran the storyline and managed to nab Nichs from the Straggler Forest. But there was a problem. When they returned to the Lodge, they let us in on the bad news.


    The secret route didn¡¯t trigger. Something was missing.


    To make matters worse, the storyline took five hours on average to reset. So, they could only try so many times.


    ¡°I knew it wasn¡¯t going to work,¡± Garrett, the Soldier said. ¡°There is something else going on here.¡±


    I was eating lunch when another deted team returned with their heads hanging low. Lara was sitting at the table near me, trying her Psychic tropes again. Her frustration was growing with every failed vision.


    ¡°Did you know that you should not trust your eyes in the Straggler Forest?¡± she asked in a huff. ¡°That¡¯s what this stupid Harbinger trope has told me twelve times now. Not a thing about the dead god. I thought you said Psychics should have a connection?¡±


    Lara was usually calm and collected. She was clearly very frustrated.


    The veterans were not pleased with theck of forward progress. They kept asking for us to go on the storyline with them to see if anything about us specifically triggered the storyline.


    Each team had developed a way to get Nichs out, a way to not leave a yer in the Straggler¡¯s Forest, and a mental health trope to ensure they survived the encounter with the Unknowable Host.


    Eventually, they came to the conclusion that they needed me to be there with them on their next run, a prospect I was not happy about. The aura of the Unknowable Host was still messing with me days after the fact.


    They figured that I was all that they couldn''t replicate. I was the only Film Buff, after all.


    ¡°You won¡¯t even have to do anything hard,¡± Roxie suggested. ¡°We¡¯ll take care of you just like with the Grotesques.¡±


    I really didn¡¯t want to go. At the same time, I didn¡¯t want to disappoint the other yers.


    I told them I would think about it.


    A breakthrough came just in time. They had their own copies of every single trope that my friends brought on that storyline. They tried them all. What they didn''t have were Film Buff tropes.


    Of course, the real prize was my Trope Master ticket. It was the ability that would allow someone to detect the Unknowable Host indirectly. One look at a possessed animal or a Cloven Woman¡¯s tropes would hint to you that something more was going on, that something linked the storylines together.


    The question was, was it possible for them to replicate that ability without just bringing me with them?


    We knew that there was an Outsider ability that would allow you to betray your teammates in order to join the bad guys and get a look at their tropes. The problem was that there were no Outsiders at the lodge who had that ability anymore.


    But there were other abilities that worked simrly, they were just not the kind of trope that you would bring on a storyline like this.


    For instance, Lara had a Psychic trope called Fatal Connection that allowed her to have visions through an enemy''s eyes after it had Mutted her. That wasn''t a trope that she liked using, for understandable reasons. Not to mention trying to get it to work inside this storyline would be difficult.


    The Stragglers wouldn''t mutte her, not that it mattered because they didn''t have any tropes tying them to the Unknowable Host. The Cloven Women wouldn''t even attack her because she was a woman, let alone mutte her. The only option would be the possessed animals in the Mine storyline.


    But then I don''t think it actually mattered how feasible implementing the trope was.


    My theory was that having a trope that would allow you to see the enemies'' tropes would be enough. You wouldn''t actually have to use it. After all, I had not detected be Unknowable Host until after I had seen it. Having the trope was important, but using it might not have been. I think you just needed the trope with you.


    With this assumption, the veteran yers collected tropes that might allow them to see an enemy¡¯s abilities and went back to the Campfire storyline. It was a meager collection. Seeing an enemy¡¯s tropes was a rare gift, apparently, and always required ridiculous amounts of setup.


    But it worked.


    A few hourster, Roxie, Lara, and the rest of their team came back to the lodge holding their brand-new secret lore tickets.


    They weren''t exactly thrilled about it. The aura of the Unknowable Host was just as hard on them as it was on us. We didn''t say "I told you so."


    They suddenly agreed that the Unknowable Host was causing the red wallpaper system to glitch along with the NPCs near it.


    The Lodge was a quiet, dreary ce for a while as people recovered from their run-in with the Unknowable Host¡¯s aura.


    What a convenient coincidence, my ability just happened to be the key to unlocking the secret lore that we just happened to find on a random storyline. This development felt unearned. None of the other yers shared my reservations, at least not to the same extent. I added that to the pile of things causing me to be ufortable about the situation.


    I knew our friend in high ces was behind it, but still, it felt off. I couldn''t articte exactly why in a persuasive manner.


    Within two days, all of the veterans who were interested had managed to scrounge up their own secret lore tickets from the campfire storyline.


    Then it was time to go to the library. We needed to inquire about the tickets and hopefully find out how we were supposed to find more secret lore storylines.


    I had never traveled in such arge group. We were doing it together because apparently getting into the library and moving about freely was quite a chore. It was better to do it once for everyone.


    ¡°So here''s how it works,¡± Garrett told us as we stood outside the giant stone building. ¡°There are omens all over the library. Luckily, they''re all contained in books and they will leave you alone as long as you don''t open them. Except for one. There is one storyline in that library that''ll sneak up on you. And it''s a real pain in the butt. But we have a workaround.


    ¡°You enter the library and you find an omen for a storyline called The Final Page. You can use others, but that one is near the entrance and it works well. You gotta run through that storyline; it''s a little above your current level but it''s nothing you won¡¯t be able to handle soon. When you''re inside that storyline you gotta make sure that you find an excuse to burn down the children''s literature section. It''ll make sense once you''re there. You have to burn down the whole section while you''re in the storyline; that is very important.


    ¡°After you finish the storyline, with the children''s literature section burned down that sneaky omen isn''t there anymore and you can move about the library freely without worrying about triggering it. That''s what we¡¯ve got to do every time wee here. It''s a pain.¡±


    Apparently, the team that went up ahead to clear the storyline was taking longer than expected.


    Grace suggested that while we waited, we should go check out the job board next to the library. It was in a ss enclosure meant to protect the board inside from the rain. It almost looked like a bus stop but it wasn''t next to the road. The way she described it, the job board held directions to omens that were rted to storylines you had alreadypleted or to tropes that you had equipped. It wasrgely random but now that we had a few levels we might be able to find something good.


    The storylines would all be within our level range.


    So that''s what we did.


    When we got there, there were only three jobs on the board.


    The sheets of paper themselves seemed like normal ads for a job you might find on the Inte. They didn''t really say much about the storyline.


    One offered a job for a farmhand, another for a security guard of sorts, and the final for a maid.


    What was on the paper itself didn''t seem to be that important. What really mattered was what was on the red wallpaper.


    As I looked from sheet to sheet I realized that I could see the title and poster for each of the storylines. These weren''t omens so they didn''t trigger any information for me in that way. They just told you where to go.


    Our three options were:


    The Final Straw.


    We had been carried through The Final Straw II when we arrived in Carousel. Not a bad option. It would be nice to see what was going on in that franchise. We knew so little about it. The poster was of a scarecrow hung up on a wooden stand with some spatters of blood. Interestingly, this scarecrow was not wearing the coveralls that said Benny on them.


    Subject of Inquiry.


    The poster for this one depicted a bunch of security monitors, most of which were just showing static. There was blood on the screens.


    House of Fane.


    This showed a long fancy dinner table with people sitting in all of the seats. The people¡¯s heads were all turned away from the viewer toward a chair at the head of the table with w marks on it.


    We voted and after much discussion, we decided to go with Subject of Inquiry. We grabbed the flier.


    But that wouldeter. Soon, we were being ushered inside. We needed to talk to a librarian.

 Chapter Sixty-Seven: Make History Part of Your Story!

    Chapter Sixty-Seven: Make History Part of Your Story!


    All in all, there were seven teams at the library. Of course, my friends and I hardly counted.


    The other teams had been put together strategically (with notable exceptions) and they could adapt seamlessly to different storylines. yers tended to teau at around 40 Plot Armor. Most of the Lodge existed around that range. Those that are really dedicated like Chris and Valorie might break free and attain a higher level, but most will not. Most never break level 50.


    There were benefits to that though. Pretty much all of the yers in that range could group together for storylines. In fact, it was difficult to tell which yers hade to Carousel together just by looking at their current groups. They end up dividing themselves into teams based on the task at hand. In order to make that work, they developed a signup sheet.


    The original signup sheet wasprehensive, requiring you to fill out information on every single detail of your stats and build. In time, those were seen as overkill. They knew each other well enough that they didn¡¯t really see the need to fill out a long form every single time.


    So they made a shorter sheet. Hannah, one of several Final Girls at the Lodge, was very proud of the role sheet. The other yers liked it too for the most part. It looked like this:


    This sheet simply asked what you had to offer at each notable stage in the game. They would then discuss the team¡¯s build based on what people wrote down. This system mostly worked for them on day-to-day runs.


    The library was not a remarkable run for them. They had been here before and believed that they had its entricities well understood.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch the books unless you are sure they aren¡¯t an Omen,¡± Grace reminded us as we walked in.


    Anna assured her that we would be careful.


    ¡°I smell the children¡¯s section,¡± Camden said as we entered.


    Everyone could. The whole first level of the library had ayer of smoke in the air. NPC firefighters put out the me and made small talk with a library administrator. It wasn¡¯t long until they had left. They were only here as background for the storyline that had just been run.


    I stole a nce at the section where the burned-out children''s section was. The books were mostly ash. NPCs worked blocking off the section from view with arge movable curtain. I managed to see a smoke-damaged red box against a wall. It was a Ss the Showman disy, one of several permanent instations around town. Of course, it was not in working condition; Ss had been damaged in the fire. Bad luck for him.


    The building wasrge. Each section had its own room cordoned off somewhere in the stacks. The library had all of the normal sections you might expect: fiction, nonfiction, biographies, genealogy, etc. It also had a few Carousel-specific sections. Ancient tomes, Witchcraft and folklore, History of Carousel, and the Bartholomew Geist Private Collection (which you needed a special key to enter) were among them.


    A lot of the rooms were just designed to be settings for scenes in different storylines, usually one-offs. Do you need a scene of a schr pouring over books searching for some obscure fact? There was a ce for it on the second floor called the Leatherbound Vista. That wasn¡¯t the name for it on the library map, no, but my Location Scout trope told me it was there. There was also a ce for college kids to study together on the top floor called the University of Carousel Group Study Annex.


    The library was actually quite pretty in the way libraries often are in movies. There were towering stone pirs and multiple floor levels with shelf after shelf of books.


    But it was filled with Omens, most of which could be triggered by some variation of ¡°touching the book¡±. Some were more generous and actually required you to check out or read the book. Interestingly, most of the storylines triggered by these book-omens took ce outside the library. Location Scout assured me of this. In fact, some didn¡¯t even have scenes in the library.


    Upon asking Roxie about this, her exnation was that while most storylines were ready to go at a moment¡¯s notice, others had to be set up. Making sure you could only trigger the storyline from far away ensured that the NPCs could get everything into ce before you got on set.


    Of course, many of the storylines were directly rted to the library and the books involved. I saw a litany of storylines around the library. Most of them were a high difficulty. That made sense. No use putting beginner storylines in a ce where beginners couldn¡¯t get to them.


    We found a table on the second floor that was separated from the rest of the library but was on anding that could look over the librarian''s desk. We wanted to watch as the other teams approached the Head Librarian for information about the lore tickets.


    Each team moved separately through the library so that if someone identally triggered an Omen, other teams wouldn¡¯t have to be involved.


    In the Grotesque storyline, everyone who had gotten close enough to the Omen for their plot cycle indicator to switch on was subject to be included in the storyline. The theory was that if we divided up the library and stayed separate, we wouldn¡¯t have to worry about that.


    We were waiting our turn to talk to the Head Librarian.


    In the meantime, we decided to read up. I helped everyone find books that were safe to read from the section that we had been allotted. We were eager to see what kinds of information the library held. I half expected the books to be nk. Why go through the trouble of writing enough books to fill a library if they aren¡¯t part of a storyline? I was wrong. The books were all real.


    Though, they were a little strange.


    ¡°I found a President Eli Morris as the 28th president of the United States,¡± Camden said, holding up a book that imed to be a US History textbook. ¡°I don¡¯t remember learning about him in school."


    ¡°That¡¯s not right,¡± I said. ¡°We all know that the actual 28th president was¡­ uh¡­ you know.¡±


    ¡°And the section on the Salem Witch Trials is a trip,¡± he said. He flipped it around and showed me what looked like a pilgrim woman absorbing the souls of some townspeople. ¡°It talks about it like they were actual witches.¡±


    The actual Salem witch trials were famous in the real world for being false usations.


    He handed me the book. I scanned the page. Sure enough, the entire county around Salem was abandoned to keep the ¡°Coven¡± separate from the rest of the country. However, when they checked on thosends yearster, they were unable to find any evidence of inhabitance. The section concluded that the witches had either died off, left with the townspeople, or simply never existed.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s randomly generated,¡± Camden suggested. ¡°Or maybe that¡¯s just what happened in the fictional version of the US that Carousel is set in.¡±


    I shrugged.


    ¡°It might have been made for a specific storyline,¡± Anna theorized. ¡°One with witches.¡±


    That seemed possible.


    ¡°Here we go,¡± Antoine said, lifting a book onto the table. He seemed better after a few days'' rest. Or at least, he had gotten better at hiding his trauma. ¡°This book references a Catalogue of Eldritch Entities. Maybe that would work. You guys said it was an Eldritch deity, right?¡±


    We were still trying to figure out how a yer might have found the secret lore in the Campfire storyline on purpose. Stumbling onto them was unreliable (even with help from our friend in high ces). If we were going to find ten, then we needed to understand how to track them down.


    ¡°None of these people exist,¡± Kimberly said, as she looked through a celebrity gossip magazine. She had gotten bored of looking through historical texts so she picked it up off a rack downstairs. By this point, we all had.


    We slogged through more of Carousel¡¯s collection of alternate histories. These books didn''t line up with reality or each other. The problem was that none of it tied directly to Carousel. We were in the wrong section.


    ¡°We need to go to the History of Carousel section,¡± Anna said. ¡°Did they say how long they would be?¡±


    I shook my head.


    Grace and her team were in the room that contained the actual History of Carousel section itself. It was thought that there would be something more substantial in there.


    ¡°If there¡¯s something in there, Grace will find it," Camden said. ¡°Her Savvy is higher than mine and she has Eureka too.¡±


    His Eureka trope allowed him to sift through books quickly to find relevant information. ording to him, it wasn¡¯t as useful here in the library where most things were higher level than us and he had no idea what it was we were looking for.


    ¡°Why is it taking so long?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°Are they asking the librarian her life story?¡±


    I looked down at the current team interrogating the Head Librarian for information about the Secretes of Carousel.


    They were using insight tropes to try to get as much information as they could about the tickets. One team at a time, they would present their Secret Lore tickets and ask her about how they might get more. Later, we would all discuss what we learned.


    On the red wallpaper, the librarian was called, ¡°Constance Barlow, Head Librarian of the Carousel Public Library.¡± She had 50 Plot Armor. Like all of the other level 50 NPCs I had met, she had tropes that I assume were enemy tropes. They were grayed out and unreadable, just as the others had been. I chalked that up to my low level.


    ¡°What are we going to say that others haven¡¯t?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°Maybe we won¡¯t have to,¡± Dina said. She had been silent for much of the time we were in the library. "Maybe tell us something different because of who we are."


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Anna said.


    We hadn¡¯t told the others about Dina¡¯s letters inviting her to Carousel. We also hadn¡¯t talked about the tickets I had received which had what appeared to be a message hidden in their titles. We were waiting for more substantial proof. Proof that would justify us trusting our anonymous benefactor. Proof enough not to get immediately dismissed by the veterans. After what happened to Antoine, we weren''t in any hurry to be trusting.


    We had asked around, though. It did appear that Dina¡¯s letters were unique. No one else that we talked to was lured here so candidly. They had all been brought in under false pretenses. Most of them by phone call, some by letters.


    All we had left to do was wait.


    Forty-five minutester, all the other teams had finished trying to get information from the librarian. We got the nod. Most of the teams left the library altogether after their turn. They hadbed through this ce time and time again in the years before we got here.


    It was about time. The smoke had cleared from the fire in the children¡¯s literature section. Soon, the section would reset and we might find out exactly why the other yers worked so hard to avoid the Omen that lurked there.


    We made our way downstairs to the Head Librarian¡¯s desk. Hers was ced in a position of authority behind all of the check-in counters where ordinary library worker NPCs sat with friendly smiles.


    When we arrived at her desk, she turned to us and smiled. She was a cheerful woman, not anything like the stern image that the term librarian might normally evoke for some. She wore sses and a blue blouse. Her hair was tied back in a bun. Books surrounded her, piled up on her desk.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Anna said as we approached.


    Constance smiled brightly. ¡°So many tourists! Today is a busy day! Wee to the Carousel Public Library!¡±


    Anna took her Secret Lore ticket from her pocket and held it up. ¡°Can you help us with this?¡±


    The library nced over at the ticket.


    ¡°It¡¯s great to see the Secret Lore Rewards Program is still drawing in participants after all these years. The program is a joint project between the library and other institutions of learning in Carousel. The project¡¯s motto is ¡®Make History Part of Your Story.¡¯ Isn¡¯t that clever? Beverly Canton from the Museum of Natural History came up with that. She¡¯s a hoot. I just think it¡¯s so fun.¡±


    She smiled at each of us in turn.


    ¡°I trust your vacation in Carousel has been captivating?¡±


    Anna nodded and forced a smile.


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Constance said. ¡°If you would like, you can trade that in for a prize now, or collect ten for a secret reward.¡±


    The whole Lodge had discussed this. Lukas had traded his in after several years and had only gotten a treasure map, something that the higher-level yers collected with some regrity. We were going for the big one.


    ¡°We¡¯d like to save them,¡± Anna said. ¡°The secret reward sounds tantalizing.¡±


    ¡°I would do the same thing in your position,¡± Constance said. ¡°You know, it¡¯s great to see young people with such an interest in history.¡±


    Anna nced back at the rest of us, then leaned forward and said, ¡°We were wondering if there was a way to find storylines with Secret Lore.¡±


    The Librarian smiled.


    ¡°Of course,¡± she said. ¡°History is all over. You¡¯ll find its tendrils everywhere you look. I¡¯m certain you will find another if you keep your eyes open.¡±


    The other yers had tropes they could use at this point to try and get more specific answers. We had nothing. None of our information-gathering tropes could help in this situation. Most of ours were designed to be used in a storyline.


    Dina stepped forward. ¡°Are you sure there isn¡¯t any other hint you could give us?¡±


    Constance smiled. ¡°You tourists really are curious today, aren¡¯t you? Well, fear not. I am certain that the clues wille to you now that you know what to look for.¡±


    That was actually reassuring.


    ¡°I am d to see you here. I hope you will be back,¡± Constance said. ¡°If I were you, I would be sure to collect ten Secret Lore tickets before you leave town.¡±


    She stood up and began walking away from her desk.


    ¡°Now, if you will excuse me,¡± she said. ¡°We are about to open up our new Children¡¯s Literature wing. It¡¯s a very exciting day.¡±


    That was our cue to leave.


    As we turned to leave, she cleared her throat and added. ¡°Just remember, the motto is ¡®Make History Part of Your Story¡¯. Just a <em>part</em>. There''s so much here to see in Carousel. I wouldn''t want you to miss anything.¡±


    She paused as if evaluating whether to say more. Then, she smiled before walking away.

 Chapter Sixty-Eight: Bet Your Life On It!

    Chapter Sixty-Eight: Bet Your Life On It!


    As night fell, my friends and I found ourselves on the back deck watching the sun go down. We didn''t talk about much. We had had a busy day and there were veterans around steering the conversation.


    Antoine was the quietest. It was hard to see him like that. Ever since we got there, Antoine had made it his own mission to reassure us and to encourage us that we would be able to get out of this ce. I thought he was being too optimistic, naively so. Anna said it was because he felt guilty about getting us trapped in Carousel. He wanted to believe that he could fix it.


    He didn''t talk like that anymore.


    Kimberly had picked up the ck. Where before she was the one worried about what was going on back home, what her parents were thinking, and how long it would take for us to get out of this ce, now, she was a beacon of positivity. She tried to soothe Antoine by encouraging him and telling him that this was just a minor setback and thanks to his new trope, he would forget it all in time.


    Antoine wanted us to believe that he was over it, but none of us did.


    Inside, the veterans had put up a chalkboard where they wrote all the information they had gathered about Secret Lore. Right now all it had was the information that they had been able to ascertain from talking to the head librarian. They had gotten a lot more information than us but still, they only had a few leads.


    The only real storylines with secret lore that we actually knew about were the campfire storyline and the one that Lukas had yed through. No one had investigated that one yet. They were taking their time and being methodical. Grace was looking into any records of secret lore from the previous generation of yers.


    Most of the veterans had gotten information from the Head Librarian, but a lot of it was redundant. The unique pieces of information were posted as follows. The yers included their names and the trope they had used to acquire the information in case anyone else wanted to give a crack at it.<blockquote>


    Sam


    Trope: Rumors of the Lost City


    Info: I learned some possible prizes: Treasure Maps, Money, Consumables, Excursion Train tickets, Weapon Upgrade Trope, Private Showing Tickets, Tropes, Maybe Stat tickets but not clear.</blockquote>


    Sam was an Adventurer archetype--Plot Armor 48 or so. He used a trope that encouraged NPCs to tell him information about valuable treasure both in and out of storylines. The trope was very powerful and even worked for something like this where the treasure he was seeking was a prize.<blockquote>


    Lara


    Are you ready to listen?:


    More hints will appear to us in the next few weeks. Everyone keep an eye out.</blockquote>


    Lara was flummoxed trying to use her psychic tropes. She said that something was blocking her. It made sense. If you were a psychic and you could use your full power set, this entire endeavor would be trivial. She did manage to use a generalist Psychic trope that assured her more information would make itself known to the yers.<blockquote>


    Grace


    Trope: What were you going to say?


    Info: One of the storylines at the Botanical Gardens has Secret Lore


    Trope: Human Lie Detector


    Info: She said there was no way to trace the information about the Campfire storyline back to some clue in Carousel. She was lying.</blockquote>


    Grace was a Detective archetype and used a couple of her tropes to narrow down the location of a storyline with secret lore. She was also able to figure out that our attempts to dissect the campfire storyline were logically sound.<blockquote>


    Be


    Trope: The Implication


    Info: Check out the Natural History Museum for leads. The basement level has something but I don''t know what.</blockquote>


    Be was a Bruiser who specialized in the Bully aspect. She managed to threaten the librarian into giving up some information.<blockquote>


    Oliver


    Trope: Used ¡°Professional Courtesy¡± as an Antiquarian


    Info: Other NPCs involved in the Secret Lore Project are the Curator at the Natural History Museum, someone at the Botanical Gardens, the Lead Astronomer at the Observatory, and someone at a dig site of some kind.


    Trope: Call it a Finder¡¯s Fee


    Info: There is something about secret lore and an antique vase.</blockquote>


    Oliver was an Antiquarian. I''m not super familiar with his tropes but they mostly revolve around antiques and cursed items. From the second trope, it sounded like he''d managed to bribe the librarian.<blockquote>


    Lukas


    Trope: ¡°They¡± don¡¯t want you to know


    Info: (Note from Grace: don''t trust this information)


    -All of the Secret Lore is in supernatural storylines.


    -The truth was hidden by the mayor. He is hiding his involvement.


    -The leads are only found inside other storylines


    -Carousel is tricking us. This is a trap.


    -Finding Secret Lore is the only way to escape Carousel.


    -Some of the yers knows more than they are letting on¡­


    -Bartholomew Geist is still alive andid out clues for us to follow.


    -Carousel doesn¡¯t want us to know the truth.


    -Carousel wants us to know the truth. It needs our help.


    -The NPCs are scheming.


    -We are just pawns in all of this. We are being led around.</blockquote>


    In addition to being a Hysteric, Lukas had an advanced archetype called Doomsday Prepper. This archetype had a lot of conspiracy theory-rted tropes or at least the version that Lukas yed did. The way his trope worked was that he would get a lot of information given to him at once but only a small amount of it was actually true. The higher his Savvy stat, the less misinformation would be there, but Savvy was not his best stat. We were advised to take all of this information with a grain of salt.<blockquote>


    Roxie


    Trope: Just like old times


    Info: An NPC rted to a secret storyline visits the Casino regrly.</blockquote>


    Roxie managed to coax information from the librarian. I''m not quite sure how.<blockquote>


    Ethan


    Trope: I used The Golden Boy along with The Eligibility Imperative


    Info: Check out the graveyard on Sickle Street.</blockquote>


    Ethan was an athlete who specialized in the Stud aspect. He used two tropes that gave him a lot of favoritism from authority figures like a librarian. He got a solid lead.


    As we sat on the back deck, the sun faded to darkness. A fog moved over theke. Grace went around lighting citrone torches and oilmps so that we could still see. We continued talking quietly to ourselves, theorizing about what the Secret Lore might mean.


    Everyone had different theories, but themon element was that they thought it meant we were going to find the way out of Carousel. Some of them were ashamed to have missed something just under their noses--they had been told about Secret Lore before, after all. Others were relieved; if Secret Lore was the way out, that made the world of Carousel that much less mysterious. It made it solvable.


    One of the veterans I hadn¡¯t talked to too much, Peter, made a joke about how we were going to get to the end and Ss would ask us what took us so long.


    I wasn¡¯t so sure we were home free, but I didn¡¯t voice my doubts. It was a rare thing to see people talking about getting out. That kind of optimism was pretty taboo around here. Sure, they would dream about what they would do when they go back home but hope made people nauseous.


    Eventually, Todd joined us. He was one of the higher-level yers. He had been part of the group that was still nning out the Excursion Train route so he had little involvement in the Secret Lore runs until they started working.


    ¡°You know what¡¯s funny about this,¡± he said. ¡°We were just talking about that storyline the other day, weren¡¯t we Chris?¡±


    Chris nodded shamefully. I think he still felt guilty about sending his little brother to the Straggler Forest, even by mistake.


    ¡°When we first got here,¡± Todd continued. ¡°We ran that storyline a dozen times. No joke. One run after the other. Trying to find treasure.¡±


    ¡°Did you not know how to trigger the treasure hunt variation?¡± one of the veterans, Sam, asked.


    Todd shook his head. ¡°We were the ones who found it. Well, we had help. Winston Ashwood.¡±


    ¡°Here we go,¡± Chris said disdainfully.


    ¡°They need to know,¡± Todd said. ¡°Winston Ashwood. He was a real character. Psychic archetype, a seer. Almost never went out of storylines. He had a trope that let him hear spirit messages or whatever in scrambled radio broadcasts. He¡¯d sit out on the deck all day long wearing a smoking jacket--pipe in one hand, book in the other, listening to the radio for messages to tell the other yers.¡±


    ¡°Had a Salvador Dali mustache,¡± Roxie added.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Todd agreed. ¡°Almost. Strange guy. His name wasn''t even Winston Ashwood. His name was Egan Johnson or something like that, something really white bread. He was always so frustrated that you could see his real name on the red wallpaper in parentheses.


    ¡°Anyway, Winston Ashwoodes to us one day and says you need to go run the campfire storyline. The third one in the franchise. The one with the Stragglers. We asked him why. Well, he''s heard it on the spooky radio broadcast that there is treasure there; that there was something very important that we had to go find in that storyline.¡±


    ¡°The casino jingle,¡± Chris said.


    ¡°The casino jingle,¡± Todd repeated. ¡°He had himself convinced that whenever the radio broadcast messed up and you could hear the carousel casinomerciale on, that it was a sign of fortune or good luck.¡±


    He started singing the jingle:<blockquote>


    "Under the neon glow, where the lucky ones go,


    Bet your life on it, it''s the Carousel Casino.


    The stakes are high, but so is the fun,


    Bet your life on it, the night''s just begun!"</blockquote>


    He and some of the other veteransughed.


    ¡°I don''t know if there''s any truth to it, considering what ended up happening, but every time thatmercial came on during one of his prophesies, he would get all excited and tell yers to go out and look for treasure.


    ¡°So, we go run the campfire storyline again. Nothing. Just a normal storyline. A few dayster, hees back and says you missed something you gotta find something else. So we go run it. Nothing. Again. This repeated itself for two months off and on until eventually, we found the treasure hunt variation with the moonshiners. Even after that, he was still on our butts about it. Guy never quit.¡±


    Toddughed for a bit, but as he slowly stopped, a heavy silence grew.


    ¡°You think he was trying to¡­ you know?¡± Sam asked.


    I wasn''t sure what Sam was asking, but Todd seemed to.


    Todd looked over at Chris.


    ¡°We always wondered,¡± Todd said. There was something they weren¡¯t saying. ¡°Whatever the case, a few days ago we heard that casino jingle on the radio, right Chris? Several times. Made us think of him. Reminded us of that storyline too. It¡¯s just, it was a big coincidence, us talking about it, and then turns out it was important.¡±


    We sat in silence for a few moments more, but then eventually, small talk broke out and we were talking about Secret Lore and our ns once we got back home again. Todd and Chris left, as did some of the other veterans.


    Once they were gone, Dina leaned over to Roxie and asked, ¡°So what was that about? With the whole Psychic dude. The awkwardness.¡±


    Roxie, who had clearly been waiting ever since his name was mentioned to talk about it, replied, ¡°He betrayed us. Got a lot of people killed.¡±


    She paused, letting her words linger in the air.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Kimberly asked. She hadrgely stayed out of the conversation and only paid attention to Antoine. Now both of them were interested.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to talk about that,¡± Grace said. ¡°Keep your voice down. Arthur hates us talking about it.¡±


    Roxie rolled her eyes. ¡°Arthur just hates hearing about it. That''s all.¡±


    She leaned toward the rest of us.


    ¡°You know how some yers don''t have to go out on storylines as much, right? They can just stay here and give advice to people using their tropes and they can get experience from that? Well, psychics can do that way more than anyone else. Well, this Winston Ashwood guy was here when I got here. That''s what he did--he sent people on storylines and gave them psychic advice.


    ¡°Since I didn''t have a team of my own, I got put in a group with Lara and a couple of others. One day we go to him asking for advice about what storyline we should do next. He describes where we should go and tells us all these different prophecies about what we have to do once we get there to win. Same old same old. Except he was lying. Laura had psychic tropes of her own. She had only been here for three months but even then, she could tell that this Winston guy was sending us into a storyline we couldn''t beat.


    ¡°We thought maybe because he was high-level he could see things that she couldn''t, but she was insistent. She was crying and kicking and screaming telling us not to go on this storyline that he just sent us on. So we went to Arthur and Adeline. We described the ce that Winston wanted us to go and what he wanted us to do there.


    ¡°Turns out, he was sending us on a storyline that was 15 levels ahead of us. None of us had scouting tropes to be able to figure that out, but Laura had a premonition from one of her abilities. Leading up to that point in time, it had bemon for us to lose a group every month. We were dropping like flies; we didn''t know what was going on. Normally we only lose maybe one team per year. We get enough new yers to rece all the old ones.


    ¡°Not that year though, teams were wiped out one after another. So Arthur starts to interrogate Winston with the help of a Detective archetype and a couple of Bruisers who all have tropes that will work outside of the storyline and can help you get information out of people the hard way. It turned out Winston had been sending people on storylines they couldn''t beat for years.¡±


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Why?¡±


    Roxie shrugged. ¡°Lost his mind, I guess. We never found out.¡±


    ¡°Well, what happened to him?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°Arthur never said exactly, but his missing poster is on themunity board by the Diner if you ever want to go look.¡±


    I did want to look. I had heard about thismunity board before but had never seen it. I imagine it became a lot less important once rescue tropes disappeared.


    We would have to make a trip out there soon.

 Chapter Sixty-Nine: Subject of Inquiry

    Chapter Sixty-Nine: Subject of Inquiry


    It was another day before we finally went to the diner we had been hearing about since we arrived. If you heard someone talking about the diner, it was usually because they were talking about where Arthur had run off to. He spent a lot of time there.


    It wasn¡¯t a long walk to get there by Carousel standards. It was on the western edge of town. If you traveled any further, you might start running into the minefield of Omens that gued downtown.


    We went therete in the evening. The veterans had spent all day researching Secret Lore. Better them than me. I just had to watch. They had be obsessed.


    Roxie, the Bowlers, Lara, and Sam had gone with us. Sam was an Adventurer Archetype who, amusingly enough, went out jogging every morning, a rare hobby in Carousel. That was most of what I knew about him.


    Before we went into the diner, we first stopped off at the missing persons'' board. It was attached to the wall of a brick building. I don¡¯t know what it looked like normally, but multiple boards had been added until it covered much of the wall.


    The boards were full.


    Poster upon poster had been pinned to them. They were posted in chronological order from left to right. I could tell because the old posters were yellowed and faded, while the posters on the far right still had much of their original coloring.


    Roxie pointed to one of the posters. It showed a middle-aged man wearing a smoking jacket. His dark hair was slicked back and he had a finely-groomed curly mustache.


    MISSING


    Name: Ethan Jacobs (AKA Winston Ashwood)


    Plot Armor: 42


    ce Last Seen: Munger''s Salvage, October 2016.


    upation: Psychic (Seer Aspect)


    Reward: 600 Dors


    Along with him, there were dozens upon dozens of missing posters, more than I could count. Some of them went back over twenty years. If I understood the timeline right, that meant they had been there even when rescue tickets existed. For some reason, they weren¡¯t rescued.


    ¡°There are so many,¡± Anna said. The sheer magnitude of them had almost brought her to tears.


    ¡°You know, yers used to be able to use these posters to rescue teams that had died in storylines,¡± Sam said. ¡°If you took someone¡¯s poster and went to the story they died in and beat it, they would be revived.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Antoine asked. He had mostly been quiet up to that point.


    ¡°Yep,¡± he said. ¡°It was before my time. One day, it just stopped working. No one knows why. Now we get this.¡± He gestured toward the wall of missing posters.


    Roxie shed me a nce. We both knew why the rescue tropes were gone. As the others discussed the topic, I stayed out of it.


    I noticed that the most recent group of people to wind up on the board had been wiped out just two weeks before we arrived. No one mentioned them. People rarely mentioned specific dead yers. We could add that to the list of things the veterans rarely mentioned.


    The missing board was a hallowed ce. The gravity of all those posters stole your voice and sobered you up just by looking at them. They smiled in their pictures. You might think that they would be screaming, but they weren''t. I think the smiles were scarier.


    The restaurant across the street was a wee reprieve.


    It was just called "Diner." There was no horrific pun in the name, save for the letters "N" and "R" which flickered off on asion.


    The diner was wrapped in shiny aluminum siding. Most of the building was visible throughrge wall-length windows. The floor had a ck and white checker pattern and the seat upholstery was red, blood red¡ªperhaps the only clue that the restaurant was in Carousel.


    As we entered, we heard the clinking of metal tools on the ttop grill. An NPC waitress read off an order for the cook at machinegun speed. The order was all in lingo like diners used to do years ago.


    "--side of hashbrowns smothered, sliced, charred, and yed."


    I didn''t know what that meant but the food looked normal.


    The ce was full when we got there, but several tables of NPCs just happened to finish their meals as we arrived, leaving us with just enough room to sit. I found it funny that Carousel would script that.


    A short-order cook and two waitresses made up the staff, along with the owner, Gloria, who did a little bit of everything. She was firmly in herte thirties. An NPC of course. Nothing unusual level-wise.


    Arthur was at the Diner when we got there. We waved at him. He and the owner were having a conversation, I don¡¯t know what about, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. That was a rare sight.


    The Diner had all manner of breakfast food. I got a waffle.


    The conversation revolved around Secret Lore. Grace had developed a wealth of knowledge on the subject in thest few days.


    ¡°We were told Secret Lore was only found in high-level storylines,¡± she exined. ¡°I¡¯ve been going through the records from back then¡ªwhat¡¯s left of them anyway¡ªand they had discovered four storylines with Secret Lore. All of them were over level 60.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ''What¡¯s left of them''?¡± Anna asked. ¡°What happened to the records?¡±


    Anna had inadvertently found a subject that Grace could lecture about for hours.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t take good records, for one,¡± she said. ¡°I guess when you think you will be revived you don¡¯t put as much thought into it. And then there¡¯s the problem of much of writings from that time just being gone.¡±


    She went on about how there were several gaps in the records where years would pass with only a few scraps of paper left to tell what had happened to the yers in Carousel at that time.


    ¡°How long ago was the gap you''re talking about?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The Secret Lore?¡± she asked. ¡°They first discovered it thirteen years ago. From before I got here. Lukas, as usual, only remembered about 60% of the truth. The yers back then knew what Secret Lore tickets were when they went to the possessed ghost storyline. If I were to guess, they might have even gone there looking for it, but I can¡¯t confirm that from any of the information we have.¡±


    Thirteen years ago was around the time the yers had discovered the Rescue ticket exploit that got yers killed and rescuing as a mechanic taken out of the game. That might be the reason documentation from that era is missing.


    I nodded and went back to my waffle. They continued talking about how poor the record-keeping of thest generation of yers was and the struggles it had caused in attempting to organize modern-day runs of Carousel. This was a constant point of frustration for the veterans. The Secret Lore hunt had brought back those same old problems.


    I didn¡¯t talk much for a while; I was lost in thought. I only came around when I heard my friends asking Lara for Psychic advice on our next storyline.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give it to you straight,¡± she said. ¡°Do you want good information, but a lower reward yield after youplete the story, or vague rambling that won¡¯t be as useful but won¡¯t stop you from getting good loot?¡±


    That was a tough one.


    ¡°Vague,¡± Dina said. ¡°I¡¯m not going through one of those things without getting anything from it.¡±


    No one argued with that.


    ¡°Are you sure that you¡¯re all ready to go on another storyline?¡± Lara asked. ¡°You¡¯ve had a rough few days.¡±


    We had all been through a lot. No one waspletely unscathed. But we knew she was talking about Antoine specifically.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said. ¡°Why do I have to keep telling everyone that?¡±


    ¡°You can probably wait a few more days,¡± Grace said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to wait,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m going crazy at the Lodge.¡±


    When I died in the Grotesque storyline, I probably said something simr when people tried to pity me. Going through a rough patch can hurt worse when other people can see you doing it.


    ¡°Okay then,¡± Lara said. ¡°Remember to never suffer in silence.¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯m okay,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Really. I can handle it.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Lara said. ¡°No, that was your advice for your storyline. Never suffer in silence. You wanted me to do a vague Psychic reading.¡±


    She didn¡¯t put on the theatrics she usually did when making predictions. Psychic tropes are usually Moxie-based, so choosing not to y the part made them weaker, just as we had requested.


    Still, those four words were pretty vague. It¡¯s hard to imagine what they might mean in the context of a horror movie. Maybe we were supposed to scream extra loudly.


    Antoine nodded in understanding.


    We ended up going out on the storyline the day after next. I carried the job flyer with me:


    Job Title: Security Surveince Specialist


    Company: Keystone Recovery and Security Laboratories (KRSL)


    Are you a detail-oriented professional with a background in security surveince? Do you have previous government work experience that required a background check? If so, we have an exciting opportunity for you at Keystone Response and Security Laboratories (KRSL).


    Responsibilities:<ul><li>Monitor and analyze security footage from various areas of the research facility.</li><li>Report any suspicious activities or anomalies.</li><li>Maintain logs and records of surveince activities.</li><li>Coborate with the security team to ensure the safety and security of the facility.</li></ul>


    Qualifications:<ul><li>Minimum of 2 years experience in security surveince.</li><li>Excellent attention to detail and observational skills.</li><li>Ability to work independently and make quick decisions.</li><li>Strongmunication skills.</li></ul>


    KRSL is a leading researchbmitted to advancing knowledge in various scientific fields. We offerpetitive sries,prehensive benefits, and opportunities for professional growth.


    Other Positions Avable:<ul><li>Security Guard</li><li>Research Scientist</li><li>Therapist for Test Subjects</li><li>Test Subject Manager</li></ul>


    Interested candidates are encouraged to apply with their resume and cover letter. Please inquire within for more details about the avable positions.


    KRSL is an equal-opportunity employer. We celebrate diversity and aremitted to creating an inclusive environment for all employees.


    Note: All applicants must be willing to undergo aprehensive background check as part of the recruitment process.


    Important Notice: Due to the nature of our work, we regret that we are unable to consider applicants with certain neurological conditions therefore testing is required. Please inquire within for more details.


    Confidentiality Notice: The nature of our work at KRSL is highly confidential. All applicants must be willing to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement (NDA) as part of the recruitment process. Any information rted to our projects, methodologies, and research findings must not be disclosed to any third party.


    The location we were directed to was arge, white facility on the Northwest side of town. Emergency station tents had been put up all around the facility but now, some of them were being taken down. It looked like this site had been used for some sort of disaster relief, but I could not begin to guess what exactly. Ambnces and firetrucks were parked all around. The entire facility was fenced off, but the gates were open.


    A woman wearing a suit stood outside one of the gates and made eye contact with us.


    She was an NPC with 3 Plot Armor named Nancy Cartwright. I could see that to trigger the Omen for the story, all we had to do was approach her with the job flier. The movie poster for the storyline was the same as was shown when we first picked up the flier: security monitors sshed with blood. Subject of Inquiry was written across the top of the poster.


    My scouting tropes showed me the following:


    -I don¡¯t like it here: ¡°This is scaring me¡±. On the difficulty scale, I would rank that pretty high, but it wasn''t high enough to make the trope fail.


    -Location Scout: All of the shooting locations were in the building. Some had titles like: "Corporate Mess Hall" and "Control Room". None of them were called "Torture Chamber" or "Execution Room" or anything like that. There were rooms called "Secure Patient Room" which sounded a lot like a cell in an insane asylum, but I couldn''t have expected it to be all sunshine and daisies. There were a lot of hallways, conference rooms, andboratories.


    I told the others this information and we approached the NPC that was waiting for us.


    Nancy Cartwright turned around as we approached and began walking through the gate to get into thepound. I found it funny, as she walked, she took the ¡°Omen¡± with her, as triggering the Omen required us to get to her with the job flier.


    She led us past several figures wearing those big decontamination suits you see in movies and further past a team of doctors examining random NPCs, none of whom had any visible injuries. I heard people grumbling as they lined up to be examined. A baby cried somewhere.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what had happened there.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about that,¡± Nancy assured us as we walked past the medical tent. ¡°KRSL does emergency medical treatment for the city of Carousel. We¡¯re happy to be able to help themunity that our facility calls home.¡±


    ¡°What happened here?¡± Anna asked.


    Nancy turned her head a bit and pressed her lips into a smile. ¡°We can¡¯t really talk about it until the people in charge give the go-ahead. Don¡¯t want to cause a panic. Plus, it¡¯s not like they tell me anything.¡±


    Sheughed a fake, folksyugh.


    Nancy was a big-city woman. She stuck out in the suburbanndscape that was Carousel proper.


    ¡°Just follow me right this way,¡± she said, waving a security badge over a ck box on the side of the building which opened the automatic door into the facility.


    ¡°This is building security,¡± she said. ¡°I will meet you on the other side after you¡¯ve been checked out. Security is quite rigorous, don¡¯t be rmed.¡±


    She turned and passed through security, shing her badge as she went.


    Now it was our turn. We still hadn¡¯t even triggered the storyline yet.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Anna said, as she walked forward through security. ¡°See you on the other side.¡±


    The security line was a maze of curtains and x-ray machines where they checked all of our identities and asked us all sorts of questions. I handed them my driver¡¯s license, but I could have handed them anything at this point. I doubt it mattered. Any prop would do.


    The staff was very stern. They stood with their backs straight and moved their eyes around the area looking for security breaches. They reminded me of soldiers. Maybe they were ex-military. Whatever they did at this facility must have been important.


    I was asked to put all of my metal belongings in a tray. I put my Walkman, sunsses, and headphones in. The guard at that desk examined them to make sure they were not contraband. I joked, ¡°I have a permit for that,¡± as he was pressing the buttons on my Walkman, but he didn¡¯tugh.


    After I had proven that I was not carrying andmine anywhere on my person, I was allowed through to the other side with my things.


    We still hadn¡¯t triggered the storyline, though leaving now would be awkward.


    As Antoine came out to the other side, I noticed something was missing. He had a confused look on his face.


    ¡°They take your bat?¡± I asked. He had a trope that should have allowed him to bring a sports implement into a storyline as a weapon, but perhaps that was a bridge too far for this storyline. Trope or no trope, bringing a weapon into a secure facility was not going to be believable.


    He shook his head in amazement.


    ¡°It just disappeared as we walked in,¡± he said, showing his hands. ¡°Just disappeared right out of my hand. I thought I dropped it at first.¡±


    He seemed to be doing okay. For now.


    ¡°Come this way please,¡± Nancy said to us.


    We did as she asked. As we did, we finally triggered the storyline. The needle on the Plot Cycle switched from Omen to Choice to Party.


    Anna, Camden, and Kimberly followed. Dina still hadn¡¯t made it through security.


    ¡°Congrattions,¡± Nancy said. ¡°You¡¯ve made it through the interviews. You are now a part of the KRSL family.¡±


    I don¡¯t remember any job interviews, but I supposed that was not a part of the movie. Easiest job application process I¡¯d ever had. The job-wanted flier was no longer in my hand.


    ¡°Now, it¡¯s time for employee orientation!¡± Nancy said with a distinctively corporate enthusiasm. ¡°I wille to get you individually for a quick meet and greet with your department heads momentarily."


    Dodged the interview only to get stuck in new employee orientation.


    This really was a horror movie.

 Chapter Seventy: Superstition

    Chapter Seventy: Superstition


    As we waited to start out new jobs, I decided to fill everyone in on the roles they had been assigned thanks to my Casting Director ability. The role descriptions on the red wallpaper were as follows: <blockquote>


    Riley (Security Surveince Specialist): Riley, starting his first shift as a Security Surveince Specialist, is brother to Anna. His job is to monitor the facility''s security cameras, using his vantage point to spot anomalies. As he navigates his new job, he will be able to see most everything happening in the facility, but will he see the truth before it¡¯s toote?


    Antoine (Security Guard): Antoine, a new hire, steps into his role as one of the facility''s elite Security Guards. His strength and size make him a formidable presence, but will he be able to keep everyone safe? As the story unravels, his role as a protector leads him to question who or what he''s truly safeguarding.


    Camden (Research Scientist): Camden, on his first shift as a Research Scientist, is tasked with studying a mysterious group of people linked to recent disasters. His schrly insight is invaluable, but his pursuit of knowledge might uncover more than he bargained for.


    Kimberly (Therapist for Test Subjects): Kimberly, cousin to Anna and Riley, begins her first shift providing emotional support and therapy to the test subjects. Her social skills and adaptability make her an effective therapist, but her close interactions with the subjects raise questions about the ethical implications of her employer¡¯s work.


    Anna (Test Subject Manager): Anna, Riley''s sister, starts her first shift as the Test Subject Manager. Her survival instincts and leadership skills are tested as she manages the bridge between the test subjects and the rest of the facility. However, her new role leads her to question the true purpose of the facility and the nature of the tests being conducted. </blockquote>


    Anna, Kimberly, and I were rted to each other in this storyline. Well, our characters were. Strange, but nothing unheard of.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Anna asked, ¡°Where¡¯s Dina?¡±


    Dina still hadn¡¯t made it through security. I kept expecting her to waltz out of the maze of curtains and machinery, but she didn¡¯t. I wasn¡¯t sure where she had gone. She had definitely entered the security check with us. Now she was nowhere to be seen.


    Momentster, we were back On-Screen with Nancy Cartwright appearing with her fake smile.


    ¡°If you will all follow me, I will take you to your meet and greets,¡± she said.


    She led us down the hall toward a row of offices where she sent each of us one at a time. I walked into the office where I was supposed to meet my department head and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.


    It was a nice office with expensive furniture and wall art. They needed good art at KRSL, as there were no windows in the whole building.


    One of the paintings was an abstract painting of the human brain as you might see it on a brain scan. The colors swirled like fire. Within them, I swore I could see the faintest traces of some shadowy figures dancing in the mes.


    I waited for twenty minutes Off-Screen.


    Eventually, the door opened, and I was On-Screen.


    A man entered. He was a well-groomed scientist in ab coat. On the red wallpaper, he was called Dr. Truman Mentes. He was an NPC with 50 Plot Armor. Like other NPCs of that level, he had tropes that appeared gray and unreadable on the red wallpaper. I assumed they were enemy tropes.


    ¡°Pardon me for my tardiness,¡± he said as he entered. ¡°My name is Doctor Truman Mentes, I am the head of research at this facility.¡±


    I stood and shook his hand.


    ¡°Riley Lawrence,¡± I said.


    He sat behind the desk as I returned to my seat. He carried a mani file folder with my name on it.


    ¡°Well, we can assume your interviews went well since you made it this far,¡± he said.


    I nodded. I nailed those nonexistent interviews.


    ¡°As you may have guessed, I am not actually your department head. As a surveince specialist, you do not have a true supervisor. That is how we set up the hierarchy. Your job requires that you work autonomously. Your colleague, Mr. Rowe, is already downstairs. He will show you everything you need to know.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to get started,¡± I said.


    ¡°That¡¯s wonderful to hear. This is only a meet and greet. If you have any questions, you can ask them. Otherwise, let¡¯s get to know each other.¡±


    ¡°I do have a question,¡± I said. ¡°What is it, exactly, that we do here?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good first question,¡± Dr. Mentes said with a chuckle. ¡°Our interest is in public safety. We monitor individuals we believe may be suffering fromtent illnesses or traumas. It really is that simple. We try to keep them healthy. We ensure they are safe to go back into the public.¡±


    That certainly wasn¡¯t the whole truth, but I couldn¡¯t say as much.


    ¡°Good to know. Sounds like important work,¡± I said cheerfully.


    ¡°It is,¡± he said. ¡°And the work you will be doing helps make it all happen. We cannot protect these people without professionals like yourself. Tell me, did the work schedule intimidate you when you first learned of it? Five days on, five days off would scare away a lot of candidates. Being away from friends and family days at a time can be quite stressful.¡±


    Five days? As in the storyline wouldst five days?


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I am actually looking forward to it. Plus, my sister and cousin are here with me so I¡¯m not truly alone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good attitude,¡± he said.


    He opened the mani folder and began going over my fake resume with me. I had never heard of anything that was on that sheet of paper before, but it could be summarized as this: my character stared at a lot of security monitors in some very important ces.


    As he shuffled through the pages, a small, white and red piece of paper fell out. At first, I thought it was a strange kind of ticket like one Ss might deliver for us. It turned out it wasn¡¯t.


    It was a lottery ticket.


    Dr. Mentes grabbed it off the table.


    ¡°You will have to forgive me for my habit. A silly superstition, really,¡± Dr. Mentes said, as he tucked the lottery ticket back inside his pocket, ¡°You see my father once saw that I had purchased a lottery ticket and told me that the first week I didn¡¯t buy one would be the week my numbers came up. I have bought a lottery ticket every week since.¡±


    He gave me a restrained but pleasant smile.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve been known to buy scratch-offs myself now and again.¡±


    ¡°My father was superstitious that way. I suppose I am too. Those things tend to run in the blood. Tell me, is your family superstitious?¡±


    I thought for a moment. ¡°Yes, I suppose,¡± I said. ¡°They say my grandmother had ¡®the gift¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Oh? The gift?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s what the family says.¡±


    Really, it was just what my background card said.


    ¡°Would that be your grandmother Holly?¡± he said, ncing down at the file folder.


    My blood froze in my veins as he said it. Holly was the name of my grandmother, the one who, along with my grandfather, took me in after my parents died. My <em>real</em> grandmother.


    I cleared my throat.


    ¡°Yes¡ªhow did you know¡­?¡±


    Dr. Mentes again shed his polite, restrained smile. ¡°We do very thorough background checks here, Mr. Lawrence. It is important work you¡¯re doing. We wanted to be sure we were hiring the right candidate. I assure you; all of your coworkers went through the same process.¡±


    I nodded slowly.


    ¡°Would you say that your grandmother passed the gift down to you?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°No, no,¡± I said dismissively.


    ¡°You can speak candidly here,¡± Dr. Mentes said. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to get to know you.¡±


    What was it he wanted me to say?


    I tapped the table with both hands. ¡°You know, I am pretty good at guessing the endings of movies. If that¡¯s a gift.¡±


    My streaktely might not have been perfect, but still. I needed toy a foundation that I watched a lot of movies so I could talk about itter.


    Dr. Mentes chuckled politely. ¡°I am sure thates in handy.¡±


    ¡°Not as much as I would like,¡± I said.


    ¡°How about your sister or your cousin?¡± Dr. Mentes asked. Anna and Kimberly¡¯s characters were rted to me in this storyline. ¡°Do they have the gift too?¡±


    I shrugged my shoulders. ¡°They always knew when I was making faces at them behind their backs growing up if that counts.¡±


    That elicited another politeugh.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t every day that we bring in a batch of new hires that are rted to each other, but it can hardly be avoided in a small town like Carousel. I imagine that any group of five people from Carousel would likely contain rtives.¡±


    Was Carousel a small town? In many ways, it seemedrge.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. ¡°I assure you; it will not get in the way of our work.


    ¡°I do not need your assurance on that matter,¡± Dr. Mentes said. ¡°Now, if you will excuse me, I will have to cut this short. I have other matters to attend to. Nancy will help you obtain your credentials and show you to your workstation downstairs.¡±


    He stood, shook my hand again, and left.


    Soon enough, I had my own badge that would allow me into any of the rooms I was authorized to enter. It also allowed me to operate the elevator.


    ¡°I think you are going to like your new workstation,¡± Nancy said. ¡°It''s spacious and your bed is right there in your office. Housekeeping should be finished in there now. You¡¯ll need to change into your uniform, of course. I rmend wearing a sweater. Your office is quite cold.¡±


    We took the elevator to floor 2B, the second floor below ground out of four basement levels.


    ¡°Come right this way.¡±


    I followed her around a bend to arge, metal door that was secured with thick bars and a heavy-duty electronic lock.


    The door was open. Inside, a fairlyrge room with a wall ofputer monitors awaited me. There was a chair in front of the monitors. A man, an NPC named Mr. Rowe, sat inside it.


    He was a heavyset fellow with long hair.


    ¡°Mr. Rowe,¡± Nancy said. ¡°I have your new colleague here for you.¡±


    The man turned around in the chair.


    ¡°Great, that means I can go home,¡± he said.


    He stood from his chair and came to greet me. He hadn¡¯t shaved in weeks from the look of it.


    We shook hands.


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it,¡± Nancy said as she turned to go.


    Mr. Rowe stared at her as she left.


    ¡°Well let me show you your new home for the next five days,¡± he said. ¡°Linens just got changed in the bunk.¡±


    He pointed to a bed tucked away in a corner of the room.


    ¡°Follow me,¡± he said.


    As I entered the security room, I was immediately struck by the monitors. Specifically, the monitors that contained images of people dressed in white hospital gowns who appeared to be locked away in padded white cells somewhere in the facility. They looked like they were being contained. They were either very contagious or they were prisoners.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind them,¡± Rowe said, ¡°They¡¯re fine.¡±


    Yeah, sure.


    Mr. Rowe exined the fine details of my job for the next week. I was there to observe and report.


    ¡°Remember, if you see anything unusual, anything at all, you write it in the logbook. If you leave the book empty, you¡¯ll be out of here in a hot second. It¡¯s an easy job so don¡¯t screw it up,¡± Mr. Rowe exined to me.


    ¡°A lot of neers think they cane here and sleep all day and loaf around all night,¡± he said. ¡°No siree. You keep your eyes on the monitors.¡±


    He pulled out a clipboard with a fewminated sheets clipped into it.


    ¡°These are the rounds,¡± he exined. ¡°Security might make rounds in the night. Make sure to unlock doors for them. You do that from this panel. Don¡¯t need to during the day, but at night nobody can go anywhere without asking you first.¡±


    He then exined to me how the intes worked. When someone pressed one of the little white boxes on the walls, a light would sh on my panel and I would have to press a button to speak to them.


    ¡°Periodically, check the audio in each room. You can listen to what¡¯s being said in a room by flipping the switch next to the monitor. Don¡¯t go eavesdropping too much, this is for security surveince only.¡±


    I noticed that there was a little bar next to each monitor that measured how much sound wasing from that area. In the rooms where employees and patients were talking, the little bars danced with each word. Everywhere else they barely moved.


    ¡°It worked the same way at myst job,¡± I lied.


    He nodded his head. ¡°Good, so you know.¡±


    Then he put a hand on my shoulder and said, ¡°Some folkse to this job and the long hours start ying tricks on their minds. They don¡¯tst long. Don¡¯t be like them. Otherwise, I¡¯ll have to take over your shifts until they find a recement. I really don''t want to do that.¡±


    ¡°What kind of tricks?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know. They get stir-crazy, that¡¯s all. At night when you¡¯ve been staring at the monitors for seven hours straight, everyone else asleep. You start seeing things that aren¡¯t there. Forget I said it.¡±


    Nothing to read into about that.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I said. ¡°Been doing this for years. Don¡¯t n on going stir-crazy now.¡±


    ¡°Good man.¡±


    With that, Mr. Rowe turned and began packing up his clothes and belongings.


    ¡°For the mess hall, follow the signs.¡±


    ¡°Will do.¡±


    Then, he left. I was alone in the frigid surveince room.


    I looked back at the monitors and at the eight people¡ªincluding two children¡ªthat were locked away in the facility so that we could monitor them. I wondered how they were going to y into this storyline. It wasn¡¯t going to be pretty, that much was certain.


    It wasn¡¯t just them that I was worried about.


    My Trope Master ability showed me the tropes of enemies when I was physically near them and looking at them (with few notable exceptions). It also showed me enemy tropes that rted to the setting itself even when I wasn¡¯t near an enemy. I had seen that at the Astralist¡¯s castle and in Benny¡¯s cornfield.


    Here, staring at the monitors, I saw two terrifying tropes.


    <strong>A Knock at the Door</strong>: This enemy can target characters behind closed doors, turning a symbol of safety into a source of dread. It may be able to lure characters out with deceptive sounds or eerie silence, manipting their fear and curiosity, or it may be able to simply break or sneak through such barriers. With "A Knock at the Door", death is just a room away.


    <strong>Anyone Can Die</strong>: This enemy operates under a chilling rule: no character is safe. Whether it''s because this film is a rule-breaking reboot or a narrative without a true protagonist, this enemy can target or kill any character without ceremony or hesitation. With "Anyone Can Die...", the only main characters are the ones who survive.

 Chapter Seventy-One: Night Shift

    Chapter Seventy-One: Night Shift


    It was noon. I wondered if the five days we were going to spend there were full days or if time would start speeding up once some important scenes were out of the way.


    My question was slowly answered. Very slowly.


    It was eight hours before my first night shift started. I decided to go find the mess hall.


    I got lost almost immediately. It was hard to imagine just how big this floor level was. It must have taken up more square footage than the building on the surface itself. The halls wound around. There were automatic security doors ced at every junction. They were open during the day, but at night, they would be closed, turning this ce from a maze into a prison.


    The front of the floor toward the elevator was more open, with several different rooms that could be reached without security clearance. I eventually found the mess hall to be one of them.


    The mess hall was smaller than I imagined. NPCs sat at the tables eating prepackaged meals from fancy vending machines that lined a wall. Luckily, the vending machines were connected to our badges and our purchases would be deducted from our sry. I didn¡¯t have enough money to pay for food otherwise. Our trip to the pawn shop had cleared me out and the Campfire storyline didn¡¯t give me much.


    I had yet to see my friends since being separated from them upstairs. I decided to wait at the mess hall for a bit in case one of them showed up. I couldn¡¯t wait all day. I had monitors to watch and a pre-shift nap to take.


    I was Off-Screen the whole time. Despite this, NPCs more or less stayed in their roles.


    I purchased some meatloaf and mashed potatoes from a vending machine with a revolving shelf filled with prepared meals.


    I sat and ate my lunch.


    Eventually, I looked up to find Camden making a beeline for my table.


    ¡°We keep calling those people patients, but they don''t seem sick and they want to leave,¡± he said, referring to the eight people that were being observed within the facility. ¡°They do not like me at all.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just your bedside manner, Doc,¡± I said with a nod toward the badge he was wearing on his whiteb coat. ¡°Dr. Camden Tran. Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d get the degree so quickly, did you?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve earned it,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m serious, we¡¯ve got those prisoners so drugged up they don¡¯t know what year it is.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what year it is either. Where are my drugs?¡± I joked. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve got a view into every cell. If those people are patients, I can¡¯t imagine what disease they must have. What kind of doctor are you?¡±


    ¡°Neuroscience.¡±


    ¡°A brain doctor?¡±


    ¡°A brain researcher. All I do here is hook them up to machines and monitor some pseudo-scientific measurements.¡±


    I thought about that for a moment. ¡°So do they have¡­ good¡­ brains?¡±


    ¡°All measurements are within standardized ranges,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s what theb guys keep saying. They keep dodging my questions.¡±


    He told me about his day so far. We were still at the very beginning of the Party Phase. There was still time for discovery.


    After a little more back and forth, I decided to go back to my igloo and sleep until my shift.


    I tried to sleep. I really did.


    But I was in a storyline. I wasn¡¯t sure I could ever doze off knowing there was something in this ce that was going to try to kill me. This week wasn¡¯t going to go well.


    At 2:30, I decided to get up and watch the monitors. With the security doors open and people walking around, I could likely make sense of theyout of the building more easily than I could at night when everything was shut off from everything else.


    I watched and, despite Mr. Rowe¡¯s warnings, I listened to anything that looked like it might be useful information.


    I found Camden again. On the monitors. He was inside one of the cells with a man in his mid-thirties. The man looked sad and worried. He sat on the edge of his bed.


    ¡°Can I at least see my children again?¡± the man asked. ¡°Our visit got cut short today because a new therapist got introduced. We were promised we¡¯d get an hour today.¡±


    Camden shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not in charge of that. Talk to the Rtions Manager about that.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s new too,¡± the man said. ¡°It¡¯s not even worth learning people¡¯s names around here.¡±


    ¡°Just a few more minutes,¡± Camden said, as he affixed some kind of diode to the man¡¯s head.


    The man was slumped over and tired. ¡°We¡¯ve been here for weeks. Months, I don¡¯t know. You haven¡¯t even told us what¡¯s wrong with us.¡±


    Camden didn¡¯t respond to that. ¡°Justy back.¡±


    The man slowly leaned back in his bed.


    Camden watched aputer monitor on arge cart like the kind teachers would use to wheel televisions from ssroom to ssroom, except this cart had all manner of electronics built into it. Camden watched as numbers danced on the screen. I couldn¡¯t make out what was happening.


    After a moment, I saw Anna walking down the hallway with a young man, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old.


    I switched off the audio from Camden¡¯s room and switched on the audio from where Anna was.


    ¡°You really think there¡¯s something wrong with me?¡± the young man said. ¡°I feel fine. Just a few sleepless nights is all.¡±


    Anna shrugged her shoulders. ¡°The doctors think that you should be monitored. I¡¯m just here to help make sure you are being taken care of.¡±


    ¡°Do I have to wear this?¡± the young man said, holding out the white gown in his hand. ¡°I really don¡¯t think that¡¯s necessary.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t me you,¡± she said. ¡°But the sooner you¡¯re ready for evaluation, the sooner you¡¯ll be out of here.¡±


    The kid stared at her for a moment, then nodded. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Anna continued to lead him down the hallways, consulting a clipboard in her hand as she went for directions. I followed them along as they went, switching the audio as we went along.


    ¡°I see on your chart, you didn¡¯t put down an emergency contact,¡± Anna said.


    The kid shrugged. ¡°It was just me and my mom. After what happened, it¡¯s just me. I¡¯m sorry, they said not to talk about the ident until they said I could... Am I in trouble?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not,¡± Anna said. ¡°Here we are.¡±


    She presented him with one of the cells. She let him in there for a moment while he changed, then she took his clothes away.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be backter when I make my rounds,¡± she said.


    ¡°Ok,¡± he responded meekly.


    He sat on his bed and waited.


    That made nine patients in total.


    Kimberly sat in one of the white cells at a table. Across from her was a young girl who might have been six.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you too, Bethany,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I was hoping to ask you some questions and then maybe we could y a little game before you have to go to bed. What do you think?¡±


    ¡°What kind of game?¡± the little girl, Bethany, asked, looking over at Kimberly¡¯s side of the table for a glimpse of whatever game Kimberly might have brought.


    ¡°A card game.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Miss Gloria?¡±


    ¡°Miss Gloria?¡±


    ¡°She used to y games with me too,¡± Bethany said.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°It¡¯ll just be you and me.¡±


    ¡°¡­Okay,¡± Bethany said in an adorable little voice.


    "Do you remember what you were doing when the ident happened?¡± Kimberly asked.


    The little girl shook her head.


    ¡°It was a long, long time ago. I don¡¯t remember.¡±


    ¡°Can you try to remember?¡±


    The little girl was quiet.


    ¡°I was with my brother,¡± Bethany asked. ¡°He wanted ice cream, but Mommy said we couldn¡¯t have ice cream untilter.¡±


    Bethany started to whimper.


    Kimberly moved around to the side of the table to attempt tofort the child.


    A voice came over the speaker in the cell, causing high-pitched feedback on my speakers. ¡°Do not touch the subject.¡±


    They must have had other people watching the same cameras I was. Maybe the researchers could see the cells with the subjects in them.


    Kimberly stopped in her tracks and looked up where the speaker must have been. She said something under her breath.


    She moved back to her seat.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°We don¡¯t have to do the questions. We can just y the game. Do you know how to y Go-Fish?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Bethany said.


    Kimberly unveiled a pack of cards specifically designed for the game go-fish, with pictures of different kinds of colorful fish on them instead of normal suits and ranks.


    Kimberly dealt the cards and they started to y.


    ¡°Do you have any blue squids?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Bethany shook her head. Go fish.


    ¡°Do you have any red sea turtles?¡± Bethany asked in response.


    ¡°Go fish.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Miss Gloria was better at this,¡± Bethany said.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Kimberly said.


    They continued ying for thirty minutes or so after that. I eventually tuned out.


    I surfed around to other audio feeds. The NPCs were all speaking to each other, but I never once found a conversation worth spying on. I didn¡¯t know if that was because my effective Plot Armor was so low that I couldn¡¯t discover information as well as the other yers, or if there simply wasn¡¯t any information to obtain yet.


    Night crept in slowly. I eventually managed to get some sleep in preparation for my shift.


    As I awoke, I began doing pre-shift checks for audio and video. Everything checked out. It was busy work. Nothing major.


    I noticed something happening in the mess hall. Two NPCs were having an argument with no yers around to hear. No yers except me.


    I switched on the audio.


    ¡°You fired Rolf,¡± an NPC said, a woman who appeared to be a custodian or something simr. She was hauling around arge trashcan and emptying the smaller cans into it. ¡°You expect me to do his job too. I don¡¯t have the time.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re all working extra shifts, Barb,¡± the other NPC said, her manager. ¡°We need you to pick up the ck.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too big!¡± Barb said. "I don''t have time to clean it all in one shift."


    ¡°You can finish it tomorrow. We need to be out of here by 7:30. You know the rules.¡±


    ¡°If I finish it tomorrow, then I will have to stayte tomorrow too. I will never be finished.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just go,¡± the second NPC said. ¡°We¡¯ll resolve thister. You¡¯re going to get us both fired.¡±


    The other NPC dropped the trashcan she was emptying on the ground. ¡°Fine.¡±


    After some more bickering, they both headed for the elevators together.


    It was awfully convenient that everyone on the floor took turns doing important things as if they were coordinating things so that I could spy on them one at a time.


    The cameras covered most of floor 2B, but there were things I couldn¡¯t see. I wasn¡¯t sure which parts were uncovered, but there were ces where an NPC could walk off the screen and not reappear for a whileter--dead spots.


    My Location Scout ability lined up pretty well with the security cameras, though the trope gave me less information. It mostly just told me where one of Carousel''s ¡°cameras¡± was, not what it covered or anything of the sort. Location Scout told me of several shooting locations that I didn¡¯t think were on this floor.


    I had yet to see Dina at all. She must have been in one of them.


    After thest daytime employee had gone, I was left alone on my watch. I shut the giant door to the security room and locked it.


    I stared at the monitors. My friends had all gone to their quarters to sleep. I couldn¡¯t see their beds or their bathrooms, obviously. Luckily, Carousel didn¡¯t put any cameras in the bathrooms.


    Most of the job was in the waiting.


    I considered the two enemy tropes I had seen as I waited. Anyone Can Die. That meant Anna¡¯s Last One Alive trope wouldn¡¯t protect her and Plot Armor wouldn¡¯t save anyone. I debated over whether Oblivious Bystander would work, seeing as it only protected me temporarily to increase tension. I wasn¡¯t sure, but I also didn¡¯t think it was worth the risk to try unless I had no other choice.


    A Knock at the Door was less clear. The monster wasn''t deterred by doors. It wasn''t clear why. Could it break them down? Or did it have another way through them?


    Like a security badge.


    I waited.


    And waited.


    Midnight. Finally.


    Then two o¡¯clock. The patients slept soundly in their beds for the most part. Only one of them tossed and turned: the new kid.


    Three o¡¯clock in the morning. If anything was going to happen, it would happen then, right?


    No...


    It happened at 4:15.


    I was barely able to stay awake as I watched the monitors. I had not seen anything to write in my logbook and was looking for something, anything. Some sign to share with my friends, some clue of what it was we faced.


    One of the screens on the back part of the floor where the cells were looked funny. It wasn¡¯t blurry or staticky, it was ever-so-gently warped. Distorted. Like looking at something through an antique window.


    There was no visible figure walking through the room. There was no jump in audio either-it was silent.


    I was looking at a hallway with a potted nt, but it was just slightly distorted. I wouldn¡¯t even have noticed had I not been looking for something.


    Momentster, it was back to normal.


    Another monitor became distorted. And then another. One at a time, a monitor would get distorted and then it would go back to normal as a monitor near it would be distorted instead.


    The distortion switched back and forth between monitors. It was confined to a certain area. I started writing this down furiously in my logbook. How would my character be acting right now? Worried? Would he think it was a hardware malfunction? Yes. That was it.


    I wrote down that there was a hardware malfunction. I tracked which cameras appeared to be affected.


    I couldn¡¯t figure out what was stopping the distortion from continuing its path around the monitors at first. Then I realized¡ªit was the doors. The distortion-or whatever was causing it-could not pass through doors. It was wandering from room to room but only the rooms that were open to each other.


    That didn¡¯t make any sense.


    The monster we were after could go through doors. It had a trope that said just that.


    Eventually, I watched as the distortion stopped in one of the rooms, a conference room of some sort. There was a spike in audio for a split second. Then, the distortion disappeared.


    I watched for the distortion toe back.


    I never saw anything else that night.


    I wondered if anything saw me.

 Chapter Seventy-Two: A Bump in the Night

    Chapter Seventy-Two: A Bump in the Night


    The next day, I watched as the day shift people came back and started their routines all over again. I was tired in a way that I hadn¡¯t been in a long time, and yet, I felt like I couldn¡¯t sleep. I was the wrong kind of wired. I was afraid to miss anything.


    The day began with breakfast for the patients. I didn¡¯t know most of their names or code names¡ªthat information is above my pay grade¡ªbut I havee up with a list based on my own observations. Father, Son, Daughter (Bethany), Teen Boy, Old Guy, Old Lady, Middle Aged Woman, and Mid-Thirties Woman were our prisoners (patients).


    They were each given so many different colored pills with their breakfast that I might have thought it was candy, if not for the NPC nurses that stayed to watch them swallow everyst one of them.


    Old Guy didn¡¯tin about a thing. He seemed genuinely happy to have nurses and other staff serving him and asking him about his day. He also had arge jigsaw puzzle set up on the table in the room that he had nearly finished, along with a dozen more boxes of puzzles on a shelf. The rest of the shelf contained books and he even had a record yer.


    Old Lady was not so congenial. When Anna and Kimberly interacted with her, she called them both Jasmine.


    ¡°Dammit Jasmine, I told you I don¡¯t want to answer no more questions.¡±


    ¡°Jasmine, get me my peach tea, they said if I took the tests, I would get peach tea.¡±


    She spent most of her time knitting herself clothes that she would wear to essorize her white medical gown.


    I didn¡¯t know how long those two had been there, but they were not new.


    Kimberly was doing some sort of therapy exercise with Middle-Aged Woman and Mid-Thirties Woman when the topic of why they had been brought in came up.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why they med me,¡± Middle-Aged said. ¡°That dog terrorized the whole neighborhood¡­ It could have been anyone.¡±


    She stared down at the ground as she said this, her eyes on the verge of tears.


    ¡°At least they gave you a reason,¡± Mid-Thirties responded. ¡°I was just grabbed off the str¡ª"


    A voice came over the inte. ¡°Do not allow the patients to relive their trauma. This would be detrimental to their treatment. Follow the instructions as written, please.¡±


    Kimberly gave a half-hearted thumbs-up to the camera. She was ying her character as anti-authoritarian, apparently.


    She then led the two women in a discussion of their fears and feelings. I decided to tune out. I would have to ask Kimberly if anything interesting happened.


    When I first arrived, I assumed that everyone was at the facility because of one recent event. After having eavesdropped a little, I knew that to be untrue. There were multiple. I didn''t know how many.


    It took me hours after the night shift to get to sleep, but when I crashed, I crashed hard. I slept until 6 in the evening. I could have kept going but I woke up hungry and a quick nce at the screens told me that my friends were in the mess hall.


    I fast walked all the way there, eager to tell them about the distortion on the screens from the night before and to find out any important information they might have discovered. The needle of the plot cycle was moving so incredibly slow that I would normally say it was nearly First Blood, but at the rate it was moving we likely had plenty of time.


    As I was quickly walking into the mess hall, I was suddenly On-Screen. Unable to tell my friends the news candidly, I decided to solve a different problem.


    ¡°I am starving,¡± I said as I passed by them and purchased two meals from the vending machines, a sub sandwich and a rice dish of ambiguous origin.


    When I got back to the table, I saw that Antoine¡¯s arm was around Kimberly and they were smiling at me.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m pregnant,¡± Kimberly said with a bubbling joy. She was a good actor. I don¡¯t think I could announce a fake pregnancy with half that enthusiasm.


    ¡°What? No way!¡± I said with a smile. ¡°So the family tree grows by one. Congrattions¡±


    Kimberly was my cousin in this storyline. It made sense for me to be excited.


    ¡°I hate that I found it out while I was here,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°KRSL is watching us. They probably knew before I did.¡±


    ¡°When did you find out?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Just now,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°There are pregnancy tests in the medical center.¡±


    Carousel sure did think of everything.


    ¡°That makes more sense,¡± I said. ¡°I thought you were going to tell me they sold those in the vending machines too.¡±


    We made idle banter and talked about baby names. The whole time, I was thinking about something else entirely.


    Kimberly¡¯s Grit.


    Pregnancy Reveal boosted a yer¡¯s Grit upon revealing they were pregnant. The logic was that pregnant characters are more sympathetic and the audience wouldn¡¯t want to see them die or get hurt. What interested me was the degree that her Grit had been buffed.


    6 points.


    Her Grit went up a huge amount from that one trope. That seemed like a lot. I was not super familiar with the trope yet though. Still...


    That must have been excessive.


    Was her performance so good that the buff was maxed out? Was her Moxie so high that the buff scaled up to match?


    I couldn¡¯t really put my suspicions into words so I dropped the line of thought.


    Eventually, we went Off-Screen.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it was going to end,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°There is something really strange going on here. Like, stranger than the obvious.¡±


    The others agreed.


    We took turns exchanging information with each other about what we had found.


    Kimberly and Anna talked about their conversations with the patients. They had allined of one thing: insomnia.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be true,¡± I said. ¡°I watched them all night long. They were sleeping just fine.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what they said,¡± Anna responded. ¡°They were always asking for sleep meds so that they could get some shut-eye.¡±


    Strange.


    ¡°Maybe the cocktail of drugs they¡¯re on has something to do with it,¡± I suggested.


    Anna shrugged her shoulders.


    ¡°I¡­ have some bad news,¡± I said. I told them about the Distortion and the two enemy tropes I had seen, Anyone Can Die and A Knock at the Door.


    That was a potentbination in this setting.


    I wondered how Anna would take that. She had always been safe in the knowledge that she would survive every storyline.


    She got quiet.


    ¡°So, whoever is closest to it gets killed?¡± Camden asked.


    ¡°Sounds like it,¡± I said. ¡°Though it may have other tropes that I couldn¡¯t see from a distance.¡±


    Camden had his own information to share.


    ¡°There is a gicsb on one of the other floors,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly what they do, but it has something to do with this floor.¡±


    ¡°What do gicists have to do with supposed trauma patients?¡± Antoine asked.


    No one had a good exnation other than, ¡°These aren¡¯t really trauma patients.¡±


    Antoine hadn¡¯t found anything yet. He did have one interesting observation though.


    ¡°None of our security procedures are rted to the patients. We are not supposed to touch them. All of our training is for dealing with irate employees and outside intruders,¡± he said. ¡°I thought that was odd.¡±


    So did I.


    Of course, eventually, the conversation turned back to me.


    ¡°So what do you think it is that we¡¯re dealing with?¡± Kimberly asked.


    "I''m working on it," I said. "You''ll know when I know. I can only use Cinema Seer once or twice if I want it to work well. I don''t want to waste it before I know anything for sure."


    That wasn''t what they wanted to hear.


    "Well get on it," Anna said. "Every time I turn a corner here I feel like I''m in danger."


    I felt simrly.


    The problem with this story wasn''t that I didn''t have any idea, it was that I had too many ideas. Ghosts, Demons, psychic phenomena, they were all in y still. Not to mention, KRSL could be behind it. Evil corporations have been viinous in many horror movies. Who''s to say they weren''t the main culprit here? We just didn''t know enough.


    We finished our food and separated. I had to get to work, as did Antoine, who had the night shift tonight as well. Kimberly, Camden, and Anna had to get to bed.


    The events of the previous night repeated again. The same employee whoined about not having enough time to finish her duties had the exact sameint again. However, she gave up sooner and with slightly more concealed disdain for her supervisor.


    All of the day shift employees were off the floor by 7:30.


    At 8:00 my shift began. I went through all the normal checks for audio and video. Everything was working.


    Then my watch began.


    The first four hours were not exactly riveting. I watched as all the patients settled down to sleep. That night, they all slept soundly. I wondered if they would stillin about insomnia in the morning.


    At midnight, Antoine began his first walk around the floor. This ce was seriously big. I knew that just from looking at the number of monitors that it took to see the entire floor, but I didn''t really understand howrge it was until Antoine started walking around it. It took him an hour to do a singlep.


    Every time he woulde to a door, he would buzz me on the inte and ask for me to open it. I would oblige. Eventually, I just started unlocking the doors as he walked toward them.


    When he was about three-quarters of the way done with his tour, he started to slow down. He was walking strangely, he almost looked¡­ afraid. I looked around the screen to see if there was something that he was seeing, but there was nothing in the direction that he was looking.


    He walked up to a white inte box and press the button.


    ¡°Can you talk to me?¡± he asked. His voice sounded like he was breathing hard. At first, I wondered if the distortion that I had seen the night before had somehow snuck up on him and was having some physiological effect on his body.


    But then I realized.


    He was just having a hard time walking around alone. The Stragglers'' Forest was still taking its toll.


    ¡°Yeah sure,¡± I said. We were risking breaking character if the camera was on, but if he needed someone to talk to, I had no choice but to help him.


    ¡°What''s the temperature like out there?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It''s fine,¡± he answered.


    ¡°They have me freezing in here,¡± I said. ¡°I have to wrap myself in a nket just to sit here.¡±


    He didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°So you''reing up on a junction,¡± I said. ¡°If you go left you''ll eventually circle back to the mess hall area. If you go right, you''ll find a bunch of conference rooms and eventually get to the patient wing.¡±


    Antoine had a map that he carried with him. He checked it and said, ¡°I have to check the patient area.¡±


    I flipped the switch that would open up the door on the right. ¡°Go right ahead. The path is clear for a while but you need to take the next left turn.¡±


    Antoine nodded.


    He walked along the path. I followed him on the monitors, flipping on the audio switch for each sector as he passed. I continued talking to him, I didn''t really have anything to say but I don''t think it mattered. I think he just wanted to hear someone''s voice, even mine.


    As he walked toward the patient wing, it reappeared.


    Right in front of one of the patientmon areas, the camera distorted.


    This was really bad timing. Antoine would be in that area soon. For a moment I considered sending him in that direction just so that he could get a quick glimpse of whatever it was that was causing the camera to malfunction, but of course, that would have been a terrible decision given his current state.


    ¡°Antoine,¡± I said, ¡°Go ahead and take the next right. I''m opening the door for you.¡±


    Antoine stopped and checked his map. ¡°I''m supposed to be going straight here.¡±


    I didn''t know if he was On-Screen. Just in case, I needed to y it in character.


    ¡°Go ahead and take the next right. We''re having a camera malfunction. I was hoping you coulde take a look.¡±


    On-Screen.


    Antoine did as I asked. He turned right and I quickly locked the door behind him.


    ¡°Is the camera malfunction still happening?¡± Antoine asked nervously.


    ¡°Just keep going straight,¡± I said.


    Elsewhere, the distortion could be seen wandering from monitor to monitor. There was still no sign of what was causing the distortion on the camera. It wasn''t exactly following Antoine yet but it was walking parallel to him.


    As he walked, the distortion would move to the nearest door that would connect it to him, but it couldn''t go through it. Soon though, there would be a junction that Antoine had to cross through that the Distortion could get to.


    ¡°Take a left here,¡± I said to Antoine.


    The distortion changed monitors in a way that tracked Antoine''s movement.


    If that thing learned to go through doors, Antoine was a goner.


    I continue to guide Antoine one room at a time. I started to whisper into the microphone, worried that it was my very instructions that were drawing the distortion in the direction of Antoine.


    I had an idea.


    I flipped on the audio switch for a camera that was on the opposite side of the floor. If I could lead it away from Antoine, he would be home-free.


    ¡°Antoinee over here can you hear mee over here,¡± I said into the microphone.


    The distortion didn''t move, not at first.


    ¡°That''s right Antoine stay right here.¡±


    The distortion moved monitors. It was heading through the rooms and hallways that were essible to it in the direction of my voice.


    At first.


    With the sudden turn, the distortion started moving across the monitors back in the direction of Antoine. It was like it was running.


    I flipped the audio back to Antoine. ¡°Keep going straight and take the next right,¡± I said. ¡°Get a move on, will ya? Come see me in the surveince room.¡±


    Antoine continued to move in my direction. I opened all the doors that he needed on his path and closed them as he passed through.


    The distortion got to the nearest room it could but was stopped again by a door that blockaded it from the rest of the floor. As it got there, the bars on the audio meter for the room with the distortion, spiked. Once. Twice.


    It was beating on the door.


    Antoine was almost to my room.


    I quickly moved to my door and started to unlock the manual locks. I looked back over my shoulder and saw the audio meter spiking in the room with the distortion.


    As soon as I had my locks undone I ran back to the monitor and flipped on the speaker.


    I heard it tapping on the door, slowly getting louder with each thump.


    Antoine got to my door. I opened it for him and allowed him inside. I closed the door behind him and locked it.


    ¡°What''s going on?¡± he asked.


    I showed him the screen where the distortion was.


    ¡°I can''t see anything what''s wrong with it?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I can''t see anything either¡­ it was just odd.¡±


    ¡°What is that noise?¡± he asked.


    Thump.


    Thump.


    He didn''t know how to react at first. He was still messed up.


    ¡°You need to get this equipment checked,¡± Antoine said nervously. ¡°You had me thinking there was a tiger chasing me.¡±


    He was trying to stay in character as best he could. It was hard to judge how freaked out his character would be at that point. After all, Antoine knew there was something there to kill us, but his character didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°I just had this weird feeling¡­ Something you need to know about our family if you¡¯re going to be a part of it. We act on our instincts.¡±


    Antoine nodded. ¡°Yeah, Kimberly said the same thing. Man, you got me freaked out.¡±


    He started breathing in and out deeply.


    He forced augh. ¡°The plumbing is knocking around and you think I¡¯m in danger.¡±


    We both chuckled, though we kept an eye on the monitor.


    Luckily, Carousel had mercy on us and, after a few moments, we were back Off-Screen.


    ¡°It''s trying to get out,¡± I said. ¡°It was trying to get¡­¡±


    I stopped. I didn¡¯t want to freak him out.


    ¡°To me?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°What kind of monster is invisible on camera and can¡¯t walk through a closed door?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± I said. ¡°This is going to take a while. There¡¯re so many answers to that question.¡±


    We sat and talked about possibilities as we waited for the distortion to go away.

 Chapter Seventy-Three: All in the Family

    Chapter Seventy-Three: All in the Family


    As soon as my shift ended, I fell into bed. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I was just exhausted.


    My brain hurt like I''d been doing math problems all night. By all rights I should have been up, terrified of what was toe, afraid that First Blood might happen while I was asleep. Despite this, I slept soundly for nine hours. I was too tired to worry.


    I awoke to a phone ringing. Up until that point, I had hardly even noticed that there was a phone in the room. It was hanging up next to the shelving unit near the servers. I stumbled out of bed to find it and then stumbled back to bed with it in my hand.


    I was On-Screen.


    ¡°Hello surveince room 2B,¡± I said.


    ¡°Mr. Lawrence!¡± the voice on the other side answered. ¡°It¡¯s Dr. Mentes. I thought I would call you to find out how you were handling your first shift with KRSL.¡±


    I rubbed a hand through my hair and tried to wake my brain up. ¡°Everything is going smoothly,¡± I said.


    ¡°Wonderful. I trust you haven¡¯t had any incidents beyond, let me see here,¡± I heard him shuffling through some papers, ¡°Some minor camera malfunctions?¡±


    ¡°¡­Nothing to report.¡±


    ¡°I am d to hear it. Remember, if there are any problems with the patients in the night, contact your coworkers for assistance. That¡¯s why they¡¯re there. The patients¡¯ liaison, your sister, is she managing well?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Noints as far as I know.¡±


    I was cold. With the security door closed this ce became an icebox. I searched around for my nket but realized it had fallen on the floor. I leaned over the side of the bed and fished it up. I wrapped it around my body, finally warming up again.


    ¡°How is your office? We keep it pretty cold in there, don¡¯t we?¡± Dr. Mentes asked. ¡°We believe it is best. Cold keeps the surveince specialist awake.¡±


    Thatment caught me by surprise. Had he just seen me wrap myself in a nket? Or was it a coincidence? My eyes darted up to the ceiling. There were no visible cameras.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said.


    ¡°Wonderful. Remember, if there is anything wrong at all, be sure to document it in your logbook.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    ¡°Delightful. Do not hesitate to contact me with any questions.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.


    I hung up the phone.


    Off-Screen.


    I managed to make it to the mess hall to catch Anna and Camden there. I grabbed some food and joined them.


    As I ced my food on the table and started to sit down, we were On-Screen again. That was inconvenient. I couldn¡¯t say much if I had to stay in character.


    ¡°This ce gives me the creeps at night,¡± I said.


    ¡°Can¡¯t be too bad,¡± Camden said. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve been sleeping. I¡¯ve been up all night worried that my buzzer would go off and I would have to go remotely monitor brain waves.¡±


    I was lucky that my bed was in my office.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard staying awake all night. My rhythm is all off.¡±


    ¡°It should be easy for you; it¡¯s just like when we were kids,¡± Anna said. ¡°You spent all night watching tv back then too.¡±


    I forced a chuckle.


    Anna had been my neighbor growing up. What she said about me spending all night watching movies was true. It was likely the thing I got in trouble for the most back then.


    ¡°Except now, I¡¯m getting paid,¡± I said.


    We exchanged idle banter for a bit longer. I focused on eating.


    ¡°So, the medical folks have been turning our patients into zombiestely. They can hardly stay awake long enough toin,¡± Anna said. She looked at Camden. ¡°You know anything about that?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t tell me anything,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m just as qualified as they are and yet they have me doing busy work. It gets frustrating.¡±


    We continued our general jobints for a few minutes after that.


    An NPC entered the mess hall. It was the supervisor I had seen arguing with the custodian whoined about not having enough time to finish her responsibilities.


    ¡°Barb,¡± the supervisor called out. The custodian herself was in the mess hall cleaning a table. ¡°Barb, you better be at that staff meeting. All hands on deck. 8:00 o''clock. Remember.¡±


    ¡°I told you I would,¡± Barb said as she finished wiping off the table. She didn''t look too happy about it.


    Her supervisor considered saying more, but she looked at the clock on the wall and shook her head as she turned to leave the mess hall.


    Finally, we went Off-Screen.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Anna said, ¡°This plot is strange. We constantly go Off-Screen for conversations that I think are important. I was talking to some patients about the reasons they got thrown in here. Really interesting stuff. A lot of strange idents. Most of the patients have a long string of strange incidents going back to their birth. Only ten percent of those conversations might have actually been On-Screen. If that.¡±


    I thought about that for a bit. So the details of the patients'' past were being kept sparse.


    ¡°Maybe Carousel doesn¡¯t want to spoil the reveal to the audience,¡± I said.


    Anna shrugged her shoulders.


    I took some time to tell them aboutst night¡¯s events and my suspicion that my room was under surveince.


    ¡°He said it right after you covered yourself up?¡± Camden asked. ¡°And this event happened On-Screen?¡±


    ¡°The whole thing.¡±


    ¡°So, is there a monster, or is thepany itself the bad guy? They could be messing with the cameras,¡± Anna suggested.


    That was one of my theories as well.


    It would kind of fit. Looking at the enemy tropes, A Knock on the Door could fit evil scientists. They had ess to every room, after all, and they could clearly see into every room with the cameras and ¡°target¡± whoever was there.


    ¡°We¡¯ll find out soon enough,¡± I said. ¡°First Blood has to be soon. It can''t keep dragging out.¡±


    ¡°We need to be on the lookout,¡± Anna agreed. ¡°It¡¯s going to be tonight for sure.¡±


    I then took a moment to consider my words carefully.


    ¡°There''s something I need to say,¡± I said. ¡°I don''t think Antoine is at 100%. He seemed pretty shaken upst night.¡±


    Anna and Camden looked at each other.


    ¡°He should be better now,¡± Anna said. ¡°He asked Kimberly to help activate his nightmare trope a few hours ago¡­ It should help.¡±


    That would help, but it wasn¡¯t a permanent solution at our low level.


    ¡°Ok. Then¡­ maybe don¡¯t mention I said anything. Not in the storyline at least.¡±


    They agreed.


    A few minutester, Kimberly and Antoine came into the mess hall in a hurry.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We found something.¡±


    They looked excited.


    They led us back through the maze of hallways and intersections toward the part of the floor that was far away from the patient sector and the entrance.


    As they led us down a hallway, I immediately noticed that something was wrong.


    ¡°I don''t recognize this ce from the security monitors,¡± I said. I knew that there were some blind spots that weren''t picked up but the idea that there was an entire hallway filled with rooms that I couldn''t see was very concerning.


    ¡°Hurry,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We wanted to do somest-minute exploration before First Blood. Look what we found. We looked through it but I think you all need to see it.¡±


    I wondered if it was difficult to activate Kimberley¡¯s Get A Room trope when your character already has a room in that very building.


    He showed us to an office. Most of the things in the room had been cleared out except for a few odds and ends and a box of papers that sat on the desk at the back of the room.


    ¡°This looks like my office,¡± Camden said. ¡°It''s got the sameyout and everything.¡±


    He rushed to the box of papers. After staring at meaningless brain scans for days he was probably happy to find actual documents that he could search for clues.


    On-Screen.


    Camden searched through the papers and pulled out a few that his Eureka ability must have told him were important.


    ¡°Check this out,¡± he said. He held out what looked like a family tree chart, but it was slightly different. All of the individuals on the tree were represented with different colored circles and squares.


    ¡°It''s a pedigree diagram,¡± he said.


    ¡°What''s that for?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Camden looked over the chart for a little bit and then answered, ¡°It''s for tracking a gic trait over generations.¡±


    I looked over his shoulder to take a nce at the chart. At the top was a woman whose name was Eloise Mercer. She died in 1903. Every other person on the chart either descended from her or married into the family.


    ¡°All of our patients are on here,¡± Camden said. ¡°It has both their ID numbers and their real names.¡±


    I only knew one of their real names. The little girl. Her name was Bethany. Or Bethany Mercer, apparently.


    ¡°They''re all rted?¡± Anna asked. ¡°But they don''t seem to know each other except for the father and his two kids.¡±


    ¡°They''re distant rtions. Cousins. Second cousins. Differentst names, but the Mercer bloodline,¡± Camden said. ¡°Spread out over five generations. Every other blood rtion on this pedigree chart isbeled as being deceased.¡±


    No wonder the patients had such limited contact with each other. Eventually, they would get to talking and figure out what they all had inmon.


    ¡°You said that pedigree charts were for tracking gic traits,¡± I said. ¡°What gic trait?¡±


    KRSL tracked down every living member of that family. But why?


    Camden shuffled through the papers. He shook his head. ¡°I don''t know.¡±


    I backed away so that he could keep looking through what remained in the box.


    ¡°Whose office was this?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°Doctor Thornton Thomas,¡± Kimberly said. She pointed to something mounted to the wall.


    It was a ss case. At the bottom, it had an inscription, "A heartfelt token of gratitude to Dr. Thornton Thomas, whose guidance and expertise touched our lives forever."


    Inside the ss case, was a signed wooden baseball bat. Antoine¡¯s baseball bat.


    I couldn''t say anything because we were still On-Screen, but it was interesting how Carousel managed to work Antoine''s baseball bat into the story. We would probably need itter. The security guards on this floor level had batons and pepper spray. This was quite the upgrade.


    ¡°You guys,¡± Camden said. ¡°You know how we have a father and two kids as patients out there right? Well, guess who the mother is.¡±


    He waited for a beat.


    ¡°Dina Mercer (n¨¦e Cano). Remember, the woman we met on our first day who didn''t make it to orientation?¡±


    "Dina?" Anna asked. "I remember her. Her family is in here..."


    She threw a nce at me. Dina was rted to the Mercer line by marriage. She was obviously here to get her kids back. We had thrown around theories about what had happened to Dina. One of those theories was that there was a hard limit to how many yers could join this storyline and she had been the odd one out. Apparently, that wasn''t the case.


    She had to be in the building. All of the filming locations were in the building.


    We searched the remainder of the office for more clues. We didn¡¯t find much.


    ¡°You know, this guy only left three weeks ago,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°If you ask the patients, it sounds like there''s a high turnover rate for employees,¡± Anna said. I had observed the same thing.


    ¡°If he quit, why wouldn''t he take his bat?¡± Kimberly asked.


    We looked back at the signed souvenir. Was the bat there just as a way to get Antoine his weapon of choice into the storyline? Or was the presence of a sentimental object left inside of his office supposed to be evidence that Dr. Thomas might not have left of his own free will?


    Off-Screen.


    We left the room. We checked every other door in the hallway. They were all locked.


    ¡°Be ready for a fight tonight,¡± Anna said. She sounded more nervous than usual. ¡°Something is about to happen.¡±


    We all agreed. The needle was slowly moving forward. We didn''t have that much longer until First Blood. It looked like I wouldn''t be the only person who would be awake all night.


    It was nearly 8:00. My shift would start soon. I was back in my office getting ready for the night. As I prepared, I ran through the pre-shift checks for audio and video. It was then that I noticed the custodian.


    It was Barb, the same woman who hadined about having too much work to get done in her shift both previous nights. She had disobeyed her supervisor and had stayed behind for an extra 15 minutes. She was emptying trash cans and wiping down surfaces.


    She was in the back part of the floor, far from the elevator and the patient sector. She kept looking up at the clock on the wall, apparently considering whether or not she could sneak in a few extra minutes to get her day''s work done before the doors closed and locked.


    I continued doing my checks and then ran to the mess hall to purchase a snack for the night. The needle on the plot cycle was close to First Blood. It was going to be an eventful night.


    As I went back to my station, I passed by the custodian on her way out.


    I closed and locked the door to my room and sat back down in front of the monitors.


    Whoever was in charge of the medicine for the patients really must have upped their dose of sleep medication because several of them were already in bed. I looked over to the camera that showed the elevator. The custodian was waiting there, tapping her foot. She was cutting it close.


    And then I saw it: the distortion.


    It was out early that night. It jumped from monitor to monitor faster than I had ever seen it. It was headed straight for the custodian. There were no doors between it and her that I could close remotely.


    I fumbled my fingers to the monitor and clicked on the audio.


    ¡°Ma''am, can you hear me?¡± I said loudly.


    She looked up at the camera and nodded her head. She didn''t appear pleased to hear my voice.


    ¡°You have to run right now,¡± I said with as much urgency as possible.


    The NPC turned to the camera and said, ¡°I was just finishing up my shift. It''s just an extra 20 minutes. I''m leaving, see?¡±


    ¡°Look to your left!¡± I screamed into the microphone.


    She stared up at the camera in confusion and then slowly looked down the hallway to her left.


    ¡°Why?¡± she asked. She didn''t appear to be frightened or startled in any way, despite the fact that the distortion was at the end of that hallway. Whatever it was, it wasn''t just invisible on camera. She didn''t seem to be able to see anything.


    The elevator dinged. The custodian looked at the elevator and then back at the camera.


    ¡°I''m leaving, see?¡± she repeated.


    She walked over to the elevator and stepped inside.


    The distortion started to move even faster from one monitor to the next. Before the elevator doors closed, it had made it onto the same monitor as the elevator and the woman inside it.


    The woman still didn''t notice.


    The elevator doors closed. The distortion disappeared.


    I didn''t see it again the rest of the night. A few minutes after the elevator left, the needle on the plot cycle hit First Blood.


    It didn¡¯t move forward to Rebirth like it usually would, not at first.


    It stayed there, fixed on First Blood, for thirty-five minutes.

 Chapter Seventy-Four: Please Present Your Identification

    Chapter Seventy-Four: Please Present Your Identification


    Ten minutes after First Blood ended, Anna slowly tiptoed out of her living space and into view of the cameras. While her bedroom was not in view of the cameras, themunal space and door that separated her from the maze of hallways were visible. I was keeping watch over all of the monitors with heightened interest, looking for any evidence of what might have happened or what might happen next.


    Anna approached the little white box near the door and pressed the button. A little light blinked on the monitor. I turned on the audio.


    ¡°Any trouble there, sis?¡± I asked in my most casual voice.


    "Is everything OK?" Anna asked. "Just got a weird feeling. Thought I heard a noise."


    I couldn¡¯t tell if she was on screen or not.


    "Everything looks OK from up here," I said. "I¡¯ll ask around."


    "I¡¯ll ask Kimberly if she heard anything," Anna said.


    She looked up at the camera and then crept over toward Kimberly''s room. I switched off the audio in Anna and Kimberly''smon area and then switched it on to the one that Antoine and Camden shared.


    "Antoine, Camden, just checking in," I said over the loudspeaker.


    It didn''t take long for them to crawl out of their living quarters ande out to where I could see them. I doubted that they had been sleeping.


    "Is everything alright?" Antoine asked.


    "Looking good," I answered. "Anna said she heard something. Did you guys?"


    They looked at each other and then Camden said, "Didn''t hear anything here."


    "Me neither," I said. "Just checking around."


    "Do you need me to do a patrol?" Antoine asked. He did not seem too eager.


    "No, you''re good. There''s none scheduled for tonight. You can go back to bed," I answered.


    And so, I continued my watch, waiting for some evidence of what First Blood might have been, some clue to our characters of what had just transpired. I had no idea if anything we had just discussed had been on-screen. For me, it wasn¡¯t. I sat in front of the monitors, waiting and watching for the rest of the night.


    I never saw anything move.


    There were no distortions.


    The longer I saw nothing, the more nervous I became.


    As the minutes ticked by, I eagerly watched for the elevator to open. When it did, it would bring a flood of NPCs and, with them, information about what had happened at First Blood. After all, the defining trait of First Blood was how the characters reacted to it.


    It was difficult to react when you had no idea what happened.


    7:58¡­


    7:59¡­


    8:00¡­


    And¡­ Nothing.


    The elevator never dinged.


    No one walked through the door. There should have been nurses bringing food and medicine. There should have been scientists ready to work with Camden to study the Mercer family.


    There wasn¡¯t. The elevator never even opened.


    I clicked on the audio for Kimberly and Anna¡¯smon room.


    ¡°Was there something special going on this morning?¡± I asked.


    A few momentster, Anna walked out into themon area. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°Not that I remember.¡±


    She started to walk back to her room but then paused.


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s time for the day to start and no one hase down,¡± I answered.


    ¡°Hmm. Wonder why,¡± Anna said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask around.¡±


    I repeated the conversation with Camden momentster. Obviously, I knew that something was wrong, but I was ying it like I had no idea.


    ¡°Who didn¡¯t show up?¡± Camden asked.


    ¡°No one hase down,¡± I answered.


    ¡°That¡¯s strange. My supervisor was going to work with me on a special project of some kind this morning.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll call upstairs and see what the holdup is,¡± I said.


    I walked across my room to the phone on the wall. I brought the receiver up to my ear and pressed the button that was supposed to send me to the switchboard where a chipper operator would direct my call to whomever I desired.


    Except it didn¡¯t.


    No one answered.


    I thought about what was going on for a moment.


    Once again, flipping on the audio for Anna¡¯s room, I said ¡°Didn¡¯t they have some sort of meetingst night?¡±


    A few momentster, Anna said, ¡°Yes. Companywide. Except for those on duty.¡±


    That was what I thought. The meeting was where the custodian from the night before was supposed to be going when the distortion joined her on the elevator.


    ¡°I¡¯m going out to check on things,¡± I said.


    ¡°Wait up,¡± Anna said. ¡°I¡¯ll get the others. It''ll be a minute.¡±


    I looked over at the monitors. The Mercers were beginning to wake up.


    What were we going to do?


    Ten minutester, Anna, Kimberly, Camden, Antoine, and I were standing next to the elevator. Still, not a single person hade downstairs.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°What¡¯s the hold-up?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°I have a debrief with the Head of Security in half an hour.¡±


    ¡°Your guess is as good as mine,¡± I said.


    ¡°Can we go up and check on things?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Camden grabbed his badge from his shirt and walked toward the elevator. ¡°I don¡¯t even know if we have ess.¡±


    He held his badge against the small electronic box next to the elevator. Where normally it should sh green, it shed yellow.


    ¡°I guess we don¡¯t,¡± Anna said.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Red is no ess. Yellow is an error.¡±


    I had managed to learn that in my attempts to travel around the floor on my first day.


    ¡°Error?¡± Camden asked. ¡°What error?¡±


    ¡°Like when a door can''t be opened electronically because the manual lock is engaged,¡± I said.


    ¡°It''s not like someone could manually lock an elevator,¡± Kimberly said. "Right?"


    I shrugged my shoulders and pressed my own badge against the device. Yellow again.


    ¡°It could just be an old fashion error,¡± I said. ¡°Broken elevator.¡±


    Antoine tried his badge next.


    ¡°So how do we get up now,¡± he asked. ¡°Is there a stairway in case of a fire?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°We have a state-of-the-art fire suppression system. I don¡¯t know of any stairways. They may not be marked in case one of the¡­ <em>patients</em>¡­ escapes.¡±


    Anna turned to the camera on the ceiling. She looked back at us. ¡°You think they''re watching?¡±


    ¡°If they were, why haven¡¯t they said anything?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°I imagine at this point, we¡¯re the only ones left alive,¡± I said sarcastically. It was time to y the part of the Film Buff.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that,¡± Anna said. "You''re not helping."


    ¡°I was just kidding. But I have seen this movie before,¡± I said. ¡°Now all that¡¯s left is for us to get picked off one by one.¡±


    ¡°As long as you go first,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°I just might,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ll probably make it to the big climax. Being pregnant and all.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about this. We are not in a horror movie, much to Riley¡¯s disappointment,¡± Anna said. ¡°We need to figure out what¡¯s going on.¡±


    We discussed what we would do for a while. It wasn''t clear what our next step should be. I began worrying that perhaps we had missed something in the Party Phase.


    ¡°Operating under the assumption that any emergency exits are disguised so that the patients can''t escape we should start looking around for something like that,¡± Camden said.


    Everyone agreed. As we did, we all got a temporary double-point buff to our Savvy stats. It was nice to see Camden¡¯s new Immobile Genius trope in action.


    ¡°What about the patients?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°We can''t open their rooms without a nurse badge,¡± Anna said. ¡°Unless Riley can open it from the control room. Or maybe Antoine?¡±


    ¡°I''m not allowed to have anything to do with the patients. I can''t even get into theirmon areas unless they''re already open,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Same here,¡± I said. ¡°You need someone with authorization to open up their individual rooms. And to be honest I''m not sure we should mess with them right now anyway. We don''t have their medicine. We don''t have their food.¡±


    ¡°Well, we can''t just leave them there,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°Maybe we ought to,¡± I argued back. ¡°If you haven''t noticed, they''re prisoners here. There might be a reason for that.¡±


    ¡°There are children in there!¡± Kimberly said, as always, her performance was quite convincing. Of course, it was possible she actually was concerned about the NPC children.


    ¡°They''re just a liability,¡± Camden agreed with me. ¡°We haven''t even been told why they''re here. You aren''t being logical. Besides, they¡¯re safe in their cells.¡±


    ¡°Watch how you talk to her,¡± Antoine said. ¡°She''s just concerned about other people''s well-being. That might be a foreign concept to you.¡±


    He started staring down at Camden.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Anna said. ¡°We can''t even get them out of the rooms there''s no point in arguing about it. Right now, we need to save ourselves and work together before we have any chance of helping them.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Camden said. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said to Kimberly.


    ¡°Now let''s go find that exit,¡± Anna said.


    As we walked away all of our Savvy received another small boost. Personally, I thought our performance wasckluster, but it was our first intentional On-Screen quarrel. We would get better. It wasn''t a real fight unless curse words were used, as I saw it. Still, it was enough to activate Anna¡¯s Let''s Not Fight trope for a quick buff.


    Off-Screen.


    With our standard buffs out of the way, we began our search for a way out.


    I went to my room so that I could supervise over the loudspeaker. In the Rebirth phase, the monster could attack at any time, even to lethal effect, assuming that there wasn''t something in the script preventing it from doing so. With this storyline, I had no idea.


    Kimberly and Antoine more or less made a beeline to go pick up Antoine''s bat. I had hoped that by pointing out the potential danger we were in it would be enough justification for him to seek out a weapon better than the baton and pepper spray that he was assigned with his uniform.


    Anna and Camden stuck together and went to explore theboratories and offices where Camden worked. I got the impression that he had seen things over there that were worth looking at now that he had a narrative justification.


    I watched the Mercers as they banged on their doors and yelled for attention. I considered sending them a message to calm them down, but I thought better of it. If we decided to help themter, they would never need to know that I was ignoring them. If I spoke to them before we could help them, they might grow frustrated with us if we took too long.


    I still wasn''t sure how they fit into the narrative. The distortion did appear to emanate from the same part of the floor that their cells were on. Whatever this thing was it was tied to them at the very least.


    I watched as Anna and Camden explored the offices that I recognized as belonging to Camden¡¯s supervisor. I watched as they walked off of one monitor and didn¡¯t reappear on any other.


    I quickly flipped on the audio for thest room that they had been walking in.


    ¡°Whoa, you two. Where is it you just went? I don''t see you.¡±


    I didn''t receive an answer for a few moments.


    ¡°I think we found something,¡± Camden said. Camden''s hunch must have been right.


    I quickly alerted Antoine and Kimberly. They came by my office so that we could walk to Anna and Camden together. I didn''t want to be walking around alone.


    As soon as we walked into the room that Anna and Camden had been in, I saw the area that they must have walked into when they went off-camera.


    As I entered, I went On-Screen.


    ¡°My boss was constantlying back here and telling me that I wasn''t allowed to follow him,¡± Camden said. ¡°I figure we should take a look at whatever it is we weren''t supposed to see. Hees in here for hours at a time. I was always curious. Now I''m even more curious.¡±


    What we weren''t supposed to see was... another office. Where the first one looked like a real ce of work, where someone actually spent time, with paper strewn about and signs of life, the second office looked like it was staged and sterile. It almost looked like it wasn''t even used.


    ¡°You''re saying hees in here?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°What for?¡±


    It was a valid question. This room did not have the look of a secret hidden location. It was strange that it wasn''t on camera. It was stranger still that Camden¡¯s boss would need toe in here when there was no evidence that the room had been used. There wasn''t even aputer at the desk.


    ¡°Can''t you hear it?¡± Camden asked.


    We got silent and listened.


    Once it got very quiet, I could hear something,


    ¡°Is that someone talking?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Not some<em>one</em>.¡±


    It was some<em>thing</em>.


    I had to listen very closely to pick up what was being said:


    ¡°Please present your identification. Please present your identification. Please present your identification.¡±


    It was aputer voice. The same voice could be heard whenever you stood in a doorway for too long and the system needed you to present your credentials in order to keep the door open.


    ¡°Where is thating from?¡± I asked.


    After a few more moments of silence, Anna moved closer to a bookshelf against one of the walls.


    ¡°It''sing from back here,¡± she said putting her ear up against the wall.


    ¡°Maybe there''s some type of switch that makes the shelves move out of the way,¡± I said. It looked like we were staring at one of those Scooby-doo bookcases that would open up if you pulled out the right book. The only problem here was that this shelving unit had no books on it. It didn''t have anything on it.


    Anna pulled on the bookshelf, and, with a click, it came swinging open like a normal door. No leatherbound book to pull out, no marble bust whose head opens up on a hinge to reveal a button. The secret door opened just by pulling on the shelf. Lame.


    ¡°You watch too much TV,¡± Anna said.


    As she pulled open the door, the voice got louder. ¡°Please present your identification.¡±


    What we saw when we opened the door was a stairway that led upward as well as another that led down. Next to them, was an elevator. A private elevator.


    ¡°Please present your identification,¡± the voice rang out.


    The elevator doors opened, sending us back in shock.


    Lying on the floor of the elevator, covered in blood, was Camden¡¯s supervisor. I didn''t know what could possibly have done it, but he was bleeding from the eyes and the mouth. His torso was mostly intact, though there was arge gash in his chest that exposed some destroyed ribs.


    ¡°Please present your identification.¡±


    The elevator doors closed.


    And then opened.


    And then closed.


    ¡°I hate being right,¡± I said.


    ¡°Please present your identification."

 Chapter Seventy-Five: Notes from Experiment 17

    Chapter Seventy-Five: Notes from Experiment 17


    Kimberly screamed.


    ¡°Oh my god!¡± Anna yelled.


    I stared at the corpse, looking for some trace of what might have done it. It was the work of something very strong, that much was certain. It didn¡¯t really help narrow down my top three theories very much, though out of ghosts, demons, and psychic phenomena, thetter was still in the lead by quite a bit.


    But there was more to learn.


    Camden slowly walked into the elevator.


    ¡°Please present your identification,¡± the voice repeated.


    He knelt down over his former supervisor and plucked the ID badge from his chest. He backed out of the elevator and showed it to us.


    ¡°This might be able to get us into the patients¡¯ rooms,¡± he said. ¡°When it¡¯s time for that.¡±


    I took a closer look at the body in the elevator. The wounds were clean as if done by a de, but I couldn¡¯t imagine how a derge enough to do this would be snuck into the facility.


    As I turned to leave the elevator, I noticed something quite concerning.


    ¡°The elevator only goes up or down one floor,¡± I said.


    That was strange, even within the world of Carousel. Unless¡­ there was something about this building we didn¡¯t know yet. ¡°Wait a second, this isn¡¯t right.¡±


    I saw that the floor above us wasbeled, ¡°3B.¡± We were on ¡°2B.¡± That seemed backward.


    In the other elevator, it looked like 2B was two floors underground, a sub-basement. But this made it look like there were any number of floors between us and the surface.


    ¡°We are a lot further underground than they told us,¡± I said.


    The others ducked their heads into the elevator to confirm my findings.


    ¡°But why would they lie to us?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Why indeed.


    ¡°Where do we go?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Well,¡± Camden said. ¡°I have to think going up is better. We aren¡¯t safe here.¡±


    ¡°But the thing that did that was up there, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Actually, it wasn¡¯t that clear. Had the entity been in the elevator when it brought the body back down to this level?


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Camden said. ¡°We can¡¯t stay here.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± I agreed. ¡°Down here we¡¯re sitting ducks. At least up there we might find the way out.¡±


    And so, it was agreed.


    For obvious reasons, we chose the stairs over the elevator.


    It might have been a mistake. It was clear that floor 3B wasn¡¯t right above 2B. There appeared to be a great deal of distance between the two floors.


    ¡°This is like a hundred feet,¡± Antoine said. ¡°More than that.¡±


    He was right.


    After many flights of stairs, we eventually made it to an exit. The stairs stopped. They didn¡¯t continue upward. The exit was a simple wooden door with thebel ¡°3B.¡±


    Antoine took the lead, his baseball bat in hand. He gave his baton to Anna and his pepper spray to Kimberly, though I could hardly imagine that helping much.


    Antoine tested the door. It didn¡¯t even require ID.


    The door opened easily.


    As it did, a woman¡¯s body slumped out to greet us.


    Kimberly screamed again. I swear, I thought she might have pepper sprayed the corpse if she hadn¡¯t gotten control of herself.


    ¡°That was one of theb techs,¡± Camden said, staring down at the woman¡¯s body. She wore a blood-stainedb coat.


    Antoine took a few breaths and stepped over the woman¡¯s body and into the well-lit room beyond it.


    We followed one at a time.


    The room inside was anotherboratory. This one was far more sophisticated than the ones on 2B.


    ¡°Why did they have me lugging that machine around when they had that?¡± Camden said, looking at a giant series of monitors that showed five of the Mercers'' vital statistics, all of which appeared to be updating in real time. Their hearts were racing. rms were going off.


    His attention was soon stolen away from the monitors. Theboratory, it seemed, was an even more prolific murder scene than we knew.


    There were three more bodies strewn about. All of them were killed withrge, clean gashes carved into their bodies.


    The room smelled of blood.


    ¡°What the hell did this?¡± Antoine asked.


    The private elevator doors for this floor were to our left. A door led out and around. Antoine took the lead and slowly crept out of the room and into the hallway.


    The longer we walked, the more bodies we found.


    ¡°They were running away from something,¡± I said, having noticed the orientation of the bodies.


    ¡°The elevator is that way though,¡± Camden pointed out.


    It was true. They were running away from where the main elevator would be located.


    ¡°We have to risk it,¡± Antoine said.


    He moved forward.


    We followed him.


    As we walked, the differences between this floor and 2B became more obvious. This floor was more popted, for one. Or at least it had been. Bodies littered the ground in every direction. More than that, this floor appeared more well-used. There were desks, calendars, snack tables, and all manner of office equipment on this floor that didn¡¯t appear on the one below it.


    The further we walked, the more theyout began to diverge.


    ¡°There¡¯s the elevator,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Please present your identification,¡± this elevator said. Just like thest one.


    The major difference between this one and thest one was that this one had its outer door ripped open. The elevator car was visible, though it wasn¡¯t even with the floor. It appeared as though it had begun to rise when something stopped it. The elevator car was not level either. It had been damaged.


    As we walked near it, there was a loud crack as the elevator car snapped loose and fell.


    There was a screeching of brakes, but the brakes failed too as the elevator car continued to fall far below 3B. Very far below. Eventually, we hear a crash hundreds of feet down.


    ¡°Guess that¡¯s what yellow means,¡± I said.


    ¡°Look,¡± Kimberly said. She pointed to arge door, a bigger version of the secure door that was on my control room downstairs.


    The door was open just a little bit. I stepped forward and slowly built up the courage to pull the door open further.


    ¡°Oh shit,¡± I said, as I pulled open the door and found a severed hand still wedged into the handle on the inside.


    ¡°They were trying to get out,¡± Anna said.


    She was right. A group had crammed themselves into this room for safety but had found none.


    This room was a surveince room like mine, but it also housed a series of desks andputers. It was muchrger than my room. It had far more surveince monitors than mine did too.


    I saw a familiar face on the ground. It was Mr. Rowe. He was supposed to be at home on his five days off. What was he doing at work?


    ¡°Look,¡± Camden said. He pointed at one of the monitors. It was an image of a stairwell. It wasn¡¯t one of the ones we had been in. It showed Dina walking down to one of the lower levels.


    None of usmented on it, because at that moment, we heard a cough.


    I nearly jumped out of my skin.


    The cough hade from the other side of the room behind arge desk. As we slowly moved over there, we saw him.


    It was Dr. Truman Mentes.


    He was in terrible shape. He made eye contact with me as soon as he saw me. He couldn¡¯t speak, his throat had been shed superficially and his stomach had been gouged open.


    ¡°How do we call for help?¡± I asked.


    If he heard me, he didn¡¯t show it. Instead, he pointed up toward his terminalputer. I made eye contact with him for a few moments more. Was I supposed to try to help him? To patch his wounds? No. Moments after pointed at the terminal, a gargling sound came from his throat. Soon, he stopped moving.


    He was dead.


    I looked at the terminal. It was a simpleputer that apparently ran on a strange, older OS. On the screen was a list of log entries.


    ¡°What that?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°Audio logs,¡± I said.


    I took the mouse and clicked on the first one and then the second and so on. The logs told us almost everything we wanted to know and more. As the logs yed, the camera went on and off screen, capturing snippets of the audio before leaving. I could only imagine that there was a shback or simr. I couldn¡¯t know for sure.


    <strong>Logs of Dr. Truman Mentes, Project Distortion, Experiment 17</strong>


    <strong>Audio Journal 17.1</strong>:


    <strong>Date: June 07, 2006</strong><blockquote>


    The Mercer-Psychokic Entity or, informally, the Distortion, so named for its unassuming appearance on recorded video, remains a subject of much intrigue. I seek to prove my hypothesis that the entity is self-determining, rather than an extension of the Mercers themselves or an embodiment of pure id as previously believed. Observations continue to reveal the intriguing nuances of the Distortion''s manifestation. A crucial requirement we''ve noted is its dependency on an external host, distinct from the Mercer family, to anchor itself, thereby gaining its potent and often destructive properties. It appears that the act of tethering to a host is destructive in nature and the Distortion is either unwilling or unable to tether to the Mercers themselves. This could also be the work of some passive immunity bestowed by the Mercers'' unconscious gift. Perhaps this could exin why the Mercers arergely unaware of their connection to the entity. Further research is required.


    We''ve noted some considerable variation in how the Distortion manifests depending on the type of individual it tethers to.


    Without a tether the Distortion is a harmless oddity. It is capable of manipting the physical world, though it tires to do so. It seems unable to pass through solid objects only in the act of tethering itself. Mostly, the Distortion knocks on walls and moves small objects in an unaggressive state. Of course, it has not been so passive ofte.


    When the Distortion finds an anchor in the average person, it manifests as a formless psychokentic force. Its actions appear aimless, seemingly guided by nothing more than a sense of capricious chaos and destructive urges. This version has little military use.


    When tethered to an individual of high intellect, the Distortion''s form remains elusive and unfound. Yet, its behavior changes dramatically. It evolves from a state of aimless destruction to a more focused and malevolent entity, disying a disconcerting degree of cunning and purpose in its actions. Granted, we may never know how the entity behaves outside of captivity.


    The most profound transformation urs when the Distortion attaches itself to an individual who possessestent psychic abilities. Under these circumstances, it is the current hypothesis that the Distortion may take on a visible, tangible form - at least to the individual it''s tethered to. Despite considerable advancement of modern technology, our cameras are still unable to capture this form.


    Given these observations, the presence of Molly Lawrence''s descendants could be crucial in our quest to fully understand the Distortion. Gic analysis does not show anymon ancestors between the two ns, an obstacle that had made past experiments less useful. It remains to be seen whether their abilities will allow the Distortion to be a more stable, predictable entity, or perhaps even assume a true physical form, thus shedding further light on its rtionship with the Mercer family. This is the stated goal of Experiment 17.</blockquote>


    <strong>Audio Journal 17.2:</strong>


    <strong>Date: June 07, 2006</strong><blockquote>


    We have sessfully sedated the Mercers during waking hours. This should prevent previous incidents from reurring. This medical strategy is designed to curb their natural psychic manifestations and enable the entity to be more active during the night when Subject 1 is awake for his assigned survence duty.


    Subject 1, a descendant of Molly Lawrence, presents a remarkable potential for psychic ability, ording to brain scans, though he appears unaware of this power. Positioned in the surveince room at the center of Floor 2B, we anticipate that his abilities will trigger some level of activity with the Distortion during nighttime.


    Subject 2, also a descendant of Molly Lawrence, does not demonstrate the same degree of psychic potential on her brain scans. Despite this, she shares a gic trait, which could still allow for a connection with the Distortion. Her role as Subject Manager puts her in direct interaction with the Mercers, which we hope will facilitate a link with the entity.


    Subject 3, another Molly Lawrence descendant, appears to be a powerful empath, even though she seems unaware of her ability''s origin. Her performance in preliminary exams was impressively close to Subject 1''s results. With her empathic abilities in mind, we''ve assigned her as a therapist in direct contact with the Mercers. An unexpected factor to consider in our observations is her pregnancy, which she is currently unaware of. It is not known what variables this condition may introduce.


    Subject 4 does not exhibit psychic abilities, but his high intelligence could potentially attract the Distortion.


    Simrly, Subject 5,cking psychic ability, may nevertheless influence the entity through his connection to Subject 3 and her empathic abilities. He will have assional night shift duties.


    The final living Mercer, a new addition to our collection, has shown through brain scans to be a potent conduit for the Distortion. His presence within the group is likely to significantly impact the behavior of the entity.


    All subjects are now under continuous surveince, with data collection proceeding as expected. This configuration''s inaugural night has us optimistic about the prospect of meaningful interaction with the Distortion.</blockquote>


    <strong>Audio Journal 17.3:</strong>


    <strong>Date: June 07, 2006</strong><blockquote>


    In order to manage the potential risks posed by the Distortion, we''ve implemented a series of precautions. Paramount among these is the design of our research facility, abyrinthine structure brimming with locked doors andplex passageways. Though the Distortion can form a psychic tether with an individual in proximity despite the existence of physical barriers, it seems unable to transcend solid material unless it is tethering to a host on the other side.


    In several instances, we''ve witnessed the Distortion strain itself to the brink of dissipation in its attempts to bypass solid obstructions. These observations have led us to the conclusion that while the Distortion may exhibit signs of self-determination, its ability to interact with the physical world is bound by conventional physicalws, provided it is connecting to a new host.


    The medicinal regimen we administer to the Mercers is designed not only to suppress their psychic manifestations during the day but also to weaken them during the night. This serves a dual purpose of controlling the Distortion''s manifestation and preserving the mental and physical wellbeing of the Mercers.


    Interestingly, we have observed that disorienting the Mercers appears to depower the Distortion. This lends credence to our working hypothesis that the Distortion, while potentially self-determining, only possesses the knowledge and understanding of the Mercers themselves.


    These discoveries necessitate further investigation and underline the importance of the safety measures we''ve put in ce. As we progress with our study of this enigmatic entity, we must remain vignt.


    Bethany and Logan Mercer''s mother attempted to sneak into the facility again under her maiden name. She appeared to havemunicated with the test subjects. I can only hope she did not tell them anything that would jeopardize this experiment. We have locked her on a cell on level 3B. I am not sure what we should do with her. It would be interesting to see how the Distortion interacts with the mother of two Mercers, even if she has no Mercer blood herself. I will need to wait for approval from HQ before conducting such experiments.</blockquote>


    <strong>Audio Journal 17.4:</strong>


    <strong>Date: June 08, 2006 - Morning</strong><blockquote>This is Dr. Truman Mentes. Observations from the morning of the 24th. It appears Subject 1 is showing signs of deep contemtion following his first night in the surveince room. He hasn''t voiced any specific concerns, but his behavior... it indicates suspicion. Subject 2 remains surprisingly unaffected, professionally carrying out her duties, interacting with the Mercers without any apparent sense of what''s transpiring around her.</blockquote>


    <strong>Audio Journal 17.5:</strong>


    <strong>Date: June 08, 2006 - Afternoon</strong><blockquote>Afternoon observations from the 24th. Subject 3''s first meeting with Bethany Mercer happened just yesterday. There are already signs of a deepening rapport between them. We''ll need to watch this closely. Subject 4 has be a thorn in our side, asking probing questions about the Mercers and the tests we are running on them. We underestimated his motivation. We''re navigating a delicate bnce between transparency and operational security.</blockquote>


    <strong>Audio Journal 17.6:</strong>


    <strong>Date: June 09, 2006 - Morning</strong><blockquote>Morning observations, June 25th. Subject 1''s second night in the surveince room seems to have escted his suspicions. He''s quiet but his behavior, particrly his constant reviewing ofst night''s footage, it suggests an understanding is dawning on him. He may very well be the first subject to witness a fully corporeal manifestation of the Distortion. I have waited my entire career for such an event. Subject 2 remains engrossed in her duties, seemingly oblivious to the growing tension. Her supervisors believe this is a ruse. I am not sure. I will watch her closely. Subject 3 has continued developing her rtionships with each of the Mercers. Subject 5 appears troubled. Perhaps he is gued by past trauma. This could be problem for the Experiment. I will continue to monitor the situation.</blockquote>


    <strong>Audio Journal 17.7:</strong>


    <strong>Date: June 09, 2006 - Afternoon</strong><blockquote>Subject 3''s connection with Bethany Mercer is intensifying faster than expected. After only a few meetings, the strength of this bond... it could introduce new variables to our experiment. Meanwhile, Subject 5, our security guard, seems increasingly tense. His vignce will be paramount going forward. His presence was designed to help keep the other subjects calm. I worry he may be doing the opposite.</blockquote>


    <strong>Audio Journal 17.8:</strong>


    <strong>Date: June 09, 2006 - Evening</strong><blockquote>Subject 1 is growing more unsettled. He''s yet to voice any concerns, but there''s a heightened awareness in him. I believe he''s be fully aware of the Distortion. Reviewingst night''s footage, it appears he guided Subject 5 away from the Distortion. Perhaps he is paranoid. He attempted to y his concerns off. Interesting. Subject 4''s frustration has abated, fortunately. I instructed his supervisor to give him more difficult assignments in theboratory. His distractions have allowed us to maintain the necessary secrecy around our operations. Had the circumstances been different, I might have considered hiring him into KRSL.</blockquote>


    <strong>Audio Journal 17.9:</strong>


    <strong>Date: June 09, 2006 - Evening</strong><blockquote>


    There''s been a breach. The Distortion... it... it has tethered to an employee who stayed too long on 2B. Her ess to the elevator should have been denied. s, she brought it to us!


    It''s moving! Ascended to a floor with... with the rest of our staff. The chaos... it''s indescribable. It is a... a whirlwind of horror.


    The entity is killing everyone! The destruction is... unimaginable. There''s... there''s so much blood... We... we sought a psychic weapon of untold destruction. We have seeded.


    We underestimated it... we underestimated its need... its anger. Our failsafes have not been sessful. It''s weakness to sonic frequencies... was it all a ruse? We thought we could control it, study it... oh god... what have we d-</blockquote>


    Subject 1.


    I was Subject 1. We weren¡¯t employees. We were the guinea pigs. So much made sense now. How had we not seen it before?


    We were rats in a maze.

 Chapter Seventy-Six: Too Many Unknowns

    Chapter Seventy-Six: Too Many Unknowns


    When I got to the end of the recording, I started it back over again on a hunch. As I had hoped, we immediately went Off-Screen when the second ythrough began. The audience wouldn''t need to hear it again and we had been On-Screen for some time. I needed to process everything we had just learned.


    ¡°How are we supposed to escape something like that?¡± Anna asked.


    I had simr questions. The entitytched onto your mind. How were you supposed to outrun something like that?


    Worse, could you be Oblivious to it?


    ¡°We need to watch the tape,¡± I said.


    ¡°Tape?¡± Anna asked.


    I pointed to the screens. Many of the monitors for this level depicted the dead. We needed to watch it¡ªto see how they died. We had to learn from them.


    I crossed the room over to the control panel for the system. This one was so sophisticated it made mine downstairs look like the security system for a pizza parlor. I had ess to everything, all over the facility from here.


    Even as I first acquainted myself with the new controls, I realized that my time downstairs had prepared me to take point from this new location. I would have to guide my friends out. That was my job here.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°The attack should have happened at around 8 pm,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s when the Distortion appeared to get on the elevator. If the malfunction I was seeing was actually this manifestation, at least.¡±


    I rolled back through the footage to the right timestamp and pressed y.


    The footage started with a meeting of sorts being conducted in the middle of the floor. The custodian had not yet arrived with the Distortion in the elevator.


    Dr. Mentes stood in front of all of them and spoke, ¡°Experiment 17 is running swimmingly. The subjects are none-the-wiser and I feel we are set to learn a lot about the Distortion. You have all done a remarkable job and I look forward to viewing the results. Don¡¯t forget; constant vigili¡ª¡±


    An rm started to go off as the Distortion emerged from the elevator. Someone must have seen it from the control room.


    Barb, the custodian whom the entity had ridden up the elevator, appearedpletely unaware of what was going on, though she was rubbing her eyes with one hand as if nursing a headache.


    Having been exposed, the Distortion went on the offense. The attack began as the objects began flying around the room. Paper, office equipment, and the like took flight, much to the surprise of those huddled around Dr. Mentes.


    ¡°Code 6!¡± one of the security guards called out.


    At that moment, the Distortion must have switched hosts because the objects silently floating in the air dropped to the ground.


    For a moment, nothing happened. Many employees fled. For others, escape was not feasible. They stood their ground with their heads on a swivel looking for movement.


    Suddenly, a woman began screaming as she wasunched into the air along with a trail of blood.


    Everyone started running. Some jammed into the elevator along with a startled Barb. The doors wouldn¡¯t close as there were too many people trying to shove their way inside.


    Arge group, including Dr. Mentes, made for the control room. Armed personnel closed the door behind them. Those locked outside were soon thrown away from the door.


    The Distortion moved from monitor to monitor as it chased its quarry. At times, it would reach a dead end and need to double back.


    It approached a group holed up in a store room. After banging on the door for a few moments, unable to force it open, the Distortion ¡°blinked¡± on the monitor for a moment. Suddenly, it was inside the storeroom.


    ¡°It switched hosts,¡± Camden said.


    The storeroom was soon massacred.


    ¡°There are too many of them,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°I only see one,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°Too many <em>people</em>,¡± I said.


    ¡°Right,¡± Camden said. ¡°It needs hosts in order to move. There are people all over.¡±


    I watched as the manifestation jumped from person to person. When it touched most people, objects in the room would start to fly around the room. When it tethered to a scientist or other intelligent person, everyone around them would start getting thrown around the room and cut to pieces.


    Red lines would open up on them as the invisible creature rampaged.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t killing them right away,¡± Antoine said. ¡°But why?¡±


    He was right. Their wounds were technically fatal. Their legs were breaking, their skin getting sliced open, and their intestines exposed, but as time went on a pattern emerged: most people survived their initial attack for some time afterward. They were left to bleed out.


    ¡°It¡¯s intelligent,¡± Camden said. ¡°It¡¯s leaving them alive long enough to be able to tether to themter on.¡±


    Peopley about in agony, but as the Distortion moved from screen to screen, there were always those left breathing, struggling to escape the inevitable. It needed living people to tether to.


    That was how it managed to move around the entire floor despite being dependent on a host; it left people strewn about to extend its reach.


    I flipped the audio off. The sound was terrifying.


    As the carnage began winding down, the Distortion jumped rapidly around the perimeter of the floor, looking for a host to ride out of the building, but none of its victims had made it that far. At first, I thought it had been too greedy, too wrathful¡ªthat it maimed its hosts too soon.


    I was wrong.


    The victims that fled found themselves unable to ess the exits. Even as they banged on doors in order to escape death, they were trapped.


    ¡°The doors are locked,¡± Camden said.


    I rewound the tape and turned on the audio for the control room we were standing in. After some searching, I found the order.


    ¡°Do I initiate lockdown?¡± Mr. Rowe asked, sitting in front of the control panel.


    ¡°Lock it down now!¡± Dr. Mentes yelled.


    The other employees in the control room watched on in resignation as they realized that they would soon die.


    "I don''t understand," Rowe said, surprisingly calm moments from his death. "I thought the drugs prevented this. It''s never been like... this."


    "Any number of factors could exin it. I suppose we cannot rule out simple deception," Dr. Mentes said. He was in shock. His answer was almost rote, his logical mind on autopilot. "Perhaps it was biding its time... I suppose in the next experiment we ought to..."


    You could almost see him realize that there would be no next experiment.


    ¡°At least they did the decent thing,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°They trapped us down here with it,¡± Kimberly said with a furious re. ¡°They brought us here so that it could kill us!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying,¡± Camden replied. ¡°If this thing got out it could kill a hundred people before it got stuck somewhere without a tether.


    Dr. Mentes began recording his message as the Distortion decided to enter the room and make quick work of all of them.


    As we watched, the Distortion jumped from person to person frantically trying to extend its reach, to move further.


    It tried getting in the elevator with those employees who had attempted to escape by that route, but the elevator was stuck from the lockdown. The elevator was rocked so hard in the attack a buzzer started going off.


    In ast-ditch effort, it tethered to Camden¡¯s boss as he entered the private elevator we had just ridden in. It moved downward and, as soon as life left the man¡¯s eyes, the Distortion vanished for good.


    We stood there for a moment just processing the weight of what we had just seen.


    ¡°Look,¡± Anna said. She pointed to a monitor far from the others. In it, Dina crouched in a corner, her right wrist handcuffed to arge metal table that she had dragged and tipped over as cover.


    ¡°She was far enough away from the others that it couldn¡¯t get to her,¡± Camden said.


    I fast-forwarded the tape. Eventually, Dina got brave and left the room, table and all. She had to kick the door down, which took her some time. Luckily for her, it wasn¡¯t one of the heavy-duty doors like on the important rooms. Then she had to get the table through the doorway and drag it down the hall until she found a dying security guard from whom she could retrieve a handcuff key.


    She entered the control room and took Dr. Mentes¡¯ badge, but not before listening to the very same recording we had.


    At that moment she was searching floor 2B down below us. If we had waited there, she would have found us.


    ¡°We should split up,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°If we¡¯re together, we die together.¡±


    ¡°True but splitting up is the one thing you are never supposed to do,¡± I said. ¡°Haven¡¯t you ever even seen a movie?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t start that,¡± Anna said, scolding me.


    ¡°Do you at least see that we shouldn¡¯t let the Mercers out?¡± Camden asked. ¡°Now we know for sure.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Leaving them there might make this thing, whatever it is, even angrier.¡±


    Truthfully, it didn¡¯t matter. If we released them, that would be a mistake. If we didn¡¯t, that would also likely be a mistake. We were still in the Rebirth Phase and had plenty of movie left. We couldn¡¯t get through Second Blood and the Finale if we weren¡¯t attacked. The return of the Distortion was inevitable.


    ¡°There has to be a catch,¡± I said. ¡°If we leave them locked up, I bet that still doesn¡¯t solve our problem.¡±


    ¡°It seems like a pretty clear solution to me,¡± Camden said. ¡°The Distortion has a fixed range within which it can tether. If we stay away from them, it cannot tether to us and we can find the exit in safety.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s too obvious,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s something we don¡¯t know. Look I¡¯m not saying we march down there and unlock them. I don¡¯t think we should. I¡¯m just saying we shouldn¡¯t assume that we can control the situation. That¡¯s what got these people killed.¡±


    ¡°And your evidence for that conclusion is horror movies?¡± Anna said.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°Also, the Mercers haven¡¯t had their medicine in case you¡¯ve forgotten¡ªthe medicine that weakens the manifestation. We can¡¯t pretend to know what that thing is capable of at full power.¡±


    ¡°Guys,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Maybe we should talk about thister. Dina, or whatever that woman¡¯s name was, she¡¯s getting too close to the Mercers.¡±


    We turned to look at the monitor. The maze-like structure was hampering her, but Dina was slowly making her way around Floor 2B. Without their medicine, the Disortion could appear at any time. Soon, the manifestation would have a host if we didn¡¯t act.


    I flipped on the audio for the hallway she was walking through.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I said into the microphone. ¡°You need to turn around. Take the next left. I will guide you up to the higher floor.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Dina said. ¡°My kids are here. My husband. I have to get to them.¡±


    Hadn¡¯t she listened to the same recording? Sure, her character might not care, but Dina herself should know the dangers involved.


    ¡°That area is dangerous,¡± I said. ¡°If you get near your children, you could be putting all of us in danger.¡±


    ¡°I have to,¡± Dina said.


    ¡°Your name is Dina, right? We met a few days ago. Please, you have to understand, I can¡¯t let you near the Mercers.¡±


    ¡°I am a Mercer,¡± Dina said.


    Well, in this story she was. By marriage at least.


    ¡°Did you not see the carnage up here?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You have to trust me!¡± Dina screamed. "Please. You have to trust me."


    Did she know something we didn¡¯t? Did she overhear useful information or was it something else?


    ¡°Lock her in the hallway,¡± Camden said. ¡°Here.¡± He leaned over and locked all of the doors in the hallway.


    ¡°Not going to work,¡± I said.


    Sure enough, as Dina approached the next junction, she waved Dr. Mentes'' badge and the door opened. There was no stopping her. They really needed two-factor authentication in that facility.


    After a few moments, we went Off-Screen.


    ¡°What is she doing?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s following her own plotline,¡± I said.


    ¡°If she lets them out, aren¡¯t we pretty much dead?¡± Camden asked.


    I couldn¡¯t answer. It was possible she was acting foolishly. Of course, it was also possible that she was doing exactly what she should have been.


    ¡°Whatever the case,¡± Anna said. ¡°We need to get out of this ce. Maybe we can escape before she finishes with her n.¡±


    ¡°We need to plot a course out,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll guide you out,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve had practice with the controls and I won''t hold up in a fight. I¡¯ll guide you out, then I¡¯ll follow. Once we¡¯re clear of the building¡­¡±


    I paused.


    I didn¡¯t know what would happen.


    If we escaped before Second Blood or the Finale, that meant the story would follow us out into Carousel proper. Was that a good thing or bad? Personally, I would like to put fifty miles between myself and the Mercers. I would also like a nap. I hadn¡¯t slept. I doubted I would sleep any time soon.


    Whatever the case, we needed to figure something out fast. Dina would get to the Mercers soon and when she did, who knew what would happen?

 Chapter Seventy-Seven: Corporate Rat Race

    Chapter Seventy-Seven: Corporate Rat Race


    As the truth of our situation was revealed, a lot of things started to make sense. The ease with which we had gotten employment, the requirement for head scans, the questions about my ¡°psychic¡± grandmother, the strange job descriptions and schedules. We weren¡¯t employees at all. We were test subjects. We had so readily assumed that all the weirdness was because we were in Carousel.


    Figuring that out was my job, wasn¡¯t it? I knew the corporation was hiding something, but I didn¡¯t figure out what it was. I thought being spied on was just a clue that the corporation was shady. I knew that they were likely antagonists, but the twist still smacked me in the face.


    I would have to do better.


    Now I knew that something else was about to drop. In the hours since First Blood, the plot needle had started moving faster, rapidly increasing the pressure on the yers. The revtion at Rebirth hade and gone. We were only a handful of scenes from Second Blood.


    I needed to think.


    Obviously, we needed to escape, but any progress we made would be illusory. It was <em>too early</em> to escape. Something else was yet to be revealed. For as much as we had learned about the Distortion, we still didn¡¯t know everything. We didn''t even know <em>what </em>it was. Somehow, this creature would find a way to assert itself as we tried to escape. I had to be alert.


    I pondered all of this as I watched the screens. Dina was almost to the Mercers. She had taken a long route on her own. I wasn¡¯t going to help guide her. Antoine, Camden, and Kimberly were currently checking on an area of the floor for a hidden exit. Even with the monitors, the exits were hard to find.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°Are you sure there is nothing there?¡± Anna asked them from beside me. She had stayed behind with me for protection¡ªmy protection. Not that either of us could necessarily do anything against the Distortion.


    ¡°I pulled on all of the furniture,¡± Antoine answered. ¡°There¡¯s nothing else to do short of breaking through the drywall.¡±


    Anna looked at me.


    ¡°Let¡¯s save that forter,¡± I said. ¡°The next possible room is three doors further, Room 327. If it¡¯s not there I¡¯m going to have to send you over to the southwest corner to try there.¡±


    I flipped the microphone off.


    ¡°As soon as we find a way out, trouble ising our way,¡± I said.


    ¡°You¡¯re so sure of that?¡± Anna asked. ¡°You saw it in a movie?¡±


    ¡°I just have a feeling. And yes, anyone who has seen a movie would know there is no way we get out of this without even seeing this¡­ thing... again.¡±


    ¡°Did those movies tell you how to fight it if we do see it?¡±


    I had no answer. If there was a weakness¡­ surely we would have seen some hint of it. Unless we missed it. We had already spent an hour at least searching this floor for a pharmacy or wherever it was that they kept the medicine for the patients. That location had eluded us; it was probably on a different floor.


    We had discovered sleeping quarters¡ªenough to house all of the supposed day-shift employees. It was all fake. Whoever these scientists were they lived here and worked here and apparently never left. They devoted their lives to studying the Distortion. They devoted this week to studying us.


    ¡°I think our best bet is to make sure we don''t have to fight it,¡± I answered.


    Carousel had given us Antoine''s baseball bat but I was confident that that was just because he brought it not because it would be an effective weapon. Still, he held it ready to take a swing at anything he came across. I wasn''t going to tell him it was useless.


    I hoped it wouldn''t be useless despite my better judgment.


    The n was to get Antoine, Camden, and Kimberly to the highest floor and then Anna and I would follow them. There were a lot fewer rooms up there so we could probably just brute force the search once we got there.


    The way we saw it, there were two viable strategies. We either needed to be so spread out that it couldn''t hop from one of us to the next or we needed to be in one group that was so far away from the Mercers that it had no chance of getting to us.


    Choosing to be in one big group was literally putting all of our eggs in one basket but in the end, we decided that spreading out would be difficult to coordinate and that if we failed it would be able to leapfrog from one of us to the next all the same.


    Antoine was our backup n. His character wasn''t highly intelligent like Camden¡¯s nor did he havetent psychic abilities. Theoretically, on his own, he would only have to contend with the weakest version of the Distortion. Still, that might be deadly. He was ourst resort. If everything went to hell, Antoine would lure the Distortion as far away from the rest of us as possible.


    ¡°She¡¯s there,¡± Anna said, staring at the monitors that covered the Mercers'' holding area. I could only hope she knew what she was doing.


    For whatever reason, she didn''t want to tell us why she insisted on saving them. Obviously, her character had motivations, but surely she knew the risks.


    Dina had arrived at her destination. She was quick to start unlocking her children and husband. She wrapped each of them in a deep embrace as they cried with joy.


    ¡°You heard us!¡± Bethany Mercer screamed. ¡°I knew you heard us. I knew you woulde.¡±


    Dina started to cry. It didn''t look like she was acting.


    ¡°Of course I heard you, baby,¡± she hugged her fake family even tighter.


    So that was the information Dina was operating under. Her psychic kids had reached out to her. It was also possible that her Encouragement from Beyond trope was flexible enough to work with kidnapped psychic kids and not just dead kids.


    I suppose that was the information that she didn''t want to try to exin. When a yer arrives in a storyline, NPCs will often point you in the direction you were supposed to go. Sometimes they were subtle, like when everyone was being rude to me in Delta Epsilon Delta. Sometimes it was explicit like the woman in The Astralist literally telling us everything we needed to do.


    In this storyline, it looked like Dina had been given her instructions in the form of her psychic kids reaching out to her telepathically or something simr. I could only hope that meant her path would somehow lead to our escape. I couldn''t imagine how releasing the Mercers could ever be a good thing.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t release the rest,¡± I said over the loudspeaker. ¡°There is no telling what might happen. You saw what the consequences were thest time.¡±


    Dina didn¡¯t respond.


    The other Mercers could see from the windows on their doors that Dina had released her family. I could hear them begging to be released. With a nce up at the camera, Dina ignored them, dragging her children and husband out of the cell area and back the way she came.


    It would take a long while for them to get to the floor we were on with the path she was taking. I would have to watch out for her.


    ¡°Room 327 is a bust,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said. You need to take the corridor to your left. It circles around for a bit. Then you have to go through the employee barracks and out the other side.¡±


    ¡°I really hope this one works,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I feel like we¡¯ve been walking for miles.¡±


    I kept track of the needle on the plot cycle. We were really burning through our time limit. The audience might not notice a difference. To them, the Party Phase had been chopped up into an easily digestible sequence of events. To us, it hadsted days. Rebirth was only going tost hours at the rate things were going.


    I guided Antoine, Camden, and Kimberly as they made their way to the next area that I thought might have a secret elevator or stairway leading upward.


    ¡°Why would they design it like this?¡± Anna asked. "Why hide all of the exits like this?"


    My first instinct was to say that it was designed like this so that it would be really hard for us to escape and they could make a tense movie out of it. But in-universe, there was another reason it was designed this way.


    ¡°For this exact scenario,¡± I said. ¡°I think they want it to be really hard to get out of here if you don''t know the way. Mercers, test subjects, whoever.¡±


    If that was the case, it was working.


    We waited for ten more minutes and then I saw it.


    It wasn''t on Floor 2B. Somehow, it appeared on the floor we were on. It had manifested directly above the Mercers¡¯ containment area. Just over 100 feet above, in fact. That was a huge increase in range.


    Its manifestation range appeared to be much further than its tethering range.


    We had nned on it entering through the stairs somehow. We never expected it to just appear on this floor. This entire facility was designed with that assumption. Without their medication suppressing their psychic abilities, the Distortion was clearly more dangerous.


    It probably didn''t help that the remaining Mercers were really upset right at that moment, having been left behind in their cells.


    ¡°Look alive,¡± I said into the microphone. ¡°The Distortion is seventy feet to your left. I''m gonna have to guide you around it. Pick up your pace.¡±


    Based on the video from the night before, uts tethering range was a dozen or so feet. I needed to get them away from it fast. It could easily have a longer range after the medication started wearing off.


    I needed them to listen to me very carefully. Unlike the floor below us, 3B had far fewer electronic doors. There were no test subjects or Mercers on that floor, after all. It would be much more difficult to keep the creature away from them.


    ¡°I need all of you to run down the hallway on your first right. Antoine are you up for what we talked about?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± He yelled.


    He was ready to make the sacrifice.


    "Keep running down the hallway. All of you."


    The Distortion wasted no time in pursuing my friends. It was hopping from monitor to monitor. Its path was remarkably efficient as if it somehow knew exactly where they were headed and the fastest way to cut them off.


    It was going too fast.


    I searched for some path to send Antoine on, to use him as a lure for the Distortion so the others would be safe. Antoine was willing. He was the best suited to outrun the entity. He was also likely the one safest from its wrath because if it tethered to him it would be in its weakest form.


    But I couldn''t find a path to make it work.


    They were essentially in a big corner. There were no paths I could send Antoine down that would not eventually lead back to them. If I tried, I might be able to pull it off, but failure would mean losing them all.


    ¡°Stick together,¡± I said. "Straight ahead. Run as fast as you can."


    They started to sprint.


    This wasn''t good. Antoine and Kimberly had fairly good Hustle, but Camden''s was only at 2. He could hide, but I wasn''t sure that would work with this enemy.


    I switched on one of the speakers nearest to them. I had to speak quickly because soon they would run out of range to be able to hear it and I didn''t want them slowing down.


    They couldn''t afford to slow down.


    ¡°Left at the water fountain but then a quick right at the very next hallway. Close the door behind you.¡±


    They got to the water fountain and quickly found the door next to it. Antoine opened it and closed it behind them. I quickly reactivated the electronic lock.


    ¡°Now you''re going to run straight.¡±


    The hallway that the Distortion was moving along was parallel to the one they were running down. If the Distortion caught up to them, I was certain it would be able to pass right through the wall and tether to someone.


    ¡°Faster!¡± Anna screamed into the microphone.


    Things weren''t looking good. The needle on the plot cycle wasn''t close enough to Second Blood that I was confident that a death would count for anything. If they died too soon, they would be dying for nothing.


    ¡°You have hairpin turnsing up.¡±


    After that, they would enter arge room that looked like it might have been a recreational area with a ping pong table and arcade machines. There was a humongous fish tank in the center that was long and narrow, dividing the space in two. When they got to that room, the fish tank would be all that was between them and the Distortion until they could get down the hallway.


    They entered the room.


    ¡°Take a right. It''s behind you!¡± I screamed.


    There was a loud crash.


    The Distortion might not have been able to get through a door in its weakened, hostless form, but it could make it through a ss fish tank. A flood of water poured out onto the ground as the invisible stalker crashed right through the ss.


    ¡°It has¡­ footsteps,¡± Anna said under her breath.


    It did have something like footsteps. As the Distortion trudged through the water, ripples were made in strange, irregr patterns. Doctor Mentes had said that this manifestation had a physical form. He was right. Even without a host. There was onerge set of footsteps and a bunch of other disturbances in the water I couldn¡¯t exin.


    ¡°Now run like your life depends on it!¡± I screamed into the microphone.


    They somehow found an even faster speed. Antoine was literally pulling Camden along as Kimberly ran in front.


    They wereing up on a T-junction.


    ¡°I''m unlocking the door to the junction you need to take a left and then keep running; it''s going to get moreplicated from there¡ªa lot of twists and turns just go through the open doors.¡±


    They got to the junction and made a sharp left.


    I didn¡¯t lock the door behind them. This thing seemed to understand whether it had an open path. I needed it to think it could follow them.


    The Distortion was close. I had to hope that it wasn''t close enough for a tether. I held my breath as they slowly made their way across the monitors.


    As soon as the Distortion entered the junction area I closed all three doors, trapping it inside the intersection. The only way it could get through those doors was if it had someone to tether to.


    Antoine, Camden, and Kimberly were one room away.


    Two rooms away.


    Three rooms and a hallway.


    Still, I couldn''t be sure what range this thing had.


    For a few tense minutes, I watched the Distortion just to make sure it was really trapped.


    I could see that there were audio spikes inside the junction where I locked it in. I flipped on the speaker and heard it faintly knocking against the metal door.


    Whatever it was, it wasn''t going anywhere.


    After ten minutes, the Distortion started to blink on the screen and soon it disappeared.


    As it faded from the screen, I frantically looked at every monitor in the room.


    Was it gone, or had it simply manifested elsewhere?


    It could clearly be summoned at a much further range than before. I needed to keep my eyes on the monitors.


    I watched the screens with Antoine, Kimberly, and Camden. There was no Distortion.


    ¡°It worked?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°I think so,¡± I answered. ¡°We might actually have a way to keep this thing away from us.¡±


    I flipped a switch on the monitor for the room the others were running through and said, ¡°Coast is clear. You can proceed to the southwest corner.¡±


    I started figuring out a route for them to take.


    Once they got to the level above, it would only be one more floor until I could get them out of the building.


    But nothing could be that easy.


    A red light began shing on several of the monitors¡ªthose rting to the Mercers¡¯ cells.


    <strong>HQ OVERRIDE</strong>.


    The words appeared on the screens of the affected monitors. KRSL was remotely leading the fight to us.


    I knew we were due for some bad luck. We couldn¡¯t escape before Second Blood or the Finale. That wasn¡¯t how these things worked.


    ¡°And there it is,¡± I said. ¡°Dammit!¡±


    The Mercers¡¯ doors all opened, as did a line of doors leading them to the same staircase we had taken to get up here.


    Even with the staff here dead, KRSL would not let us leave. They were watching us still, hoping to see the results of Dr. Mentes¡¯ efforts.


    We were nearly to Second Blood.


    Experiment 17 was still underway.

 Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Distortion Manifests

    Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Distortion Manifests


    As soon as Antoine, Kimberly, and Camden got to Room 347, Antoine found another stairwell like the one we had used earlier. At least we had that sess.


    The Mercers had found a staircase too, one that would lead them and the Distortion straight to us.


    ¡°The Mercers are on their way up,¡± Anna said. ¡°We need to finish here. How do we stop HQ from locking us in the building remotely?¡±


    ¡°In order to sever the remote override, I''m going to have to reboot the system," I said, "That should give us the time we need to get up there with the others and get out.¡±


    I was really going out on a limb with that. I had no tropes that guaranteed my nned "reboot" would work. But I did have two things going for me.


    First, I had spent plenty of points and Moxie and Savvy for my level¡ªperhaps even more than I should have. They would help me with improvising plot elements and nning.


    Second, my character was supposed to have a lot of experience as a security surveince specialist. Carousel decided that not me. It made sense that he would know how to undo a remote override.


    All I needed was for Carousel to y along. I had never actually done pure improvisation like that before. The veterans did it all the time. I had to hope it would work.


    ¡°Do you need me for that?¡± Anna asked.


    I had no idea. I was just going to look for a big switch.


    ¡°I need to find the right panel,¡± I said.


    Logically, I should be able to reboot it from within this room. I searched behind the servers and theputers until I found it: a prominent switch that said ¡°System Reboot,¡± in small text.


    It looked like Carousel was ying along.


    ¡°Here goes nothing,¡± I said with a deep breath.


    I flipped the switch. All of the lights in the room went off. Some emergency lights came on in a dull red.


    ¡°One...Two¡­Three¡­Four¡­Five,¡± I counted under my breath, hoping that the added wait time would add tension to my actions and make the performance better.


    Then I flipped the switch back on.


    The lights didn''te back on, but one of the terminals did. I went over to it.


    ¡°Begin reboot sequence?¡± shed on the screen.


    I typed, ¡°Y.¡± into the keyboard.


    The screen started to dance with letters and numbers as something started to happen behind the scenes.


    Then I got a message instructing me on how to finish the reboot. Essentially, I would have to go around to five of the terminals in the room and run through some code. It was busy work. It was Carousel pushing back against my reboot idea.


    ¡°I''m going to have to reboot the system sequentially,¡± I said. I looked at Anna. ¡°This is going to take too long. You need to go. Run south until you hit the western corridor and then continue west until you get to the corner. I should have it back online in time to guide you the rest of the way.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Anna said. ¡°That wasn''t the n. We were both supposed to go.¡±


    ¡°I''ll be right behind you,¡± I said. ¡°Once I get the monitors back online I can guide you around upstairs to the best ces to look for the exit. Then I''ll meet you up there.¡±


    She didn¡¯t believe me.


    ¡°I can stay here with you,¡± Anna said. ¡°We can go together. If that thinges back¡­ You don''t have to try to be a hero.¡±


    ¡°Yes I do,¡± I said. ¡°Now go. We don''t have much time.¡±


    She hugged me and then slowly turned and ran away guided by the red blinking emergency lights.


    I quickly set myself on the task of rebooting the system. It wasn''t too taxing. In fact, it mostly involved typing a bunch of stuff and answering a bunch of prompts at different terminals around the room. It was a time suck, but if I was going to disable remote override, an enormously helpful feat, I had to <em>earn </em>it.


    There''s no free lunch in a horror movie unless you''re a zombie.


    Eventually, I finished it.


    The system came back on, bringing back the lights and security monitors. Luckily the Mercers had gotten scared when the lights went off and had slowed down on their ascent up the stairwell.


    I looked at the monitors and found that Anna was most of the way to the southwest corner.


    I flipped on the microphone and said, ¡°Keep going; you''ve got a left up ahead and that should bring you to Room 347.¡±


    ¡°Is everything alright?¡± Anna yelled.


    ¡°Everything''s looking good for now. It should take HQ a while to reestablish the override.¡±


    I saw on the monitors that Dina and her family were already up on the floor with us and were searching around for an exit. I thought about what I should do.


    Bringing even three of the Mercers near my friends spelled doom as far as I was concerned, but Dina seemed certain.


    The question was, did I trust her?


    ¡°The exit to the floor above is in Room 347,¡± I said over the speaker to the room Dina was in.


    She had better have been right.


    Right on time, the Distortion reappeared.


    It was too close. There were no lockable doors between me and it. The Mercers were much closer than they had been before, and it had manifested less than 100 yards away from me.


    Did I stay and help guide my friends for just a little longer as they looked for the exit, or did I run behind them hoping to survive through a few more scenes?


    The needle on the plot cycle was almost upon Second Blood.


    ¡°Keep going straight Antoine,¡± I said into the microphone. ¡°There''s something that''sbeled ¡®Depot¡¯. Check there. It''s near the main elevator shaft so there might be a stairwell nearby.¡±


    ¡°Anna, take a left and you should intersect with the others in a few minutes.¡±


    The Distortion was drawing closer. It didn''t seem to have locked onto my presence yet, but I could see that it was searching.


    I scanned over the monitors looking for some sign, any sign, of an exit so that my friends could get out.


    ¡°The northwest corner looks promising,¡± I said. ¡°The way it''s built mirrors the setup for the stairwell that was in theboratories. Check there next.¡±


    The Distortion was close. Any moment it would cut off my path to rejoin my friends.


    Anna met up with the others upstairs. She and Kimberly hugged.


    It was toote. My choice had been made. I couldn''t run. If I ran, it would likely still catch me and I wouldn''t be able to tell my friends anything about it.


    I flipped on all of the switches for the speakers in the areas where my friends were, as well as those where Dina and her family were. I turned the knob on the microphone input to increase sensitivity.


    I wouldn''t have long after the creature arrived. I would need to tell them what it was I saw.


    My Moxie jumped up 5 points.


    It took me by surprise. What could have caused it? There was only one answer: my Raised by Television trope.


    But that created more questions than it did answers. That trope was supposed to assist me in doing something heroic andrger than life. My character putting his life at risk to save his family certainly qualified, but why would I get Moxie?


    I needed Mettle!


    I needed Grit!


    Heck, I would even take Savvy or Hustle.


    Why had I been given Moxie of all things? Would Moxie help me¡­ distract the creature perhaps?


    I felt a heavy weight go over my mind. My Infected status lit up on the red wallpaper.


    It was happening. I was a host to the Distortion. It was far more powerful than it had been. It was still a couple of rooms away, yet it could tether to me.


    I didn''t have long.


    I started to breathe hard from fear.


    Of all things for it to give me, why Moxie? What a stupid trope.


    Was it giving me Moxie so that Oblivious Bystander would work better? That didn''t seem correct. I was literally looking at it on the screen; there was no way I could pretend to be oblivious. I would know exactly when it entered the room. I didn''t eveb know if that trope would even work on the Distortion anyway.


    Besides, that wasn''t my n.


    But what was my n? To die quickly and painlessly?


    Or did I intend to fight?


    A sudden revtion burst into my mind. Psychic tropes were performative and Moxie-based. yers like Lara put a lot of points in Moxie for that very reason. The distortion was a <em>psychic </em>manifestation. My character had <em>psychic </em>abilities.


    Of course!


    I understood.


    ¡°I get this feeling... I can''t exin it... I don''t think that we can fight this thing with weapons, not with guns or anything like that. That¡¯s why the others died. I think we have to fight it with our hearts, our minds,¡± I said aloud over the inte. My voice had begun to shake, and I could feel tears forming in my eyes from fear. ¡°What was it the grandma used to say about her gift? That she had <em>moxie</em>¡ªstrength of spirit? She said that was why she was special. I used to think she was just making a joke. I think that''s how we can fight it.¡±


    Onest prediction before I was gone.


    I theorized that this creature was fought with Moxie, with <em>psychic </em>power.


    The weight on my mind got heavier like my head was in a vice grip.


    It was behind me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to hold it off,¡± I said.


    ¡°Riley!¡± Anna and Kimberly screamed over the speakers.


    I had to look at it. Otherwise, I would be useless to them. I had to see its tropes.


    I turned around.


    The room was no longer empty, no longer merely a graveyard of in KRSL employees. The room was full of people, or should I say, shadows of people.


    There were at least thirty of them. They were gray in color. They stood, spread around the room everywhere I looked.


    None of them made eye contact with me or acknowledged me in any way. They looked sad and lost. I didn¡¯t recognize most of them, but there were some that shone brighter, that moved faster, that looked livelier. I knew who those few were.


    The Mercers.


    The very same Mercers that were now exploring Floor 3B aimlessly on the security monitors. Somehow, they were in the room with me too, if only in spirit. They looked distracted,pletely unaware of what was going on.


    The others, the more faded people, were more solemn. They stared off in the distance, not saying a word. I say they stared, but their eyes were dark. I couldn¡¯t see where they were looking.


    On the red wallpaper, I could see what they were and who they were.


    Cosmo Mercer (Shade).


    Silvia Mercer (Shade).


    Eloise Mercer (Shade). Eloise¡­ The Matriarch of the Mercer family. She had died a hundred years earlier.


    They were ghosts¡­no¡­ lesser than ghosts. Shades. They were remnants, the final psychic echoes of the deceased Mercers. Even the live Mercers¡¯ reflections were called Shades on the red wallpaper.


    None of them had any Plot Armor. None of them appeared to be enemies. They were still NPCs.


    If these were not ssed as enemies, what was it that went on a rampage the night before?


    These ghoulish apparitions were terrifying, but how could they kill anything?


    ¡°It¡¯s the Mercers,¡± I said aloud. ¡°The Mercers¡­ spirits or something. The living and the dead. They¡¯re all here.¡±


    I felt the strain on my mind get heavier.


    ¡°Wait¡­ no. There is something else here too!¡± I screamed.


    It stood in the center of them all, forming out of thin air. Unlike the Mercers, which were made of smoke and shadow, this creature was solid. I could hear scratches on the floor underneath it from its ws. Itsrge ws. The more I focused on them, the longer and sharper they became.


    I looked up at it. I needed to see its face.


    It had intelligent ck eyes and sharp teeth. It was almost a man at first nce, but it shifted as I looked at it. I couldn¡¯t see it properly despite it standing right in front of me. It might have been a demon; its skin was like flowing silk and its form was irregr and changing.


    Wherever I looked, the more detail I saw. When I looked at its torso, its body formed into a solid. When I looked at its arms, they became solid too. It was like¡­ it was forming as my mind shaped it into existence. It <em>was </em>using my mind to corporealize, after all.


    A cloak draped down over its arms, but the cloak wasn''t fabric. It was an organic flowing darkness.


    I could feel its anger, its rage.


    ¡°It¡¯s some sort of demon¡­ a nightmare,¡± I said. But I knew that wasn¡¯t correct. That word was the closest thing I coulde up with to describe it. The red wallpaper didn''t call it a demon.


    Plot Armor: 30 Tropes A Knock at the Door This enemy can target characters behind closed doors, turning a symbol of safety into a source of dread. It may be able to lure characters out with deceptive sounds or eerie silence, manipting their fear and curiosity, or it may be able to simply break or sneak through such barriers. With "A Knock at the Door", death is just a room away. Anyone Can Die This enemy operates under a chilling rule: no character is safe. Whether it''s because this film is a rule-breaking reboot or a narrative without a true protagonist, this enemy can target or kill any character without ceremony or hesitation. With "Anyone Can Die...", the only main characters are the ones who survive. Shy This enemy lurks in the shadows, its presence more hinted at than revealed. Leaving subtle signs of its existence, the enemy builds suspense and unease. Its reluctance to emerge may be strategic, logistical, or simply a preference for the shadows. But when it finally steps into the light, the impact is all the more chilling. Protector This enemy is driven by a singr purpose: to safeguard something precious, be it an object, a secret, or a person. The enemy will stop at nothing to ensure its charge remains undisturbed. Its actions blur the line between hero and viin, as it may resort to violence to fulfill its duty. Cross its path uninvited, and you invite danger, for the Protector will shed any amount of blood to keep its charge safe. Jekyll and Hyde


    The enemy has multiple forms¡­<blockquote>


    Watchful: Savvy, Moxie = 2


    Disturbance: Savvy, Moxie = 3


    Potent: Savvy, Moxie = 5


    Corporeal: Savvy, Moxie = 7</blockquote> External Power Source This enemy''s strength is not its own but borrowed from an external entity or object. The enemy is formidable, but its poweres with a vulnerability: without its source, it is defenseless. Whether it''s a mystical artifact, a cosmic entity, or a technological marvel, severing the connection could mean the enemy''s downfall. Spiritual Warfare This enemy exists beyond the realm of the physical, immune to conventional attacks. The enemy might be challenged by psychic, mental, or spiritualbat depending on the narrative. Its battles are waged not on the mortal ne, but in minds and souls, turning inner strength and resilience into the ultimate weapons. To defeat it, one must engage in a different kind of warfare, where willpower, wisdom, and inner peace are the true armaments. 3 Additional Tropes not Perceptable


    Poltergeists were usually depicted as being ghostly in movies, but sometimes they were manifestations of unconscious psychic energy--just like this one.


    ¡°I can feel it. It¡¯s linked to my mind,¡± I said. ¡°It wants to protect the Mercers. It thinks we are hurting them,¡± I yelled so that the microphone could pick it up. ¡°It needs them to exist¡­ without them, it would disappear.¡±


    No wonder KRSL brought us in as fake employees. They wanted to ensure the creature would view us as the Mercers¡¯ captors.


    ¡°I don''t mean you any harm,¡± I said. ¡°I can help you and your family leave. You don''t have to do this.¡±


    It did appear to understand what I had said, but it was not persuaded in the least. An intelligent face stared back at me. All I could see was its rage. The fact that I was wearing a KRSL uniform was probably working against me.


    It jumped at me. One swipe of its w and I would be dead or mutted. I had hardly any Grit to speak of.


    But I did have some Hustle.


    I jumped out of the way of its ws, barely dodging it. I grabbed a stapler off a desk and threw it at the creature''s head. I made contact but it didn''t appear to have done any damage.


    That attack used Mettle; I needed an attack that used Moxie¡­ what would that look like?


    I went with the traditional route.


    I started to think in my mind, ¡°You aren''t real, you aren''t real.¡±


    That would work in some movies.


    It swiped a w at me. I tried dodging again but this one grazed my sweater and drew blood from my arm.


    It was real.


    I needed to figure this out or it would all be useless.


    I held out my hands and used them to block itsrge razor-sharp ws from my vision.


    ¡°You can''t hurt me,¡± I said timidly.


    Something was happening. Not much, but something.


    ¡°You can''t hurt me,¡± I said again more forcefully.


    It lunged and as it did, I noticed that its arms were made of smoke and shadow again just as they had been when it first appeared before I got a look at them.


    I managed to back away. I put my hands back up to help block my view of the creature. Its corporeal form relied on my observation. I had no way of telling if this was working but I thought my efforts might have been weakening the creature.


    It swiped another w at me. They were smaller now, less fully formed, but they were still razor sharp. Its w collided with my left hand and cleanly sliced off three of my fingers.


    I screamed in pain.


    It was difficult to think. Fear and the weight of the poltergeist''s tether were making me tired. I hadn''t slept in 20 hours. I couldn''t keep this up forever.


    <em>Don¡¯t suffer in silence!</em>


    I remembered Lara''s warning, her psychic blessing in the form of four words: don''t suffer in silence. I had to tell them what was happening.


    ¡°Don¡¯t picture it in your mind! Don¡¯t look at its ws or teeth,¡± I yelled. ¡°It needs us to see it to exist!¡±


    I didn''t know how its other forms worked, but its corporeal form relied on the power of a psychic person''s imagination. I was going to deny it that.


    I put my injured hand back up in front of my eyes so that I couldn''t view the creature directly, but I could still see the outline of it around my bloody hand.


    It struck again. It wed me in the arm. Its attack was far less forceful, but I only had one Grit. It cut me to the bone. I could no longer use that hand to block it out


    As I blocked out the creature in my mind, I could still see the faded shades of the Mercer family in the room. They didn''t appear to even know what was happening. I realized that this movie was about family. The Mercer family, gifted to create this violent protector. Dina and her husband and children. My character''s family, Anna and Kimberly¡­


    I finally figured out why Kimberly¡¯s Pregnancy Reveal had been so effective¡­


    The creature shed again opening up my stomach.


    I was too weak to continue my psychic assaults. Besides, even if I could weaken it, I couldn''t kill it...


    Family.


    This movie was about family. Kimberly having a child to pass on her gift fit the themes of the movie. That was why Pregnancy Reveal worked so well. We weren''t just fighting to survive. We were fighting so that our family could survive, no different than this poltergeist was fighting for the Mercers.


    ¡°Protect Kimberly,¡± I yelled through the pain. ¡°Protect her kid.¡±


    The story worked better when you yed your role. I hoped that by telling them Kimberly was important, she might just be important. With her extra Grit from Pregnancy Reveal, moving her into a bigger role was to our advantage.


    I summoned onest burst of energy and charged the poltergeist. It wasn''t that impressive. I had no weapons. I was weak from blood loss and fear. Still, I didn''t want to just stand there and do nothing.


    I screamed an angry, guttural scream.


    As I did, I grabbed at the creature¡¯s face with my one good hand and did my best to channel whatever psychic power my character had left into it as I tore at its flesh, its eye. I didn''t know if that would do anything,


    My thumb dug into solid flesh. It felt like I was hurting it--like I was actually doing damage.


    It bit my throat.


    Unlike the employees of KRSL, there would be no slowly bleeding to death for me.


    I don¡¯t remember what happened after that, but as I faded away, I saw on the plot cycle, the needle turned to Second Blood.

 Chapter Seventy-Nine: A Ticket to the Show

    Chapter Seventy-Nine: A Ticket to the Show


    Suddenly I was standing in the control room alone. All around me was still. All around me was silent.


    The poltergeist was gone.


    The bodies on the floor were gone.


    Was the storyline over? Did this mean we had won?


    I looked at the red wallpaper. No, the storyline wasn''t over. In fact, we had just entered the finale. But how was I alive?


    I wasn''t.


    I thought I might have been a ghost, but then I realized that wasn''t right either. The red wallpaper had me listed as Written off and Dead. As far as I knew, ghosts weren''t Written Off. On the contrary, they still had sway in the story. Ghosts were merely Dead. I was both. Must have been really special to achieve that.


    But what was I doing there?


    My answer came with a familiar voice.


    ¡°Congrattions, you''ve won a ticket!¡± Ss the Showman said.


    As I turned around to see him I noticed that all the security monitors were frozen. It was like they were paused.


    ¡°How am I getting a ticket before the end of the storyline?¡± I asked. ¡°I''m dead, right?¡±


    ¡°In Carousel, death isn''t always the end. Sometimes it''s a well-earned rest,¡± Ss responded with his canned phrasing. "Other times it''s just Carousel''s way to say that you talk too much. Hehehe."


    I knew the drill. I reached out and pressed his red button.


    Four tickets popped out. Three tropes and one new kind that I hadn''t seen before. It was short and thinner and had a few scant paragraphs.


    Ss recited a poem:<blockquote>


    ¡°You can pick one from three, what will it be?


    No matter the choice, no room to rejoice.


    All three can save your skin or tear it off again,


    The question remains, you must choose your pains,


    In this game of dread, you can choose well and still be dead.¡±</blockquote>


    Of course, Ss ended the macabre poem with one of his signatureughs, ¡°Hehehe.¡±


    Pick one from three of what?


    I turned over the cards in my hands. The thin one had the words ¡°Start Here!¡± in big red letters. I took that as a sign.


    I focused on the ticket. It was colored ck with text that was printed onto the ticket during its creation. It featured fill-in-the-nk sections but was otherwise generic.<blockquote>


    You¡¯ve reached a level where the game starts to get more difficult. Luckily, you are about to get the tools to fight back.


    Having achieved Plot Armor 21 and having afterward aplished the requisite feat of [<em>dying in a storyline</em>] you have now unlocked your choice of aspect.


    Choosing an aspect allows you to decide what type of [<em>Film Buff</em>] you wish to be. Good luck!</blockquote>


    After I read the ticket, a que with lots of writing on it appeared on the red wallpaper.<blockquote>


    As a Film Buff, you have a deep appreciation for the art of cinema. However, the way you engage with films can vary greatly, leading to different paths: the Fanatic, the Critic, and the Filmmaker. The choice of aspect will shape your abilities and influence your journey in significant ways.


    <strong>Fanatic</strong>: The Fanatic is a superfan, especially of horror movies. Their passion and extensive knowledge of films make them adaptable and formidable inbat. They learn from rewatching films, preparing them for simr situations or enemies. Their approach to film is instinctual, and their vast movie-watching experience equips them with unique, situational meta abilities.


    Example tropes that a Fanatic possesses include <strong>Ghoulish Enthusiasm</strong>, which buffs the yer when they''re perceptibly excited about scary endeavors, <strong>Shared Fandom</strong>, which helps gain info from NPCs by bonding over shared interests, and <strong>Weekend Stage Fighting Workshop</strong>, which allows them to fake fight, causing enemies to also fake fight temporarily.


    <strong>Critic</strong>: The Critic is an analyst, able to dissect and critique films with precision. They use their analytical skills to understand the underlying mechanics of the storyline and provide valuable insights. Despite their physical fragility, they have strong Insight tropes and high Savvy, reflecting their intellectual prowess and deep understanding of film. Their insights can influence the course of the game and unveil new, intriguing story arcs.


    A Critic has tropes like <strong>Eye for Intermission</strong>, which gives insight into when breaks from important plot events areing up, <strong>The Renowned Intellectual</strong>, which assists in getting information from NPCs who admire the yer¡¯s career, and <strong>A Killer Review</strong>, which allows the yer to leave vague reviews about the killer after death that allies can read on the red wallpaper.


    <strong>Filmmaker</strong>: The Filmmaker has aprehensive understanding of the filmmaking process. They can manipte the game environment effectively, altering the game''s dynamics in subtle but impactful ways. Their abilities are a mixture of meta-Insight and meta-Rule tropes. They have higher Hustle, reflecting their ability to stay out of the way, stay alive, and remain unseen as they manipte meta movie elements.


    Tropes that a Filmmaker has include <strong>shback Revtion</strong>, which allows dead yers with <em>Deathwatch</em> to echo words they have said on-screen to surviving allies who heard them, <strong>It''s Just a Puppet</strong>, where knowledge of movie monster making soothes fear, and <strong>No Stab in the Dark</strong>, which helps ensure that important plot events like death will not ur in low-light locations where the audience cannot see.


    Choosing your aspect is a crucial decision. It not only determines your abilities but also sets you on a unique path. Whether you''re a Fanatic, a Critic, or a Filmmaker, your love for cinema will guide you, but your approach to it will define your journey. Choose wisely.</blockquote>


    Finally, I got to learn about aspects. All I knew about aspects I had learned in passing from the veterans, who tried to exin them to us but usually their exnations were difficult to follow because we were too low-level to even see what the aspects of our tropes were.


    Now I wasn¡¯t.


    I flipped over the three tropes I was given. I had to choose one.


    Each was a Film Buff trope and each was from a different aspect. Critic, Fanatic, or Filmmaker... an interesting choice.


    I reviewed the three tropes I had to choose from.


    <strong>Camped Out on Opening Weekend</strong>


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Fanatic


    Type: Insight/Buff/Perk


    Stat Used: Savvy


    As an ardent horror movie buff, you''ve gone to great lengths for your passion. From taking time off work for premieres, and camping outside theaters, to immersing yourself in every detail of your favorite flicks¡¯ creation, your dedication is unparalleled. After multiple viewings within the first week of release, you''ve mastered the nuances of each new horror film. Your love for horror is not just a hobby, it''s your way of life.


    <strong>Deathwatch</strong>: the yer can observe a storyline after their character''s demise.


    With this trope, Deathwatch allows the yer to enter the Theater from the red wallpaper and watch the film version of the remainder of the storyline in real time.


    In addition to this ability, the yer may rewatch the film without needing to visit Carousel Family Video.


    This ability to rewatch enables the Fanatic to learn and adapt, enhancing their performance. After having rewatched a storyline, they will receive situational buffs when rerunning it. Rewatching storylines will also lead to buffs in new storylines with simr scenarios or enemies to those that have been studied.


    This ticket is granted after the first character death following the achievement of Plot Armor 21. Selecting this ticket aligns you with the Fanatic aspect.


    ¡°To a true Fanatic, watching a movie isn¡¯t just entertainment, it¡¯s preparation.¡±


    The Fanatic was tempting. If there was one thing I sorely needed, it was some buffs. It continued the trend of unpredictable buffs that the Film Buff appeared to have plenty of, though. It would be nice to have a melee option.


    <strong>Press Screening</strong>


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Critic


    Type: Insight/Perk


    Stat Used: Savvy


    You perceive films as more than mere entertainment; they are a form of art to you. Your dedication has led you to delve deep into the theoretical aspects of cinema, honing your ability to discern and articte the strengths and weaknesses of a film in a manner that resonates with others.


    <strong>Deathwatch</strong>: the yer can observe a storyline after their character''s demise.


    With this trope, Deathwatch allows the yer to enter the Theater from the red wallpaper and watch the film version of the remainder of the storyline in real time.


    In addition to this ability, the yer may rewatch the film without needing to visit Carousel Family Video.


    As a Critic, the yer can discern ratings of characters'' performances and choices that influence the rewards after the storyline. After extensive rewatching of storylines in Carousel, the Critic starts to perceive these ratings (between one and five stars) within an ongoing storyline that has simr themes and setups. This insight can guide the yer to make choices that not only yield better rewards and experience but also unveil new, intriguing story arcs.


    This ticket is granted after the first character death post-Plot Armor 21 achievement. Selecting this ticket aligns you with the Critic path.


    ¡°If you are going to review your teammate''s performance, remember not to bite their head off. There are plenty of monsters in Carousel that do that already.¡±


    Critic seemed like a great option. Being able to know whether we were making good choices would help us improve. From the sound of this one, it might also help with finding new arcs within storylines, possibly even involving secret lore.


    <strong>Director''s Monitor</strong>


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Filmmaker


    Type: Insight/Rule/Perk


    Stat Used: Savvy


    You''re not just a movie fan, you''re a creator. You''ve studied every aspect of filmmaking, from shotposition to production logistics. Like a director using a video assist monitor to view scenes as they''re filmed, you see each film as a moldable work that can be made better.


    <strong>Deathwatch</strong>: the yer can observe a storyline after their character''s demise.


    With this trope, Deathwatch allows the yer to enter the Theater from the red wallpaper and watch the film version of the remainder of the storyline in real time.


    In addition to this ability, the yer may rewatch the film without needing to visit Carousel Family Video.


    As a Filmmaker, you step into the director''s shoes. The more you rewatch and learn from storylines, the more likely it is that your off-screen ns involving Improvisation are to influence the story. With enough experience, you will be able to help guide storylines from behind the scenes. Beware, improvisation that changes the story too much can cause a sh for creative control, and Carousel is quite the diva.


    This ticket is your reward after the first death post-Plot Armor 21 achievement. Choose this ticket to set your aspect as a Filmmaker.


    "Only in Carousel do the filmmakers themselves have to worry about being killed off."


    Improvisation. I had just tried that for the first time and it hadrgely been sessful. The idea of being able to steer a story, to create plot points out of nothing but logic and effort. That was appealing.


    Interestingly, they all gave me the same ability, Deathwatch. I had heard that word thrown around at Dyer''s Lodge. I knew that psychics and wallflowers (as well as some others I assumed) had Deathwatch, but I thought it was a trope. It was actually an ability that various tropes could give you¡ªthe ability to watch the story unfold after you have died or been permanently written off.


    But which aspect should I choose?


    If it was just me, Fanatic might have been a good choice. Being able to buff myself and actually stand a chance in a fight was something I strongly desired. But that wasn''t my role on our team.


    My role was to gain insight into the story. Understanding a story and being able to help my teammates get to the end was priority number one. That meant I needed to be a Filmmaker or a Critic. I reread the tropes and the text that had appeared on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°Does it matter what I choose?¡± I asked.


    Ss the Showman looked at me nkly. Either he didn''t have a response that fit properly or he wasn''t able to speak freely at that moment. Another possibility was that it didn''t matter.


    As far as I was concerned all three of these tropes were great. They all gave the Deathwatch ability. That was a real prize at that moment. It also exined why I received the tropes upon dying.


    I found myself more and more indecisive the more I thought about it.


    At the end of the day, secret lore was supposed to be really important and a Critic should be able to help uncover more of it.


    But something didn''t sit right with me about the way we had stumbled upon the concept of secret lore. I felt uneasy about the whole thing.


    I liked how Filmmaker was good for staying out of sight and surviving long enough to get good insights which lined up really well with my Oblivious Bystander strategy. Also, the idea of working more improvisation into the game excited me and made me feel optimistic that I could think my way out of overwhelming problems.


    I also felt like having too many insight tropes could confuse and distract me from engaging with the story and Critic was insight-heavy.


    I thought back to the poem Ss recited when he first arrived. Every choice could be the wrong choice.


    Which wrong choice could I live with?


    I took the Fanatic and Critic tickets and slid them into one of the slots on Ss¡¯ frontside. I could hear the gears inside spinning as the tickets were sucked into his machinery.


    I hoped I hadn¡¯t made a mistake.


    As the grinding stopped and Ss shut down, I waited for him to disappear, but that wasn¡¯t exactly what happened.


    <em>Everything </em>disappeared. I was left staring into inky ckness.


    All that remained was the red wallpaper.


    Even that disappeared momentster.


    I was sitting in a movie theater, my mind''s eye fixed on the screen


    I could see four people creeping down a hallway: my friends. The finale had begun. I was watching them as they attempted to ovee incredible odds.


    I would exist there, sitting in that seat, dead in all ways but my ability to watch what became of us.


    All other thoughts faded away as I began my Deathwatch, helpless to intervene, only able to sit by and hope that my friends could make it to The End.

 Chapter Eighty: Climbing Tension

    Chapter Eighty: Climbing Tension


    It was like I was watching a scene from a movie. The camera angles and lighting were the same. Everything had a slight green tint to it like movies in the early 2000s often did. If it wasn''t my friends on the screen, I would have thought I was watching a real horror movie.


    They were on the floor directly below ground level. Just one more set of stairs and they would be home-free. They stood in front of the elevator doors.


    ¡°We need to pry open the elevator and climb up,¡± Camden said. ¡°That¡¯s the only way out we know of for sure.¡±+


    ¡°Are you kidding?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°That elevator shaft is hundreds of feet deep.¡±


    ¡°Then we don¡¯t fall. We have one person go up with a rope and then the rest of us climb the rope after he ties it off.¡±


    Climbing out? Was that really the best option?


    I wasn''t sure whether climbing used Hustle or Mettle, but either way, Camden had the least of both stats of my friends.


    "One person? You mean me," Antoine said.


    ¡°We could break through the ceiling,¡± Kimberly suggested.


    ¡°We have no idea how long that would take,¡± Camden said. ¡°There could be concrete between the floors.¡±


    If climbing the elevator shaft and digging up through the ceiling were the only options, we really were in trouble.


    ¡°We can keep looking,¡± Anna said. ¡°There has to be a way out somewhere around here.¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± Camden said. ¡°The underground portion of the facility is farrger than the above ground. I don''t just mean square footage I mean at least half of the width of this floor has no building above it. If we start searching too far out, we could be searching for hours and find nothing.¡±


    ¡°We can''t just give up,¡± Antoine said. ¡°There have to be other ways out of this facility. Are you telling me that they brought all of thisb equipment and furniture down here on one elevator?¡±


    ¡°No. I''m saying that we could get lost down here searching for so long that KRSL HQ shows up and we never get to leave.¡±


    This brought a hush over the group.


    I hoped that this wasn''t a real argument. Like many of our on-screen conversations, I hoped it was part of the show, that they were exining why they were no longer searching for a new way up.


    Truthfully, there likely were other escape routes originally. Freight elevators, tunnels, air vents, any number of ways out. The problem was that discovering an alternative exit needed to be done before the Finale. That was one of the basic rules. Important plot information¡ªthe kind that can make sess a lot easier¡ªcannot be found after Second Blood. That was one thing the Vets had drilled into our heads.


    ¡°Frankly, we''re lucky they haven''t shown up already,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°Then we climb?¡± Anna said.


    ¡°We climb,¡± Antoine repeated, eyeing the elevator in front of them.


    ¡°It''s funny,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Once KRSLes down to get us, at least then we¡¯ll know where the exits are.¡±


    The Mercers began picking themselves up off the ground. I hadn¡¯t seen why they had fallen, but as they stood, they grasped their heads in pain. Some were more affected than others.


    They were injured. But how?


    One of the women had a nosebleed. The new addition, the teenager I had seen brought into the facility days before, was throwing up in the corner. He looked pale and sickly.


    They were still on floor 3B.


    ¡°Paul, Paul, please get up,¡± the Oldest Mercer woman said. It was the woman who spent her time knitting. She was wearing several scarves of her own design. ¡°Come on,¡± she said as tears streamed down her face.


    She was kneeling over the man that I had referred to as Old Guy. She tried to pull him up into a sitting position, but his body was limp and his eyes were nk. His face was covered in blood that had apparentlye from his left eye socket.


    ¡°What''s wrong with him?¡± The woman asked desperately.


    ¡°He''s dead,¡± one of the middle-aged twins responded. ¡°He didn''t make it.¡±


    "What just happened to us?" the other twin asked. "Did we get electrocuted or something?"


    "My head hurts," the teen boy said.


    ¡°No. No,¡± the old woman said. ¡°We were supposed to escape together.¡±


    ¡°I''m sorry Sherry, but we have to go.¡±


    The old woman, Sherry, was beyond listening. She continued to try to rouse life from the body of her in kin.


    ¡°I can''t leave him,¡± she said. ¡°He''s been my only friend for so long.¡±


    The women Mercers all gathered around Sherry and attempted tofort her.


    ¡°If we don''t leave now, we may not make it out,¡± one of them said.


    They stood and pulled Sherry off of the deceased man''s body.


    ¡°It isn''t fair,¡± she said. ¡°He was so¡­ close.¡±


    As they pulled her away and began walking down the halls together, the camera panned back to show the body of the old man, Paul. I couldn''t think of what might have killed him at first, but then soon enough I realized exactly what had done it.


    I had.


    When I fought back against the Mercer Poltergeist, they had been the ones to take the damage. Paul took it worse than the others apparently. His left eye was bleeding. That was the same eye I had hit the Poltergeist in when I fought it.


    I didn''t have long to reflect on that. Soon, the scene changed again.


    Dina and her family walked down the halls of Floor 3B with her NPC family. Her husband carried their daughter and their son walked behind them with a mop hand he had found and was carrying around like it was some sort of bo staff.


    Her husband had evidence of a nosebleed too, but none of Dina''s family looked as affected as the other Mercers had.


    ¡°Room 347 should be ahead,¡± Dina said. ¡°No telling how long it will take to get there with the way this ce is designed.¡±


    ¡°How did you even make it in here?¡± her husband asked, massaging his right temple with his free hand.


    ¡°Snuck in. Got caught immediately. They locked me up and then I escaped after¡­ the attack.¡±


    ¡°It was the ghost,¡± her daughter said. ¡°I saw it in my dreams.¡±


    ¡°There is no ghost,¡± Dina¡¯s husband said. ¡°We don¡¯t know what that man was screaming about over the inte. He was craz¡ª¡±


    He stopped talking as they passed a stter of blood on the wall. The victim was not nearby. They had likely continued on to find shelter in an attempt to escape the entity.


    ¡°There is a ghost,¡± the little boy said as he swung his mop handle around. ¡°Or a demon. The guy said so. He said ourst name too.¡±


    Her husband wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡°Kids, this isn¡¯t the time.¡±


    Dina stopped. She looked over at her husband like she was going to say something, but they thought better of it.


    ¡°What?¡± he asked.


    ¡°What do you think happened here?¡± Dina asked. ¡°You¡¯re so sure of what didn¡¯t happen. What do you think did happen?¡±


    ¡°I think the kids have overactive imaginations and whatever it was we heard over the speaker was... I don¡¯t know. This scares them.¡±


    Dina didn¡¯t respond. She was not talkative. Not to NPCs, not to yers.


    The family continued walking down the hall.


    Suddenly, the shot shifted to a view of the security monitors. The Mercers wound about aimlessly on a top left monitor. Dina and her family were on a monitor in the middle. My friends were on the top right, visible as the camera panned over.


    And then one of the monitors distorted. It was in the center. Right next to Dina and her family.


    The camera closed in on the screen with Dina just as the Distortion moved onto it.


    Suddenly, the shot was no longer on the security monitors. Dina was moving forward, investigating the next path they should take.


    Her daughter started crying.


    Dina fell back onto the ground as her leg was lifted up into the air. An invisible barb had pierced her Achilles tendon, hooking her in one side and out the other.


    The entity was in one of its weaker forms, either its Disturbance or Potent form. I wasn¡¯t sure. It had tethered onto Dina.


    It began dragging her down the hallway as her children screamed on.


    Her husband practically dropped their daughter and ran down the hall to catch up. He grabbed onto her and pulled against the force of the entity. Dina screamed out in pain as the psychokic barb in her ankle ripped at her flesh.


    Suddenly, there was an unsettling sound as the invisible barb was pulled right through her Achilles tendon, freeing her but leaving her Hobbled.


    Objects in the room started to shake as the creature¡¯s anger grew.


    Dina continued to cry out in pain but still beckoned her husband to help her stand on her good leg. They started to run back in the other direction, slowed by her injury.


    The objects in the room started to fly at a much harder and faster rate. The creature¡¯s frustration grew.


    It grabbed onto Dina and flung her against the wall so hard that she was ripped from her husband''s arms.


    Then it flung her against the opposite wall of the hallway.


    I had believed that this creature was attacking the staff because they worked for KRSL, the Mercers¡¯ captors, but I had credited it too much. It was a being of pure anger at this point. It was attacking anyone who wasn''t part of the Mercer bloodline, including Dina.


    As she fell to the ground, the hallway started to shake, the walls themselves unable to resist the raw power of even the weakened form of the Poltergeist.


    It lifted Dina up into the air. It was about to throw her back down again when Dina¡¯s daughter ran forward and embraced her mother¡¯s limp arm.


    ¡°No!¡± the little girl screamed. ¡°Don''t hurt her!¡±


    The entity suddenly stopped its attack.


    It dropped Dina and her husband managed to grab her before she fell to the ground.


    The Poltergeist hadn''t given up yet. It had merely slowed its attack out of a desire not to harm Dina¡¯s daughter.


    It grabbed onto Dina¡¯s injured leg again and began pulling.


    ¡°Stop!¡± The little girl yelled. Her brother joined in with her, yelling at the invisible entity, swinging his mop handle in the air in a desperate hope that he might be able to save his mother.


    The entity let go of Dina''s leg.


    Her family surrounded her, lying on the ground of the hallway, hugging her and protecting her.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± Her husband screamed. His character was in full denial, but I don¡¯t think that was his fault.


    ¡°I told you, Daddy,¡± the little girl said through tears. ¡°It was the ghost.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± He was at a loss for words. As Dina started to regain consciousness, ¡°Dina, Dina, are you okay? What the hell is going on here? Please say something.¡±


    Dina opened her eyes.


    For some reason, Dina had put off telling her husband what was going on in the facility. I couldn¡¯t be sure, but it looked as though Carousel was punishing her for that. Carousel wanted a scene of one of the Mercers having everything exined to them. Dina was probably the only character who could do so. She had listened to the audio recordings the same as us.


    Dina sat up and examined her ankle. ¡°We need to talk,¡± she said.


    Meanwhile, the other Mercers were still trying to find their way up through the maze of floor 3B.


    ¡°We used to be on this floor a few years ago,¡± Sherry said as she rewrapped her scarves. ¡°Only for a few months.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember the way up?¡± one of the other women asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid our captors never showed me the way out,¡± Sherry responded. ¡°I know where the cells were. I know where Dr. Barret¡¯s office used to be before his passing. That¡¯s it.¡±


    They hadn¡¯t made much progress as far as I could tell. From this vantage, I couldn¡¯t even guess where they were or how far from the exit they were.


    ¡°I''ve been passed around from one facility to another ever since I was mugged. Well, he tried to mug me,¡± Sherry said solemnly. ¡°Paul had already been here for a decade then.¡±


    ¡°Poor guy,¡± one of the middle-aged twins said. ¡°I couldn¡¯t imagine being in a ce like this for most of my life.¡±


    ¡°Neither could I when I was your age,¡± Sherry said. ¡°I still can¡¯t fathom it. My life wasted¡­ Sometimes I dream of escaping this ce, but I never can. I try as hard as possible, but I cannot make it out before I wake up.¡±


    ¡°Because the doors won¡¯t open?¡± the teenage boy asked.


    Sherry nodded.


    ¡°I had the same dream the night I got here,¡± the boy said.


    ¡°No need to worry about it now,¡± the youngest woman said. ¡°We¡¯ll make it out soon. I have a ce on Lake Dyer. We can go there.¡±


    They continued walking, looking inside every room and corridor.


    ¡°Shh,¡± the teenage boy said. ¡°Can you hear that?¡±


    The Mercers stopped short and listened.


    A soft, repetitive banging could be heard.


    ¡°It¡¯s the pipes,¡± one of the twins said.


    ¡°No,¡± the boy said. ¡°My mother said we should listen to knocks. They are there to help us.¡±


    ¡°By god, I believe my mother said the same thing,¡± Sherry said. ¡°How many years has it been? It was before we lost our family manor¡­¡±


    ¡°We should follow it,¡± the boy said.


    ¡°You¡¯re saying that this thing is our fault?¡± Dina¡¯s husband asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m saying that the scientist in charge brought you in because you are a Mercer,¡± Dina said.


    She was sitting on a countertop. They had found a first aid kit hanging on a wall and her husband was wrapping her injury.


    ¡°The monster won¡¯t hurt Mercers,¡± Dina exined. "It hurts everyone else."


    ¡°But you¡¯re a Mercer,¡± her daughter said.


    Dina put her hand on the kid''s head and said, ¡°I know. But I married in. Apparently, the monster doesn¡¯t count that.¡±


    ¡°So, we¡¯ve got to protect you?¡± her son said, still holding his mop handle staff.


    Looking at him, Dina¡¯s eyes grew wet with tears, perhaps thinking of her real son. She nodded without saying anything.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let it hurt you,¡± he said.


    ¡°Me neither,¡± her daughter agreed.


    Dina looked at her husband. He looked at her and said, ¡°I don''t know what''s going on here, but I¡¯ll do whatever it takes.¡±


    Antoine finished tying a firehose around his waist.


    ¡°I got this. I got this,¡± he said, psyching himself up. He jumped up and down and breathed in and out several quick breaths.


    They had pried open the elevator doors and found one of those emergency firehoses rolled up on a red spool.


    Antoine would be making the climb. He had his baseball bat handle affixed to the holder that used to house his baton. It hung down behind him, ready to be used at a moment¡¯s notice.


    ¡°Do you think he''ll be able to get the doors upstairs pried open?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll get them open,¡± Antoine said.


    He approached the open darkness of the elevator shaft and gently moved his hand upward, feeling for something to grab onto on the inside of the shaft.


    He found it.


    In moments, he had lifted his whole body up and began scaling the inside of the shaft. I¡¯m not sure if real elevator shafts were climbable, but it was Camden¡¯s n. Between his high Savvy and how well it fit the narrative, it worked. Antoine was making progress.


    ¡°I can see lighting from the doors upstairs,¡± he called down to the others below.


    He continued to climb.


    One hand after the other found purchase and he was really starting to get some distance. Once he could use both his hands and feet to climb, his speed started to increase. He was making it.


    By my estimate, the distance between these floors was about three times what you would normally expect, maybe thirty-six feet. To me, it looked impossible. My fear of heights would have really hurt me with this one.


    Antoine continued.


    He was making it. I feared for him and the others. Any moment, the Poltergeist could arrive and ruin everything.


    He climbed.


    Only a few more feet and he would be on ground level.


    One handhold after another.


    He made it. He reached into one of his pockets for a metal implement that looked like it was from inside a filing cab and reached over to start prying the doors open.


    He stopped dead in his tracks.


    There was noiseing from the other side.


    I listened closely. Soon, I heard it too¡­


    They were voices. I recognized one of them.


    It was Nancy Cartwright.


    The camera moved through the elevator and suddenly I could see the other side.


    Nancy, the woman who had greeted us on the way inside the facility, was giving orders to around two dozen or so men outfitted in all manner of military gear.


    The men were called KRSL Agents on the red wallpaper. One of them, a man with a red helmet, was called KRSL Commander. They were Plot Armor 18 and 20 respectively. Enemies.


    I couldn''t see their tropes.


    It made sense. Trope Master is proximity-based, but I had hoped this would be an exception. I guess it didn''t matter. I couldn''t tell anyone what I saw even if I knew.


    I just wished I could help my friends.


    The Poltergeist on one side.


    A room full of killers on the other.


    How could they possibly survive?

 Chapter Eighty-One: A Fresh Breath of XEGOST-H Sulfide

    Chapter Eighty-One: A Fresh Breath of XEGOST-H Sulfide


    The armed men''s faces were covered to the point that you couldn''t tell anything about them except that they were lethal.


    ¡°I''m not making entry until I know for certain that my men will be safe,¡± their Commander said to Nancy Cartwright. ¡°As far as I''m concerned, we could just block the doors and knock this building down. Trap everyone down there even your pet Mercers.¡±


    Nancy red at the man. ¡°I assure you that will not be necessary. We are prepared to take drastic action to both protect the scenario and your men. I just hope they are as skilled as I have been told. This isn''t the kind of enemy that your firearms will be much help for.¡±


    ¡°We know how to handle your little ghost,¡± the Commander said.


    She waved her hands and two of the heavily armed men carried arge silver canister over to where Nancy and the Commander were standing. An open hatch in the wall revealed a strange array of pipes. There were many knobs and handles spread around the pipes, controlling various unknown functions. There was a prominent attachment sticking out of the hatch, a nozzle of some kind.


    The men connected the silver canister to the nozzle and fastened it in.


    ¡°What even happened here?¡± The man with the Commander asked. ¡°I thought this was a stable scenario.¡±


    ¡°It was,¡± Nancy answered. ¡°We have never seen the entity behave this way. Perhaps Mentes botched something. Maybe the Mercers themselves have be immune to the drug regimen that has worked in the past.¡±


    As the two armed men finished installing the silver bottle, Nancy leaned over and pulled a yellow handle. As she did a hissing sound could be heard as whatever was inside that canister started to move into the facility¡¯s system.


    One of the armed men pulled a few more handles and dialed a knob. He held some blueprints in his hands as he worked.


    ¡°This will flood all rooms and hallways below,¡± he said. ¡°We should be able to start our descent in thirty minutes.¡±


    ¡°For whatever reason,¡± Nancy said looking down at a red canister on the ground. ¡°The old standby failed to stop the rampagest night. We pumped it into the Mercer''s rooms, and it didn''t appear to have any effect on the Distortion. Yet another question that needs to be answered.¡±


    The leader of the armed men watched as some dials and the gauges started to go crazy in response to the influx of whatever gas was contained inside of the canister.


    ¡°This will stop it?¡± he asked. ¡°My men will be safe?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Nancy answered. ¡°XEGOST-H Sulfide will bring anything with cognitive function to their knees. Years ago, we tested it on one of the Mercers, who is no longer with us. It will undoubtedly work. Make sure your men don''t breathe it, of course.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you use this stuff originally?¡± the man asked.


    ¡°XEGOST-H Sulfide can be lethal with repeated doses,¡± Nancy exined. ¡°The Mercers are very valuable. We wanted to keep them alive and continue the experiment as long as we could. Had that fool not cut off our override, we would never resort to this extreme measure.¡±


    That was a dig against me. I was the fool who shut off the override. Still, I wasn''t certain that it was a bad decision. It was chilling to hear Carousel calling me out in that way.


    Most of the otherworldly systems in Carousel seemed like aputer program. A yer does X, the system does Y. But this remark sounded like banter from a living thing.


    Whatever the case, things did not sound good for my friends. Was this Carousel sealing our fate?


    The Mercers crept through the halls of the facility in pursuit of the knocking sound.


    ¡°Do you think it will lead us out?¡± one of the twins asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what it is,¡± the other twin responded.


    They continued following.


    ¡°What killed all of those people back there?¡± the youngest woman asked with a sniffle. ¡°They were torn apart¡­ I can¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°The thing they keep us here to study,¡± the olddy, Sherry, answered. ¡°The monster. I¡¯ve never seen it, but I have heard them talking about it when they thought I was asleep.¡±


    They continued to talk in hushed tones as the camera zoomed out, revealing that the entity was guiding them toward the area just under the gathering of armed security personnel upstairs.


    Soon, I knew, the entity would be in range to tether to the top floor and butcher the armed guards.


    A hissing sound could be heard. There was a shot of one of the air vents on the ceiling. A barely visible gas started to fall down into the hallway.


    ¡°I feel funny,¡± the teenage Mercer said.


    He grabbed his head.


    Soon, the other Mercers started to do the same.


    ¡°No!¡± Sherry cried out. ¡°We were almost there!¡±


    She started breathing deeply, hyperventting.


    Above them, ceiling tiles started to crack and fall down to the ground as the entity wed and pulled its way upward, hoping beyond hope to be able to jump to one of the armed men upstairs. It was no good. It was in its weakest form.


    If it had gotten them just a little further, it might have been able to tether to one of the armed guards upstairs. If it had more time, perhaps it could have simply manifested upstairs, an act that appeared to have a longer range. s, it was unable.


    Soon, the Mercers were unconscious and the evidence of the Poltergeist died down too.


    Whatever that gas was, it put the Mercers out so quickly that they didn¡¯t even close their eyes all the way. Their breaths were shallow, and their pupils were dted.


    The scene changed.


    I was watching Dina and her family as they slowly made their way through a darkened hallway. I had no idea what floor they were on or how close they were to getting upstairs.


    ¡°Wait a second,¡± Dina said.


    Her eyes darted directly to the air vent above them. She paused and listened. Then she took a sniff of the air. Her Outsider¡¯s Perspective trope had apparently alerted her to something unusual about the airing from the vent. She was able to put two and two together.


    ¡°They''re gassing us!¡± She quickly looked around for some refuge, something they could use to prevent their impending capture.


    She saw a small door, the kind that I recognized was used for utility closets and simr in the facility. She threw herself at it, unable to walk there on her own. Catching herself against the wall, she opened up the door. It was a supply closet with cleaning materials inside.


    ¡°Quickly get inside,¡± she said. ¡°Find things to block out the doorway and look for any vents.¡±


    ¡°What is going on?¡± Dina''s husband asked. ¡°I don''t smell anything.¡±


    At first, it looked like Dina didn''t know how to exin it. ¡°I do. The air changed.¡±


    She ushered them forward into the closet. Her children were quick to follow and obey her words. They started looking around the walls of the small closet for venttion. Her son found a vent pretty quickly.


    ¡°Here,¡± Dina said as she reached down and closed the vent.


    She continued looking around the closet and spied a box of trash bags.


    ¡°We need to cover all the cracks,¡± Dina said.


    So, they started opening trash bags and poking them around to inste the door undercover the vent, just to be sure.


    The question was, was Dina''s Savvy high enough for her n to work?


    Time passed.


    A small group of armed security personnel entered the control room on floor 3B. I wasn''t sure how they had even gotten down there. That was not shown.


    They wore gas masks.


    ¡°Tell Cartwright the troublemaker is dead,¡± one of the men said over the radio.


    He was looking at my corpse. Freaky.


    ¡°She''ll be happy to hear that. Can you confirm that Dr. Mentes is deceased,¡± the head security officer asked.


    The squad spread out, looking around the bodies and the room to find one that belonged to Dr. Mentes. It didn''t take them long to find it.


    ¡°Mentes is down,¡± they said.


    ¡°Heard. Reinitiate our connection.¡±


    ¡°Yes Sir,¡± one of the men said as he moved to the server and started working on some switches off-screen.


    ¡°Do you see the other test subjects or the Mercers on the surveince screens?¡± Nancy asked into the radio.


    One of the squad members walked over to the monitors and started scanning around for signs of life.


    ¡°There are a lot of bodies. It¡¯s difficult to tell if any of them are the test subjects. They were dressed as KRSL employees, correct?¡±


    ¡°Affirmative.¡±


    That was good news. If they weren''t actively looking for my friends, having assumed that they were among the dead, we might just have a fighting chance.


    But the question remained, where were my friends? Shouldn''t they be passed out near the elevator door that Antoine had entered to climb upward?


    The man continued scanning the monitors.


    ¡°The Mercers are almost directly below you,¡± he said. ¡°They appear to have sumbed to the gas. One appears to be dead or unconscious on the floor below the others. Three are missing.¡±


    The Mercers were probably easier to separate from the dead employees because they were wearing white patient gowns.


    The camera panned slowly over the monitors and stopped on the screen that had a view of a closet door. It was the closet Dina and her family were hiding in. Looking closely, I could see the subtle shine of the ck stic trash bags that Dina had used to seal the door.


    The man looking at the monitors didn''t notice.


    ¡°We''ll send a recovery unit. Keep looking for the missing Mercers.¡± the Commander said. ¡°Do you have eyes on the Distortion?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Stay there until the override is reinitiated. Then I want you to get your asses out of there.¡±


    ¡°Yes Sir.¡±


    ¡°Recovery!¡± yelled the Commander. ¡°The Mercers are unconscious on the floor below us. Recover them. Sedate them for transport.¡±


    Another group of five armed men broke off and started making their way through the hallways. I wasn''t sure where they were going until they got near the elevator. At first, I thought they somehow weren''t aware that the elevator was broken, but as they approached it they stopped short and turned to what appeared to be a nk wall with nothing but a light switch.


    One of the men produced a badge and moved it over the light switch. As they did, a seam appeared and the wall that had been nk now opened up with a small passage leading to a set of spiral stairs barelyrge enough for the men to walk down as they turned and twisted.


    I wasn''t sure how they were supposed to get the Mercers back up if that was the n.


    It dawned on me that when they got to the bottom of those stairs, they would open the secret door and immediately be looking at where my friends had been thest time I saw them.


    The men twisted and turned down the spiral staircase. It seemed like it was going to take forever.


    As they got to the bottom and waved a badge over a little white box on the inside of the wall, the door opened onto the floor.


    I could see the elevator doors.


    To my surprise, my friends weren''t there. The elevator doors were shut instead of being propped open like they had been before. There was no evidence that they had even been there. They had disposed of the red reel that had held the firehose.


    I was relieved to see that they were not lying on the ground unconscious.


    But where were they?


    The recovery unit made quick work of tying up the Mercers and injecting them with yet another sedative. They would then carry them individually back up the small staircase and into the hallway on the ground floor level. Despite how valuable the Mercers allegedly were, their bodies were jerked around and stowed away like luggage.


    ¡°Who are we missing?¡± The Commander asked.


    ¡°Two kids. One of the adults,¡± one of the men on the recovery squad said.


    The leader spoke into his radio and asked, ¡°How''s that overrideing?¡±


    ¡°Nearly there. I¡¯ll advise you if we need Cartwright.¡±


    ¡°Do you have eyes on the three missing Mercers?¡±


    ¡°Negative.¡±


    Nancy Cartwright was standing nearby. ¡°Well, it''s not like they could have escaped. They may have found a hiding spot. Will we be able to get footage of where they went?¡±


    ¡°The system wasn''t recording after the reboot,¡± the Commander said.


    ¡°And how about the mother, the intruder?¡± Nancy asked. ¡°Has she been found?


    ¡°Not yet. My men have instructions to terminate her as soon as they find her. Same with your test subjects. I hope you can find more.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we should be able to when we move to the new facility,¡± she answered.


    After she said that, the camera started to move past her until it gave a full view of the elevator. It continued to zoom in until the view moved right through the elevator doors and revealed what was on the other side.


    My friends.


    They had gotten into the elevator shaft. All of them had made it up to ground level and were hanging from support beams, listening to the conversation outside. The gas did not affect them. They have been outside of its range. While it had been pumped into the floors below, they were hiding right next to all of the armed men.


    Antoine must have heard their ns to gas the facility.


    ¡°Headquarters is going to be very upset that one of the Mercers was killed,¡± the leader of the security forces could be heard saying outside the elevator door.


    My friends listened intently. How much had they heard?


    I could only hope it would be enough to give them the information they needed to escape.


    They were so close and so far away.


    The needle on the plot cycle told me the final battle was nearly there.

 Chapter Eighty-Two: Sedation

    Chapter Eighty-Two: Sedation


    Kimberly sat on a crossbeam just under the elevator door. She leaned back against the wall. Directly above her, Camden peeked out through a crack between the doors.


    ¡°It looks like there is no one near the elevator,¡± Camden said. ¡°They¡¯ve moved the Mercers somewhere else.¡±


    ¡°What about Dina¡¯s family?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°I hope they haven''t found them yet,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°That little girl is so precious. She reminds me of myself at that age. It''s strange. It''s like I can feel her down there somewhere. She''s scared.¡±


    I wondered what it was they were nning with that narrative line. They were trying to form a sort of psychic connection between Kimberly and the Mercer girl. If they used it well, there was no telling what they could pull off. I hated not knowing their ns.


    ¡°They¡¯ll all be fine,¡± Antoine said, reaching out from his position to grab Kimberly¡¯s hand. Kimberly held his hand back.


    ¡°When I was her age, Grandma told me I was like her. You know, gifted,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Guess she was telling the truth. All this time, I thought I was just good with people.¡±


    Was she trying to use Convenient Backstory to reinforce her psychic background and give her a Moxie boost?


    She put her other hand to her stomach. ¡°With Riley gone¡­ It¡¯s just us left to carry on that part of her,¡± she said to Anna.


    Anna closed her eyes and nodded.


    ¡°We need to make a move,¡± Camden said. ¡°I¡¯m going to go look for an exit.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Antoine said, ¡°I should go.¡±


    ¡°As much as I would like to agree, I think I¡¯ll be better at hiding from the guards,¡± Camden said. ¡°You need to stay here and protect them. If I can find an exit or make a distraction, I¡¯ll make sure you know about it. When it¡¯s time, you need toe ready to run, fight, whatever.¡±


    Antoine reluctantly nodded.


    He leaned over and, with thebined effort of all four of them, pried the elevator doors open as much as possible.


    Antoine needed to stay with the group. Antoine¡¯s ybook trope would alert him automatically when it was time for them to exit the elevator. That would ensure they knew exactly when things would be safe.


    Not to mention, I doubted they could get the doors open without Antoine''s Mettle.


    Camden quickly squeezed through the gap in the silver doors.


    ¡°I¡¯ll scope things out. I¡¯ll take the left hallway toward the front entrance. If you hear gunshots¡­ maybe you try the other way,¡± Camden said.


    The doors closed behind him. He took a deep breath and started creeping down the hallway. With low Hustle and High Savvy, his ability to sneak was not good, but his ability to find a ce to hide was great, especially with his Hide and Seek trope.


    The question was, could he find a ce to hide before he was caught?


    He nced up at the camera on the hallway ceiling. He didn¡¯t know if he was being watched. He ran as fast as he could down the hallway while still attempting to stay quiet.


    From that vantage, it was difficult to see further than the reception desk, which blocked much of his view. He started looking for somewhere else where he could get a better look at the front door.


    Further down the hall, he could see into a room that appeared to be empty. He took a chance and ran across into the room. Sess. He hadn¡¯t been spotted.


    The room was one of the small offices like the one I had been interviewed in by Dr. Mentes. It held a small amount of furniture¡ªa desk, a cab, some chairs, and a couch.


    As he stopped to catch his breath, some voices could be heard in the hallway. Camden grew rmed and scanned over the room for somewhere to hide.


    Momentster, the guards entered the room. Camden was nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°These missing kids,¡± one of the guards said, ¡°They¡¯re small, right? What if they hid in a cab somewhere? Do we really need to check every crevice they could have fallen into when that thing¡ªwhatever it is¡ªis hunting us? Why not just sit back and wait for them to try to escape?¡±


    ¡°Orders are orders,¡± the other guard said. ¡°Now where did Mentes keep those extra sedatives?¡±


    ¡°The cab.¡±


    The man walked across the room toward arge cab and jerked open the door.


    He found rows of shelves stocked neatly with various medical supplies, including a tub filled with small, single-use packages which contained syringes of the sedative. They were the same ones used on the Mercers after they had been captured.


    I had worried Camden might have been hiding in the cab. To my relief, he wasn''t.


    ¡°Check the date on those,¡± the other guard said.


    ¡°I know the protocol, dammit.¡±


    The first guard plopped the syringes on the table and took a seat at the desk. He started to check each of the syringes for the date.


    The camera panned down under the desk in the little area where the user¡¯s legs were meant to go. That wasn¡¯t where Camden was hiding either.


    He hadn¡¯t hidden under the desk, or in the cab.


    Where was he?


    The camera moved down to ground level. I could see the guards¡¯ feet and¡­ Camden. He was lying face-down underneath the couch. He must have lifted it up and let it drop down on top of himself in order to fit under there, as the opening was not big enough for him to get under normally.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if his Hide and Seek trope was doing the heavy lifting there, or merely his high Savvy. Hide and Seek required a chase scene to work. There was no chase seen. That meant he had one lessyer of protection as he hid from view.


    ¡°See, I checked the dates,¡± the guard said. ¡°You happy?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just get out of here sometime today, huh? Pass those syringes out. We need to be ready.¡±


    The guard got up from the desk and took the container of sedatives with him.


    Underneath the couch, Camden breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like he had been holding his breath the entire time.


    ¡°I apologize, ma¡¯am,¡± one of the guards said as he guided Nancy Cartwright down one of the dark hallways underground. ¡°We need your optical scan and other credentials to reinitiate the HQ override.¡±


    ¡°You said you would have it on in a few minutes,¡± she retorted.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t foresee these circumstances. It looks like the Subject blocked us out after he rebooted. We couldn¡¯t have anticipated that level of sophistication.¡±


    I certainly didn¡¯t remember doing that, but I was willing to take credit for it.


    Nancy attempted to hide her fear of being two floors underground, trapped with the Distortion by adding extra vitriol to her voice. ¡°Well, I think we should have hired operatives with¡­ more¡­ skill.¡±


    The guard rolled his eyes behind her back.


    She was led into the control room and taken to one of the terminals.


    ¡°Do you remember your code?¡± the man sitting at the terminal asked.


    ¡°Of course I do,¡± Nancy said. ¡°Let me see the keyboard.¡±


    As Nancy was guided through the process of fixing the problem I had caused, the camera floated over to the surveince monitors. The man that had been posted there was working on one of the terminals. The monitor that showed Camden sneaking down the hallway into the office where he hid under the couch went unwatched.


    The screen fast-forwarded through the scene of the guards checking the date on the syringes while Camden hid under the couch.


    After what had been a few minutes in real time, Nancy said, ¡°There, is that all you need?¡±


    ¡°That will do. We should have our override in just a few moments.¡±


    ¡°Now take me back upstairs,¡± Nancy said.


    Camden lifted the couch off of himself and rolled out into the room as quietly as he could.


    He peeked out into the hallway. The coast was clear back the way he came, but, in the other direction, he could now see fifteen or so guards moving the unconscious Mercers in the direction of the exit. He cursed under his breath.


    Just as he was about to cross the hallway to report back to the others, a voice sounded over the inte.


    ¡°Subject 4 spotted in room 113.¡±


    The message sounded again.


    Headquarters was back in control of the surveince system.


    Camden nced back at the door number next to the room. Room 113.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he said aloud.


    He appeared to consider running back to the others but thought better of it. He must not have wanted to reveal their location to those watching on from HQ.


    He mmed the door, locked it, and started moving furniture in front of it.


    A group of five soldiers broke off from those near the exit and ran toward the office he was hiding in.


    They began attempting to force the door open.


    ¡°Momma?¡± Bethany Mercer asked from within the small closet where they were hiding.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Dina answered.


    ¡°Kimberly needs our help.¡±


    ¡°Kimber-¡° Dina started to say. Her face glistened with sweat. ¡°One of the test subjects?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. She''s a nicedy. She¡¯s hiding. I think she needs us to find her.¡±


    Dina¡¯s husband interjected, ¡°How do you-" shook his head, dropping the subject. "<em>We¡¯re</em> hiding, honey. We can¡¯t help anyone else right now.¡±


    Bethany looked her mother in the eye. ¡°She needs us.¡±


    Dina looked at her daughter and then up at the door. They had sealed it very well with trash bags.


    As Dina considered what her daughter had told her, the camera panned out to show that the closet the family was hiding in was directly below the control room that Nancy Cartwright was standing in at that very moment.


    As Nancy Cartwright moved to leave the control room, one of the guards sitting at a terminal started howling in pain as he grasped his head.


    ¡°It¡¯s here!¡± Nancy yelled to the two guards nearest to her. ¡°We need to go!¡±


    She started to run back toward the elevator where the secret stairwell had been, but instead waved her credentials over a light switch and yet another stairwell opened up, this one leading down.


    ¡°Why would we go down?¡± one of the guards asked.


    Nancy started to run down the tiny stairwell. As she did, she said, ¡°The remaining Mercers are likely on this floor. The Distortion is trying to escape to above ground. It has no reason to follow us downward.¡±


    As they made it down to the floor below, Nancy opened the hidden door and piled out into the hallway.


    ¡°We need to go east. There is another stairwell that will take us up to the building across the street from the facility,¡± Nancy said. ¡°Let¡¯s get a move-¡°


    Nancy stopped short as she looked down the hallway and saw, to her horror, Dina and her family.


    ¡°Shit!¡± Nancy yelled, realizing her n was fatally wed. She was still assuming that the Poltergeist couldn''t manifest through the floors, as had been the case when the Mercers'' powers were weakened by their drug regimen.


    One of her guards grabbed his head in pain. The Poltergeist had tethered to him. Nancy began running down the hall to the east. Her guards followed, abandoning their orders to capture the Mercers out of fear.


    ¡°Don¡¯t follow me, you idiot!¡± Nancy screamed as she realized what was happening.


    They continued to run, but the camera didn¡¯t follow. Screams could be heard in the distance. Then, silence.


    ¡°We need to go upstairs now,¡± Dina said, as she limped forward toward the stairwell Nancy had just climbed down.


    Her husband helped support her weight as she went, their children sticking to their mother in order to protect her should the Poltergeist return.


    They climbed the stairs.


    As they did, the camera zoomed out to show that they were almost directly underneath the very room that Camden was being dragged out of. The further they climbed the stairs, the closer they became. They had him on his knees in the middle of the room. They had managed to break the door off its hinges and drag the furniture he had stacked up out into the hallway.


    Their guns were drawn on him as they awaited orders.


    As the shot refocused on him, Camden winced and balled his hands into a fist. The Poltergeist must have either killed Nancy Cartwright and the guards.


    It had apparently now remanifested and found a new host: Camden.


    He was immediately aware of it.


    He looked around the room for a n, suddenly less worried about the guns. His eyes rested on the white packages sticking out of the guards¡¯ pockets¡ªthe syringes filled with sedatives the guards had collected earlier.


    As he stared at the syringes, two of the guards were forcefully mmed together by an invisible force.


    The Poltergeist made its presence known.


    ¡°Kill the Host!¡± one of the men screamed, aiming his gun around looking for some evidence of which of them was tethered to the monster.


    Before the guard figured out who the host was, an invisible de cut a deep gash across his chest, slicing through his bulletproof vest and exposing his muscle and bone. He dropped to the ground and started to shake, either from some sort of seizure, fearful shock, or the influence of the psychokic phantom.


    The Poltergeist was powerful with Camden as its host.


    The other guards didn¡¯t do any better. They were tossed around the room with ease as they fired their guns into the air, hoping to somehow kill the entity.


    The Poltergeist worked through the men one at a time, many of whom were trying to escape, inflicting injury after injury.


    The men would drop to the ground, still screaming from sheer terror and pain. Like in the surveince video, the Distortion wasn''t killing anyone. It was keeping them alive as long as it could so it could tether to them.


    Camden crawled to one of the downed men and grabbed a handful of syringes from his vest pouch and began injecting each of the screaming men. As he did, they quieted down, their eyes closing.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± thest uninjured security officer asked as he watched Camden work.


    The entity lifted one of the sedated men into the air and started shaking him around.


    ¡°Getting rid of potential hosts,¡± Camden answered. He continued to disseminate the sedative. He looked at thest guard. ¡°You need to sedate yourself!¡±


    The man was terrified. ¡°Won¡¯t it kill us in our sleep?¡±


    The Poltergeist shoved the floating guardsman into the ceiling, causing a loud crack.


    ¡°Not if we use this stuff,¡± Camden said, turning the package over and reading thebel. ¡°Our minds won¡¯t be usable for a long while,¡± he inserted the needle into the thick of his bicep and pushed down the plunger. ¡°Not by us. Not by that thing.¡±


    His eyes began to droop almost immediately. ¡°They should have hired me¡­ for real.¡±


    With that, he was unconscious. The man floating in the air dropped to the ground.


    His n had worked.


    The guard, having seen the sedative sessfully nullify the Distortion, grabbed a syringe from his pouch and considered following Camden¡¯s warning, but his hands shook.


    He winced.


    He grabbed his head with his free hand, realizing that he had be host to the Poltergeist. As objects around the room started to float and the walls began to shake, he injected the final syringe into his arm. As he did, the shaking stopped.


    He fell unconscious.


    Nothing in the room moved. The Poltergeist had dissipated.


    He had taken a lot of the KRSL Agents off the board with that move, but there were still a dozen more to go.


    They stood between my friends and the exit.

 Chapter Eighty-Three: Curtains

    Chapter Eighty-Three: Curtains


    The elevator doors opened slowly.


    ¡°Something is wrong,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I told you he should have been back by now.¡±


    The hallway was empty.


    Antoine squeezed his way out and held the doors open for Anna and Kimberly to leave.


    ¡°Hush,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Someone ising.¡±


    He brandished his bat and hid near the corner, ready to bash whoever appeared


    As the footsteps got closer, Kimberly held out her hand and grabbed the bat. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    Antoine wasn¡¯t sure, but as the first figure rounded the corner, it was revealed to be Dina¡¯s husband.


    ¡°Please!¡± he begged when he saw Antoine¡¯s bat, ¡°We have children with us!¡±


    ¡°Miss Kimberly!¡± Bethany Mercer cried out and ran around the corner to greet Kimberly.


    ¡°Oh my god, Bethany!¡± Kimberly said, taking the little girl in her arms. ¡°You¡¯re okay!¡±


    Dina limped around the corner. She was standing on her feet better, likely because of her choice toe to help her allies in the Finale, which buffed her Grit and helpedbat her Hobbled status.


    There was a silence between them.


    Dina''s husband was unsure of whether he could trust my friends. After all, they were wearing KRSL uniforms.


    After a moment of sizing each other up, Dina asked, ¡°Are we escaping or what?¡±


    Antoine and Dina''s husband nodded.


    ¡°I''m guessing there''s no exit back the way you came,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Not that we could see,¡± Dina said.


    ¡°Our coworker, Camden, just went around the other direction. He hasn''te back.¡±


    ¡°Toward the entrance?¡±


    Antoine nodded.


    Dina looked past them in the direction Camden had gone. ¡°I would check it out,¡± she said. ¡°But my right foot is out ofmission.¡±


    ¡°I''ll go,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Be ready to run in the other direction.¡±


    He hugged Kimberly and told her that he would be back soon.


    He turned and followed in the direction that Camden had gone.


    It only took a little while for him to find the path of destruction that the poltergeist had left when attacking Camden. One of the guards was thrown out into the hallway along with all the furniture that they had yanked out of the room in order to get to him.


    As soon as he saw the guards and the blood, Antoine ran to the room and quickly looked for his friend. Camden and all of the surviving guardsy sleeping on the floor.


    Antoine rushed to Camden¡¯s side. He would have been able to see on the red wallpaper that Camden was still alive. He was simply unconscious. A needle from the sedative still hung out of his arm.


    Antoine pulled it out and looked at it. Between the needle and the unconscious guards, he put together what had just happened.


    ¡°Clever.¡±


    He picked Camden up and threw him over his right shoulder, easily carrying him.


    He nced at the exit. He didn''t see any of the guards.


    What to do?


    Antoine quickly made his way back to the others.


    ¡°Oh my God is he dead?¡± Dina''s husband asked.


    ¡°Just knocked out,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I didn''t see anyone up by the exit but that doesn''t mean they''re not there. There are some dead and unconscious guards. We might be able to get some weapons off of them. They had these weird-looking cone-shaped things as well as some handguns.¡±


    ¡°Those weapons that they carry are sound-based,¡± Dina said. ¡°I learned about them while I was locked up. One of the guards was really talkative. They tried to use them against the invisible thing. It didn''t work.¡±


    Dr. Mentes had mentioned that. The weapons they designed to harm the entity had no effect despite previous indications that they ought to.


    ¡°I say we take their handguns and make for the exit,¡± Anna said.


    With me dead and Camden unconscious, there were no high Savvy yers to make a n. That wasn¡¯t to say the others were incapable of making a good n. On the contrary, they all had their own strengths when it came to strategizing. But the added security of having a high Savvy yer make a n really made things feel safer. That¡¯s what Savvy was for, after all. It helped your ns work better.


    ¡°Are you going to lug him around with you?¡± Dina¡¯s husband asked.


    Antoine looked offended at the question. ¡°We can''t leave him. He helped us.¡±


    ¡°Let''s just go,¡± Anna said.


    She headed off toward the room where Camden had been.


    They found three handguns, but only a few rounds of ammo apiece for them. They were lucky to find that much with the way the guards had been blind firing at the Poltergeist.


    While each of them was armed, Antoine took the lead. His high Hustle and Mettle was the lethalbo with firearms.


    Truthfully, I was concerned. While having the guns might make them feel safe, I worried how Carousel would respond.


    As they move closer to the exit, it almost seemed like they were going to make it, but of course, that would have been too easy.


    As soon as they exited the hallway and entered the main lobby, the dozen or so remaining guards emerged from the other hallway to the left, their firearms trained on my friends.


    ¡°Go back!¡± Antoine screamed as a hail of bullets started to pelt the wall behind them.


    As he followed them back, he fired a shot at one of the guards, striking him in the face and getting a kill. His next few bullets weren''t so well-aimed.


    As they rounded the corner back the way they hade, Antoine said, ¡°I''m out!¡±


    He had used up all the bullets that his gun had. Kimberly was quick to give hers up, giving Antoine another chance.


    Antoine gently ced Camden down against the wall.


    ¡°We''ll have toe back for him,¡± he said.


    ¡°Steven!¡± Dina yelled.


    I didn¡¯t know who Steven was. I hadn¡¯t seen the first part of the movie.


    ¡°Daddy!¡± Dina¡¯s kids screamed.


    Dina¡¯s husband slumped to the floor. A tranquilizer dart was sticking out of his back. He had strayed too far from the group. One of the gunmen must have been aiming for the Mercers with the goal of putting them to sleep.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Dina asked.


    They couldn¡¯t escape, not together. Dina couldn¡¯t move quickly on her own. Camden was unconscious. With Dina¡¯s husband down, their options narrowed incredibly.


    ¡°Kids,¡± Dina said. ¡°Where is the ghost?¡±


    Bethany and her brother looked at each other.


    ¡°He¡¯s tired,¡± Bethany said sleepily.


    As she said that, I realized what that really meant was that Bethany and her brother were tired. Even with a host, the Poltergeist still relied on the Mercers to exist. They were down to the two exhausted Mercer children.


    Kimberly spoke up. ¡°You know about the Distortion?¡±


    Bethany nodded. None of the other Mercers had appeared to understand the presence of the entity as well as Dina¡¯s children. Knowledge of such things often faded after adulthood in movies. Psychic kids often had greater knowledge or wisdom than their age might suggest.


    More shots were fired.


    ¡°We need the ghost,¡± Dina said. ¡°Can you find him?¡±


    Bethany started to cry. ¡°He¡¯s hurt.¡±


    Even psychokic entities needed rest, apparently.


    More shots were fired. Antoine fired back, hitting one guard in the neck. He was out of bullets again.


    Kimberly got down on her knees with the kids. ¡°What if I helped you?¡±


    Bethany looked at her strangely.


    ¡°My family has powers too,¡± Kimberly exined. ¡°I¡¯ll help you find the ghost.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m scared,¡± Bethany said.


    ¡°He attacked Mom,¡± Dina¡¯s son said.


    ¡°I know he did,¡± Dina said. ¡°But he will protect you. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    Kimberly grabbed onto the kids¡¯ hands. ¡°We¡¯ll do it together,¡± she said.


    She was going to try to improvise. She had high Moxie and some narrative foundation. Still, I felt this was far more extreme than my improvising a system reboot.


    If this didn¡¯t work, they would be dead.


    If it did work, they might still be dead.


    ¡°We can do it,¡± Kimberly said, tears filling her eyes.


    Kimberly and the two Mercer children focused their minds. Bethany started to cry even harder.


    More shots came over them. Antoine had spent all of the bullets. The guards were getting braver, making their way across the room toward the ce where everyone was hiding.


    ¡°He¡¯s here,¡± Bethany said softly. She pointed to a space ten feet away from them. Right in the line of fire.


    Anna looked at the ce where Bethany was pointing. Then she looked back at Kimberly.


    Then they were gone.


    ~


    The screen shed back to the moment of my death. The Poltergeist wasn¡¯t visible to the camera. All that could be seen was me about to die.


    ¡°Protect Kimberly,¡± I yelled through the pain. ¡°Protect her kid!¡±


    ~


    It was a shback used to show what Anna was thinking.


    I knew that because moments after the Poltergeist remanifested in its weakest form, Anna ran across the room in the direction Bethany had pointed. I wasn''t expecting her to do that.


    As she did, she cried out in pain as a bullet grazed her left thigh. Then she cried out again as an intense headache overcame her and she trembled to make contact with the Poltergeist.


    None of the other bullets seemed to hit her. They were stopping mid-air, bouncing off of some unseen thing.


    ¡°Oh my god!¡± Kimberly screamed as she looked at the Poltergeist. Kimberly could see it. So could the Mercer children, if their looks of terror said anything.


    Of course, Anna saw it too.


    And it horrified her.


    From my vantage on Deathwatch, I couldn¡¯t see it. It was invisible on-screen.


    The gunmen continued attempting to shoot her. The bullets couldn''t get past the Poltergeist.


    Breaking through the gunfire, a crackle came over the inte system.


    ¡°Tell us!¡± a frantic voice yelled out, ¡°What does the Distortion look like?¡±


    Anna took a moment to answer.


    ~


    The image changed. I didn¡¯t see Anna any longer. Nor did I see the armed guards or the exit.


    I saw myself. It was another shback.


    I was standing in the control room alone, staring at something with a look of abject terror on my face.


    It was the scene where I died again.


    The Poltergeist still wasn¡¯t visible to the camera, nor were the spectral shades of the Mercers.


    It was just me, staring at some invisible thing in the center of the room.


    ¡°Don¡¯t picture it in your mind! Don¡¯t look at its ws or teeth,¡± I yelled. ¡°It needs us to see it to exist!¡±


    ~


    My view was back on Anna. Again, Carousel used a shback to illustrate what Anna was thinking about.


    She held her hands up instinctively, blocking out the creature as I had. She had anger in her eyes as she appeared to contemte the words I had yelled before my death.


    She lowered her hands. She wasn¡¯t going to block the creature out any longer.


    ¡°Tell us what it looks like!¡± the voice over the inte screamed. Someone at KRSL was desperate to know more about the Distortion.


    I could tell she was working things out in her head, watching the creature take form as it drew power from her mind.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ enormous!¡± Anna screamed.


    The whites of her eyes turned red as the blood vessels in them broke. A stream of blood started to trickle from her ear.


    In the center of the room, a row of security desks started to move across the floor with a deafening screech. Overhead, a hanging light fixture was knocked to the side. Cuts dug into the ground as the invisible creature¡¯s ws grew long and sharp.


    The Poltergeist was getting bigger. Anna wasn¡¯t trying to kill it like I had been. She didn¡¯t have the Moxie for that anyway. She was making it stronger.


    ¡°Kill the host!¡± themander of the guards screamed as he ran down the left hallway away from the Poltergeist and my friends.


    In one fell swoop, three of the guards were cut into ribbons and thrown across the room.


    The creature easily destroyed the security area that blocked the exit. My friends would have a clear path to leave as soon as the monster was gone.


    The remaining seven guards turned to follow theirmander, sending back shots at the Poltergeist, at Anna herself.


    One brave guard fixed his aim on Anna as the creature attacked again with its ws, skewering two more guards before they could flee.


    The guard pulled the trigger.


    A spray of red mist burst from the back of Anna¡¯s head. She dropped to the ground, dead. My heart nearly stopped when it happened.


    The guard that had shot her was shaking, wide-eyed with fear. He turned to the center of the room where the Poltergeist had been.


    There was stillness.


    The guard looked at Kimberly, Antoine, and Dina. It looked like he was about to spray them with bullets when he spotted the two Mercer children. Panic overcame him and he turned to follow hisrades.


    The camera followed him as he ran through the halls and caught up with the other guards.


    ¡°The host was terminated,¡± he said with a quiver.


    ¡°Do we go back and apprehend them?¡± one of the other guards asked, his eyes on themander.


    Themander looked back the way they hade. ¡°Maybe we wait for¡­¡± he was wracking his brain for a reasonable excuse to avoid getting near the Mercers.


    Just then, a desk moved across the room and struck one of the guards.


    Themander assessed his men and saw that one of them was holding his head in pain.


    ¡°Kill the host!¡± he screamed, as he shot the afflicted guard in the head.


    The desk stopped moving.


    Another of his men winced in pain.


    Themander raised his gun to them.


    ¡°No please do-¡° the guard yelled as the Commander executed him.


    There was silence again.


    The remaining three men looked at one another distrustfully.


    The Commander closed his eyes and raised his left hand to his temple in pain. Horror spread across his face as he realized that he had be the host.


    One of his two remaining subordinates motioned to fire at him. They had been instructed to kill the host, after all.


    But the Commander was quicker. He shot the guard in the head first, unwilling to die, regardless of whether he was tethered to the creature.


    His efforts were in vain.


    A red hole appeared in the center of the Commander¡¯s head as thest remaining guard killed him and was left alone.


    The grand irony: the camera panned around to show that all of the guards had the same sedatives Camden had used to sedate himself and his assants. They carried them in their vests to use on the remaining Mercers. They didn''t seem to realize they could be used to quell the Poltergeist.


    Therge military vehicle that the Mercers had been loaded into was parked right outside the door at the entrance to the building. When Dina limped up to the cabin of the truck, she found the vehicle on with the keys in the ignition.


    ¡°Come on!¡± she screamed.


    Antoine carried both Dina¡¯s husband and Camden as he made his way toward the exit. The kids were nearly wiped out from exhaustion. That was good. It meant the Poltergeist was unlikely to remanifest.


    Kimberly worked to rouse them out the door.


    Red lights started to re and the doors to the entrance began closing.


    ¡°Shit!¡± Antoine said. He dropped his cargo and ran to the door.


    At first, he tried to hold the doors open with his own strength, but that didn¡¯t work well. He got an idea.


    He took his baseball bat from its improvised holster and held it longways between the closing doors, propping them apart.


    He and Kimberly worked quickly to get everyone outside and into the vehicle.


    They seeded in doing so before the bat broke under the pressure.


    As the credits rolled, they drove away from the facility, having escaped.


    THE END


    They did it! It wasn¡¯t perfect, but they had pulled it off. Even in my dark existence watching the film y out in my mind¡¯s eye, I was pping and cheering.


    Red curtains closed, blocking off my mental view of the screen.


    Then, for the first time since I had started using Deathwatch, I realized I wasn¡¯t alone.


    Other people were pping and cheering too.


    I was in a movie theater after all.


    As I turned my head to see who it was, all went dark. My true eyes opened. I found myself walking out the door of the facility, resurrected on my feet wearing my old clothes.


    ¡°Congrattions,¡± Ss said. ¡°You¡¯ve won a ticket!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t pay attention to him at that moment.


    Who were those people?

 Chapter Eighty-Four: Workers Compensation

    Chapter Eighty-Four: Worker''s Compensation


    As I walked out onto the sidewalk where my friends and Ss were, I noticed right away that Kimberly and Anna were having an emotional moment.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t. I said it was okay,¡± Anna responded gently. She had been crying. Her eyes had that empty look that I now associated with dying in a storyline.


    They continued their conversation with Kimberly continuously apologizing through tears.


    As I approached the others, I asked, ¡°What¡¯s going on? Are they okay?¡±


    Camden turned to me with a concerned look on his face. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure,¡± he said. ¡°I was asleep for the final battle.¡±


    Antoine had moved closer to them and was trying tofort Kimberly, so I looked to Dina for answers. She was watching over the conversation with an intentional detachment.


    She took a deep breath.


    ¡°The n was for Kimberly to be the host of the monster and then try to control it because of her buffs and stuff. They thought it might work.¡± Dina exined. ¡°She got scared of dying so the other one became the host instead and got shot in the head.¡±


    Antoine overheard Dina¡¯s exnation. ¡°No. I took us off-screen," He said, attempting to be a gentle diplomat, "We talked it over. It was something we <em>all </em>decided.¡±


    I understood. Kimberly had always been very afraid of dying in a storyline. Couldn''t really me her. We had to all but promised that we would never put her in the position of dying until she was ready. It was the reason she left her most powerful trope, Looks Don¡¯t Last, at home even though it could be very useful.


    I didn¡¯t care as long as she contributed, which she did. It wasn¡¯t like I couldin to anyone. Anna was her best friend and Antoine was her boyfriend. Camden wasn¡¯t going to cause a fuss even if it did bother him.


    It made more sense that Kimberly was originally the one who was supposed to be the host. She might have been able to control itpletely. So much had been set up for that moment. It probably would have worked.


    Anna rushing in and taking her ce wasn''t as well set up, even with the shbacks Carousel used to try to exin it away, but it worked pretty well too.


    I wasn¡¯t going to get involved just yet, but her decision to back down had undermined a lot of narrative momentum. Eventually, we would have to deal with it.


    ¡°Smart thinking with the sedatives,¡± I said.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Camden responded. ¡°I just realized that if the sedative worked to stop the manifestation, it might also work to stop the tethe¡ªWait. How do you know about the syringes?¡±


    I smirked and took out my Director¡¯s Monitor trope. I told him about Deathwatch and seeing the story from the point of view of the audience.


    Our conversation even managed to distract the others from their apologies and I had to repeat it all so they could all hear. I told them about the other people cheering and pping in the audience.


    "And Kimberly," I said, "You did great. I couldn''t even tell that something had happened."


    I wasn''t sure if that did anything to make her feel better but I had to take a shot.


    ¡°So that¡¯s how we get aspects,¡± Camden said. ¡°We have to die?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. That¡¯s how it works for Film Buffs. It¡¯s probably different for other archetypes. Todd said something about it a long time ago, but I didn¡¯t really understand it at the time.¡±


    ¡°What did the people in the audience look like?¡± Anna asked. She was tired but trying to sound interested and concerned.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell,¡± I answered. ¡°I couldn''t make myself look that direction in time.¡±


    We took some time to discuss who it could be. Dead Film Buffs? Some eldritch audience that we have been enved to entertain? Maybe they were just random NPCs. We didn¡¯t get too long to talk about it because Ss the Showman was getting impatient.


    ¡°I¡¯d say you''re really pushing my buttons,¡± Ss said. ¡°But that¡¯s exactly what you¡¯re not doing! Hehehe.¡±


    Antoine walked up to the mechanical fortune teller and pped his red button. There was a moment of hesitation as his hand got close, but he pushed through it.


    He received three tropes, two stat tickets, and a monster card for one of the KRSL Agents he killed. He had gotten his bat back and intact, as well as an unloaded handgun that he pulled off a guard and three syringes of the sedative that he had taken from the guards after finding Camden. He never used them, so that part got cut from the movie.<blockquote>Like a Security nket</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Buff/Perk</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Any</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Any</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: N/A</blockquote><blockquote>Whether in the movies or in real life, holding some means of protection can calm the nerves and make you brave enough to do what needs to be done.</blockquote><blockquote>When this ticket is equipped, the yer¡¯s Grit is buffed merely by brandishing a weapon, even if that weapon has little hope of doing any good.</blockquote><blockquote>The boost to one¡¯s sense of safety radiates through the yer and calms them in scary situations. The more powerful the weapon and the more proficient the yer is with it, the more nearby allies will feel the same sense of security.</blockquote><blockquote>¡°A knife in the hand is better than two in the chest.¡±</blockquote>


    That was an easy buff and a great perk. Easing fear might not be so useful on paper, but as Carousel started to wear on us, every mental health perk we could get was a godsend.<blockquote>Reload After Cut</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Action</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Any</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Any</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: N/A</blockquote><blockquote>In a lot of movies, you never see the characters reload their guns during an intense fight. Their guns just never run out of ammo.</blockquote><blockquote>When this trope is equipped, the yer goes Off-Screen as soon as they start to reload and goes back On-Screen shortly after they finish. Requires for them to be empty when reloading <em>and </em>to have more bullets to load.</blockquote><blockquote>"Off-Screen to reload, On-Screen to unload."</blockquote>


    Arthur had this same trope. I was d to see it. When Antoine had the ability to bring guns into a storyline, we would have another way to go Off-Screen. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was better than his Time-Out trope or not.<blockquote>Swing Away</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Action</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Athlete</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Sport</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: Moxie</blockquote><blockquote>In the heat of a confrontation, a show of force can sometimes be enough to deter an enemy.</blockquote><blockquote>When this trope is equipped, the yer''s character can swing their weapon, creating a momentary pause in the enemy''s attack. This can provide a crucial window of opportunity for the yer to strategize or escape. Usually works the first time. Repeated uses seed based on Moxie and believability in context.</blockquote><blockquote>"Sometimes, the mere threat of violence is enough to keep the monsters at bay."</blockquote>


    This seemed like an easy way for some temporary invulnerability. Antoine would have to use it well.


    His monster card was the following:<blockquote>KRSL Agent</blockquote><blockquote>Killer</blockquote><blockquote>Within the depths of the malevolent KRSL Corporation, the ominous KRSL Agent emerges. He is a soulless executioner, trained to kill and obey without question.</blockquote><blockquote>Beware the KRSL Agent, for he is a chilling force without morality or conscience, his actions leaving only devastation in their wake. In the shadows, his presence looms, a harbinger of unrelenting darkness and mechanicalughter, embodying the very essence of KRSL''s malevolence.</blockquote>


    Kimberly was next. She got two tropes and one stat ticket. This was a surprise for me. I thought she did awesome. Apparently, her panicking in the Final Battle cost her a lot. With Anna''s Shared Experience trope helping her out, she still did okay.<blockquote>Carousel Academy Awards</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Buff</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Eye Candy</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Celebrity</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: N/A</blockquote><blockquote>The glitz and mour of award ceremonies can have a profound impact on an actor''s confidence, and this trope captures that essence.</blockquote><blockquote>When this trope is equipped, the yer''s Moxie gets a boost based on their performance in the previous storyline. This reflects the surge of confidence and charisma thates from the actor''s recent notable acting award win. Let¡¯s face it, the audience loves an award-winning actor.</blockquote><blockquote>Beware: a poor performance can turn this boon into a curse.</blockquote><blockquote>"The spotlight''s on you, the world''s a stage, and every monster''s a critic waiting to be impressed."</blockquote>


    A basic buff in a good stat for Kimberly. She would have to wait to use it until she got a better performance.<blockquote>Does anyone have a scrunchy?</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Action</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Eye Candy</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Beauty</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: Moxie</blockquote><blockquote>The audience forms their opinion of a character by how they act, how attractive they are, and even how their hair is styled. The simple act of putting hair up can often signal a shift in focus and determination. Both fighters and rocket scientists usually wear their hair up and out of the way in movies.</blockquote><blockquote>When this trope is equipped, the yercan put their hair up or in a ponytail, transferring a portion of their Moxie stat into their Savvy, Hustle, or Mettle stat depending on context.</blockquote><blockquote>The yer can reverse this transfer by putting their hair back down properly, returning the stats to their original state in the next scene. Fails after repeated use.</blockquote><blockquote>"New hair, new me!"</blockquote>


    This was interesting. An action that could redistribute stats. The Eye Candy appeared to have a lot of ways to buff stats based on the situation. That could really work well with her Convenient Backstory trope.


    Anna soldiered through her mental fatigue and pushed the button. She got two tropes and two stat tickets.<blockquote>Final Stand-In</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Action</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Final Girl</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Scream Queen</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: Moxie</blockquote><blockquote>The trope of self-sacrifice is a powerful one in horror movies, often leading to unexpected oues.</blockquote><blockquote>When activated, the Final Girl can temporarily pass her "Last One Alive" status to an established ally during the Finale by performing a self-sacrifice. This must be set up in the Party through forshadowing. Can only work on the singr character it is set up on. The self-sacrifice cannot be used to prevent nebulous deaths, only those that are imminent. This cannot be used to circumvent trope-guaranteed deaths. If the Final Girl does not die, the effect is reversed. It can only be used if there are no other allies remaining.</blockquote><blockquote>"Sometimes, the Final Girl isn''t thest one standing."</blockquote>


    This was a game-changer. We needed to be careful though. It could cause some resentment.<blockquote>Steal the Spotlight</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Buff/Debuff</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Any</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Any</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: Moxie</blockquote><blockquote>No matter how important a character may be to the narrative, another one can sometimes steal the scene or even the whole show by upstaging them.</blockquote><blockquote>When equipped, the yer can steal an ally''s buffs by upstaging them in a climactic moment and stepping in to finish what they started. This can happen in increments or all at once depending on the yer¡¯s Moxie and actions.</blockquote><blockquote>"You stole my thunder!"</blockquote><blockquote>¡°You mean <em>our</em> thunder.¡±</blockquote>


    Given the fact that Anna had, in fact, taken Kimberly¡¯s ce in this recent storyline, it made sense that she would receive this. It was ripe for strategizing.


    Camden received two tropes and two stat tickets.<blockquote>Peer Review</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Insight</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Schr equipped with <em>Eureka</em>!</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Researcher</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: Savvy</blockquote><blockquote>There is no show of raw intelligence greater than to look at a massive report or collection of data and be able to confidently dere that it is wrong. Unfortunately, knowing too much is rarely good for one¡¯s health.</blockquote><blockquote>When equipped, the yer is alerted if scientific, technical, or other documentation they encounter has been altered, faked, or is otherwise incorrect. The higher the Savvy, the more information about the nature of the w is received. The yer will not automatically know what the truth is, only that something is false.</blockquote><blockquote>"Truth is the first casualty of fear, but not on my watch."</blockquote>


    Solid but situational.<blockquote>Fine, I¡¯ll Go First</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Action</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Schr</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Strategist</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: Savvy</blockquote><blockquote>Convincing others to do something that is scary or uncertain can take a lot of charisma or intimidation. Some characters don¡¯t have either. What they might have, is the certainty that they are right and the willingness to bet it all on their ns.</blockquote><blockquote>With this trope equipped, the yer can substitute their Savvy for Moxie when trying to get other characters to do something for their own safety. All they need to do to activate the trope is lead by example and be the first to do whatever action they are imploring others to do.</blockquote><blockquote>¡°Oh, sure, copy the smart guy.¡±</blockquote>


    That was a great way to get around his low Moxie. Interesting.


    Dina received two tropes and two stat tickets.<blockquote>They Fell Off</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Action</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Outsider</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Criminal</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: Moxie</blockquote><blockquote>In movies, almost anything can be used to work the lock of handcuffs in order to unlock them.</blockquote><blockquote>When equipped, the trope allows the yer to unlock handcuffs or simr restraints using small objects to pick the lock by pretending to do so. Only works On-Screen.</blockquote><blockquote>"Every lock has a key, and sometimes, it''s not what you''d expect."</blockquote>


    That made sense. Could be useful.<blockquote>Pen Pal</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Perk</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Outsider</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Stranger</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: N/A</blockquote><blockquote>The mysterious character whose motives and allegiance are unknown can sometimes be there to help all along.</blockquote><blockquote>When this trope is equipped, it enables the yer to leave messages at various locations within the game setting. Allies be aware of these messages when they reach the same location.</blockquote><blockquote>These messages can either be out of character and Off-Screen, or in character and On-Screen as part of the narrative. If performed well On-Screen, they can carry great narrative weight.</blockquote><blockquote>"What does the note say?"</blockquote><blockquote>¡°It says the killer is one of us.¡±</blockquote>


    At least we would have some way of talking to her about whatever plotline she had been assigned. I felt like this was most useful for very specific scenarios and settings where we wouldn¡¯t get many scene breaks.


    I received two tropes and one stat ticket as well as a monster ticket. I expected my sacrifice to me more than that, but I was a higher level than my teammates technically.<blockquote>shback Revtion</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Perk</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Film Buff</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Filmmaker</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: Savvy</blockquote><blockquote>Sometimes a character¡¯s words before death are all they can leave behind to help allies, if only those words are remembered.</blockquote><blockquote>When this trope is equipped, a yer on Deathwatch can trigger a shback for an ally to help remind them of advice given before death. It could be anything from an inaudible message heard only by the ally or aplete visible recreation of the original scene that even the audience sees. If the shback fits the narrative well enough during a climactic moment, it will make the final cut and send allies Off-Screen temporarily.</blockquote><blockquote>The amount of shbacks avable depend on Savvy and the quality of dialogue shared between the yers. The trope only allows the yer to send this information if the ally actually heard the original dialogue.</blockquote><blockquote>At higher levels, the yer can send shbacks of other characters¡¯ words or even images.</blockquote><blockquote>¡°The truth was right in front of you. You just need to pay attention.¡±</blockquote>


    At least I would have something to do while dead. It could really be useful.<blockquote>Out Like a Light</blockquote><blockquote>Type: Perk</blockquote><blockquote>Archetype: Any</blockquote><blockquote>Aspect: Any</blockquote><blockquote>Stat Used: Moxie</blockquote><blockquote>In movies, characters can fall asleep on cue. They can be asleep before their head hits the pillow, before they even know they are falling asleep.</blockquote><blockquote>With this trope equipped, the yer will be able to fall asleep onmand byying down and trying, assuming it makes sense within the narrative in some way. Can be counteracted by enemy tropes.</blockquote><blockquote>¡°Best sleep well tonight. You¡¯ll probably die in the morning.¡±</blockquote>


    This was a strong contender for my favorite trope I had ever received.


    My monster ticket didn¡¯t have a monster on its face or an enemy at all. It had an image of an old man wearing a white gown putting a puzzle together. It was the patient I had identally killed when I attacked the Poltergeist.<blockquote>Paul Kimble, Grandson of Eloise Mercer</blockquote><blockquote>Psychic</blockquote><blockquote>Inside the chilling halls of Mercer Manor, a young Paul Kimble would often listen to the captivating tales of the ghostly presence that resided within. Gradually, he came to realize that every ce he called home had its own spectral inhabitant. Little did he know that when he thought his home was infested with specters and ghouls, he was actually haunting himself by unconsciously manifesting a protective Poltergeist.</blockquote><blockquote>In his thirty-fifth year, Paul''s life took a tragic turn when the bank where he worked fell prey to a violent robbery. The details remained fragmented in his memory, save for the swift demise of the assant which he remembers vividly. From that point forward, his abode shifted to whichever padded cell the mysterious organization known as KRSLmanded him to sleep in. Paul never tried to escape and reenter society, never fully trusting the spectral heirloom that he had never been able to control.</blockquote>


    That made me feel kind of bad.


    All I knew was that I would be testing out my sleeping trope as soon as we got back to the Lodge. I had been healed, so my body wasn¡¯t tired, but my mind had not rested in days. More than that. I hadn¡¯t slept well once.


    I actually smiled as we began our trek home.

 Chapter Eighty-Five: The Criminal and the Wallflower

    Chapter Eighty-Five: The Criminal and the Wallflower


    As soon as we walked through the front door of Dyer¡¯s Lodge, Todd got a look at us and immediately ducked his head out the back door and yelled, ¡°They''re alive!¡±


    Things had changed since we had left.


    The chalkboards with all of the Secret Lore information had been filled out with tons of new stuff, but they had all been moved away from the main area and new boards were being set up where they had been. At the top of one of the new boards, the words ¡°Western Excursion¡± were written.


    The Western Excursion was the big run that the highest-level Vets had been prepping ever since Valorie had earned an Excursion Train ticket after the Grotesque storyline. They were nearly ready to depart, apparently.


    Soon after Todd announced our return, we were waved out onto the back deck where most of the yers were congregated eating burgers that Grace had made out on the grill.


    As soon as we got out there, Chris found Antoine and, after a quick evaluation, put his arm around his shoulders and said with augh, ¡°A five-day storyline! After that nasty business, you go out and disappear for five days?¡±


    He put Antoine into a yful headlock.


    Antoine¡¯s mood picked up as he wrestled with his brother.


    ¡°Five days?¡± Camden asked. ¡°We were gone three days.¡±


    Todd, who was nearby, said, ¡°You must have got done early. Still, you¡¯ve been gone for five days.¡±


    That was a fun fact.


    I soon found myself loading a burger with my choice of toppings. Sleep would have to wait.


    ¡°So where did you go?¡± Chris asked as he released Antoine from the headlock. ¡°Lara used her irvoyance and said you were underground but that something was blocking her. We were worried.¡±


    ¡°We were underground!¡± Antoine said. ¡°We got locked up in a facility for a psychic experiment by a bunch of scientists working for a corporation.¡±


    ¡°KRSL?¡± Todd asked.


    Antoine nodded. He pulled out his enemy ticket showing that he had killed a KRSL Agent.


    ¡°They¡¯re all over the ce. They sell contaminated pharmaceuticals, do shady coverups, engineer zombie viruses, the works.¡±


    We sat and talked about Subject of Inquiry for thirty minutes or so, detailing everything we had been up to, from Dina being locked in a cell for a couple of days, to me watching the facility from the cameras.


    We didn¡¯t talk about the nearly botched finale. Kimberly was still upset over it and it would have ruined the mood.


    As we talked, Sam, an Adventurer archetype I had only recently met, nced at me and stared for a moment. He was looking at me on the red wallpaper. After a while, you learn to pick up on when someone is doing that.


    ¡°You got your aspect,¡± Sam said.


    I nodded.


    As I did, I realized that I could see his aspect too. That information had been invisible to me before. Now, it was listed on a que under everyone¡¯s movie poster.


    Sam¡¯s poster was of him climbing in a cave with a heamp. Behind him, the glint of an axe was visible, being held by an unseen assant. ¡°Samuel Wheeler is <em>The Adventurer.</em>¡±


    Despite that, he still had his original base archetype, Athlete, though the poster for that was not visible. His aspect? Health Nut.


    Not the best name, but it wasn¡¯t any worse than Fanatic or Hysteric.


    I started looking around at the Vets to see what aspects they had chosen. Before I got much progress, I was interrupted.


    ¡°You did get your aspect!¡± Lukas yelled from across the deck. He must have been eavesdropping. He got up and walked over to me. I observed that he had a trope called, ¡°They¡¯re talking about me, aren¡¯t they?¡± that allowed him to read lips.


    ¡°What was the feat you had to do to trigger the aspect choice?¡± Todd asked. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since we¡¯ve had a Film Buff around. I don''t remember it.¡±


    ¡°I had to die in a storyline,¡± I said.


    ¡°Me too!¡± Lukas said. He raised his hand for a high five.


    I reluctantly raised my hand up to his and he pped it hard.


    Lukas was a Frantic-Hysteric. That made sense.


    Todd was a Jokester-Comedian.


    Chris was a Sport-Athlete.


    Whoever named those things must have had really weird taste.


    I went on and on and on. I felt like I was learning a lot about the Vets that I hadn''t known before. They were assigned their Archetype, but they <em>chose </em>their Aspect. I found it interesting.


    ¡°My Plot Armor is 21,¡± Anna said. She had just gotten the two stat tickets she needed to get there. ¡°What do I have to do to choose my aspect?¡±


    It was a good question. She couldn¡¯t exactly die in a storyline to get hers.


    Valorie was quick to tell her the bad news. If she wanted to get her aspect, she needed to be the Last One Alive in a storyline.


    Valorie was a Team Leader-Final Girl.


    She would know.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t the soldiers have their aspects yet?¡± I asked. There were three soldiers that I could see. I had only really gotten to know one of them, Garrett. None of them had aspects.


    I looked around for someone who might know the answer.


    ¡°Soldiers have to clear a rescue mission to get their aspect,¡± Todd said. ¡°Kind of hard for them to do that.¡±


    It certainly was.


    Without Rescue Tropes, there were no rescue storylines.


    After some more discussion, we learned all of the required feats each of my team would need to do to get our aspects.


    Antoine would have to best a strong or fast monster in a contest of physicality during the Final Battle.


    Camden would simrly have to outwit a Savvy-based enemy in the Finale.


    Kimberly would need to give a five-star performance in a storyline that was at or above her level.


    Dina would have toplete a storyline Unscathed, while also helping resolve the main plotline.


    Those sounded more like actual feats than simply dying in a storyline. But still, they didn''t have to die.


    From there on in, the conversation continued in much the same way, with the Vets reminiscing about getting their aspects.


    As things moved forward, I started remembering how tired I was.


    I left the back deck and made my way inside with an eye for my bunk. As I entered the Lodge, though, I saw Arthur and Adaline over near the Western Excursion board. They were arguing.


    ¡°Why does it have to be you?¡± Adaline asked. ¡°Is this because you don¡¯t think they can handle it?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Arthur answered.


    ¡°They are high enough in level and they have been working as a team for as long as they have been here,¡± Adaline said. She was whisper-yelling.


    ¡°I have to go,¡± Arthur said. ¡°I need to be there.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Adaline asked. ¡°There are plenty of storylines where having a Monster Hunter around would actually make things worse. You know that, right? Sending in a team with a variety of flexible Archetypes is more logical.¡±


    ¡°I can be a Schr if need be,¡± Arthur said.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t been a Schr in a storyline in a decade,¡± Adaline said. ¡°You¡¯re out of practice.¡±


    ¡°I need to be there to make sure that they are safe,¡± Arthur said.


    Adaline paused and stared at Arthur.


    ¡°To make sure they don¡¯t disappear?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer. I knew why.


    I could hear the Axe Murderer breathing just from her mentioning the disappearances.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± Arthur eventually said.


    Adaline pursed her lips and turned away from him. ¡°I¡¯ve given you a lot of leeway¡­ Sending you out there risks all of our lives.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m no good here,¡± Arthur said. ¡°I can¡¯t rescue anyone. I can¡¯t just sit around and wait, hoping theye back. If it really is the way to the other side of the mountain, I need to be there.¡±


    I noticed Adaline¡¯s eyes lift toward the door where I was standing. I started walking toward my room, hoping not to make things awkward.


    ¡°Filmmaker, huh?¡± Adaline asked. ¡°Instead of¡­ Critic or¡­¡±


    ¡°Fanatic,¡± I said. ¡°Filmmaker was the best fit.¡±


    ¡°Good to hear,¡± she said. ¡°You all are making some real progress.¡±


    I nodded and said, ¡°Thanks. Ready to sleep for a week.¡±


    ¡°Try to be awake for the brief tomorrow at noon,¡± she said, pointing at the Western Excursion chalkboard.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there.¡±


    As I left the main hall and found my way to Camden¡¯s and my room, I made eye contact with Arthur.


    I could guess the real reason that Arthur needed to go on the Western Excursion. What they were about to do could very easily cross the line into cheating. Their n was to try to reach the lights on the other side of the mountain from the west.


    Someone who had seen the Axe Murderer needed to be there so that they could tell if they were going too far.


    At first, it surprised me to hear that none of the high-level vets had seen the Rulekeeper. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Most people who had seen the Rulekeeper had done so when their teammates got chopped to bits. Separated from their original teams, leveling up was pretty difficult unless you got lucky and found a team to take you.


    More than that, knowing that there was a mysterious entity enforcing the rules probably prevented yers from leaving theirfort zones enough to level up.


    As I fell into my bunk, I stared out the window. I could see the NPC campers ying hopscotch and daring each other to go explore the forbidden cabin.


    I felt that I wouldy there contemting everything that had happened thest few days for hours as had be my habit, but I greatly underestimated how easy it was to trigger my Out Like a Light trope. Ten seconds after my head hit the pillow, I closed my eyes and didn''t open them again until morning.


    And it was glorious.


    I rose with the sun, rested and ready to take on a new day. A day that wouldn¡¯t have any invisible monsters or security duty.


    I actually woke up smiling.


    A peek at the top bunk told me Camden was still asleep. He hadn¡¯t woken me when he came in the night before.


    I made my way out of the room and into the main hall of the Lodge. Other yers were up doing their morning routines.


    Several were reading a newspaper that was delivered to the front door. They had split it up and were each reading different parts. It listed scheduled Omens, sales at various shops, and stuff like that; all kinds of useful information was avable if you knew how to read between the lines. At face value, it was just a normal small-town newspaper.


    Lukas was filling his jug with coffee.


    As he saw me, he sheepishly asked if I wanted any. I waved him off. I was plenty awake.


    I took a seat on a couch that faced the corner where the chalkboards for the Secret Lore had been relocated and tried to see how much information they had found.


    They had not actually done any new runs yet but had spent time gathering information at each known location. It was all very well and good. I still had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach about it, but I would be happy to be proven wrong.


    My morning contemtions would notst, as I was interrupted by a screaming Outsider.


    It was Travis. I hadn¡¯t seen much of him since after the Grotesque storyline when he was being an ass.


    Travis. Criminal-Outsider. I wasn¡¯t surprised at his aspect choice, though I was pretty confused at being able to see him on the red wallpaper. Normally, Outsiders could block that. He must not have equipped that trope. Of course, I could have simply leveled up enough to get past it or he may have whitelisted me.


    ¡°You goddamn idiot,¡± he was yelling.


    ¡°Travis, I¡¯m sorry. I said I was sorry already,¡± Bobby Gill stammered as he walked in the door with his tail between his legs.


    ¡°We knew you were sorry. You don¡¯t have to tell us that,¡± Travis¡¯s brother Vernon yelled, walking in the door behind them. ¡°Sorriest bastard I ever seen!¡±


    No one ever used the Haley Brothers of being original.


    On the red wallpaper, I saw that Vernon was a Bruiser with a Bully aspect. So, they both lived up to their aspects.


    ¡°What are you screaming about this early in the morning?¡± one of the Vets yelled down from upstairs.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t going to be babysitting anymore,¡± Travis yelled.


    Travis normally had this way of sounding angry without looking angry on his face. He was boisterous, for sure, but he also looked like he was having a good time usually.


    Today, he looked wounded, maybe even scared.


    I took a deep breath and hoped that he wouldn¡¯t see me. It urred to me that I could go to sleep to avoid him. I couldy down right there on the couch and be out like a light. The thought of it put a smile on my face.


    I regretted it immediately.


    ¡°You think it¡¯s funny?¡± Travis asked, having locked eyes with me. ¡°Well, Bobby here just nearly got us all killed. You want to know how?¡±


    I did, but I didn¡¯t want to help him humiliate Bobby.


    Travis didn¡¯t wait for an answer. ¡°He spent so long talking to some nobody NPC off-screen that he was written off permanently. Disappeared when we actually needed him for once.¡±


    ¡°Travis,¡± Bobby said, ¡°I didn¡¯t know I would be written off that soon. I thought I had more time.¡±


    ¡°You wanted to go on this storyline. We told you it was dangerous. We told you we needed everyone to y their part,¡± Travis said. ¡°We can¡¯t take you with us anymore.¡±


    Bobby was very upset. He hadn¡¯t exactly been doing well since his wife¡­ disappeared. Now he was getting really emotional.


    ¡°There are six more houses on Toother Street,¡± Bobby said. His voice was cracking as he spoke. ¡°I just need your help for a little longer.¡±


    Travis didn¡¯t give in. It looked like he was biting his tongue.


    He took a deep breath.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Bobby. You¡¯re a good guy, but this isn¡¯t going to work out. If Tory hadn¡¯t made it out of there. We would have all died. Permanently. Even you.¡±


    Travis almost looked ashamed. Whatever storyline they had been on had not gone well for them. From the sound of it, they must have made it out narrowly.


    After a moment of looking conflicted, Travis bounced back to his ornery self.


    ¡°So,¡± he said, fixing his gaze back toward me, ¡°You got your aspect. All grown up, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°Well, everybody finds their way eventually,¡± he said.


    He walked past me and turned down a hallway toward his room.


    I looked back at the entrance where the rest of his team was still stumbling in. They looked tired and stressed.


    A dozen or so onlookers had dragged themselves out of bed to see what themotion was about. Most of them went back to their bedrooms.


    Bobby sat himself down in a chair on the other side of the room from me and stared in my direction. He looked pensive. I had some idea of what he was thinking about.


    I thought it involved me.

 Chapter Eighty-Six: Snowblind

    Chapter Eighty-Six: Snowblind


    I got tired of Bobby staring in my general direction and decided to take a cup of coffee outside onto the porch. There was a table there that I could use. I needed to examine my tropes and decide which ones I would be taking into the next storyline. I finally had enough of them that I couldn''t just take them all without exceeding my limit.


    We had been told that background tropes would affect the storylines we were in. I had understood that but I never really grasped how significant the impact could be until our most recent storyline. I questioned whether I even needed to have that background trope given the fact that I only had one trope that could be equipped with it.


    Maybe it just rubbed me the wrong way that Carousel had incorporated my actual Grandmother into its story.


    It was true that the scouting trope it allowed me to equip was useful, allowing me to gain tons of valuable insight into any storyline we mighte upon, but ultimately I could just take the trope off once we had decided what storyline to enter. That would clear up two spaces for me to add tropes that might actually have value within the story itself.


    My Director''s Monitor trope gave me the Deathwatch ability. It had been pretty stressful and ultimately not very useful in thest storyline, but if I used it a lot I could probably get more tropes to go along with it that might actually make it so I could help my friends. shback Revtion could be a game-changer but it would take some major prep work to get working. Being able to send a message from beyond death, even if it was just an echo of something I had said earlier, might make the difference between winning and losing.


    I knew for a fact that Lara had a trope that gave her Deathwatch. I needed to find her and discuss it. I hated the idea of dying in every storyline, but I hated the idea of being useless more than that.


    I sat at the table and I took out my tropes. As usual, my growing stack of tickets was farrger outside of my pocket than it seemed to be when it was inside of it. The tickets'' magic was perplexing even when you were aware of it. In fact, it was like the tickets weren''t even in my pocket to begin with.


    Unfortunately, a huge percentage of my tropes were those that I had gotten after the Grotesque storyline. They were the ones that I couldn''t even use because they were for the wrong archetype.


    But there was a message hidden in them. I was sure of it.


    ~<blockquote>Friends in High ces.</blockquote><blockquote>Watching Over You¡­</blockquote><blockquote>Stick to the n</blockquote><blockquote>A Glitch in the Matrix.</blockquote><blockquote>identally Captured on Film.</blockquote><blockquote>Back to where it all started¡­</blockquote><blockquote>A Story Within a Story.</blockquote><blockquote>Who you truly are¡­</blockquote><blockquote>This is going to sting a bit¡­</blockquote><blockquote>The Intrepid Guide Who Knows The Way.</blockquote>


    ~


    Friends in high ces | Watching over you¡­


    That much I was certain was correct. There was someone with the power to manipte Ss the Showman who was interacting with us for better or for worse. The NPC employee at the pawn shop had been clear that this was a pairing.


    A glitch in the matrix | identally captured on film.


    That had been the other pair that he had shown me. The only glitch we had seen was a result of finding secret lore and a Lovecraftian monster whose powers appeared to be strong enough to disrupt the red wallpaper. It was difficult to separate what was a glitch and what was actually a feature of secret lore, but there was definitely something like a glitch in that storyline.


    As I contemted this, Dina came out on the deck to join me. She didn''t say anything but she made eye contact and gave me one of those forced half-smiles that I hade to know as her greeting. She must have seen that I was looking at these tropes again.


    ¡°The glitch can''t be the unknowable host,¡± Dina said. ¡°That was your theoryst time we talked, right?¡±


    We had been over these tropes half a dozen times already. Each time we walked away less certain of what the clues were actually pointing to.


    ¡°Still my theory,¡± I said.


    ¡°Have you watched it yet?¡± She asked, referring to my new ability to rewatch old storylines.


    ¡°Yep. It''s a short anthology. Most of it doesn''t even make sense because entire scenes were missing. Not just the stuff that was off-screen but a lot of the on-screen stuff got cut. All of our scenes after I picked you up on that wagon were cut from the storyline with the cloven women. All I can see is Anna''s storyline.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure there''s not anything else?¡±


    There were a few things, but nothing notable. Watching through the Straggler storyline was pretty normal. I had been able to do it in 15 minutes that morning. Carousel managed to piece together a nice tense ¡°Are you Afraid of the Dark?¡± style short from the footage, culminating in Antoine being left behind.


    ¡°There''s nothing,¡± I said. ¡°I spent thest two hours watching it and I''ll probably watch it again half a dozen times. Anything that even hints at the existence of the unknowable host ispletely cut. Honest. That entire final thing with the storyteller was gone too.¡±


    If I were being honest the freakiest thing about that entire film, other than the fact that I was watching it in my head, was thepleteck of context for much of what was happening. If I hadn''t been there I wouldn''t even know what the plots of some of those stories were.


    ¡°What else could a glitch in the matrix identally captured on film mean?¡± Dina asked. ¡°We should go find Carousel Family Video and watch the actual tape.¡±


    I shrugged. She might have been right.


    Carousel Family Video.


    ¡°Just one more thing we need to ask the veterans about,¡± I said.


    ¡°Don''t tell them why you''re asking,¡± she said.


    ¡°I won''t.¡±


    Upon hearing the story about the psychic who tricked a bunch of yers into entering overpowered storylines to their doom, Dina had grown to trust the veterans even less than she had before. I wasn''t even sure that she trusted me or my friends, but she was stuck with us.


    Truth be told, I was d that I hadn''t seen anything noteworthy when rewatching the Campfire anthology. That entire ordeal left me sick to my stomach and not just because of the effects of the unknowable host''s aura¡­


    It was time to go inside for the brief on the western excursion. A lot of the yers who had been there a while were excited about this particr endeavor. I tried to force myself to be optimistic about it too.


    I would have to wait to decide which tropes I was going to bring into the next storyline. I had let myself get distracted.


    Arthur stood in front of everyone and waited for us to get quiet. This was the first time since I had gotten to Dyer¡¯s Lodge that every single yer was there all at once. Over a dozen teams worth of people gathered to hear about the Hail Mary n Arthur and the other high-level vets had prepared.


    ¡°We used to do these briefs because if a team didn''te back we wanted others to follow in their footsteps and rescue them,¡± he said. ¡°Now we do them for the opposite reason. We''re going to show you what the n is. If we don''te back, That means our idea is bad and you shouldn''t do it.¡±


    With that, he took a seat.


    Valorie was up next to actually exin what was going to happen.


    ¡°We''ve spent all of our time since obtaining the excursion ticket scouting out any destinations west of Carousel. We knew of The Hanging U Ranch, but after doing some thorough digging at the travel agency and City Hall we were able to determine that there is another stop that''s closer. Unfortunately, the map at the train station doesn''t actually show its destinations in their actual physical location rtive to Carousel, it only shows that they exist


    ¡°Malison¡¯s Last Resort & Spa in a mountain town called Snowblind is the closest. It''s only forty miles west of town. From what we can tell there are at least two dozen different storylines in the Snowblind area. There are six that we could find in Malison''s Last Resort. Of course, we''re not actually sure how urate our intelligence is given the distance, but we have a lot of experience working off of partial information as you well know.


    ¡°Arthur was able to determine that there are a variety of monsters in the area including a Yeti and a Wendigo, so we will be surrounded by nature. Sam tells us that there is an abundance of buried treasure on the mountain and that the skiing there is top-notch.¡±


    She was trying to inject humor into her brief. Peopleughed but there was an uneasiness in the room. Whatever this ce was, it was part of the unknown. If there was one thing that I was beginning to learn from Carousel, it was to fear the unknown.


    She told us which team members would be making the trip, but we already knew for the most part.


    Arthur the Monster Hunter.


    Valorie the Final Girl.


    Chris the Athlete.


    Todd the Comedian.


    Jordan the Doctor (Coroner aspect).


    Sam the Adventurer.


    The first four were around 60 Plot Armor, but Jordan and Sam were in their 40s. Valorie exined this. The fact was, doctors and adventurers were particrly useful. A doctor for obvious reasons and an adventurer because a lot of their tropes dealt with things like climbing mountains and surviving in the wilderness. They would be fools not to take one with them. Using background tropes to try and rece them would mean that they couldn''t equip other more important tropes.


    Because of this, they made the cut when several other higher-level vets didn''t. The unknown did not reward redundancy. It rewarded preparation.


    They had actually found a map of Snowblind. Funny enough, it wasbeled as Snowblind, Carousel. As if Carousel was both a neighboring city and the state or country that Snowblind existed in.


    ¡°We found this in City Hall,¡± Todd said. ¡°I had to make this poordy behind the deskugh for 10 minutes as a distraction while they searched for it.¡±


    ¡°It was more like 3 minutes,¡± Chris said.


    The map they showed was old and iplete, but it was pretty interesting, though there wasn''t much to it. I could imagine a few of the storylines that could have been found in Snowblind. I''d bet any amount of money that there was at least one evil snowman there.


    Allid bare, their n was simple. They pointed to a ce on the map that they said <em>should </em>have a road. The map was old and notplete so it was possible that there was a road there. They wouldn''t know until they made the trip.


    Based on their understanding of the physical location of both Snowblind and Carousel, any path between the two should lead directly to the mountain with the lights.


    It was strange how badly the veterans wanted to know what was on the other side of that mountain.


    They had allowed themselves to rest all of their hopes and dreams on the exit being there. yers in Carousel had been trying to get to the other side of that mountain for decades. To hear them talk about it was almost like they forgot about why. It was just this impossible goal that represented everything to them.


    I wasn''t even sure that they knew the full history of how many yers had gone missing trying to sneak over to the mountain on the other side of theke.


    But the veterans were not the only people who got excited. Dina was also sold on the mountain with the lights because of what the poker-ying demon had said about needing a man and some violet lights. She had his whole frantic speech memorized.


    The brief went on for a while as they went over every single piece of information that they had found. It was amazing what scouting tropes could do if you collected enough of them and used them wisely.


    I listened intently because even if they didn''t seed there was still a lot to learn.


    Of course, even if they made it over to the part of Snowblind they were trying to get to. And even if there was a road that led back toward Carousel.


    There was no way that Carousel would make it that easy.


    I knew that.


    Arthur knew that.


    Everyone in the room knew that.


    And yet when the presentation was over, we all pped and cheered and talked about home just as they had when Secret Lore became viable again.


    Even false hope had its ce in keeping spirits high.


    I felt the tropes in my pocket. If our friend in high ces was really there and really was trying to help us, then soon we would have a real chance of escape.


    I hoped.

 Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Carousel Atlas

    Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Carousel As


    It was a week before the Western Excursion left.


    We had gotten the go-ahead that we could take a couple of weeks off from storylines if we wanted as long as we were ready to go at a moment¡¯s notice.


    The rules were starting to rx after Jte¡¯s death. It wasrgely believed that the Grotesque Omen was sent because she had refused to go on storylines, not simply because she hadn¡¯t been on one in a while. I wasn¡¯t going to argue. I needed a break from being killed and injured.


    Dying really took a lot out of me.


    On the night after the presentation for the Excursion, I was sitting in themon room where Grace and some other veterans were making ns for their first runs for secret lore. They were going to do some level thirty or so storylines.


    They had three teams worked out and three targets: the Botanical Gardens, the Natural History Museum, and an archeological dig site on the south side of town.


    All three were brimming with a variety of Omens ording to the Vets'' scouting work and they were going to activate some easy Omens as cover to snoop around.


    I thought that was pretty clever and I wished them the best of luck. We had not been included in the nning despite having found the Secret Lore that started it all. I didn''t protest.


    As it grewter into the night, themon room started to clear out until it was just me. Finally.


    The other groups have been using the Carousel As AKA the Survivors Bible for their research. The higher-level veterans had used it to n the western excursion and when they weren''t using it Grace and the others needed it to n their secret lore runs.


    It was finally avable. It wasn¡¯t exactly off-limits, but we had not ¡°earned¡± the right to use it whenever we wanted. Veterans put new yers on a sort of information diet to keep them from doing anything stupid.


    They were also protective over the book itself. It held a lot of precious information.


    I grabbed it off the table where it had been left. It was surprisingly heavy.


    I walked back to my room with it and opened the door to find Camden lying in his bunk.


    ¡°I''ve got it,¡± I said.


    The book was sorge it would take me hours and hours just to learn how to navigate it, but Camden didn''t have that problem. His Eureka trope would make our search as easy as Googling for the answers.


    ¡°I was about to give up,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°Here,¡± I said. ¡°I''ll go get the others.¡±


    Soon my friends, Dina, and I were gathered in a gazebo outside with antern, far from anyone who might hear what we were there to discuss.


    ¡°I can already tell you that there are pages missing,¡± Camden said. His Peer Review trope told him that the book had been altered.


    That made sense. Arthur had probably altered it to prevent people from trying things that hadter been determined to be against the rules.


    ¡°Carousel Family Video,¡± I said.


    Camden stretched his fingers. He started flipping through the pages of therge book. The As had been written and then edited so many times it looked like a scrapbook. Lots of the pages were covered and sticky notes, proids, and various random literature like flyers and other documents.


    The first page that Camden showed us was a map. It was folded up into the book and had to be unfolded so that we could see its entirety. It was of Carousel. ¡°Property of City Hall,¡± it said in the corner. Lots of handmade notes had been written around on the map.


    The map listed everything from Patcher''s Family Farm in the east where we had met Benny the Haunted Scarecrow, to the western side of theke. It did not include the mountain or the building on the other side.


    ¡°Here,¡± Camden said pointing to a small strip mall near the University of Carousel.


    In small letters, the words ¡°Carousel Family Video,¡± were written.


    ¡°What''s that little symbol next to it?¡± Dina asked.


    ¡°Gravestone,¡± I said. Rounded edges on the top. Square edges on the bottom. A small cross in the center. It was a gravestone.


    ¡°That must mean that it''s dangerous,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Or that somebody died there.¡±


    Camden nodded. ¡°Might have happened a long time ago.¡± He pointed to the corner of the map where someone had written ¡°RW, 1996.¡±


    ¡°Are those initials someone''s name or does that signify something else?¡± Anna asked.


    Camden flipped through the pages. ¡°I''m guessing it''s someone''s initials. There are lots of initials throughout the book. I don''t recognize them all.¡±


    ¡°That was before Arthur and Adeline got here,¡± I said.


    Camden continued to flip through the book until he found another entry for Carousel Family Video.


    ¡°Carousel Family Video: Rewatch old storylines for a low price. No Omens,¡± Camden read.


    ¡°That''s great,¡± Dina said. "We need to go there as soon as we can.


    Camden shook his head. ¡°There''s another entry. ¡®Manuel went missing at Carousel Family Video. No leads. No Storyline. What now?¡¯ It was written by someone named Jessica.¡±


    ¡°Is there a Jessica here?¡± I asked. I wasn¡¯t the one who would know everyone¡¯s name.


    Kimberly shook her head.


    ¡°Look,¡± Camden said. ¡°There used to be a register of every yer in the back of the book. But it looks like it was restarted about six years ago. It even has us in it. The original got torn out.¡±


    Why would the register get torn out? Was Arthur trying to disguise how many people had gone missing without winding up on a missing poster? No. That couldn''t be it. People knew about those who went missing they just didn''t know what happened to them. There would be no reason to get rid of the register for that.


    ¡°Anything about letters from Carousel like Dina¡¯s?¡± Antoine asked.


    This was the big question.


    Camden flipped to a few different areas in the book.


    ¡°There was something rted to that,¡± Camden said, ¡°But it¡¯s gone now. I don¡¯t know exactly wha¡ªWait a second.¡±


    He flipped a few pages and started looking over a page that talked about the mall.


    ¡°This is strange,¡± he said. ¡°Eureka is telling me there is information on this page but¡­ I don¡¯t¡­ It¡¯s not here.¡±


    I craned my neck so that I could look at the page properly. It contained a flyer about a store opening in the mall as well as a small hand-drawn map of the mall and lots of little notes written about each store. Most of the notes were written on a piece of yellow legal-sized notebook paper that was taped to the page and fold it so that it would fit.


    Camden lifted up the yellow page and folded it over out of the way.


    ¡°There,¡± Dina said pointing to small grooves in the paper.


    ¡°Where?¡± he asked.


    Looking closer, I saw that someone had written something on a piece of paper above the page we were looking at and they had written hard enough that their words were carved into the page below. The original page was gone but the imprint remained.


    Camden¡¯s ability told him there was relevant information on that page, but it didn¡¯t help him read something that was all but invisible any better than a normal person could.


    Camden lifted the book up at an angle so that the light from thentern would shine on it differently and subtle shadows would reveal the words identally etched into the page.


    "Just a second," Camden said. "There are letters that didn''t imprint fully. I have to fill in the nks real quick."


    He stared at the page intently and then began to read slowly, interpreting the etched marks like hieroglyphics.


    ¡°The fortune teller told Zoe her quest went wrong and it was our fault. I don¡¯t know what any of that meant. Zoe was really upset. Her missing poster said she was killed at the mall. I wish she had trusted me enough to tell me what was going on. I¡¯ll never forgive myself. TC.¡±


    ¡°Quest,¡± Dina said.


    That was the same word that the fortune teller had used to describe Dina¡¯s mission to revive her son.


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± I said. ¡°This has happened before.¡±


    ¡°When? Is there anything else about it?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Camden shook his head. ¡°Nothing.¡±


    There was a short silence as we all thought about what we had just learned.


    ¡°It might have happened eight years ago,¡± Anna said.


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± I asked. It was a very specific guess.


    ¡°TC,¡± Anna said. ¡°Todd Corrigan. He came here with Chris and Valorie, right? Eight years ago.¡±


    ¡°Chris¡­¡± Antoine said. ¡°He would have told me. I have to talk to him.¡±


    ¡°There are members missing from their original team,¡± I said. "Maybe this Zoe was one of them.¡±


    ¡°We can check the missing board,¡± Camden suggested.


    It was a good idea.


    We were outte discussing everything we could learn from the book. I even saw several references to Deathwatch, but they didn''t exin much. There were little clues like: "Wallflower use Deathwatch here" or "Vision of Death works well in this storyline." Nothing about Film Buffs'' version of Deathwatch that Camden could find. There was a section that exined what Deathwatch was, but it didn''t go into much detail. Film Buffs were rare. Not as much was known about them. We needed more time to sort through all of the little details, but it was gettingte. We would have to get ahold of it againter.


    Before we went in for the night, I had onest request.


    ¡°What about Rescue Tickets?¡± I asked. We hadn¡¯t taken the book to look for that, but I couldn¡¯t resist.


    Camden looked through the book. He found a section written by Adaline.


    ¡°There were once tropes called rescue tickets that could be won from certain storylines around Carousel. They would allow you to bring your fallen friends back to life bypleting the storylines they failed. Every archetype had its own rescue tropes. They disappeared in Fall 2010. I cannot understand why Carousel would do this. I thought it wanted us to get to the end. Research has failed to find the reason. Scouting tropes have failed. We do not know why they disappeared or how to get them back. What will we do?¡±


    The Carousel As had the official version of what happened. That wasn''t surprising.


    ¡°Whoa,¡± Camden said. ¡°There used to be a lot of stuff about them in here. There are easily fifty pages missing or more.¡±


    ¡°Why would they tear that stuff out?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°Just because they couldn''t figure out how to get them back doesn''t mean no one could.¡±


    I stayed silent. Still, it was a good question. All someone really needed to remove was the stuff that talked about abusing them. Removing all knowledge didn¡¯t seem productive.


    We talked about it as we headed back to the Lodge. I tried to stay as quiet as possible. Soon, we had the book back where it belonged and were crawling back into bed.


    If it wasn¡¯t for my sleeping trope, I would not have been able to rest that night. There were too many things to think about.


    The next morning, I decided to take a walk around Camp Dyer. It was strange that this ce had be my home in thest few weeks but I hadn''t actually explored it.


    As long as you didn''t venture into theke there weren''t any omens other than the one inside of the restricted cabin on the grounds themselves, but still, the ce gave an uneasy feel.


    The sound of children''sughter sent shivers up my spine. It was cloyingly sweet. You didn''t have to be a Film Buff to know that it was only there to contrast the danger and evil that lurked at Camp Dyer.


    As I walked I got a good look at the restricted cabin. It was locked up, boarded up, and the entire cabin had been encircled in police tape.


    Whatever storyline took ce at Camp Dyer was so high level that I couldn''t even see its name on the red wallpaper. All I saw was ¡°Warning¡±. That was usually what showed up when I looked at an omen that was just too powerful for my Savvy.


    It was incredible that the veterans had decided to make camp at a ce with a storyline so strong. But the sentiment that the veterans often repeated was that predictability was more important than anything else when it came to storylines.


    How wrong could they be? They had lived when others had died. Dyer''s Lodge had been their home for years.


    ¡°Can I join you?¡± a familiar voice asked.


    It was Roxie.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said.


    I expected her to have something to say about the Rulekeeper. We were two of the few people who shared that remarkable secret but even when we were alone we didn''t talk about it.


    ¡°How are you managing?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Better than ever,¡± I lied.


    Roxie smirked.


    ¡°What are you doing all the way out here?¡± she asked.


    I realized that the reason she had gotten curious was because I was far closer to the restricted cabin than most yers ever went. But I had passed it by. That wasn''t my destination.


    ¡°When I was in thest storyline,¡± I said, ¡°One of the NPCs mentioned having a house out on Dyer Lake. I hadn''t seen any houses. I was just thinking maybe if I went around the cove I might be able to see some.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said. ¡°You might. Just remember that NPCs say a lot of things. It only bes true if you push the story in that direction.¡±


    I nodded my head. She was probably right. All of the storylines in Carousel couldn''t actually be canonically true. Maybe there were no houses on Dyer Lake. If there were, there''s no telling if one of them belonged to some random character just because she said it did.


    ¡°So what do you think of the Western Excursion?¡± I asked.


    Roxie didn''t say anything at first. She looked across theke and gathered her thoughts.


    ¡°I hope it works,¡± she said.


    ¡°But you don''t think it will?¡±


    She shook her head.


    ¡°I feel like we''re missing something," she said. "I doubt we can force our way across the finish line."


    I nodded.


    We continued walking for as long as we could do so before additional omens started popping up. There was a generic omen that guarded the woods west of camp. It was a powerful one, just like the one in the cabin. It was there to protect the boundary, I assumed, because it was everywhere I looked along the edge of the forest.


    Roxie and I continued talking as we walked back. I asked her how long it took her to be brave enough to use her Looks Don''t Last trope, the same one that Kimberly was so afraid of.


    ¡°From the beginning,¡± Roxie said. ¡°My team was dead before we even got to Camp Dyer. I was put on another team with Lara, they were already a few levels ahead of me. I did whatever it took to contribute. Even if that meant dying.¡±


    We made it back In time for lunch.


    As I got there I found my friends at a pic table with Chris and a few of the Bowlers.


    ¡°Where did you run off to?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°Just stretching my legs,¡± I said.


    Anna looked back at the way we hade from, likely noticing that the restricted cabin was in that direction.


    ¡°Grace and her team are going to the bowling alley in a few days,¡± she said. ¡°They said we coulde if we wanted to.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I asked. ¡°Sounds like¡­ fun.¡±


    Reggie, the Bruiser (Gentle Giant aspect) I had gone on the Grotesque storyline with was there too.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to show you how to clear the ce in case you ever want to go,¡± he said.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, forcing a smile.


    Noting my apprehension, Grace said, ¡°You won¡¯t have to run any storylines. I know you all are still resting.¡±


    That was certainly true. The thought of dying¡­ so that I could roll a ball across a wooden floor was not appealing at all.


    How long would it be until I was willing to die for recreational purposes?


    I had not been at Carousel long enough to be ready for a fun night out, but knowing different ways to neutralize omens would probably be a lifesaver.


    I wondered if the bowling alley had an arcade¡­

 No Chapter Today

    No Chapter Today


    Readers of Royal Road,


    I have been working non-stop on the manuscript for the first book of the series (which ends with the Grotesque storyline). I have been too busy between that and my actual job to write the next few posts. As a result, I will not be able to post today, but I should be able to go forward on Wednesday. I apologize for the disruption.


    Thank you for reading and I hope you understand.


    lost_rambler

 Chapter Eighty-Eight: Setting Up The Pins

    Chapter Eighty-Eight: Setting Up The Pins


    The day the Bowlers nned to go to the alley was a Tuesday. It was important to them that we go on a Tuesday because different NPCs upy differentnes on different days.


    Tuesday was the least crowded day and the only one where the four left-mostnes were unupied. It was also the day with the fewest Omens to contend with.


    Sunday night, my friends and I went to the Diner for a bite to eat and then headed across the street to find a missing poster with a woman named Zoe on it.


    Camden found it at first nce.


    MISSING


    Name: Zoe Paulson


    Plot Armor: 28


    ce Last Seen: Seasons Party Supply and Costume Shop, East Wing, Jubtion Mall


    upation: Outsider (Neer Aspect)


    Reward: 480 Dors


    ¡°She was an Outsider too,¡± Dina said. Looking at Antoine, she said, ¡°You really need to talk to Chris about this.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to distract him while he¡¯s prepping,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to him at the bowling alley. He said he¡¯d go.¡±


    Dina didn¡¯t look pleased, but she let it go.


    We talked more about what a failed quest from the past could mean and if it really was what we thought it was, but I didn¡¯t say much of anything. My mind was numb from theorizing. I wanted to get some answers. I had spent so much time sifting through what little information we had that I was starting to feel a strong sense of dread.


    Soon, the tension would burst, and I wasn¡¯t sure we would be ready.


    As I awaited our departure, I had my mind set on finding Lara and discussing the Deathwatch ability. I knew for a fact that psychics had tropes that granted it and Lara was one of the more essible veterans to talk to.


    More to the point, of the three Psychics, she was the only Seer and the only one I actually knew. When we had gotten back, she had gone on a run with a higher-level team thatsted two days. It was rare for her to go out on a storyline because she didn¡¯t actually have to most of the time.


    Luckily, Lara returned from her tripte Sunday night and was sitting in themon area reading a magazine when I came back from a walk on Monday before lunch.


    I quickly made my way to her.


    ¡°Lara,¡± I said. ¡°Can I talk to you about something?¡±


    She looked up from her magazine and smiled. ¡°I heard you took my warning to heart,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t suffer in silence. I was worried that I had been too vague.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right. It was very helpful at Second Blood. Thank you.¡± I said.


    ¡°You¡¯re wee,¡± she said. ¡°You need another reading?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Actually, I died in thatst storyline and got this trope,¡± I said, holding out my Director¡¯s Monitor trope. ¡°It gives me Deathwatch. I was hoping to ask you some questions about it.¡±


    ¡°Deathwatch, huh?¡± she said with a smile, grabbing my ticket and reading over it. ¡°Carousel Family Video. We don¡¯t go there. It¡¯s good that you can rewatch storylines on your own. Very interesting.¡±


    ¡°Why do we not go there?¡± I asked. I couldn¡¯t let on that we had taken the Carousel As and looked it up.


    ¡°People have died there,¡± she said. ¡°We don¡¯t know how. There are no Omens in the store. Eventually, the older yers decided it wasn¡¯t worth the risk. Even back when they could rescue people, the yers were scared of an Omen that they couldn¡¯t find or predict.¡±


    I nodded my head.


    ¡°As for Deathwatch,¡± she said. ¡°What exactly do you need to know?¡±


    ¡°When you use Deathwatch¡­ does anything strange happen?¡±


    She thought for a moment. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say strange. For me, time slows down right before I die and I have this huge, powerful vision of things toe in the story. I can¡¯t do anything to change the future without other tropes, so I tend not to use it. For a Psychic, you don¡¯t really need to die to find out what happens. I honestly haven''t explored that line of tropes.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I said. That was disheartening. I considered leaving her be, but I still wanted to know what she had to say about the audience. ¡°I sit in a movie theater with my eyes fixed on the screen.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably a better experience,¡± she said with augh. ¡°Wallflowers can stay on set if they are permanently written off with Deathwatch. They watch what happens, but they can¡¯t talk to their teammates or intervene without extra tropes. That¡¯s probably why they don¡¯t use it so often either.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that''s good to know. The thing is,¡± I said, ¡°When I¡¯m in the theater, I¡¯m not alone.¡±


    ¡°Not alone?¡± she said, contemting what I had told her. ¡°What do you mean by that? There are others in the seats with you?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°I wasn¡¯t able to turn my head and look at them, but I could hear them cheering at the end.¡±


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s certainly¡­ strange. They¡¯re probably NPCs.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. I wasn¡¯t confident about that.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think so?¡± she asked. ¡°What are you thinking?¡±


    ¡°Dead yers,¡± I said. ¡°Other Film Buffs. The audience.¡±


    ¡°The audience? As in <em>The </em>Audience,¡± Lara said. ¡°I see. Look, sometimes, I have visions that don¡¯t make any sense. Things that make me question whether I am seeing a storyline or¡­ something else. The way psychics¡ªand Film Buffs apparently¡ªwork can expose parts of Carousel that aren¡¯t as easy to understand. I wouldn¡¯t go jumping to conclusions just yet.¡±


    I nodded and said, ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Any time,¡± she said.


    I went back to my room and shut the door. Iid out on my bunk and immediately started watching The Astralist in my mind. There were no ps at the end. I was in an empty theater. The people in the theater, whoever they were, only seemed to stick around to watch live performances. Truthfully, I was a little relieved by that.


    Word of our trip to the bowling alley got out and a few other yers decided toe along, including Travis and his brother Vernon, along with their usual team. Bobby did not join them.


    Dina went back and forth on whether or not she woulde with us. She didn''t want to go bowling but at the same time, she did want to be around to hear Chris talk about Zoe Paulson. It wasn''t until Antoine pointed out that he would likely have that conversation in private that she decided to pull out altogether.


    On Tuesday at 9:00 o''clock in the morning, everyone making the trip met in front of the lodge.


    Sixteen people in total showed up.


    My friends, Chris, the five Bowlers, and the five members of Travis'' team.


    I expected to have to take the lead because of my ¡°I don''t like it here¡± ability, but it turned out that there were plenty of other scouting tropes that could get us across town safely.


    Grace had an ability called The Scary Part of Town that helped detect Omens. Her ex-boyfriend and current teammate Jesse, an Outsider, had a trope called Life on the Streets that also helped. Between them, they could see Omens and avoid them nearly as well as a Hysteric could.


    Grace¡¯s trope made threats show themselves in some visible way, which was quite the experience. For instance, we passed amunity swimming pool that had two swimmers, but it had a bunch of people¡¯s belongings ced around it on chairs and inside beach bags. Anyone who looked at it would ask the same question: where are the rest of the people?


    My trope told me that you trigger the storyline by swimming orying out on the chairs. The movie was called Chlorine and its poster showed a snorkel at the bottom of a pool. Its difficulty level was ¡°Something isn¡¯t right here,¡± which I took to mean it was medium difficulty or so.


    None of that insight mattered with Grace¡¯s trope, because as we walked by, the water in the pool bubbled up and burst like a fountain into the air to signify there was an Omen there.


    The drawback to her trope was that some storylines would do more than just show themselves. We found ourselves being followed down the street by a white van and another time a tree almost fell on us, but we managed to get around it and to safety.


    Jesse¡¯s trope told him how to avoid Omens, but didn¡¯t specifically tell him how they triggered.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at it,¡± he said as we passed the pool.


    That would likely stop you from triggering it, but not in a particrly elegant way.


    Between them, we managed to avoid all of the Omens as we made our way through town.


    That¡¯s where the real education began.


    <strong>Grace¡¯s Rules for Clearing the Bowling Alley</strong>


    <strong>Rule One</strong>: Remember what day of the week it is. NPCs and Omens have schedules too.


    For Tuesday:


    <strong>Rule Two</strong>: Get to the alley before 11:20 A.M. DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH THE RANTING WOMAN¡¯S REFLECTION.


    <strong>Rule Three</strong>: Lock the doors and flip over the closed sign at the following times for ten minutes. Don¡¯t just leave it that way or the manager will change it when you are not looking and Omens will get in. Lock the back door to avoid The Act of God. It will stay locked on its own.


    -11:25: The Quiet Man will arrive and pull on the door. He will leave pretty soon after.


    -12:45: The coughing scientist wille here for lunch. Don¡¯t let him in but if he finds a way in somehow, don¡¯t go near him. He is contagious.


    -1:30: The crying woman with the raspy voice will try toe in and call out a yer¡¯s name. If they respond to her at all, they have triggered the Omen. Best not to let her in.


    Rule Four: There is a bowling ball bag on a bench onne four. Do not touch it unless you want to go to hell.


    Rule Five: The birthday party is a bit distracting, but the only Omen is whatever is in the red wrapping paper. While the kids and adults are distracted with bowling, steal the red present and throw it in the trash. If they start opening presents before you do this, leave immediately. If the presents have already been opened, leave immediately.


    Rule Six: Do not bowl three strikes in a row. A crowd will start to form behind you to watch and somehow The Quiet Man will be in it. If you have two strikes, intentionally bowl a gutter and mark it a nine.


    Rule Seven: Someone will call asking for a yer after 1:30 pm. It is the raspy-voiced woman from before. When the employee calls a yer¡¯s name, tell her there is no one here by that name.


    Rule Eight: The games in the game corner sometimes y themselves. Do not be rmed. There is no known Omen rted to this.


    Rule Nine: Leave by 4:00 pm.


    Rule Ten: No street shoes beyond the carpeted area. This will get the manager angry. He will yell at you and go out back to cool down, leaving the back door unlocked.


    Those people must have loved bowling more than I love just about anything. They did all that just so that they could go out and roll a ball down a slick wooden path. Maybe after you had done it a few times you would get used to it but as Grace listed off her rules, I was second-guessing the trip.


    ¡°Are there any questions?¡± Grace asked as we waited around the corner from the bowling alley.


    ¡°Why in the world did you decide to do this?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°My brother likes to bowl; I like to solve puzzles. It was great practice learning how to scout out and neutralize Omens. Any other questions?¡±


    Camden raised his hand. ¡°I thought you all ran a storyline when you came here?¡±


    ¡°We normally do,¡± Grace said. ¡°The Quiet Man or perhaps we wait until sundown and do Red Grease which can trap you in any building along this road. We won¡¯t today.¡±


    She unequipped her scouting trope and led us to the bowling alley.


    As soon as we rounded the corner, we saw the ranting woman. She held arge cup and stood in front of the bowling alley staring at herself in the window, which had tinting on it that made it reflective. I avoided looking at her reflection, but could not stop myself from hearing her conversation, which was itself quite unnerving:


    Ranting woman:


    "ss and silver, sneaky, sneaky! Ah, the sun''sughter, too bright, too bright! Stolen, it''s stolen. Echo of a stolen smile, oh, the twisted waltz. There''s always a thread, a thread, holding on...oh, don''t cut it, don''t dare! I''ll unravel,e undone, can''t blink, can''t. Laughing...are youughing? Is it you or me? The dark reaches, reaches out, cold as ice, cold as...is that me? Speak, speak up, no voice, just echoes. Trapped, can''t move. I should move. No, no, I can''t. Spinning, yes, spinning. A stage of silver, the world''s a whirl, spinning, spinning. Days go by, night falls, then day again. Still here, still...still."


    I avoided looking at her altogether once I heard her speaking. Poor woman.


    Grace had an rm that she used to make sure she locked the door and flipped over the sign at the right time. She told us that we had to stop bowling and pay attention for the whole ten minutes that the door was locked.


    As we walked in, I was almost shocked by how ordinary the ce looked. NPCs bowled andughed. I could smell nacho cheese bubbling in a crock pot. Hot dogs spun on one of those rolling warmers you might see in a gas station.


    I was immediately alerted to the kid''s birthday party. I eyed the stack of presents on one of the tables wearily, but the party was just starting and the red present had not arrived yet.


    Inne four, I saw the bowling bag that would send you to hell. The bowling bag was stuffed with clothes in addition to a bowling ball. There were a bunch of lottery tickets ripped in half on the table near the bag, as well as an ashtray full of cigarette butts.


    It was a difficult storyline called <em>Death Toll</em>. I could not see how to trigger it, but just looking at it sent shivers down my spine thanks to my Hysteric trope.


    I could not even think of rxing or having fun. I got some bowling shoes and sat on a bench near thenes we were staying at as one of the arcade machines started paying out coins and yelling "High Score," even though there was no one over there.


    Grace quickly walked through the door that led to the area behind the pins so that she could lock the back door.


    Shortly after we arrived, an NPC mother and child (who looked scared to death) came in and dropped off the present with the red wrapping paper, Grace''s ex Jesse went and swiped it off the table and slid it into a trashcan before anyone could notice. The mother and child were gone and out the door before any of the kids had even seen them drop off the present.


    With everything prepared and death abated temporarily, we started to bowl.

 Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Black Snow

    Chapter Eighty-Nine: The ck Snow


    Bowling was one of the many things that I had never been skilled at.


    Until I got to Carousel.


    I gave myself all those points in Hustle to try to survive using Oblivious Bystander. I had never taken into ount how it might help me aim a ball down a woodenne.


    In fact, most of the yers were doing really well at bowling. Obviously, Chris was doing the best because he out-leveled us by quite a bit, but I bowled above 130 for the first time in my life in my very first game in Carousel. That was pretty impressive considering we weren¡¯t allowed to bowl three strikes in a row.


    Antoine was beating me because of his higher Hustle and general athleticism. I wasn''t sure how stats worked on things like that outside a storyline, but I could feel it helping me.


    Every time Grace''s rm went off, we would all stop what we were doing and watch as she went over and locked the front door, and flipped around the open sign.


    The first time, a well-groomed man in his early 30s came and attempted to open the door only to leave when he saw that the sign said closed. It wasn''t an NPC.


    It was an enemy.


    He must have had a trope that prevented me from seeing much more than that. I assumed he was the Quiet Man Grace talked about. He was forced to go entertain himself elsewhere.


    The other unwanted intruders worked the same way. Lock the doors. Flip the sign. Watch until they walked away.


    After a long while, a few rounds of bowling, and a few rounds in the arcade, the phone call Grace warned us about came in. Even though we knew it wasing, it still sent a chill down my spine when I heard it.


    We all waited in anticipation to see which yer would be chosen by the woman with the raspy voice.


    ¡°Is there a Camden here?¡± The employee at the desk asked as she ced the phone against her shoulder.


    ¡°No one here by that name,¡± Reggie called out.


    The employee hung up the phone and everyone cheered and congratted Camden for being the lucky winner.


    We ignored the fact that if he had answered that phone, many of us would likely have died because of it.


    We all dispersed into our own little groups. Antoine found an opportunity to get Chris alone by challenging him to ski ball. He was likely preparing to ask questions about Zoe. I could see they were having a difficult conversation.


    Chris was talking about something, and Antoine stood there, wide-eyed, as if he couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing.


    ¡°It looks like Chris just dropped a bombshell on him,¡± Anna said, as we spied on them while pretending to pick out new bowling balls.


    Was that good news or bad? If it was true that someone else was given a quest to beat the game, that would certainly make me feel more confident in our decision to pursue Dina''s quest.


    We would have to find out when we got a moment to speak with Antoine.


    Travis and Vernon Haley mostly spent the whole time alone with their team. It turned out that Travis could be a rtively normal person from time to time. I had half-expected him to harass me because of thements he had made in the past.


    He didn¡¯t. It was a pleasant surprise.


    As my friends talked andughed, I found myself forgetting that I was surrounded by danger. I enjoyed being there. At that moment it felt like we were at a real bowling alley hanging out and having a good time.


    Maybe the Bowlers were right about taking a minute just to enjoy yourself.


    I felt at ease in a way that I hadn''t been able to since I entered the bowling alley. It almost took me too long to figure out why.


    The Hysteric trope (I don¡¯t like it here¡­) that I had been given was incredibly useful, but its cost was that it gave you actual anxiety along with the information you received. The fact that I was no longer feeling the same anxiety I had was strange considering that I was in a building with multiple dangerous Omens.


    Or was I?


    The realization chilled me like a ssh of ice water. I looked over at thene where the bowling bag Omen had been. The bag was still there but I didn''t see the Omen anymore. Nothing appeared on the red wallpaper; it was as if I was just looking at a normal bowling bag crammed with clothes.


    It was the same with the present that had been thrown away in the trash can. There was no Omen that jumped out to greet me when I looked over there.


    Strange.


    I turned around and looked out the front window. The entire time we had been there, the ranting woman could be seen talking to her reflection. When I looked again, she was gone.


    There were no Omens in the bowling alley anymore.


    ¡°Quiet,¡± I yelled. ¡°Be quiet for a second.¡±


    The others heard the panic in my voice and stopped their conversations.


    The Omens were gone but as I focused, I could still feel something. Something distant and growing. Was this normal anxiety or was there another omen nearby? I couldn''t tell.


    Then I looked up.


    Whatever it was wasn''t directly above us, but when I looked out toward the back side of the building and up into the ceiling, I felt an intense burst of fear. Even through the roof, I could tell that there was an Omen outside.


    As this realization dawned on me, my anxiety kicked into overdrive, and I walked toward the doors to get a look at what it was.


    ¡°The omens are all gone and there is something outside!¡± I screamed as I walked toward the door. The others cycled through their own scouting tropes to confirm what I had said and then followed me.


    When I walked around the building and looked up in the direction of the pulsing fear that felt like it was pressing against my forehead, I saw it.


    The storm.


    A single jet-ck cloud floated in the distance over the top of arge chemical factory that was pouring smoke into the air. I could see lights shing around the factory. There was some kind of meltdown.


    I saw the Omen.


    The ck Snow


    Difficulty: Apocalypse. The world is ending.


    Trigger: Imperceptible. (Savvy too low)


    Whatever this was it was too difficult for me to get much useful information from it. My location scout trope didn''t get anything from it. Strangely, my Hysteric trope told me it was an Apocalypse but otherwise the omen looked too powerful for me to be able to see much.


    I didn''t understand why it was showing me the name and difficulty of such a powerful storyline. Normally the strongest ones didn''t tell me anything but that they existed.


    ¡°We need to go!¡± I screamed.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Grace asked.


    I told them the name of the storyline and its difficulty.


    ¡°I''ve never even seen an Apocalypse level of difficulty,¡± I said.


    The veterans looked at each other.


    ¡°It can''t be an Apocalypse,¡± Travis said. ¡°The next one isn''t due until December.¡±


    Due?


    ¡°I''m telling you that it says Apocalypse on the red wallpaper,¡± I said.


    ¡°We need to run,¡± Jesse said. His trope for figuring out how to avoid danger was crude but effective.


    ¡°Just a second,¡± Grace said. She pulled out a trope from her pocket. It was called Brain Trust. A quick look at the red wallpaper told me that it allowed a yer to copy an ally¡¯s insight tropes temporarily. It worked best Off-Screen.


    Panic overtook Grace''s face. I assumed that was the result of my Hysteric trope assaulting her with fear.


    ¡°Any yer or NPC who touches the ck snow must survive the Apocalypse,¡± she read. Her Savvy was much higher than mine, so naturally, she was able to use my trope more effectively.


    I went and talked to my friends about what I saw. Kimberly was terrified. Antoine was trying to look brave. Camden looked emotionally drained like he had back when he had died.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be,¡± an NPC said from behind us. His voice cracked. He was speaking loudly. ¡°What do you reckon we should do?¡±


    The intrusion of the NPC on our conversation was a little odd as they usually kept to themselves but as I nced back to see who had spoken, I noticed that he was wearing a uniform. A bus driver''s uniform. He was just an ordinary NPC.


    He had parked a bus right there in the street and gotten out to look at the cloud right where we were.


    The bus was empty and still running. Was this more help from our Friends upstairs?


    I backed toward the bus and waved to my friends and the other yers.


    Travis was far ahead of me and had already loaded onto the bus with his team by the time I got to it.


    The rest of us quickly piled into the bus and pulled away.


    The NPC bus driver turned and watched but didn''t react with anger. He didn¡¯t try to get back on the bus. We made eye contact. What I saw on his face was resignation and fear. He stared at us as we left.


    As we drove away ck dots could be seen in the sky in the distance as the storm cloud grew. It was snowing.


    Travis was driving. Everyone in the back was discussing the issue in a panicked tone.


    "Why would Carousel do this?" was amon refrain. This sudden Apocalypse didn''t even have the illusion of fairness.


    The storm was between us and Dyer¡¯s Lodge. We were trying to figure out if we could get around it in time to get back or if it would cut us off as it grew.


    And grew.


    And grew.


    It quadrupled in size in 10 minutes and continued growing at an astronomical rate.


    ¡°How is there an Apocalypse right now?¡± Travis yelled from the driver¡¯s seat.


    The veterans were scared and confused.


    All of us were.


    When people talked about Apocalypses, I thought they were just being descriptive of a storyline. I didn''t understand they were a separate event.


    I couldn''t keep track of the entire frantic conversation as it went along but I did learn a lot really quickly as the veterans discussed the n of what to do.


    I learned a few important things.


    First, I learned that Apocalypses happened every six to 18 months. I also learned that yers do not ever participate in Apocalypses. Instead, they find their way out of town and stay there until it ends. That was one of the many benefits of Dyers Lodge. It was out of town¡ªa safe zone for events like this.


    There were all sorts of Apocalypses from zombie Apocalypses to the rise of the machines all the way to alien invasions.


    There were numerous signs of uing Apocalypses. Usually, this made them very easy to avoid, especially since the omens were supposed tost for weeks before the Apocalypse actually happened.


    The omen for this Apocalypse had appeared and the snow started to fall almost simultaneously.


    As we went along, I stared out the window and watched as the town reacted to the impending danger.


    ¡°Most of the omens are disappearing,¡± I said. I had to repeat myself because the veterans were so engaged in their nning and conversation. ¡°Most of the omens are disappearing!¡±


    Looking out the window I could see they were being extinguished like candles¡¯ mes in a hurricane.


    I knew that when a storyline was triggered other omens set in the same location disappeared for a while. The same must happen when an Apocalypse started to spread across town.


    ¡°But not all of them,¡± I said.


    The veterans picked up what I was trying to say.


    If we found the right storyline and triggered it, we might just be able to escape the Apocalypse in apletely different way.


    ¡°Travis!¡± Grace yelled. ¡°Change of ns. We''re not going to be able to outrun this thing and get around it. We need to go east.¡±


    We needed a storyline that could get us away from the ck Snow.


    Travis turned down the next side road and sent us east.


    As we drove away, I saw the storm in the distance. From where we were on the road, I could see a long way down the street all the way to where the storm was in the center of the city.


    The haze of ck snow cast a shadow that felt like it covered all of Carousel.


    In the distance, I could see NPCs walking out of their houses curious about the storm.


    As I stared at the people in the distance something caught my eye. There was an enemy out amongst the people in the distance. It was too far away for me to distinguish what I was looking at with my eyes alone, but as soon as it was in my line of sight, I could see it on the red wallpaper.


    It was too far away for me to see any of its tropes because that ability was proximity-based, but other information was still avable.


    It was called a Lamentation on the red wallpaper. Plot Armor 76.


    The image of the creature on its poster terrified me to the core of my being.


    It was a woman. Her limbs were twisted around backward so that she could walk on all fours while her back was to the ground. Her jaw was open, her broken teeth exposed. Tears streamed from her eyes. She was afraid.


    Her broken form was not the scariest part.


    Jaws emerged from her stomach. They were a dog''s jaws; I could tell because its face was there too. Its eyes sockets were covered in flesh. Its jaws snarled and drooled. Its tail came out of her thigh and one of its paws was sticking out of her armpit. A dog leash trailed behind her.


    The Lamentation was a mutant amalgam.


    I recognized the woman. I recognized the dog.


    The first time I had seen them they had been an Omen. The dog snapped and growled at my friends and me as we passed it on the street.


    Whatever we did.


    We could not let the ck Snow touch us.

 Chapter Ninety: Unintended Consequences

    Chapter Ny: Unintended Consequences


    ¡°You know where the airfield is?¡± Chris asked Travis.


    Travis nodded. ¡°I remember the ce,¡± he said. ¡°Over by Pit Boulevard.¡±


    "You got it."


    Chris turned to the bus. ¡°We have a lot of yers around or below level thirty. That¡¯s dangerous. Omens at the airfield can be higher level than that. Grace will divide us into teams to try to make us more bnced and ensure there are higher-level yers in each team. Noints, people. This one is for real.¡±


    Grace took out her notebook and pen and started creating team lists.


    ¡°Antoine with me,¡± Chris said.


    ¡°And Kimberly,¡± Antoine added.


    ¡°I can do that.¡±


    Grace scanned the bus and started pairing everyone together in an attempt to create well-rounded teams and to distribute lower-level yers as well as higher-level ones.


    After a minute or two, she had the list together and read it all for us.


    The n was to find three separate Omens of the appropriate danger level and create three teams to beat each one.


    The teams were divided as follows:


    Team 1:<blockquote>


    1. Grace: Detective, Plot Armor: 41


    2. Chris: Athlete-Sport, Plot Armor: 58


    3. Antoine: Athlete, Plot Armor: 19


    4. Kimberly: Eye Candy, Plot Armor: 17


    5. Riley: Film Buff-Filmmaker, Plot Armor: 22</blockquote>


    Team 2:<blockquote>


    1. Tory: Final Girl-Scream Queen, Plot Armor: 29


    2. Mark: Schr-Strategist, Plot Armor: 30


    3. Vernon: Bruiser-Bully, Plot Armor: 31


    4. Dirk: Bruiser-Brute, Plot Armor: 38


    5. Jesse: Outsider-Neer, Plot Armor: 41</blockquote>


    Team 3:<blockquote>


    1. Anna: Final Girl, Plot Armor: 21


    2. Reggie: Bruiser-Gentle Giant, Plot Armor: 40


    3. Camden: Schr, Plot Armor: 18


    4. Be: Bruiser-Bully, Plot Armor: 37


    5. Travis: Outsider-Criminal, Plot Armor: 32


    6. Jose: Soldier, Plot Armor: 30</blockquote>


    Anna and Camden looked apprehensive about being separated from the rest of the group. Grace appeared to notice this.


    ¡°Reggie is going to make sure that both of you are safe,¡± she said. ¡°Right, Reggie?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of you,¡± he said.


    Everyone moved around to sit near their teams except for Travis, who was driving. We discussed our strategies.


    ¡°Which of you is First Blood?¡± Chris asked.


    I was about to volunteer. I would have probably been forced into it anyway because of my artificially low plot armor. Before I could, Kimberly raised her hand.


    ¡°I can do it, but I left my Looks Don''t Last trope at the Lodge,¡± she said.


    Chris and Grace looked at one another.


    ¡°Sweetheart, you can''t leave your tropes anywhere. They''re always with you. Just reach for it in your pocket, and it''ll be there,¡± Grace said.


    Kimberly reached down into her pocket. With the shorts she was wearing, her pocket wasn''t evenrge enough to hold one of our tickets, but she pulled out her Looks Don''t Last trope. The way she stared at it you would think that she was looking at a ghost.


    ¡°How do I... use it?¡±


    ¡°Until you get the hang of it, the easiest way to equip it is to take your archetype ticket in one hand and then ce the tropes you want to take with you in that same hand,¡± Grace exined gently.


    ¡°I''ll split my focus between buffing the weaker yers and getting ready for the fight at the end,¡± Chris said to Grace. ¡°I assume you can handle insight and story control?¡±


    Grace nodded and started flicking through her stack of tropes that she pulled out of her jacket pocket.


    ¡°Antoine, you do whatever we need you to do,¡± Chris said. ¡°Riley, you¡¯re Second Blood.¡±


    So nice of him to volunteer me. What else could I really expect?


    ¡°With Grace as a detective, the story is going to be a mystery. Be ready for anything until we get a handle on what''s going on.¡±


    Antoine, Kimberly, and I nodded.


    Soon after that, Grace and Chris started traveling up and down the bus helping the other teams figure out their strategies. Usually, whenever veterans went out on runs, they had days or even weeks of nning. This time they only had minutes.


    I looked back at Anna and Camden as they were briefed on their team''s strategy. I couldn''t hear what was being said, but I could tell that they both looked worried.


    I didn''t have long to think about my teammates. I had to keep my eyes on the road looking for Omens. The further we went, the fewer Omens I could see, and those that I did see were disappearing as soon as I got an eye on them.


    I realized that there was a possibility we could get to the airstrip and still not see any live Omens. I tried thinking back to the map of Carousel I had seen. I couldn''t remember if there were any roads out of town from this direction. Even Patcher''s Family Farm where the corn maze had been was pretty close to town in the scheme of things and would likely not be far enough away to keep us safe.


    ¡°The airfield is ahead,¡± Travis yelled.


    As we neared it, I was relieved to see that there were several Omens still on the airstrip. In fact, those were not the only Omens I saw.


    We wereing up on a road with a sign that said Pit Blvd. It didn''t take long to figure out why they called it that. There was arge pit in a lot on the corner of the street. It was fenced off and appeared to have been that way for a long time. I couldn''t tell what had happened there.


    And then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Instead of a pit, there was a parking lot and arge building with a sign that said ¡°Carousel Roller Daze.¡±


    It was an old fashion roller rink. It had been a long time since I''d seen one of those.


    The building appearing out of nowhere wasn''t the biggest concern. The biggest concern was that the entire building, along with the parking lot, was flickering in and out of existence. Sometimes it would stay there for a few moments and then it would disappear for half a second.


    There was an Omen associated with that building.


    <em>Post-Traumatic</em> was the title of the storyline. The poster was of a building on fire. In fact, the building was the roller rink itself.


    ¡°There''s an Omen there,¡± I said loudly for all to hear. It was disappearing off and on, but I wasn''t sure if that was because of the apocalypse or something else. The way it flickered was unlike any of the other Omens I had seen.


    ¡°Keep going to the airfield,¡± Chris said. ¡°It''s a safer bet.¡±


    I couldn''t argue with that. We couldn''t exactly pull the bus into a disappearing parking lot.


    As we passed by the roller rink, I looked inside it through its ss door and saw that the people were wearing 80s fashion getups and dancing cheerfully as if they couldn''t see the iing apocalypse like other NPCs could.


    The bus continued on toward the airstrip. The closer we got, the better I could see the avable Omens.


    The Omens were pretty straightforward at the airstrip. Load onto the aircraft and fly off toward your destination. It was that simple.


    ¡°Can you tell how strong the Omens are?¡± Grace asked.


    The two airnes were both strong. One of them was called <em>Preservation, </em>and its poster featured a metal and ss box against a backdrop of a forest burning. I couldn¡¯t see what was in the box¡­ something round¡­ with... hair. The other Omen was too strong for me to even see any details.


    There was a helicopter with a slightly easier Omen called <em>Headhuntress Reborn</em>.


    I told Grace and Chris about what I saw.


    ¡°And¡­,¡± I said. ¡°The limousine.¡± I pointed to the parking lot. There was a ck limousine outside the small airne hangar. The driver was standing outside holding a sign that said, ¡°Conner Party.¡±


    It was called <em>The Strings Attached</em>. Its poster featured an ordinary image of a ballroom with dancers wearing masks¡ªa masquerade¡ªexcept on closer inspection, it was clear that not all of the dancers were moving on their own power. They were limply being carried around the ballroom in their partners¡¯ arms.


    Its difficulty level was ¡°Get to the car now!¡±


    There was a problem, though. My I don¡¯t like it here¡­ trope was subjective and gave me ratings based on how strong my team was. The problem was: who did the trope count as being on my team at that moment? Was it my original team? Or was it the people physically closest to me?


    The difficulty level could be in the twenties or thirties or higher, depending on who it might be. I didn¡¯t know how to tell.


    As soon as Chris had all of the information I did, he assigned us our stories.


    Anna and Camden were going for <em>Headhuntress Reborn</em>.


    The team with Jesse was going to <em>Preservation</em>.


    Finally, my team was going for <em>The Strings Attached</em>.


    As we pulled into the parking lot before we disembarked from the bus, Kimberly hugged Anna.


    ¡°See you guys on the other side,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We just have to run the story. We¡¯ve done it before.¡±


    Camden nodded.


    After pulling away from Kimberly, Anna came toward me with her arms outstretched and hugged me.


    As soon as the bus was stopped and we unloaded, she and Camden ran behind their team.


    Travis held onto Tory, his girlfriend, and teammate, and gave her a kiss as they left for their separate storylines.


    ¡°Come on, Riley,¡± Antoine yelled, snapping me out of the weird moment I was having as I realized that many of the yers, even the vets, weren¡¯t sure whether they wereing back.


    I ran toward the limousine.


    ¡°Conner Party, I presume,¡± the driver said as we began piling into the back of the limo. ¡°As requested, I have fetched your evening wear.¡±


    As I took a seat and looked around, I found that the limousine had five avable seats. There were clothes hanging from a bar next to the small refrigerator. It was a luxury car, through and through.


    As soon as we were all loaded in, the driver quickly took his seat and put the pedal to the metal. Even though he had to y his part as the Omen, it was clear that he was aware of theing danger.


    ¡°How is this thing supposed to get us to safety?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°If there was a road out of town over here, why didn¡¯t we just go there on the bus?¡±


    ¡°If there wasn¡¯t a way out, the Omen would have disappeared like all of the others,¡± Chris said. He didn¡¯t sound sure.


    I started to suspect there were other reasons he put himself and his little brother in the limo instead of the other options avable.


    If you had to choose between getting caught by the storm in a car or an airne, the choice was pretty simple.


    As the limo headed north, I looked behind us toward the airfield, hoping to see a ne taking off from the runway.


    What I saw froze my blood in my veins.


    <em>Headhuntress Reborn</em> had disappeared from my view. The helicopter was still there, but the Omen was gone. So was the Omen that was so strong I couldn¡¯t even read the storyline title.


    The only Omen left over there was <em>Preservation</em>.


    ¡°Turn around!¡± I screamed.


    The others turned and struggled to see what I was looking at. The driver didn¡¯t listen to me in the slightest. He was still speeding away.


    I beat my fist against the window.


    As I watched, Anna and Camden''s team ran toward the big blue ne that held the Omen for <em>Preservation</em>. They made it to the door just as the other team had loaded in. Travis climbed inside, then Be and Jose.


    Then the door closed. The storyline must have hit its limit.


    The airne started taxiing away from Anna, Camden, and Reggie.


    Everyone in the limo started screaming for the driver to turn around. He ignored us. I could see his face in the rear-view mirror. He looked like he understood exactly what was happening. His face was grim.


    I tried opening the car door, but it was locked. We were stuck. Our storyline had begun. We had passed from Omen to Choice. It was toote.


    Anna, Camden, and Reggie were stranded.


    The limousine continued to head north, skirting around the edge of the storm. Eventually, we turned onto a road that I had heard of before. It was called Turn Around Rd.


    A sign said "Dead End," but the driver continued.


    We came upon a bridge.


    I heard Chris and Antoine begin to talk as we went along. Apparently, the bridge that we crossed was usually out. This road was unpassable unless you happen to trigger an Omen for a storyline on the other side.


    Kimberly was crying inconsbly.


    I leaned my head against the window next to my seat.


    I wondered who, if any of us, would survive.

 Chapter Ninety-One: The Ballroom

    Chapter Ny-One: The Ballroom


    yer Stats:


    <strong>yer</strong>


    <strong>Plot Armor</strong>


    <strong>Mettle</strong>


    <strong>Moxie</strong>


    <strong>Hustle</strong>


    <strong>Savvy</strong>


    <strong>Grit</strong>


    Riley


    22/2


    2


    7


    4


    7


    2


    Antoine


    19


    4


    4


    5


    1


    5


    Kimberly


    17


    2


    5


    4


    1


    5


    Grace


    41


    5


    9


    7


    12


    8


    Chris


    58


    14


    9


    15


    5


    15


    yers¡¯ Tropes:


    Riley is the Film Buff.


    <strong>"Trope Master"</strong> grants him the ability to perceive enemy tropes, but at the cost of sacrificing half of his Plot Armor.


    <strong>"Cinema Seer"</strong> buffs the Savvy and Grit of his allies when they hear him predict cinematic and impactful plot elements.


    As an <strong>"Oblivious Bystander,"</strong> Riley remains untargeted by enemies as he convincingly acts oblivious to their presence.


    <strong>"Escape Artist"</strong> buffs his Hustle to help enact usible escape ns.


    Drawing on his upbringing, <strong>"Raised by Television"</strong> enhances relevant stats when Riley takesrger-than-life or cinematic action inspired by TV or movies, though it often attracts a downturn in fortune soon afterward.


    <strong>¡°Director¡¯s Monitor¡±</strong> allows him to watch the rest of the storyline after his death via Deathwatch.


    <strong>¡°shback Revtion¡±</strong> allows him tomunicate with allies from Deathwatch through shbacks to his past dialogue.


    <strong>"Location Scout"</strong> provides a list of primary filming locations within the storyline.


    He did not equip <strong>"My Grandmother Had the Gift¡­,"</strong><strong>"I Don''t Like It Here...,"</strong><strong>¡°Out Like a Light,¡±</strong> or <strong>"Casting Director."</strong>


    Kimberly is <em>the Eye Candy</em>.


    <strong>"Convenient Backstory"</strong> allows her to believably change her backstory to assist with the current task, buffing the relevant stat.


    <strong>"Social Awareness"</strong> allows her to see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs.


    <strong>"Get a Room!"</strong> boosts the odds of important discoveries when exploring with a loved interest during the party.


    <strong>"A Hopeless Plea"</strong> forces the captor to explicitly deny her release when she asks to be released.


    <strong>"Pregnancy Reveal"</strong> buffs her Grit when she pretends that she is pregnant and buffs the father''s Mettle if she dies.


    <strong>"That''s What I Said!"</strong> allows her ns and ideas to be "stolen" by higher Savvy allies, with the sess of the n being determined by their Savvy.


    <strong>¡°Does anyone have a scrunchy?¡±</strong> allows her to shift Moxie''s points into another stat by putting her hair up.


    She will be targeted for First Blood because <strong>"Looks Don''t Last," </strong>but the longer she survives, the weaker the enemies get.


    She did not equip <strong>¡°Carousel Academy Awards¡±</strong> because herst performance had issues.


    Antoine is <em>the Athlete</em>.


    His <strong>"You are having a nightmare¡­"</strong> trope allows him to repress or heal mental trauma (he is not strong enough to use its plot-resetting powers yet).


    <strong>"Gym Rat"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory.


    <strong>"It''s Part of the Uniform"</strong> gives him higher Mettle when attacking with sports equipment.


    <strong>"Just Walk It Off"</strong> heals the Hobbled status by walking.


    <strong>"The ybook"</strong> allows him to see the phases of a coordinated n.


    <strong>"Time Out!"</strong> allows him to go Off-Screen during a fight, reducing enemy aggression.


    Brandishing a weapon is <strong>¡°Like a Security nket,¡±</strong> buffing his Grit and soothing his and his allies¡¯ fear, whereas swinging a weapon will temporarily halt an enemy''s attack because of <strong>¡°Swing Away.¡± </strong>


    He did not equip <strong>¡°Reload After Cut¡± </strong>or <strong>"Bad Luck Ma."</strong>


    Chris is <em>The Athlete.</em>


    Still a Part of the Team


    Buff


    Athlete


    Sport


    Grit/Moxie


    When physically impaired, non-physical endeavors are buffed based on Grit. Through encouragement, allies gain buffs based on the yer¡¯s injury-rted debuffs based on Moxie.


    Earned Confidence


    Buff


    Athlete


    Stud


    Moxie


    Gains a small buff with every sessful stat check but loses it all with failure. Buffs are fewer andrger as the story progresses. Must maintain a confident persona.


    Just Off a Win


    Buff


    Athlete


    Sport


    N/A


    Buffs team¡¯s strongest stat is based on how many storylines they have won in a row without needing to be rescued. Recent rescues result in debuffs instead.


    Top of the Food Chain


    Buff


    Athlete


    Health Nut


    Grit


    Buffs yer¡¯s Mettle or Hustle whenpeting with a physically imposing enemy. Non-Human enemies give bigger buffs.


    Buzzer Beater


    Rule


    Athlete


    Sport


    Hustle


    The longer the yer waits to aplish a time-sensitive endeavor, the more likely they are to seed. Activates with 5 seconds remaining. The yer perceives a timer.


    Pulled Back In


    BG


    Any


    N/A


    N/A


    Unveil secret background rted to a life of crime, intrigue, or espionage. May equip the following tropes:


    ¡¤ Anything Can Be a Weapon (Soldier-Commando)


    ¡¤ I¡¯ll just take yours (Soldier-Agent)


    ¡¤ You¡¯ve done this before, haven¡¯t you? (Soldier-Agent)


    ¡¤ No Body, No Crime (Outsider-Criminal)


    ¡¤ They Fell Off (Outsider-Criminal)


    ¡¤ It¡¯s About to Go Down (Outsider-Criminal)


    ¡¤ The Bulletproof Table (Soldier-GI)


    ¡¤ Surprisingly Well-Connected (Eye Candy-Socialite)


    ¡¤ Off-Screen Outfit Swap (Wallflower-Recast)


    No Body, No Crime


    Action Insight


    Outsider


    Criminal


    Hustle


    After killing an enemy secretly before the Finale, the yer will go Off-Screen and be shown ideal ces to stash the evidence of their kill. If sessful, the enemy will not be alerted to their presence.


    I¡¯ll just take yours


    Rule


    Soldier


    Agent


    Mettle


    Ensures that the yer wille across a low-level enemy with a desirable weapon if it fits the narrative. Otherwise, such a weapon could be found on an NPC.


    You¡¯ve done this before, haven¡¯t you?


    Buff


    Soldier


    Agent


    Moxie*


    Buffs yer''s attempts at out-of-character skills or ns like those a spy or action hero might have if an ally yer is there to watch in surprise at the yer¡¯s secretpetence. Sess is based on both yers'' Moxie and diminishes after skills are revealed to the ally. Must have a realistic exnation for skills ready to go, or else no experience gained or possible enemy esction.


    The Bulletproof Table


    Rule


    Soldier


    G.I.


    Moxie


    In a Fight Scene, anything the character hides behind will be imbued with the movie magic required to stop projectiles, ws, acid, or simr attacks. Must be at least usible, and the portrayal must be convincing.


    Willpower is Magic


    Rule


    Any


    Any


    Grit


    All applicable enemy technology or magic is now resistible through sheer effort. Results vary. Effects vary. This will hurt.


    The Sacrifice y


    Action


    Athlete


    Sport


    Grit


    Self-Sacrifice leaving the yer dead or injured, will buff allies'' Grit and increase the odds of the current n seeding.


    Gut Instinct


    Insight


    Athlete


    Health Nut


    Grit


    The yer will be alerted to danger and dangerous people or situations. They will not necessarily know what the danger is or how to prevent it.


    Grace is <em>The Detective.</em>


    The Ill-Fated Mary Lee Parrish


    Rule Insight Buff


    Detective


    N/A


    N/A


    The yer¡¯s old friend, Mary, was a victim of the enemy before the storyline began. Investigating her demise during the Party will bear great insight. Changes to the storyline to fit Mary in will not weaken the enemy and may strengthen it. Avenging Mary¡¯s fate will buff the yer in the Finale.


    Eureka!


    Insight


    Schr


    Researcher


    Savvy


    Helps find important information within text.


    Get the Truth Out


    Rule


    Detective


    N/A


    N/A


    The win condition is changed to exposing the truth of the mystery underlying the story. The yer will be given hints on how to aplish this. The enemy will too. If sessful, the storyline is won even if the yers die.


    Here¡¯s What Happened


    Rule


    Detective


    N/A


    N/A


    Sends yers Off-Screen while exining aspects of the mystery correctly. yers will see shbacks illustrating the reveal on the red wallpaper. Stronger in Finale.


    Cross off the List


    Insight


    Detective


    N/A


    Savvy


    yer will be informed of whether they have found all important information in a room search or an interrogation of a person. Will not know what information remains.


    Don¡¯t Shoot the Messenger


    Insight Buff


    Detective


    N/A


    Savvy


    Allies who have found important plot information will get a boost to their Grit as they attempt to return to the yer to ry such information.


    Human Lie Detector


    Insight


    Detective


    N/A


    Higher of Moxie or Savvy


    Can see if someone is lying. Will not know the truth.


    Hardboiled Detective¡¯s Kit


    Rule


    Detective


    N/A


    N/A


    Allows the yer to bring items that a detective might use, such as a camera or gun.


    Take Them In Alive


    Rule


    Detective


    N/A


    N/A


    Greatly improves the chances of inflicting debilitating, but non-lethal injuries. Works best on humans.


    I Can¡¯t Die Until I Know


    Rule


    Detective


    N/A


    N/A


    The yer cannot die until they know the truth about the mystery. Of course, there are so many things worse than death. The enemy will reveal the truth shortly before delivering the killing blow.


    ~~~


    ¡°Get your tropes equipped before the Party starts,¡± Chris said.


    I was not thinking about surviving. Camden and Anna were doomed. I couldn¡¯t wrap my head around that. I went numb, barely registering what I was being told.


    Chris reached across the limo and pped me in the face.


    ¡°Equip your damn tropes,¡± he said again. ¡°We are all sad. It happens. Now we have to survive. Once the Choice ends, you won''t be able to choose.¡±


    I started thinking about my tropes. I could hardly focus. I didn¡¯t need my Hysteric scouting trope. Now that I had hit my limit, I needed to think about what I was taking into storylines. At level 15, the limit became eight tropes and one background trope. It didn¡¯t really matter then because I didn¡¯t have that many tickets. The limit would increase by one every ten levels after that.


    Eight tropes¡­ what would be left behind?


    Out Like a Light was quick to go. I didn''t n on sleeping. I didn¡¯t equip My Grandmother Had the Gift¡­ because I didn¡¯t need Carousel focusing on me in this storyline, and I didn¡¯t have too many uses for it aside from Improvisation. Grace and Chris could be the focus. I would do what they said.


    I was struggling to cut another trope when Grace did it for me.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need Casting Director,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re under-leveled. Anything it would tell you is something we could find out through other means.¡±


    That made sense, but at the same time, knowing my role ahead of time was veryforting. It was true what she said. In The Grotesque, another storyline I was way under level for, all of the information I learned from Casting Director was revealed soon after by ordinary means.


    I ditched it.


    That was it.


    Everyone was getting dressed in the back of the limousine. It wasn¡¯t convenient. I spent a while looking in the other direction while Kimberly and Grace got changed. Teammates in Carousel didn¡¯t get much privacy from each other.


    Outside, thendscape changed from the t farnd of northern Carousel to lush, wooded terrain with breathtaking vistas and wilderness as far as the eye could see. asionally, we would pass a gate with an armed guard posted outside. A sign we passed said, ¡°The Carousel Hills.¡±


    This was where the richest of the rich lived, their estates guarded by fences and security teams. The road was all cobblestone here, thendscapes designed to be visually pleasing. It looked like the wealthiest NPCs got to miss out on the apocalypse.


    Eventually, the driver pulled us into thergest and grandest of all of the drives. Armed guards in expensive suits stopped him before he got too far. He showed the guard a ticket, not unlike the tickets that Ss might award, and the guard let us on through.


    As we drove onward, we were affronted by beauty on all sides. We saw borate gardens and fountains. Magical-looking archways and topiary animals carved from bushes.


    It was paradise.


    But the mansion topped it all.


    It was huge, like a pce in a fairytale. I could not imagine how many rooms it had or what kind of fortune it had taken to build.


    As the driver pulled us to the entrance of the mansion, the doors finally unlocked, and the needle on the plot cycle moved to Party.


    I didn¡¯t feel ready. I was still numb. On any other day, I would have been theorizing about what sort of horror movie this was, but my heart wasn¡¯t in it. Camden and Anna were a loss I wasn¡¯t ready for. I never had many friends, and we had faded apart over the years, but the pain and dread still overwhelmed me.


    I kept imagining their faces on a missing poster. How long would I have to be here without them?


    There was a knock on the window. I looked up, expecting to see another guard, but instead, I saw a man with red hair and a smirk. His face was mostly hidden behind an ornately designed, festive mask.


    The man opened the door before the driver could get to it. We all piled out of the limousine, leaving our clothes behind. We didn¡¯t really need them. Antoine¡¯s baseball bat had already disappeared. It was likely hidden somewhere in the mansion.


    As we got out, I noticed that the red-haired man had no information on the red wallpaper besides ¡°Society Member¡± and the name "Mr. mingo," which made sense, because his mask resembled a mingo in an abstract sort of way.


    He looked at us like he knew us.


    ¡°You made it,¡± he said. ¡°This is going to be marvelous! They said The Eavesdropper was just a celebrity gossip magazine. After tonight, we are going to be respected journalists¡­ who just happen to write about celebrity gossip.¡±


    He looked at us, pulled his mask off, and said, ¡°It¡¯s me, Jack. Have you all forgotten why we¡¯re here?¡±


    Suddenly his name, ¡°Jack Goforth, <em>The</em> Jack Goforth,¡± came into view on the red wallpaper. He was a level 50 NPC. He had tropes I could not see on the red wallpaper like the Psychic and the Detective NPCs did.


    The masks must have blocked insight into identity.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll remind us either way,¡± Grace said.


    ¡°We are here to find out what the oligarchs of Carousel do when they are all on their own. There¡¯s a story here, I can feel it,¡± Jack said. ¡°Today, we¡¯re going to find out how the other half lives. And Grace, the friend you were worried about is inside. She seems fine. I guess it was a false rm.¡±


    Grace raised an eyebrow. ¡°Mary Lee? She¡¯s okay?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s more than okay. Go look for yourself.¡±


    Jack turned to the rest of us. ¡°Don¡¯t forget, we¡¯re undercover here. Don¡¯t let anyone know who you really are, or we are all going to jail and getting cklisted, and worse, we will look like hacks. Let¡¯s just hope the real Conner Party doesn¡¯t show up.¡±


    Our masks were included along with our clothing. Mine was an earthy gray with some warm undertones. I couldn''t tell the theme. Most of the other masks had themes. Mine just looked like someone made it from dirty y and dropped it, creating cracks across it. On the bright side, it covered my face more than most of the masks, so it might help me blend in.


    As we entered the massive doors, some servants ushered us into the ballroom.


    The ballroom was spacious and tastefully adorned. Rich fabrics draped along the walls and pirs, adding an air of elegance to the room. The dance floor, constructed from an unfamiliar yet inviting dark-colored wood, dripped with a sense of luxury. Glittering chandeliers adorned the lofty ceiling, casting a soft, ttering glow upon the dancers below. Mirrors strategically ced on the walls subtly amplified the grandeur of the space. The room''s architecture and careful use of subdued lighting created an enchanting ambiance, making it the perfect setting for opulent gatherings, elegant soir¨¦es, or even some sort of sophisticated massacre.


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°Look,¡± Grace said, pointing to one of the walls.


    I followed her gaze and saw a woman dancing with a young, buff man. She had long blond hair and a shockingly white smile. I could not see any information about her because she was wearing a mask.


    ¡°It¡¯s Mary Lee Parrish,¡± Grace whispered.


    Either she recognized her or her high Savvy helped her see through the mask''s powers. She sounded certain.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t good,¡± Grace said. ¡°It¡¯s better when she¡¯s dead.¡±


    Mary Lee Parrish was an NPC that Grace could bring into a storyline to get a jump start on solving the mystery at hand.


    ¡°She always sumbs to the enemy before the story starts,¡± Grace exined. ¡°If it¡¯s a serial killer, she''s dead. If it is a monster, she''s eaten. You understand. The fact that she is standing thereughing narrows down the ultimate threat of this story.¡±


    ¡°So the bad guys aren¡¯t trying to kill us?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°Maybe not,¡± Grace said. ¡°The fact that she¡¯s alive points to possession, infection, magic of some sort, or perhaps a fate worse than death.¡±


    We all stared at the woman across the room. She looked quite happy.


    ¡°I never get to go to parties like this!¡± Mary Lee eximed with a smile.


    Grace probably shouldn¡¯t have said the phrase, ¡°Fate worse than death,¡± because as soon as she did, I saw Antoine¡¯s eyes widen. He had already suffered one fate worse than death when he was trapped in the Straggler Forest for decades. It took him several seconds to recover hisposure, but the fear never really left his eyes.


    I looked at Mary Lee Parrish as sheughed, shing her pearly white teeth. She looked happy. Glowing. She flirted and teased her suitor with an energy and vigor I had rarely ever seen in the victim of a horror movie.


    As a waiter came by, she grabbed a fresh ss of champagne and drank it like she had never tasted anything that delicious.


    So which fate worse than death could leave you that happy?

 Interlude: In Time

    Interlude: In Time


    ¡°Anna,¡± Camden said, as we strapped ourselves into the helicopter. ¡°They¡¯re going to be okay.¡±


    Was he asking me or telling me?


    ¡°I know,¡± I said.


    ¡°They will be,¡± Be reassured me. She must have seen the worry on my face. ¡°Grace is a top detective. There¡¯s no way they lose.¡±


    She gave me a sincere smile.


    Be was a stout woman with a loud, confident voice and a take-no-crap-from-anyone attitude. She was a Bruiser on the Bowler¡¯s team. She had been a parole officer before she came to Carousel. She still was, in some ways, with how she wrangled the men on her team when they started getting rowdy.


    I nodded my head and tried to smile.


    I felt like I was abandoning members of my team when they needed me most.


    I took a deep breath. I needed to focus on the storyline at hand. I couldn¡¯t do the others any good if we failed here. I had to survive. That was what Final Girls did, right?


    <em>Headhuntress Reborn</em>.


    I didn¡¯t need Riley to picture what we might be up against with that title. I could almost feel a de on my neck just thinking about it.


    I needed to learn more about the story. I looked around the helicopter for clues. Unlike a certain Film Buff, the rest of us had to actually look for important information. We couldn¡¯t just see enemy tropes unless they were disyed somewhere.


    We were not the only people on the helicopter. The pilot had not arrived yet.


    There were eight passenger seats. Two were filled by a well-dressed woman and an energetic four-year-old¡ªa little girl. They were both NPCs.


    As everyone got in an buckled up, she started to speak. We all listened intently.


    ¡°Sweetheart, we¡¯re going to see Daddy!¡± she looked into her child¡¯s eyes and brushed some thin hair out of her face. ¡°And his twenty-two-year-old ¡®assistant¡¯. I think he might need a new ¡®assistant¡¯ because he hasn¡¯t been answering my calls since he got to Anera Ind for his ¡®business trip¡¯.¡±


    Missing person on Anera Ind.


    That was the Omen, and, like most, it was not subtle. It was delivered to us through a scripted dialogue from a woman that believed herself to be the victim of infidelity.


    ¡°I bet Daddy will be <em>very </em>happy to see us!¡±


    The NPC tried to deliver her lines in a happy tone for her child, but with enough venom that we knew how angry and hurt she was by the suspected infidelity.


    She was failing.


    Like all of the NPCs we had seen since the storm began, her fear was evident. It choked out every word she spoke. Knowing of the impending Apocalypse, it must have been difficult for her to y her character.


    With the Omen delivered, the pilot was likely to show soon. I hoped.


    The little girl didn¡¯t understand what was going on. She didn¡¯t know the danger of the ck snowstorm billowing in the distance. The script would never let her say anything about it even if she did.


    She knew that her mother was upset and set herself on fixing that.


    She turned in her mother''sp and ce her tiny hands against her mother¡¯s face. When a solitary tear fell from the woman¡¯s eye, she wiped it with her yellow sleeve.


    ¡°Mommy,¡± the little girl said. I could see her moving her lips and trying to find words, but something was stopping her.


    ¡°Is Daddy ok?¡± the little girl asked finally.


    Her mother swallowed deeply. ¡°That depends on what we find out when we get to Anera, Baby.¡±


    Lines.


    More lines.


    Her voice was soft, and her eyes filled with tears. Her character was a woman scorned. All she could say were lines from her character that would act as an Omen to us.


    Lines that signaled, ¡°A man has gone to the ind of Anera and not returned. Beware.¡±


    How could shefort her daughter with such restrictions? How could she say words meant to show anger and hurt in such a way that her young daughter¡¯s worries about the storm would be quelled?


    NPCs had a life even worse than ours. That was my belief. Sure, the veterans talked about them like they were not real or they were not alive, but that was a defense mechanism. Who could look at an exchange like this between a mother and a daughter and deny they were really in there somewhere?


    The woman drew her daughter in for a hug. She looked out the window and back toward us.


    Finally, a man in a white uniform began running toward the helicopter from the building across the tarmac. He was tall and muscr with an experimental (and not so sessful) mustache. It was the kind of facial hair men only wore when they were young or had no one to impress.


    ¡°Sorry about my tardiness, folks,¡± the man said as he entered the helicopter. ¡°Traffic was something else today.¡±


    After he turned and looked at us, he shed a pearl-white smile. He wore aviator sunsses. I got a good look at his face. He was sweating profusely. His cheeks and forehead were flushed. He almost looked drunk. I was not looking forward to how that might y out in the story.


    ¡°This is a one-way trip to Anera Ind. I have been told that your bungalows are not yet ready, but they have rooms avable for you at the retreat next door.¡± He took a deep breath and coughed into his hand. ¡°My apologies. I should warn you; the retreat does have an open bar, so pace yourselves, or your memories might check out before you do.¡±


    The man strained to smile at his joke.


    The storyline was at some kind of tropical hotel, from the sound of it,plete with cheesy jokes. I wondered how the titr Headhuntress would fit into it. I nced over at Camden. I was d to have him here. He was usually good in a crisis.


    The pilot fumbled around with his controls while we sat in the back seat, still in the Omen phase of the story. He needed to hurry. I wasn¡¯t sure how much longer we had before the storm got to us. Our ¡°divine intervention¡± in finding the bus had gotten us far away from the storm, but it drew closer every time I looked out the window.


    I nced over at Travis. His gaze was focused on the pilot like a hawk. He had a suspicious look that I recognized.


    I tried to figure out what had him on high alert. Was it simply that the pilot was taking too long?


    Travis was an Outsider, and his Outsider¡¯s Perspective would clue him into the presence of something strange, but not actually tell him what it was.


    Dina had the same ability. That was where I had seen that look before.


    I began looking at the pilot too. I knew he was acting weird, but I assumed it was normal for the storyline. Could it be something else?


    Travis started unbuckling rapidly. ¡°We have to go!¡± he screamed. ¡°Look at the spots on his shirt!¡±


    Spots.


    I didn¡¯t see spots. Not at first. They were small and difficult to separate from sweat stains, but as I looked closely, I realized what I was supposed to be seeing.


    ck stains.


    Small round ck stains.


    Like those you might get if ck snow fell on you.


    ¡°Everyone out!¡± Reggie yelled.


    I was already out of my restraints and out the door before I even realized what the dots meant. We had not actually activated the Omen. Riley had said that we needed to take off to activate it. The vets¡¯ experiences suggested the same.


    The ck snow on the pilot doomed our run of <em>Headhuntress Reborn</em>. We didn''t know what the snow did, but we knew that the pilot was part of the Apocalypse since it had touched him. Our escape would certainly fail.


    Perhaps sweating and flushed skin were symptoms of the snow. Was the Apocalypse a disease of some kind? We couldn''t wait around to find out.


    I looked back over my shoulder. The mother and daughter sat still, their fate sealed. The mother had a look of horror on her face. She must have thought she would escape the ck snow for a moment. Suddenly she knew she wouldn¡¯t.


    I wished I could have done something for them. No one deserved to suffer like that. The NPCs were doomed to sit there until someone came and sessfully activated their Omen, as we almost had. They would still be there until the Omen was deactivated. By then, it would be toote for them.


    It would turn out that I was not the only one who realized their situation.


    After we had all disembarked the helicopter, Be leaned back in and shouted, ¡°We changed our minds. Get them out of here!¡±


    ¡°You got it,¡± the pilot yelled back. He sounded relieved to get the order.


    Be was a Bruiser with a Bully aspect. I had never seen that aspect in action before. I still wasn¡¯t able to see aspects at all because I had not met the condition required to choose one yet. It was nice to see that the Bully had abilities that could help knock the NPCs out of their scripted prison, if only in limited ways.


    The pilot shut the door after us and started to take off.


    It was a long shot. The pilot had been touched by the ck snow before he arrived. I had no idea what that might cause, but I knew the chances of them surviving were only slightly higher than if Be had done nothing.


    We were out of the helicopter and on our way across the tarmac in a heartbeat.


    ~~~


    We ran as fast as our legs would take us. One of the nes had already taken off. It was the one with the hardest storyline that no one had been assigned to. The Omen must have disappeared before we realized our pilot was infected by the ck snow.


    The other ne with an Omen wasrger and blue. It had already pulled away from the portable stairs the other yers used to climb up. We were going to miss it. I was sure of it.


    I was wrong.


    The ne stopped suddenly before it had fully turned around toward the runway. Therge door flew open.


    Tory, a fellow Final Girl that was a member of Travis¡¯s team, had managed to get the door open. I could see NPCs bustling about, panicked over her actions.


    Travis was the first one to the open door. He had to jump up and pull his body up and into the ne.


    He turned, grabbed onto a handle inside the ne with one hand, and reached the other one out toward Jose, his teammate. Jose grabbed it, and Travis pulled him up into the aircraft.


    Next, Travis reached out for Be, who was nearest. He hoisted her up with an adrenaline-soaked scream. His hand was back out the door in seconds, reaching for mine.


    I grabbed for it, but before I reach him, he was pulled back, and the door was shut by an NPC.


    ¡°Why?¡± I screamed. It only took me a second to figure it out. The ne had beenrger than the other, but it was still quite small. There was enough room for the cockpit and eight passengers if the windows told me anything.


    The ne was full. The five original team members that were assigned to that storyline, and three of ours.


    We were cut off. Storylines had limits to how many people they took. That was why the Grotesque storyline took so few yers when it was activated.


    ¡°No!¡± Reggie screamed.


    The ne started taxiing down the runway as the passengers screamed for us. I could hear Be screaming for them to let us in, but even her abilities had limits.


    ¡°We need to find another Omen,¡± Camden said. ¡°Reggie, do you have something you can use for that?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, kid,¡± Reggie said. ¡°That ain¡¯t in my bag of tricks.¡±


    ¡°Riley!¡± I yelled. ¡°Riley said there was another Omen when were almost here. The roller skate building.¡±


    We turned around. We had gotten disoriented.


    ¡°There!¡± Camden said.


    He pointed westward toward the storm.


    Could we make it in time?


    ~~~


    The bus had been left in the airstrip parking lot on the other side of the tarmac.


    We would have to run all the way back there and hope that the bus was still working. Surely Travis had left the keys in it. Even then, we were not guaranteed to be able to operate it because we had no tropes that granted that ability.


    Either way, running across the airstrip and jumping over a fence at the end was faster.


    We ran as fast as we could. It looked impossible.


    Every few seconds, the Roller Rink would flicker away. Every time it did, I worried it might note back.


    We got the fence. It wasn¡¯t very tall, and Reggie threw us over before pulling himself up and over,nding on his back as he rolled.


    We were up on our feet in seconds. We still had hundreds of yards to go, and the ck haze of falling snow was getting closer and closer. We didn¡¯t just have to beat the storm, we had to beat it by enough that not even a snowke touched us.


    ¡°We can¡¯t make it,¡± Camden said. ¡°We need to turn back. There might be¡­ other Omens somewhere.¡±


    He was right. We were running out of time. Soon, the building¡¯s parking lot would start getting powdered with ck snow.


    Reggie was up ahead of me. He was very fast for arger guy. I could see him shuffling through his tickets. He apparently found what he was looking for, because they went back in his pockets.


    Then he fell.


    I could see his knee hit the pavement hard.


    I stopped to try and help him. It was second nature. I couldn¡¯t leave a yer behind.


    ¡°Leave me!¡± he yelled. ¡°Go!¡±


    He shoved me away, hard. I did as he asked and ran to catch up with Camden.


    But it was all for show.


    My Hustle rose twenty points. So did Camden''s.


    I looked over my should and saw the ticket he had equipped on the red wallpaper.


    I¡¯m just slowing you down!


    Type: Buff/Action


    Archetype: Bruiser


    Aspect: Gentle Giant


    Stat Used: Moxie


    It is truly noble when a character acknowledges that they are a liability to their allies and willingly sacrifices themselves to improve their allies¡¯ odds of escape.


    With this trope equipped, a yer can sacrifice themselves in order to help their team escape. To activate the trope, the yer must devise a reason that their death or abandonment will help the other yers in their escape efforts. If sessful, a buff equivalent to the yer¡¯s Plot Armor will be distributed among present allies¡¯ Hustle. However, the yer is guaranteed to suffer whatever fate they attempt to flee.


    If this trope is used during a chase scene with an enemy assant, the yer will get one chance to inflict injury upon the assant before death.


    ¡°If you want to move forward, you have to be willing to leave something behind.¡±


    A self-sacrifice trope.


    I ran toward the Roller Rink with every bit of speed I could muster. I wasn¡¯t actually moving faster because of my increased Hustle, but the storm¡­ I couldn¡¯t tell for sure because of its massive size and the shadow it cast, but I swear it was standing in ce.


    Our Hustle was so high even the Apocalypse could not outrun us, at least at that moment.


    Camden and I ran into the parking lot of the roller rink. With a pull on the metal handle, Camden was inside. Then I was.


    I started scanning Camden for snowkes. I hadn¡¯t seen any on the way in, but we needed to be sure. He scanned me for the same.


    ¡°I think we made it,¡± Camden said.


    ¡°<em>We </em>did,¡± I said, looking out the window to Reggie, who was stumbling hopelessly toward the building.


    I thought we would have to watch him suffer the consequences of his sacrifice, but Reggie was gone in the blink of an eye. The storm was gone.


    Suddenly the sun was shining, and the music of the Roller Rink was all I could hear.


    It was like we had been transported somewhere else, but we hadn''t; the airstrip was still there. The street had not moved.


    We weren''t in a different ce.


    We were in a different time.

 Chapter Ninety-Two: Young Love

    Chapter Ny-Two: Young Love


    The party was in full swing, and I don''t just mean the party phase of the plot cycle. People were dancing andughing. They shared wine, champagne, and conversation.


    Everyone I could see was wearing a mask, and because of that, I couldn''t tell the enemies from the NPCs; unless I tried hard enough, I sometimes lost track of my team.


    When we entered, Antoine, Kimberly, and I stayed, hovering near Grace. It was strange. We were getting used to entering into dangerous situations, but social situations could be the most confusing and intimidating.


    One misspoken word could out us as imposters. Would that mean that we just lost? Was it possible to lose before First Blood?


    Mary Lee Parrish didn''t take long to catch sight of Grace. I thought that was strange, given the fact that Grace was wearing a mask. I wasn''t sure what the rules were for the masks, but I had assumed that they would prevent us from being identified.


    ¡°Ms. Emerald? Ms. Emerald, is that you?¡± Mary Lee asked. ¡°These damned masks make it so difficult to recognize anyone. I understand the need for secrecy, but this is just impractical. Come here, darling, it¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve been up and walking around.¡±


    Mary Lee came forward and gave Grace a hug and a quick peck on both cheeks.


    When I looked at her on the red wallpaper, all I saw was the name, Ms. Opaline. Grace could see through that, perhaps because of her high stats, perhaps because Mary Lee Parrish was only brought to into the story because of the effects of Grace''s trope.


    Still, the fact that Mary Lee had mentioned the obfuscating nature of the masks (despite the masks not really covering anyone''s face all that much) suggested that their power was not meta--that it was not the product of a trope. That would exin why I had not seen anything about the masks¡¯ power on the red wallpaper with Trope Master.


    It was magic. In-universe magic. How else would an NPC be mentioning it On-Screen?


    That meant one thing: we were dealing with some kind of sorcery.


    ¡°Emerald, do you remember Mr. Chromatic?¡± Mary Lee asked in a tone that was both hushed, but somehow very loud.


    ¡°I apologize. Memory doesn¡¯t serve. Care to remind me?¡± Grace asked.


    ¡°Mr. Chromatic! You remember him. You hit it off with him at thest society function. Tall man. Dreamy eyes. Wore the mask that looked like a mirror?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Chromatic!¡± Grace eximed. ¡°How could I forget?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Mary Lee said, ¡°He got in an ident skiingst month. His body was wrecked. What a waste. He should be around here somewhere. He isn¡¯t quite as... captivating¡­ in his current state.¡±


    She started tough.


    Grace joined in. Apparently, what Mary Lee said was some kind of joke.


    Mary Lee and Grace continued to talk. The conversation revolved around things that had happened at previous parties.


    Grace (Ms. Emerald) had gotten tipsy and eaten over a dozen shrimp cocktails. (¡°I had to carry you back to your limousine!¡±). Mary Lee (Ms. Opaline) had a wardrobe malfunction. (¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me sooner? That waiter fell in love though, didn''t he?¡±).


    And so on and so forth.


    I moved away from the conversation and whispered to Antoine and Kimberly, ¡°You notice none of their old stories take ce outside of this building?¡±


    ¡°She hasn¡¯t said Grace¡¯s name even once,¡± Kimberly added.


    ¡°The masks,¡± I said. ¡°Mary Lee knows the person who usually wears that mask. She can¡¯t tell that Grace isn¡¯t her.¡±


    ¡°Magic?¡± Antoine asked.


    I nodded. ¡°That or a head injury.¡±


    ¡°Why can we recognize each other?¡± Kimberly asked.


    I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    There were a few possibilities. We would have to work through them.


    As we spoke, Chris came over and said, ¡°My Gut Instinct ability is all over the ce. Stay on your toes.¡±


    As if we were rxing.


    ¡°You two need to go exploring while we still have time in the Party Phase,¡± Chris said to Antoine and Kimberly. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what Film Buffs do, but go do that. If you find important information, get it back to Grace.¡±


    He had a point. Kimberly¡¯s Get A Room trope was exceedingly useful, but they couldn¡¯t exactly use it with me around. I was a bit of a third wheel.


    ~~~


    Chris found his way across the party, soon chatting up a beautiful woman who showed up on the red wallpaper as Miss Forget-Me-Not. Her mask looked just like the flower.


    Deciding to try and be useful, I looked at what Location Scout was telling me about the mansion. The answer was: not much. Location Scout was Savvy based, which meant that our enemy in this storyline must have a high Savvy and was all but canceling out my ability. I could see the ballroom as a filming location. There was an aquarium room, apparently. There were a myriad of rooms in the basement that were filming locations, but I couldn''t see their proper names. I could also tell that over a dozen rooms were simplybeled guest bedrooms, but they were grouped together on the list, so they must not have been that important.


    That was it.


    I was going to feel pretty stupid when the only piece of information I could bring back to Grace to help her solve whatever mystery was afoot was that there was an aquarium. Unless a fish was the killer, that probably wasn''t going to be very useful.


    As I stood there pretending to sip on a ss of champagne, someone across the room called out, ¡°Mr. Gray Amber!¡±


    It was a portly fellow wearing a yellow mask going by the name of Mr. Buttercup. He made a poor choice when he chose his mask.


    I waved back, and Mr. Buttercup didn''t bothering to talk to me. I breathed a sigh of relief.


    As I walked around the party, listening to the ssical music yed live by a group of masked musicians, more people waved to me, and some greeted me with my fake name.


    ¡°Mr. Gray Amber, nice seeing you!¡± One gentleman said, ¡°I was beginning to think that you had forgotten about us in the hustle and bustle of that merger you''re going through.¡±


    ¡°Never,¡± I said.


    ¡°Mr. Gray Amber,¡± a woman named Ms. Iris said, as I passed by. I greeted her in kind.


    After I had made another round around the room, I started to regret that I had not received any tropes that were useful in social situations. I didn¡¯t have any tropes that could help gain information from the NPCs, but I did have some Moxie, meaning I <em>could</em> just talk to them. The thought of it made my head swirl.


    <em>Note to self: get an exploration trope so that you don¡¯t have to talk to people.</em>


    I was much more useful exploring with Oblivious Bystander. I couldn''t use my sunsses and put up my hood because I was wearing a tux, but the mask was bulky, so it might prevent someone to the side from catching my eye line.


    I did have my cassette yer. I would need to look around and see if it was the right era for that technology to exist. So far, the most technologically advanced thing I had seen since starting the storyline had been the limousine itself, but that wasn''t useful. I needed to look in the rooms around the ballroom for a television or aputer or some sign that using my Walkman wouldn''t be breaking character.


    I eyed the exits. As I did, I saw Kimberly and Antoine sneaking off. I silently wished them luck on their exploration. And then I realized how funny it was out of context to wish them luck as they snuck out of the party for some alone time.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°What has you smiling?¡± A woman''s voice sounded from beside me.


    I was not happy to go On-Screen. I was counting on being out of sight for most of the movie.


    I turned to see a woman called Mrs. Cloudburst. She was an attractive woman with long brown hair. She wore a dark gray and dark blue mask with an array of raindrop-shaped beads hanging from it.


    ¡°Young love,¡± I said honestly.


    ¡°It is the best, isn''t it?¡±


    ¡°That''s what I''ve heard.¡±


    ¡°You know it''s not toote now,¡± Mrs. Cloudburst said. ¡°We are as young as the night. Call me Ms. Cloudburst.¡±


    ¡°Hello, Mrs. Cloudburst. They call me Mr. Gray Amber.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Ms., not Mrs.,¡± Mrs. Cloudburst said with a coy smile. ¡°Have you ever been to the western tower?¡±


    Western tower? She must have been referring to the spires on top of the mansion.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I have,¡± I said. ¡°I was thinking of taking a walk to try and get acquainted with the ce. I always like to do a little exploring in ces like this.¡±


    ¡°Exploring by yourself is no fun,¡± she said with a smile.


    I shrugged. ¡°But it¡¯s easier to not get caught.¡±


    Mrs. Cloudburst let out a hardyugh. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to risk it,¡± she said as she grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward an exit.


    At that moment, I realized she had a very different idea of what we were talking about than I did. I noticed another pair of party guests¡ªneither that I recognized¡ªwere leaving the ballroom together. <em>That </em>was what kind of ce this was. No wonder there were so many guest rooms.


    Still, with Kimberly using Looks Don¡¯t Last, I was unlikely to be in danger. That was another benefit of having a trope like that in y. It freed yers up to take risks. I didn¡¯t need Oblivious Bystander if I had an NPC with me as a cover story. Once I got my bearings, I could sneak away and do some real investigating.


    ~~~


    Mrs. Cloudburst gave me quite the tour of the mansion. The ce looked like a clue boarde to life. I was surprised that we needed to take a detective into this story to make it a mystery. There was a conservatory and a gentlemen¡¯s parlor, a library with a study, and much much more. There were trinkets and curios covering every square inch of avable space. If we were to loot this ce after we finished the storyline, we would make a fortune selling our haul at shops around town.


    ¡°Look,¡± Mrs. Cloudburst said, pointing to an open door we passed on the third floor, ¡°They have an old-fashioned sleeping porch. I love houses with sleeping porches.¡±


    As we walked, my Location Scout ability started to fill up with new locations. Maybe talking to people wasn''t so bad.


    Eventually, she took me over to arge bookcase on the first floor and pulled on one of the books, and the cab swung open to reveal a winding staircase. As it opened, Mrs. Cloudburst ushered me forward toward the stairs. I started to get nervous. Being out in the open with her was one thing, but in a secluded area, things could get rough.


    ¡°Hurry,¡± she said. She pointed to arge wooden door that was reinforced withrge strips of iron. ¡°We aren¡¯t supposed to use this, and the entrance to the wine cer is right there. Do you want us to get caught?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said. The wine cer must have been pretty high-traffic.


    She grabbed my hand and dragged me up the staircase, giggling like a schoolgirl. The bookcase closed behind us. We made it to the top to find a small door. She looked over at me and opened it.


    Inside, I saw a room with a few implements of furniture, a small bathroom, and arge bed. There were windows on all four sides of the room, onebeled with each of the cardinal directions.


    She pulled me into the room with a smile and shut the door.


    Off-Screen.


    Suddenly, her behavior changed. She let go of my arm and walked over to the windowbeled with arge, ¡°S.¡±


    She gestured for me to follow.


    As I did, I saw what she was looking at. The storm.


    In the distance, arge, ck storm hovered over the area that must have contained Carousel.


    The storyline had just managed to make me forget about Anna and Camden.


    Mrs. Cloudburst looked concerned. That puzzled me. I thought NPCs knew everything that was going on.


    I was Off-Screen. No way I could break character.


    ¡°The Apocalypse?¡± I asked.


    She looked at me and paused, thinking of the right words.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it won¡¯t make it past the mountains.¡± She said the line like she was telling me, but her facial expressions made it look like she was asking.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    She nodded her head.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never seen this one before?¡±


    She shook her head and looked back out the window. The expression of worry never left her face.


    Some of the veterans insisted that NPCs were not real. I wasn''t sure. Here I was in a room with a woman who had, to the best of my understanding, pretended to seduce me so that she could ask me whether she was safe or not. Just like all the NPCs who had been forced by the script to stand and watch as the ck snow approached, she was afraid of what the apocalypse would mean for her.


    The funny thing was, I didn''t actually know if she was a standard NPC or an enemy. She might try to kill me in a few hours.


    There appeared to be limits to what different NPCs were told in their scripts.


    "Some people close to me got trapped in it," I said. The words caught in my throat, and I had to keep myself from crying.


    Mrs. Cloudburst reached out and gave me a hug.


    She started to mess with her hair, and she unbuttoned one of the buttons on her dress. She went back to the bathroom and looked in the mirror to hastily apply a newyer of lipstick.


    Afterward, she returned to me and loosened my bow tie just a bit so that it wasn''t perfectly straight, and she pulled up on my undershirt so it wasn''t tucked in just right. Then she ruffled my hair.


    She was getting us ready for the next scene. We needed toe out of the tower looking like we had just fooled around.


    ¡°Cristobal¡¯s speech should be soon. You know he would hate for us to miss it, don¡¯t you, Mr. Gray Amber?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know anything, but the character my character was pretending to be would.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said.


    ¡°We had better not miss it,¡± she said, as she kissed the cor of my white undershirt, decorating it with a red lip-shaped stain.

 Chapter Ninety-Three: Mr. Evergreen in the Ballroom with the Knife

    Chapter Ny-Three: Mr. Evergreen in the Ballroom with the Knife


    Mrs. Cloudburst and I ran through the hallways,ughing and stumbling about like drunk idiots. She was a great actress. If I didn¡¯t know better, I would think she was actually enjoying herself. Following her lead, I think I was putting on a pretty good performance.


    We were On and Off-Screen throughout our time together in that scene. I tried not to focus on it too much so that I didn¡¯t get too anxious.


    ¡°What year is it?¡± I asked with augh. It was an odd question to ask, but I still wasn¡¯t sure. The rooms had electricity, but that was the only piece of technology I could use to narrow things down. I couldn¡¯t use my Walkman with Oblivious Bystander until I knew.


    I pretended to swig champagne from a bottle that Mrs. Cloudburst had taken from the ballroom.


    Mrs. Cloudburstughed. ¡°I know, it can be difficult to keep track of, can¡¯t it? You¡¯ll get used to it. It¡¯s 1992. It can be strange how time flies.¡±


    She got quiet momentarily, and I could see that her mind went elsewhere. But only for a moment.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been good with dates,¡± I said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re doing so bad.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t see her script, but I could see that she had tons of lines that guys wait their whole lives to hear. She made me feel strong, smart, and desirable in a few short scenes.


    But I had a job to do.


    ¡°Tell me about Cristobal,¡± I said. She had used his name earlier, and it sounded like he was in charge.


    Sheughed.


    ¡°Quite the enigma, isn¡¯t he?¡± she asked. ¡°He hasn¡¯te to Carousel in over a decade. He travels around the world to all of the Society¡¯s other gatherings. They say he leaves a trail of adoring women and angry husbands everywhere he goes.¡±


    She spun around, pulling me down the hallway. All at once, the movement stopped. She put her face close to mine and said quietly, ¡°But that¡¯s not what you want to know, is it?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t looking for his travel itinerary, if that¡¯s what you mean,¡± I said. ¡°I just want your opinion of him.¡±


    ¡°I have the highest opinion of him. I owe everything to him. Like many others, I follow him when he moves to a new ce. I¡¯ve shipped myself across oceans and continents just to be near him. He¡¯s the most powerful man in the world. I¡¯m sure most members feel the same. Don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said.


    ¡°We¡¯re not together in <em>that </em>way,¡± she said. ¡°If that¡¯s what you were thinking. He holds no me for me, at least, not recently.¡±


    I got this strange sense that she held one for him.


    Perhaps I had pushed too far. Chris had buffed my Moxie with his Just Off a Win trope, which boosted my highest stat. Since my Moxie and Savvy were tied, the buff was divided among them. If I pushed too hard, I might not be able to recover. It¡¯s not like I had any natural talent for negotiating around human emotion.


    I decided to change the subject.


    ¡°Now, where is this aquarium I keep hearing about?¡±


    Mrs. Cloudburst shed a smile.


    The aquarium was massive. It contained fish of every variety, but they all had one thing inmon: they were beautiful and elegant and swam around that tank like dancers.


    ¡°Which one is your favorite?¡± Mrs. Cloudburst asked.


    I looked at the fish. There were dozens, maybe hundreds.


    ¡°The blue one with the gray,¡± I said.


    She scanned through the aquarium. ¡°Where¡¯s that one?¡±


    ¡°Right there,¡± I said, pointing to her mask.


    She yfully hit my arm.


    ¡°R¡ªMr. Gray Amber?¡± someone asked from the door to the aquarium room.


    I turned to see Kimberly and Antoine. I was relieved to see that I could still tell who they were despite their masks, though something in my mind was fighting me on it. It was as if the magic of the masks was trying to reassert itself.


    ¡°Hey, Ms. Swan Song and Mr. Moonrock,¡± I said. ¡°This is Ms. Cloudburst.¡±


    They looked from me to her and seemed very surprised.


    ¡°We were just on our way back to the ballroom,¡± I said. ¡°Stopped here for a look at the fish.¡±


    Antoine coughed. ¡°We should go. It¡¯s getting about that time.¡±


    I checked the Plot Cycle. It was nearing First Blood.


    ¡°Cristobal¡¯s speech!¡± Mrs. Cloudburst said suddenly. ¡°It¡¯s going to be any minute. We need to go!¡±


    She pulled me toward the door and past Antoine and Kimberly. As she did, Antoine gave me a look that said something like, ¡°What have you been doing with her?¡±


    I shrugged my shoulders as we ran back toward the ballroom.


    Back in the ballroom, more guests were there than when I left. There must have been at least a hundred members. It was hard to imagine how there were this many elite rich folks in Carousel, but from what Mrs. Cloudburst had said, it sounded like many followed the group''s enigmatic leader around, so many of these might not actually have been from Carousel within the story.


    It took us a while to find Grace and Chris. Partially because of the masks they were wearing and also because of how many people there were in that ballroom.


    It turned out that we had arrived approximately five minutes before Cristobal was to make an appearance. The crowd was electric. These partygoers were thrilled about the arrival of their leader.


    The ballroom didn''t have a stage, so I wasn''t sure where he was going to show up. It had a strange area in the corner that was closed off by ornate room dividers, but none of the party guests were casting their attention in that direction.


    The lights got dark. Smoke started to rise from the center of the room. The party guests quickly backed away from therge circle inscribed into the wood floor. The smoke continued rising until it got so thick that I could not see anything on the other side.


    ¡°I love it when he does this!¡± Mrs. Cloudburst said, giddy with excitement.


    As quickly as the smoke rose, it started to fade. The band started to y music announcing the arrival.


    Momentster, as the smoke started to settle, a man and a woman could be seen standing in the middle of the ballroom. They hadn''t been there before.


    Both of them were very striking. The woman was beautiful. The man looked like he was pulled from the cover of a romance novel. He had long, flowing hair and wore his shirt almostpletely unbuttoned to expose his chest.


    Only the woman wore a mask.


    Before me was the man known as Cristobal. The woman he was with was called Mrs. Midnight on the red wallpaper.


    Cristobal


    in


    The Strings Attached


    Plot Armor: 60


    __________


    Tropes


    Quick Change


    Artist


    This viin can change into and out of their disguise without being seen or getting caught.


    Non-Combatant


    This viin cannot be attacked until it attacks the yer or is otherwise identified as hostile. Attacking it will not be effective, nor will it change the story. It will cause the yer to go Off-Screen for a time.


    Bottomless Bag of Tricks


    The viin has so many different in-universe abilities that they can employ new abilities in the Finale without needing to establish them in the narrative.


    Fate Worse Than Death


    This viin does not want to kill its victims, though, in the end, they will wish it had. Victims are Written-Off instead of killed.


    Which One Do I Shoot?


    yers will not be able to differentiate the viin from other characters through the mere use of observation, insight tropes, ormon sense. However, these,bined with clever ns and an understanding of lore, may suffice.


    13 Additional Tropes not Perceptible


    Cristobal received a standing ovation thatsted for eight minutes. That was not an exaggeration. The people in that room loved that man.


    Mrs. Cloudburst was no exception. She screamed, cheered, and pped, and it was everything I could do to match pace so that I didn''t look like I was the odd one out.


    ¡°My people,¡± Cristobal said whenever there was a gap in the cheering. He had a thick ent that was vaguely European, but I couldn''t ce it beyond that.


    At those two words, the ovation continued for another two minutes.


    Finally, the room settled down enough that Cristobal could speak.


    ¡°My people,¡± he said. ¡°It brings joy to my heart that I can be here with you today. I am enraptured by the beauty in this room. On any other day, I would stand here and speak about the abundance and happiness that each of us has received as members of the Society.¡±


    He paused so that people could cheer.


    ¡°The decanter vitae overflows with prosperity, beauty, and love, does it not?¡±


    Several people in the crowd started to cheer "decanter vitae" over and over again.


    Cristobal held up his hands to silence them.


    ¡°I wish I could stand here and share stories of our wonderful lives with you, but as many of you have heard, my dear friend Mr. Midnight has passed. It pains us all that someone who has lived such a beautiful life must leave it behind.¡±


    Gasps spread throughout the crowd.


    ¡°Oh my God, how could that happen?¡± Mrs. Cloudburst asked. She sounded truly distraught. ¡°His poor wife.¡±


    The woman who had arrived with Cristobal, Mrs. Midnight, looked dreary and sad at the reveal. It didn''t take much of a leap to realize that Mr. and Mrs. Midnight were married.


    ¡°There has been talk from members of the society who did not love him well enough that I should choose a Third to rece him.¡±


    He spat on the ground. This elicited more gasps from the women in the crowd.


    ¡°This man was my friend for much of my life,¡± Cristobal dered. ¡°He has only been dead for these three weeks, and it is demanded that we already need a new Third? I am disgusted. I wretch at the thought of betraying my friend''s memory.¡±


    People booed an agreement.


    Cristobal''s speech continued on. He spoke of his many adventures and the many parties he had been to. He walked around the room, giving women (and the asional man) kisses on their cheeks.


    ¡°Cristobal!¡± A woman with a butterfly mask cried out, ¡°Cristobal!¡±


    She was Ms. Monarch on the red wallpaper.


    The moment that Cristobal saw her, he walked across the room and embraced her.


    ¡°She¡¯s so lucky,¡± Mrs. Cloudburst whispered.


    ¡°Cristobal,¡± Ms. Monarch said, ¡°I spoke to Mr. Midnight before his death. I¡¯ve been trying to tell you, but I could not get ahold of you.¡±


    Cristobal looked at her curiously. ¡°You have information on his death?¡±


    She nodded her head vigorously. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been trying to tell you! I tried to send you messages, but I was unable to find you!¡±


    Cristobal started to fall forward. A dozen hands reached out to catch him.


    ¡°This is too much,¡± Cristobal said. ¡°I need to rest. His passing weighs on me so,¡± Cristobal looked pitifully at the ground.


    Mrs. Midnight ran to his side.


    ¡°Cristobal,¡± Mrs. Midnight said in an ent simr to his, ¡°You must not strain yourself.¡±


    She looked up at the partygoers.


    ¡°He bears the strain of the current. Without a Third, he is weakened.¡±


    Cristobal stood up straight again with great effort. ¡°I must rest, But I cannot stand the thought of being away from you,¡± he said to the guests, ¡°I have asked to have a small bed brought into the room so that I may bask in your presence as I rest. Please send me your strength.¡±


    After he said that, the guests lifted their hands upward for a few moments. ¡°Decanter vitae,¡± they said in chorus.


    As Cristobal limped away from the center of the ballroom, he said something to Ms. Monarch and held up a hand to her. She nodded.


    Mrs. Midnight hauled Cristobal behind the screens in the corner of the room I had seen earlier. The screens were a poor cover. I could see them through the gaps in the screens. Hey on the bed.


    Mrs. Midnight sat next to him and stroked his long hair. She then bent down and kissed him on the lips before leaving to rejoin us on the floor.


    As she came back, she gestured to the band, who started ying again.


    ¡°That poor man does so much for us,¡± Mrs. Cloudburst said. ¡°No one appreciates his sacrifice for us.¡±


    And she seemed so normal before that Cristobal fellow came along.


    The night wore on, and eventually, people started dancing again. Mrs. Midnight stood in the center of the ballroom, receiving condolences from the guests.


    The needle on the Plot Cycle inched closer to First Blood. It could happen at any minute.


    Kimberly was absolutely terrified. She refused to leave Antoine¡¯s arms so much that people started noticing.


    ¡°Were you close to Mr. Midnight?¡± One of them masked eagerly.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kimberly managed to squeak out.


    Mrs. Cloudburst insisted on dancing eventually. I did my best to follow along with what she was doing but soon noticed that her eyes always shifted toward the screens in front of Cristobal¡¯s sleeping body.


    It was hard to pay attention to the festivities while we waited for the bomb to go off.


    But soon enough, it did.


    A scream echoed through the ballroom. The musicians stopped short.


    Ms. Monarch, who stood in the exact same ce that she had been when shest spoke to Cristobal, was yelling and shrieking in terror.


    ¡°No, don''t!¡± she screamed. ¡°Don¡¯t, please!¡±


    She didn''t move but put up her arms as if defending herself from an assant.


    But there was no assant.


    ¡°It¡¯s,¡± she screamed, pausing as something appeared to strike her in her chest, though no object or wound was visible, ¡°Mr. Evergr--¡±


    She was struck again.


    And again.


    She screamed bloody murder, but I saw no blood nor weapons of any kind.


    ¡°It''s Mr. Evergreen,¡± she screamed out in her dying gasp.


    Then, she went limp.


    She didn''t fall to the ground, no, her arms went limp, and she bent forward, and she stood there emotionless, gurgling.


    ¡°She''s been murdered!¡± Mrs. Midnight cried out.


    ¡°Who''s down there?¡± Cristobal screamed as he lumbered across the floor toward her. ¡°Someone went down there and killed her!¡±


    Mrs. Cloudburst held me close and asked, ¡°Who would kill one of us? Can you see anything? I''m too far away and I''m nearly blind.¡±


    At first, I thought she meant she was too short to see Ms. Monarch, but then I realized she wasn¡¯t even looking in that direction. In fact, dozens of people were not looking at Ms. Monarch. They were looking in other directions very intently.


    Cristobal sent a man, Mr. Red Rock, to go check on Ms. Monarch somewhere else, ordering everyone else to stay in the ballroom.


    People in the crowd were questioning who Mr. Evergreen was. No one seemed to know.


    Mr. Red Rock returned some minutester holding a silver knife, covered in blood. He had it wrapped in a handkerchief.


    "Someone snuck down there and stabbed her!" Cristobal raged. "Who did this?"


    "I didn''t find anyone down there, sir," Mr. Red Rock said.


    "We will figure out who did this," Cristobal yelled. "Mark my words, we will find who did this!"


    Antoine and Kimberly were looking at me like I would know what was happening. My theory was quickly being formed, but we didn''t dare discuss it in front of the other guests.


    One thing was for sure.


    Kimberly got lucky. First Blood must have been scripted for Ms. Monarch to be killed. The needle on the Plot Cycle had moved over to Rebirth. Kimberly was passed over and didn¡¯t have to die first.


    It didn''t make a difference to me. I was still next.

 Chapter Ninety-Four: A Fair Play Murder Mystery

    Chapter Ny-Four: A Fair y Murder Mystery


    The crowd grew into an uproar as party guests began panicking. Many wanted desperately to get downstairs.


    ¡°We need to go down there, Cristobal,¡± one man, Mr. Oakheart, yelled over the crowd. ¡°The killer must still be down there! I haven''t felt any presence trigger the seal but Mr. Red Rock when he went to check on the body.¡±


    ¡°Calm,¡± Cristobal cried out. ¡°Mr. Red Rock, did you see anyone else down there when you went to check on Ms. Monarch?¡±


    ¡°No sir, I didn¡¯t,¡± Mr. Red Rock said. ¡°But I didn¡¯t stick around too long. It¡¯s possible the killer found a ce to hide before I got to the body. There¡¯s no way to know.¡±


    ¡°How could someone get into the cask room without permission?¡± a woman cried out.


    ¡°That''s right,¡± another cried out, ¡°What about the consensus of the living body? How could they get in and out through those protections?¡±


    As they asked questions, the crowd continued to work itself up into an uproar.


    ¡°If they¡¯re still there, we could all be killed!¡± one of the women realized aloud.


    And just like that, a room of polite, concerned citizens became a mob. The team and I just did our best not to get run over.


    Off-Screen.


    As soon as we went Off-Screen, we were pulled aside by Grace and Chris.


    ¡°Pay attention to everything the NPCs say,¡± Grace said the moment we had separated from the mob.


    Many of the NPCs had run off down the halls. Some stayed behind and watched us. It was like they were waiting for something in the script, Mrs. Cloudburst, Jack Goforth, and Mrs. Opaline AKA Mary Lee Parrish were among them.


    ¡°Anything could be important,¡± she continued. ¡°How many murder mysteries have you all done?¡±


    We looked at each other for a moment.


    ¡°Just one,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve only done Ranger Danger?¡±


    Antoine nodded.


    Grace took a deep breath. ¡°Stay calm and listen. We don¡¯t know how long we have between scenes.¡±


    Antoine, Kimberly, and I nodded our heads.


    ¡°This is a murder mystery first and foremost,¡± Grace said. ¡°There''s magic involved with this one which means that without some constraint, anyone could have killed the victim. Luckily Carousel only does <em>fair y</em> murder mysteries. That means as time goes by, the rules of the mystery will slowly be revealed, usually through NPC dialogue. Do you understand?¡±


    I nodded.


    Kimberly didn''t look as certain.


    ¡°Everything we learn for the rest of Rebirth and maybe even a little longer than that will be important for figuring out the mystery. We will be given enough information to understand what happened. In fact, collectively, we may already have the information we need, however obscured.¡± She eyed each of us, making sure that we understood. ¡°Now tell me everything that you know.¡±


    I bet Kimberly and Antoine started to ry the information they had learned during the party.


    ¡°We found this hidden room,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°It was really old; everything was covered in dust. It looked like nobody had been in there in decades. We found this,¡± she reached her hands over to Antoine, who retrieved a small book from his jacket pocket. She took the book from him and handed it to Grace. ¡°It fell off a shelf and opened up right in front of us, so we figured it must be important. It''s got some weird pictures in it.¡±


    The book turned out to be a photo album, and its pictures told a story.


    I did my best to get a good look as Grace flipped through it. The first picture in the album had three people in it. I recognized two of them, One of them for certain. It was Cristobal and Mrs. Midnight. The third man wore a mask identical to Mrs. Midnight. I assumed that he must have been Mr. Midnight. It looked like their bodies were the same, but the masks could have been tricking me. Cristobal, though, didn''t have a mask.


    ¡°Well, that confirms it,¡± Grace said. ¡°He doesn''t look like he''s aged a day.¡±


    The photograph had a small inscription under it that read June 1st, 1906.


    ¡°That was almost 100 years ago,¡± I said. ¡°It''s 1992 right now.¡±


    Grace flipped the page. The next picture was very simr. It had the same three people in it. The only difference was that they were standing in front of a building under construction--the Mansion itself.


    And they weren''t alone.


    Behind them stood 12 other people--both men and women--each wearing masquerade masks simr to the guests had that night.


    ¡°November 12th, 1922,¡± Grace read.


    She turned to the next page. The mansion was fully built in this one, and the 12 people behind them had grown to several dozen.


    ¡°1938.¡±


    She turned the page again.


    ¡°1945.¡±


    As she turned the pages, it became obvious that the people behind them were changing. Not only were they getting more numerous, growing to the numbers that they had in the present day, but they were getting older. More and more grayheads started to show up in the pictures. Soon, there wasn''t a person in the picture under sixty if you didn''t count the three up front.


    ¡°1972,¡± Grace read off one of the more recent pictures.


    This one had even more people, but something was different. There were no more old people in the background. It was Cristobal, Mr. and Mrs. Midnight, and a collection of young fit people dressed in tuxedos and dancing gowns.


    ¡°Must have been after the time they started doing the body-controlling thing,¡± I said, looking over at the NPC that was still leaning over like a rag doll after the person controlling her had been killed. ¡°Thedy I was talking to said something about having to ship herself over oceans and continents. I''m guessing that she was being literal. I assume that the old folks from these pictures are still alive, and most are downstairs.¡±


    ¡°I think simrly,¡± Grace said. ¡°Remember, just because this story has magical nonsense in it does not mean it isn''t a straightforward murder mystery. If you find NPCs operating under an assumption, then you need to explore that assumption. It won''t always be true, but it will always be enlightening.¡±


    ¡°Riley, did you get anything?¡± she asked.


    Antoine gave me a weird look that I didn''t understand.


    ¡°Yeah, I could see some of that guy''s tropes, the one without the mask. He''s so high level I couldn''t even see half of them, though.¡± I told them all about the tropes I had seen, including the one that worried me the most: Bottomless Bag of Tricks.


    ¡°Oh yeah,¡± I added, ¡°There are a lot of guest bedrooms upstairs and a bunch of rooms downstairs that are important, I think, and there''s also an aquarium room, but my Location Scout ability didn''t get much more than that.¡±


    ¡°I was meaning to ask,¡± Antoine said, ¡°How are we supposed to beat that guy when his plot armor is 60? Are you going to be able to beat him by yourself?¡± He asked, looking at Chris.


    ¡°I''ve fought worse,¡± Chris said. ¡°We may have some luck on that department, though. Riley said that this storyline was tough but not the worst. Right, Riley?¡± He asked me.


    I nodded. ¡°It wasn¡¯t the highest difficulty. I don''t know how we''re up against someone that strong.¡±


    ¡°Well, if Riley¡¯s right,¡± Chris said, ¡°We may be in luck. Enemies that have a suspiciously high level for the storyline they''re in usually don''t have to be fought, or else they have some really easily exploitable weakness. In a way, his high level could be a blessing, but I''m not sure how yet.¡±


    The conversation went on, and much of it involved Grace reiterating her points about us paying attention to what NPCs were saying.


    Apparently, a murder mystery could really go off the rails if it wasn''t for the fact that the mystery would continue to be refined further and further as the story went along until eventually, the yer would know all the limitations, and hopefully, if they were paying attention, they would know exactly which threads to pull. The problem was that clues often presented themselves for a time and then disappeared forever. Finding them before they did was crucial.


    "If we were going for perfection," Grace said, "We might try an escape attempt because our characters would be scared right about now. Of course, it wouldn''t work for some convoluted reason. We can''t escape this storyline. The attempt would end up getting one of us killed--"


    "Or turned into a puppet," Chris added.


    "Or more likely turned into a puppet," Grace agreed. "I say we just skip that part and focus on solving the mystery. With three under-leveled yers, I don''t feel like getting fancy. Sound good?"


    The three of us nodded.


    After a little more coaching and encouragement from Chris and Grace, it was time to move on.


    On-Screen.


    Mr. mingo (AKA Jack Goforth) approached us in a hurry.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± he asked. ¡°Is this some freaky murder mystery rich person bullshit?¡±


    He gestured over at the husk of Ms. Monarch, who still stood limp, like a puppet.


    ¡°Is this a story for the magazine or my therapist?¡± Jack asked. His eyes were wide with frenzy.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not panic yet, Jack,¡± Grace said. ¡°There has to be a logical exnation for this.¡±


    ¡°A woman told me I had a nice body earlier, Grace. Then she asked me if I chose it or if it was chosen for me.¡±


    ¡°Jack maybe right,¡± Chris said. ¡°Did you see these pictures that Antione and Kimberly found? Weird stuff.¡±


    ¡°What pictures?¡± Grace and Jack asked at the same time.


    Of course, Grace knew exactly what pictures he was referring to, but now that we were on screen, we basically had to go over everything we had just been over from the point of view of the characters we were ying.


    That didn''t take too long. Luckily, Grace, Jack, and Chris covered most of it. But I did get a few lines in.


    ¡°You''re not saying what I think you''re saying,¡± Jack asked.


    ¡°I''m saying everything up here is a puppet and that the real people are downstairs,¡± I said.


    ¡°Why did we bring this kid? You''re freaking me out,¡± Jack said. ¡°OK, I snuck into the party in one of the catering vans. I think I could get us back to it, and we could find a way out of here. What do you say?¡±


    ¡°Jack, we came here to find a story. We may have just found one. You want to leave now?¡± Grace asked.


    ¡°We work for a celebrity gossip magazine, Grace!¡± Jack said. "We do not handle things like this!"


    ¡°I thought you said we were more than that.¡±


    ¡°I was very wrong. We are tabloid journalists. Let¡¯s go home.¡±


    Grace shook her head. ¡°I need to figure out what¡¯s going on here, Jack. Weren¡¯t you a serious investigative reporter once?¡±


    ¡°I have a tendency to exaggerate,¡± Jack said. ¡°Even if we did stay, what¡¯s the story? Rich people are body-swapping in the Carousel Hills? There is no amount of proof that could substantiate that.¡±


    ¡°I need to know,¡± Grace said. ¡°And you are going to help me. You are technically qualified whether you would deny it or not. Now we need to go over and see what these people are discussing downstairs. Come with me and y it cool. You¡¯re Jack Goforth. Pretending to be rich and important is something you¡¯ve practiced your whole life. You¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Grace then walked away from the group, and toward the direction the NPCs had traveled.


    Truthfully, as Grace had exined, we couldn¡¯t escape. We didn''t know if escape was a viable win condition. Even if it was, we couldn¡¯t do it until the Finale. The only way forward was to solve the mystery and, as per Grace¡¯s trope, ¡°expose¡± the truth, whatever that meant.


    As we went forward, the Off-Screen light triggered sporadically as the camera captured footage of us and random NPCs making our way through the crowds to get downstairs.


    ¡°Do you really think someone is killing us down there?¡± Mrs. Cloudburst asked in a panic after rejoining me further down the hallway.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    The direction that all of the NPCs were headed turned out to be the door that Mrs. Cloudburst had referred to as the wine cer. The door had not been opened. Cristobal and Mrs. Midnight stood in front of it.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Cristobal screamed. He lifted his hands, and a bolt of neon blue electricity shot from his fingertips, making a wicked crackle and getting the guests'' attention.


    Jack gave Grace a wide-eyed stare but stood firm.


    ¡°The cask room cannot be entered or exited without our permission. Flooding our way in will serve no purpose. Mr. Red Rock said that he saw no one, and I would like to believe him,¡± Cristobal said. ¡°I understand you are all worried about your bodies. That is reasonable. I tell you the truth: we will find the person who did this even if we have to search every square inch of the Mansion to do it.¡±


    He continued trying to cate the crowd to mixed levels of sess.


    ¡°Now he likes Mr. Red Rock,¡± Mary Lee Parrish, AKA Mrs. Opaline said under her breath to Grace, but also loud enough for everyone around to hear.


    We had stayed toward the back of the crowd.


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Grace asked.


    ¡°Oh, nothing,¡± Mary Lee said.


    After a few seconds, she continued anyway. ¡°Fifteen years ago, Cristobal tried to exile Red Rock from the Society. Red Rock had brought some outsiders in. Cristobal was furious. If Mr. Midnight hadn¡¯t stepped in to save his neck, Red Rock wouldn¡¯t be here. Now Red Rock¡¯s punishment is to be the steward of the Carousel Mansion for the next forty years or so. Suddenly Cristobal trusts Red Rock?¡±


    ¡°People change,¡± Mrs. Cloudburst said. ¡°Cristobal is very understanding. He¡¯s just protective.¡±


    ¡°I never said to the contrary,¡± Mary Lee said. ¡°Guess we wouldn¡¯t be surprised if Red Rock makes a move to be the Third. Seeing as they¡¯re best friends now.¡±


    Mrs. Cloudburst turned to me. ¡°That woman is so obnoxious.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well¡­. Maybe she¡¯s just stressed from the situation,¡± I said.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Mrs. Cloudburst suggested. ¡°But the Third must be chosen by the collective. Cristobal knows how important the rules are. For her to suggest someone could sway his judgment... It¡¯s infuriating.¡±


    ¡°I hear you,¡± I said.


    ¡°The Third will be a knowledgeable sorcerer from the collective. Not some halfwit who would expose our secrets to the world.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should be the Third,¡± I said.


    She smiled and yfully smacked my arm. ¡°I am not a knowledgeable sorcerer. Truthfully, I only joined so that I could keep living, continue the ride, you know. I never really cared for much else.¡±


    ¡°Same,¡± I said. I just kept agreeing with her, and she kept telling me things. I wondered if that was how women were in real life.


    ¡°Though it would be nice to be walking around in my own body,¡± she said. ¡°I really was beautiful once, you know.¡±


    That was a strange thing to say. Most of the people at the party were, objectively, very good-looking. Mrs. Cloudburst (or at least her host body) included.


    ¡°You still ar¡ª¡± I started to say. ¡°Wait. So the new Third does get to keep their original body?¡±


    This was an obvious extension of the photo book that Kimberly found. The Main three didn¡¯t need hosts because their bodies didn¡¯t age.


    Mrs. Cloudburst looked at me like I was an idiot. ¡°Of course. All of the Three do. They don''t have to vegetate in casks like we do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never really thought about it before,¡± I said. Hoping I didn¡¯t blow my cover.


    Having an NPC friend was quite useful. I would have to try it more often. The more we learned about the strange puppet spell, the better we could solve the murder.


    I was certain I would learn a lot more because, as we finished talking, Cristobal started letting people into the wine cer to check on their bodies.


    It was time to meet the Society face to face.

 Chapter Ninety-Five: The Casks and the Crime Scene

    Chapter Ny-Five: The Casks and the Crime Scene


    As we stood outside the cer door, the crowds of masked guests continued to rage and demand to be allowed in to see their bodies.


    Some in the periphery of the crowd seemed to be less worried about their fate. They casually stared on and mocked those who panicked. Others stayed away from the main crowd simply so that they could gossip with each other, but they spoke in such hushed whispers that I wasn''t able to pick up on the scuttlebutt.


    Eventually, a group of people including both Cristobal and Mrs. Midnight left to go search the cer for any trace of a killer. Many of those closest to the entrance imed to be able to sense that no one had entered or exited during the timeframe of the murder who wasn''t ounted for.


    ¡°How could someone murder her and leave without being gged by the seal?¡± One man, Mr. Oakheart wondered aloud.


    By my estimation, there were all manner of lesser sorcerers among the group. I couldn''t see their level, but by the way they spoke on the matter, I could see that many of them were educated on whatever magical spell protected the cask room below.


    I tried to listen intently as Grace had instructed. The things the NPCs were saying were supposed to help narrow the possibilities down. It was difficult when mystery mixed with fantasy. If you didn''t know the magic system, how were you supposed to guess the many ways that the murder could have beenmitted?


    Grace was less daunted.


    ¡°It appears that until we get confirmation to the contrary,¡± she said. ¡°The murderer did not enter the cask room after the most recent casks were loaded into it, and somehow, they did not leave after the murder. Keep your ears and eyes open for information that could contradict that; otherwise, we must assume that it is true.¡±


    Grace seemed to be very confident in her understanding of the nature of Carousel''s mysteries.


    Naturally, I was more skeptical. In most storylines, it was fully possible for you to miss crucial information, but from the way she spoke about murder mysteries, it sounded as if Carousel would intentionally provide the rules of how the puzzle worked. The way Grace described it, we weren''t supposed to spend the story learning how the Society''s magic worked on a deep level. We only needed the basics.


    In this case, we were just supposed to believe that the magical seal had not been broken. As I stood there and waited, I got more and more nervous, and it became more difficult to just trust an assumption like that. This directly shed with my natural curiosity.


    I started thinking that perhaps one of the sorcerers had magically floated a knife to kill the victim, but that wasn''t possible because the victim had seen her attacker and called him Mr. Evergreen.


    That left one obvious possibility that I pondered as I walked back to Mrs. Cloudburst.


    ¡°Is it possible someone left their cask and murdered Ms. Monarch?¡± I asked as I approached Mrs. Cloudburst.


    As soon as she heard me, she started tough as if that was the silliest thing she''d ever heard.


    Was that my answer?


    ¡°I know this can be very frightening, but there''s no reason to lose our heads,¡± she said.


    Earlier she had been the one freaking out, and now she was talking to me as if I were panicking. Of course, I could never know exactly why she hadughed at that suggestion until I saw the casks that everyone had been talking about.


    Eventually, the next scene arrived as Cristobal and Mrs. Midnight proimed that the cask room was safe and that there were no unounted-for persons within that room.


    ¡°Come, my people," Cristobal said. Somehow, in the short duration between when I had first seen him and when he came from the cer door, I noticed that he was visibly tired and sickly. His hair was greasy and thin, his eyes were dark, and his skin was mmy. ¡°Come see for yourself that your bodies have been kept safe.¡±


    As everyone began moving down into the open cer doors, I was vaguely reminded of being ushered forth into a dark ride at an amusement park. The difference was that I was terrified of what I was about to see. The glitz and the mour of the storyline so far were not befitting of a true horror movie. I had spent thest few hours waiting for the other shoe to drop.


    As we were led down into the cask room, I kept my eyes open for any passages that might lead in or out of the room, but I didn''t find any. I knew for a fact that the mansion had hidden doors, but I wasn''t sure how I was going to look for them in front of dozens upon dozens of enemies.


    The stone steps down into the cask room wererge, and as we went down, I noticed that something was missing from the stairway and from the room below: light sources.


    There were no torches hanging on the walls to guide our steps. There were no collections of candles left burning to light the way. There were no modern lights of any kind that I could find, and yet, I was able to see. There wasn''t much light to see with¡ªthe room was lit very dimly¡ªbut I couldn''t figure out where the light wasing from. This was magic.


    Once we reached the bottom, the entire group congregated in an open space where tables filled with strange ingredients and sks of various sizes and shapes were kept. It reminded me of the Astralists'' secretboratory, except it took a definitive step toward the fantastical and away from the pseudo-science fiction of that story.


    These weren''t chemicals. These were potions¡ªbrews of a magical sort.


    But the tables with all of their ingredients could not hold my attention for long. Opposite them was an opening to arge room that must have taken up much of the basement beneath the mansion.


    Within it, stacked neatly in rows, were dozens if not hundreds of barrels. Some of the barrels were made of wood, others of shining copper, and still others of ss. The majority of them, however, were made of both wood and y of some sort reinforced with bands of metal.


    Other than that, their features weremon with each other. They were about the size that I would expect a medium to arge wine barrel to be. Just big enough for the average human to get into. They had all sorts of copper tubing sticking out of them that had been connected to arger plumbing system that ran up and along the ceiling, all leading back to arge bubbling cauldron in the center of the room.


    Another feature that the vast majority of these casks had was a ss viewing port like you might find on a ship. Just a round ss window riveted into the cask. Most of the ss windows werepletely covered in debris, dust, and a strange green slime.


    Because some of the casks were made of green ss, which was mostly see-through, I could roughly make out what was inside. They were bodies, of course. Naked, contorted to fit their container, bodies that had apparently been in the liquid for so long that they had lost many of the features that I would associate with the human body.


    The skin was puffy, and the limbs atrophied. They looked like those sideshow fetuses preserved in formaldehyde. I had seen something like this in a science ss, but it had been a fetal pig.


    These were grown humans. The ss was foggy, and it was difficult to see through the clouded liquid inside, but I got the distinct impression that these bodies were <em>very </em>old. Some of them had been inside their tanks for so long that their hair had grown to such a length that it covered entire portions of the cask.


    The entire time I had walked down the stairs, I was afraid of one particr thing: the magical seal that was meant to keep people out of the room without consent from the masses.


    I was an impostor, so depending on how that magical seal worked, it may or may not let me inside the room. As I walked through an area at the entrance of the casks room to join the crowd, I felt a strange electrical pulse. I was afraid that I might be triggering some rm but, looking around, others also felt that pulse; they reacted to it like a chill up their spine.


    This was meaningful, I thought. It meant that this magical seal did have weaknesses and that as long as the members of the society consented, one could enter. It did not matter if you were the person they thought you were. Informed consent was not needed.


    I looked back toward Grace to see her walk through the electrical field, and as I did, she made eye contact with me and nodded. She understood.


    That didn''t solve the problem, though. Just because an impostor was able to get in and out of the seal, that did not mean that someone could get in and out without being detected. The sorcerers had been very clear that no one had entered or exited unounted for.


    ¡°Everyone line up in front of your body so that we can get a good roll call,¡± Mrs. Midnight said.


    As soon as I heard that, I started to panic on the inside. I had no idea which of these bodies belonged to the real Mr. Gray Amber. Luckily, before I had a heart attack, I realized that each of the rows had beenbeled with a color.


    My mask was an orangish-gray color. So I found the orange line and walked until I found a cask convenientlybeled Gray Amber.


    It just so happened that monarch butterflies, like the one Ms. Monarch''s mask had been modeled after, were also orange.


    In fact, as I walked down the row, I saw that to my left was the green row, and far in front of me was the crime scene.


    Mr. Gray Amber, whoever he was, must have been one of the wealthier members because his cask was made of sturdy metal and looked brand new. Of course, that could simply be because he was rtively new and the technology had evolved.


    As I stood before him, it dawned on me that the real man I had been impersonating was literally right there in front of me unable to tell anyone that I was an impostor. That had been another fear of entering the cask room, that perhaps our real counterparts would be able to open their casks and reveal our identities.


    Mrs. Cloudburst had scoffed at my worries that someone could leave their cask, but I still wasn''t sure if they were able tomunicate. I quickly saw that that was not the case.


    Mr. Gray Amber floated crumpled up inside of his cask. He didn''t move. All I saw were the strange bubbles that woulde out of his nose as he breathed. Strange, because he wasn''t breathing in air. How was he breathing it out?


    As I stared into the metal tank through the viewport, I noticed that one of his eyelids started to twitch and open just a slight amount. I was quick to turn around and put my back to the viewport. I didn''t know if he could see out, but I wasn''t going to risk it.


    By my estimate, my pickled friend was in histe 80s or early 90s. With any luck, his eyesight in his real body might be poor.


    Still, I found myself ovee with nerves.


    I decided to study the crime scene a few casks down in order to distract myself. Because green was on the row next to orange, Grace, Ms. Emerald, was directly across from the crime scene. A perfect vantage point for the detective.


    The ground was wet with the liquid that had been inside Ms. Monarch''s cask. Much of it had sloshed out as the killer attempted to pull her real body out of the tank in order to kill her. It was hard to look at the poor woman as shey syed out over the side of the tank.


    Although not all of the casks were made of y, they were all sealed with it. Inscriptions that I couldn''t read were etched into them before they dried.


    Miss Monarch''s seal had been destroyed when the killer opened her wooden cask.


    After she had been pulled out partially, the killer slit her throat, which bled down onto the ground and mixed with the liquid from her cask. Blood also flowed from her injured fingers. It appeared that she had tried to defend herself, but the killer''s knife was too sharp and her body was too frail.


    Her immortality had been cut short.


    Ms. Monarch was so old that I could not even guess the age of her body.


    After I had surveyed the scene, I had to look away. It felt like a great vition to look at a dead body like that.


    Not long after we got there, Mr. Red Rock arrived to cover the body with a sheet.


    Cristobal and Mrs. Midnight stood near the crime scene and started asking witnesses if they had seen anything through their real bodies at the time of the murder.


    ¡°I didn''t even notice at the time,¡± one man said.


    A woman nearby agreed. ¡°When the murder was taking ce, I don''t remember seeing anything. In fact, I didn''t see anything until Mr. Red Rock came down to check on the body. You have to understand my eyes haven''t been good in fifty years.¡±


    The sentiments of the others in the area were simr. A room full of witnesses and no one saw a thing.


    We stood there as more witnesses were interviewed. They asked Grace if she had seen anything, and she echoed what the others had said. I did the same a few minutester.


    Cristobal went through the cask room and asked each and every person whether they had seen anything or had any theories. We flickered on and off-screen as it happened. While we waited, Grace examined the seal on her cask.


    I turned and looked at the one on mine.


    It was unbroken. I looked around the room and realized that every single cask had that same y seal, and none that I could see had been broken. I was starting to see why Mrs. Cloudburst hadughed at my guess that someone had left their cask for the murder. If they had, they would surely be unable to reseal it. More than that, I started to wonder if any of these bodies even could leave their tanks willingly. They were so feeble.


    This left an even more curious conundrum.


    The killer had not left the room, assuming my understanding of the seal was correct. The people in the casks could not have done it without breaking their seals. Ms. Monarch had seen her attacker but no one else had.


    What did that leave? Teleportation? Perhaps the killer was a magical creation or had disguised themselves in the room.


    All I could think of were numerous possible exnations, but as I looked at Grace, she was hiding a sly smile.


    Had she figured it out?

 Chapter Ninety-Six: Who, Why, and How

    Chapter Ny-Six: Who, Why, and How


    As I waited for the interviews to end, I started to survey the bodies in the casks. My Trope Master ability worked on them. As I looked around the room, I found that all of them were enemies. That made sense. It was unlikely that they would be NPCs. Body snatching pretty much ensures an evil alignment.


    Unfortunately, they only had two to three tropes. Some were so old they would die with ease, apparently. One of their tropes appeared to block my ability to see anything more than that. Their Plot Armor ranged from standard NPC all the way up to 51.


    Oddly enough, I couldn''t see any of their names, not even their colorful codenames. As I saw it, if I didn''t "Wake the Beast," they would remain feeble test tube terrors.


    I hoped.


    Society Member


    Plot Armor: 3-51


    __________


    Tropes


    On Death¡¯s Door (85% of the casks had this trope)


    This viin is nearly dead and exploiting their weakness will easily procure a victory.


    Don¡¯t Wake the Beast (all of them had this)


    This viin is asleep or in a simr condition. They will not stir without outside intervention. Waking them will transform them into a more dangerous form that ys by different tropes.


    Decorative Danger (all of them had this)


    This Viin¡¯s presence is scene dressing. It would be best not to change that before the proper timees.


    After everyone had been interviewed, the party guests started to filter back upstairs. Many chose to walk up and down the hallways in between the casks, double-checking to make sure that they were safe. For a time, I joined them.


    I was able to confirm to the best of my ability that none of the seals had been broken. Again, we always ran the risk that some sorcerer might be able to reseal their cask from within it, but I had not run across any information that would confirm that.


    Based on the framework that Grace had given us, we could trust that assumption. Carousel didn''t want to make things easy, but it also had a movie to make, and watching yers stumble around in the wrong direction for hours did not make good cinema. We were not there to dive deep into how the storyline''s magic system worked; that was the subject matter of other types of stories. We could rely on certain, uncontested facts. Still, it was difficult for me to give up on the idea.


    When I finally made it back to the row with "my" cask, I saw that Grace had struck up a conversation with a gentleman by the name of Mr. Pewter.


    I drew close so that I could listen to what they were talking about.


    "Of course, I was an engineer by trade before. It was how I made my millions," he said. "Are you familiar with lotive lubrication? No of course you don''t want to talk about that; why am I asking? When I joined the Society, learning how magic works was a natural curiosity. I am quite the sorcerer in my own right. Well, I am learning the ropes. Say, have you seen the new rooms overlooking the pool?"


    "No," Grace said. "Are they nice?"


    "They are beautiful, truly beautiful. Not unlike yourself... err... Say," he cleared his throat, "What would you say if I asked you to go back t¡ª"


    "Do you know anything about the magic of these casks? I find it all so confusing," Grace interjected. "I''ve been meaning to find a <em>real </em>sorcerer who could exin these to me. With recent events, I can''t stand not knowing."


    "Oh, of course. Yes, these casks are something else. Cristobal and Mr. Midnight designed them themselves. You''re looking at new magic," he said, pping the side of the nearest cask. "Oops, sorry," he whispered to the cask, apparently remembering that a person was inside of it.


    "In the international world, these are very impressive. Designed off an ancient sorcerer''s cogitation. Their special Draught of New Life does the job for you. Puts you in just the right mental state for the magic to work automatically and keeps you alive indefinitely. Genius. Truly."


    "That''s fascinating," Grace said.


    Mr. Pewter smiled and nodded his head enthusiastically. "I''ve always thought so! For years they just tried to teach new members to do it the old-fashioned way, but it takes decades to learn, so... that didn''t work." He cleared his throat again and continued. "I still think they should exin this to new members, but they told me that most people don''t want to know the details given the... ufortable nature by which we get our new bodies. But how are we supposed to produce new sorcerers if they don''t teach the basics?"


    "That''s a good question," Grace said. "You know a lot about this."


    "Well, like I said, I was an engineer before I came aboard. And all magic really is, is engineering. That''s what I say. So, I was wondering if you might want to go see one of the rooms by the po¡ª"


    "You know what," Grace said. "I just remembered I''m supposed to meet my friends in the ballroom. It''s hard to believe how forgetful I can be. Thank you for talking with me! I''ve really enjoyed it."


    Mr. Pewter nodded. "Right, I''ll uh... see you on the dance floor."


    Grace walked around him and left for the exit. I followed.


    Mr. Pewter looked utterly disappointed.


    Back in the ballroom, the band had started ying again, and some people had returned to dancing. I felt that was callous, considering someone had just been murdered, but these people had stolen innocent people''s bodies and turned them into mind ves. Cognitive dissonance was probably the only thing holding them together.


    We took turns revealing everything that we had learned. In that regard, Grace won first prize.


    "I know who did it and I know how. I could probably guess why," she said. "There are two problems. I cannot reveal what I know until the Finale so that my Here''s What Happened trope will function properly. The second problem is that we need evidence. Knowing what happened is only the first battle. We need to prove it. I want you to focus on evidence for motive. That is usually where Carousel likes to throw its curve balls. Without the motive, we can''t win, so I want you to devote all of your efforts for the remainder of Rebirth toward figuring it out. It''s possible that it''s a standard motive. Love triangle, power struggle, you understand. I need your help substantiating that."


    "Wait," Kimberly asked. "If you can''t tell us who did it, how are you supposed to find the motive?"


    "If I''m right, we can probably guess <em>who </em>did it," Chris said. "We don''t have many true suspects. The real mystery is the how and the why, and Grace has that half-finished already."


    Grace nodded.


    Grace''s Here''s What Happened ability would take the team off-screen while she exined who the killer was. That could stop a killer from retaliating. I could understand her reluctance to ruin its potency, but I was frustrated that I wasn''t allowed to know what had happened. If Chris was right and it was the obvious person, that meant that it had to involve Cristobal. He was the only named character, and his interaction with the victim was suspicious at face value.


    But how had he done it?


    The "why" could be simple. Mr. Midnight''s mysterious death had been hung out as an obvious clue. It was established that Ms. Monarch knew something about it. Someone had to hide it. We just needed actual proof. In the case of this storyline, proof likely meant rumors and gossip. I felt under-equipped for such a task.


    Antoine and Kimberly hadn''te up with any new information since ourst group huddle, and Chris hade to pretty much the same conclusion I had about the seals on both the cask room and the casks themselves. Either way, it was old news to Grace.


    They knew pretty much everything that I did from ourst conversation about what I had seen with my tropes and discussed with Mrs. Cloudburst. I told them about the tropes I had seen on the vegetative sorcerers downstairs, but that was all I had to offer.


    "I want you to go out and find the information we need and bring it back to me. Don''t blow your cover to do so. I have contingencies if we don''t find the information soon enough, but I don''t want to have to use them. You have done a great job so far. Let''s finish this thing," Grace said. She was trying to stay positive and keep a strong face, but I could tell she was worried. If not about us, then about her brother, Reggie. I hoped he would be okay.


    A few minutester we had to have that whole conversation again in-character for the benefit of the cameras.


    With Grace''s mandate that we go find the motive for the crime, I finally had the freedom to search the mansion for the information we needed.


    I left the ballroom and wound my way through the vast hallways of the estate. I put on my headphones and started walking casually. Up until that moment, my Oblivious Bystander strategy probably wouldn''t have been that meaningful given the fact that I already had a disguise, but as Second Blood approached, I knew that soon enemies would be at the gates, and I would need to be ready.


    My strategy was to find people talking and do my best to listen in. I wasn''t sure if Carousel would go along with it. Normally, using Oblivious Bystander was a meta-strategy. I was pretending to be an oblivious character. This time, I was ying a character who was pretending to be oblivious.


    This was a unique situation where my character would, in the context of the story, be acting aloof to the conversations and people he perceived. My character was a reporter of some kind who worked for a celebrity gossip magazine. I was undercover, trying to figure out information about a magical secret society, as tabloid journalists are known to do.


    I started to wish that we had attempted an escape earlier. I expected that the doors were locked and that we wouldn''t be able to leave the property. That might give my character more narrative foundation for trying to figure out the truth. It was toote for those types of regrets.


    I was going to have to find out if Oblivious Bystander would work when my character wasn''t actually oblivious but was just pretending to be. I silently begged Carousel to go along with it.


    I made my way through the halls and slowed down at every conversation, listening for important information.


    For a mansion filled with wicked, rich world travelers, those people sure had some boring conversations. They talked about makeup and their favorite alcohol. They talked about their favorite bands andmented that they had been dead for decades.


    Eventually, I wandered upon a woman who said, verbatim, "I have a secret about Cristobal."


    When I listened in, the secret was that she had a huge crush on him. I should have known it wasn''t going to be anything meaningful, given the fact that I wasn''t on screen at the time, but I still got my hopes up.


    I continued on.


    I passed Chris, who was still talking to Miss Forget-Me-Not, but I didn''t stick around to listen to their conversation because it would be a wasted effort. Chris knew what he was doing.


    I walked around for what felt like an hour until I finally found something worth my time.


    I felt like a fool when I realized that there was a memorial near the entrance of the mansion. I hadn''t noticed it when we entered because I was concerned with a dozen other things, and I didn''t know who these characters were yet. But as I found that area again, I was finally able toy eyes on a high-resolution color photograph of Mr. Midnight.


    I wasn''t sure if that would help, but it was nice to match a masked face to a name.


    There were some women there standing in front of the memorial, paying their respects.


    I wondered how long they had been there, going through those same exact motions, waiting for someone to talk to them.


    "I would have followed him," one of the women, Mrs. Rosemary, said.


    "In a heartbeat," her friend Ms. Sassafras agreed.


    "This is a nightmare," Mrs. Rosemary said. "I wish he had just done it. Gone through with the n. I think that lots of people would have left with him and Mrs. Midnight. More than he ever knew."


    "We can never be sure now," Ms. Sassafras said. "I need a drink."


    I got away from them so that they wouldn''t notice me.


    My Grit jumped up 10 points.


    There it was. A power struggle. A small brick that could be used to help construct the motive for why Miss Monarch had been killed. Apparently, to cover up the death of Mr. Midnight. Grace''s "Don''t Shoot The Messenger" trope had given me a buff to my Grit so that I could bring this information back to her. It was a rumor, but a rumor was better than nothing.


    My information would only be a piece of the puzzle, but I was d to have something to offer.


    The needle on the plot cycle ticked toward Second Blood. I would need to get the information to her soon. If my estimate was correct, I had less than half an hour. I didn''t want to think about what was about to happen to me. I secretly hoped that there would be some plot nonsense to exin why I wouldn''t be Second Blood, but I couldn''t think of any. I had the lowest effective plot armor on the team, so I would be next.


    The only question was: Where was Grace?

 Chapter Ninety-Seven: Close and Personal with Mr. Red Rock

    Chapter Ny-Seven: Close and Personal with Mr. Red Rock


    I searched for Grace for so long that I started to suspect that there was a trope interceding in my ability to find her. While Grace did have an ability that buffed my Grit in order to assist me in getting important information back to her, extra Grit wouldn''t guarantee that I would be able to <em>find </em>her.


    As the plot cycle ticked closer to Second Blood, the urgency started to increase dramatically. That wasn''t the only thing increasing though. There were sorcerers roaming up and down the halls, looking for some sign of an intruder, a Mr. Evergreen. I felt in my gut that if I slipped up even a bit, they would nab me.


    Luckily, I had been pulling off my Oblivious Bystander strategy quite well up to that point, and none of the Society members on the lookout had so much as tapped me on the shoulder. I theorized that the mask helped. Oblivious Bystander activated rarely but always helped me escape any awkward questions. I was just d that it was working given the odd situation.


    As I went along one of the familiar hallways on the first floor, I saw two faces that I recognized. Technically, I only saw one face that I knew: Cristobal. But I recognized Mr. Red Rock as well.


    They were whispering to each other. I couldn''t tell what they were talking about, but it was clearly important, as they were having quite an intense conversation.


    They were headed in a direction that I had actually spent some time looking around: the hallway with the Aquarium Room. Anytime I had a chance to look over there, I took it. I had searched the room when I was with Mrs. Cloudburst but hade out with nothing.


    I knew it was significant. It was an important filming location ording to my Location Scout ability. Something had to be going on there; I just had to figure out what.


    I decided to follow them.


    Oblivious Bystander did all of the hard work for me as I pretended to listen to whatever tape was on my Walkman. I had to go slower than them to make the act believable, but it got the job done.


    As I expected, when we turned down the hallway with the Aquarium Room, that was the door they entered. I followed right behind. The room was tinted blue-green because of the aquarium water. Almost everything else was exactly as I remembered it: with vast couches and pillows. This room also had cabs filled with curiosities.


    One thing had changed.


    The stone wall on the far side from the entrance had opened up. It was a secret passage. Even from the doorway, I could see that it was a stairway going down. My interest piqued.


    The question was whether I dared to look further.


    With Second Blood quickly approaching, I realized that caution wasn''t going to bear much fruit. I was a goner soon anyway. Might as well learn something.


    Besides, I had a n for Second Blood.


    I snuck over across the Aquarium Room and slowly made my way down the dark stairway to the room below. At first, I thought I had found a secret passage leading into the Cask Room, which could exin how the murder wasmitted, assuming the magical seal did not affect it.


    I wasn''t exactly right.


    As I made my way down the stairs, I started to hear groans and crying. The sound of it put a panic in my chest. Up until that point, I tried not to think about where all the bodies hade from that the Society members had been using as puppets.


    Now I knew.


    As I got to the edge of the staircase, being careful not to go all the way around so that I couldn''t be seen, I ducked my head over and saw the cages. They were filled with people. Most of them were young and attractive, just as the Society members desired. Some wereatose, standing limp like a puppet with its strings cut. Others still had some free will and cowered in the corner of the cages, crying butcking agency otherwise.


    No wonder this ce was a filming location. That was the most horrifying room in the entire mansion.


    I eventually worked up some bravery to try and peek around further to see what Cristobal and Mr. Red Rock were doing, but as I did, I felt a familiar static in the air. The same kind of magic seal that had protected the Cask Room from unwanted visitors was at work in this room. I knew that if I moved forward anymore, I would find out exactly what those seals did. I doubted Mr. Gray Amber had permission to go in that room.


    I realized I had even more information to tell Grace and the others, so I turned and, as quietly and quickly as possible, made my way back up the stairs. I had picked the perfect time, too, because moments after I turned tail, I heard the two of theming back up behind me.


    Was it possible for me to leave the secret stairway and get across the room without them seeing me?


    I didn''t think so. The room was huge.


    As soon as I came into the blue light of the Aquarium, another idea struck me because I saw the champagne bottle that Mrs. Cloudburst had brought there when we were exploring the mansion together. I ran to my left and grabbed the bottle, then fell back onto one of the plush couches, burying myself partially in therge pillows.


    I closed my eyes and propped the champagne bottle up next to my hand, pretending to sleep. It was at that moment it dawned on me there might actually be some use to my Out Like a Light trope, but I hadn''t brought that.


    As soon as I was settled onto the couch, pretending to be in a drunken stupor, Cristobal and Mr. Red Rock emerged from the stairway.


    I put my best acting chops into that power nap. I couldn''t tell whether or not Cristobal and Mr. Red Rock spent time examining me, or if they just strolled out of the room, but I did hear the entrance to the stairway closing.


    I waited there for as long as I could bear before opening my eyes, doing my best to maintain the facade of being drunk when I did.


    They were nowhere to be seen. Chalk another one up for Oblivious Bystander.


    I was running out of time. I needed to get the info I had about the power struggle between the three sorcerers who ran the Society, and I needed to do it quickly.


    The knowledge that Mr. Midnight had considered leaving the Society to start his own was not theplete picture, I knew, but we didn''t need perfection. We just needed a motive.


    As I emerged from the Aquarium Room, I saw people walking in the direction of the ballroom at a rushed pace. I decided to follow. Arge group of people had gathered outside a room that I wasn''t familiar with. I couldn''t see what they were so interested in.


    Fearing that one of my fellow yers had sumbed to Second Blood, I checked the plot cycle, but that wasn''t the case. We were still in Rebirth by a slim margin.


    I listened for the news of what had happened to travel to the back of the crowd.


    ¡°A body stuffed in a closet,¡± one of the women said. ¡°At least this time it was only one of the hosts. Can you imagine if another one of us had died?¡±


    "Who was it?"


    "Their mask was missing. We don''t know yet."


    It couldn''t have been one of my teammates. That would have triggered Second Blood. But why else would someone get murdered?


    Chris.


    He had a trope for hiding bodies. He could have killed someone who got too close to uncovering our presence.


    But where were my teammates?


    That question was soon answered. They were inside the room. I wasn''t sure what the sequence of events had been. Had they been caught with the body? It was possible they had just gone back in with the crowd. From what I could see on the outside, it didn''t look like they were suspects, but I could see them across from the doorway, huddled together. All ounted for.


    ¡°This is it,¡± Cristobal cried out from inside the room. ¡°This is thest time that the sanctity of this holy ce is mocked. No one here will leave until we have discovered the culprit.¡±


    Perhaps I was just imagining things, but Cristobal actually did look confused about what had just happened. If Chris was right and he was the killer, it would be pretty confusing for him when a second body turned up that he had nothing to do with.


    The plot cycle was a hair''s width away from Second Blood. I didn''t have time to work my way over to Grace. The temperature was rising, in a manner of speaking. If Second Blood didn''t trigger soon, there was no telling what Carousel might do.


    I thought about what I needed to do. My character needed to trigger Second Blood.


    Ever since I learned the premise of the story after the murder, I had started forming a contingency n for what I would do at Second Blood. Given all the lore I had learned and my knowledge of the tropes at y, I had a course of action worked out.


    It was time to enact it.


    I either needed to go to the Cask Room or the Aquarium Room. I chose the Aquarium Room. I then looked around until I found the trigger that would open the secret door. It turned out that it was a rock jutting out from the wall. I pressed it, and the door opened.


    Next, I did something that I had been dreading ever since I learned the magical power of the masks.


    I took mine off and stuffed it into the cushions of one of the couches in the Aquarium Room. If I was caught wearing that mask, they would identify me as Mr. Gray Amber. They might realize which people had arrived with Mr. Gray Amber, and my team would get caught too.


    I needed anonymity. Ironically, the only way to get that was to take off the mask.


    I then ran down the stairs until I felt the static of the magic seal.


    And I kept moving. My character did not know about the magical seal. I did. He would have acted on the opportunity to check out theb while everyone else was distracted and then got caught by it.


    As anticipated, before I got too far into the room, I was incapacitated and lying on the floor, a drooling mess. It was like I had been tased.


    I didn''t have to stay there for too long because a humming sound started to emanate from the location of the seal, and within minutes, Cristobal, Mrs. Midnight, and Mr. Red Rock were bearing down upon me.


    Before I could get another viin monologue, I passed out from the pain.


    I woke up feeling numb all over my body. I wasn''t in the little secretboratory with the cages of mind ves. As far as I could tell, I was at the foot of some stairs in the Cask Room. The problem was that these were not the same stairs that I had walked down earlier.


    There <em>was </em>a secret path into that room. For a moment, I thought I had solved the murder. A secret path to the Cask Room would be the perfect way for a killer to get in and out undetected.


    But then I felt the familiar staticing from the room. It felt like the same seal that protected the main entrance to the Cask Room also extended over here. I got excited for nothing.


    I was also dismayed to see that Second Blood was not over. The needle rested on it. It was triggered when I was caught, but there was more toe.


    Mr. Red Rock and Mrs. Midnight held my left and right arm, respectively.


    ¡°Oh, look who¡¯s awake,¡± Cristobal said. ¡°Don''t you worry. I intend to find out why it is that you are here, but before that, I have a job for you.¡±


    I coughed aggressively. That seal had tested my buffed Grit considerably.


    ¡°I''m not a hard worker,¡± I said, trying to sound confident and quippy. Unfortunately, my throat was sore, so I wasn''t certain if what I said came across that way.


    ¡°Then this is the perfect job for you,¡± Cristobal said. "You see, we are in search of a killer. We thought you might help."


    He turned away from me.


    ¡°Mr. Red Rock, if you could find somecefortable for your host. I will need your services elsewhere,¡± Cristobal said.


    Mr. Red Rock did as instructed, giving a nod toward Cristobal. He then turned and headed back up the stairs.


    Mrs. Midnight stayed next to me, and though I felt I could overpower her just from the looks of her, I sensed that she was powerful in other ways.


    Cristobal walked right through the electrifying seal that closed off the secret passageway from the Cask Room as if it wasn''t even there.


    ¡°Wait. How were you able to get through the seal without the consent of the members?¡± I asked, as much out of curiosity as out of a desire to dy the inevitable.


    ¡°Me? I am Cristobal. I am their benevolent leader. I am their beloved savior. I gave them eternal youth.¡± He smiled. ¡°I have this magnificent immortal body. They worship me. Why would they not consent for me to enter the Cask Room any time I wish?¡± He started tough. Mrs. Midnight joined him.


    He turned and continued in the direction he had been traveling. I saw him pull something out of his pocket, but I couldn''t tell what it was. He went up one of the rows, the onebeled with the color red, and walked down to one of the casks. I couldn''t see which one, but I had a guess.


    Then he came back toward me, holding a small ss sk filled with a green liquid simr to the liquid that all of the Society members'' real bodies were floating in. It was at that moment that I realized that all of the plumbinging out of each of the casks had little outlet valves that had meant nothing to me before, but I realized at that moment they were for procuring a small amount of the liquid inside the cask.


    Knowing that Mr. Red Rock was back upstairs and that Mrs. Midnight and Cristobal would stop me if I tried to run in that direction, I did the only thing that I could think of that might have some chance of helping. I ran toward Cristobal, right into the seal to the Cask Room.


    A vibration sounded like the other seal had.


    My incapacitated status started to go off, and I felt myself be powerless to move. My only hope was that Society members would be alerted to the seal going off and might start barging down the stairs from the main entrance. Perhaps if they saw what Cristobal was up to, it would be helpful in some way. It was a stupid idea, I realized right afterward, as everyone at the party was evil.


    Cristobal grabbed my arm and threw me back away from the seal. Inded on the ground hard.


    ¡°Come, my love,¡± Mrs. Midnight said. ¡°Let us be done with this.¡±


    ¡°At once, my dear,¡± Cristobal said.


    He approached me with the vial. We were in Second Blood. I knew that there was no avoiding it. Yet I struggled in vain with every fiber of my being.


    Perhaps the only thing that prevented me from panicking was that this was part of the n, more or less. I just had to hope that I understood everything correctly.


    Cristobal grabbed my jaw. He was very strong. I didn''t know if that was because of his magical abilities or simply because of his actual physical strength. It didn''t matter. I couldn''t fight back.


    He brought the vial to my lips and started to pour it into my mouth. The liquid felt and tasted like bile.


    As soon as it touched my throat, I could feel my natural instinct to vomit being ovee by a tingling sensation. The liquid began to ooze down my throat without me even having to swallow.


    By the time the vial was empty, my status on the red wallpaper had changed to Infected and Written Off, in addition to Captured. I kept focusing on the Written Off light, hoping and praying that my theory had been correct.


    Finally, after what felt like forever, the light blinked. It only did it every 10 seconds or so, but it was enough to tell me that I was on the right track. It sucked that every single bit of that after I ran into theboratory was Off-Screen.


    My body went numb.


    Then, it started moving on its own.


    ¡°Red Rock,¡± Cristobal said. ¡°Are you there?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± my mouth said.


    I felt myself fading.


    I was a passenger.


    The Finale had begun.

 Chapter Ninety-Eight: Self-Inflicted Injuries

    Chapter Ny-Eight: Self-Inflicted Injuries


    I stood in the alcove right at the edge of the magical seal that kept people from entering the area of the cask room where the bodies were kept. I couldn''t move. I couldn''t speak. I fought the urge to even try. It wasn''t time yet.


    Cristobal went to the end row behind the casks and started to push them off onto the floor. They hit the floor and burst open like ck magic eggs. He got half a dozen casks broken on the floor before he decided to stop.


    ¡°That should help convince them when theye down,¡± he said quietly as he approached us. ¡°Midnight, you and I will go up the back entrance and then join our followers outside as they mor to see the destruction. Red Rock, you stay here until thest moment. Make sure that you are seen. Then I want you to get up into the hallways and make sure you get seen there too. We need witnesses. Try not to get that body killed--we still have to question it, but if you do, I will not cry over it.¡±


    Mrs. Midnight walked over to me and pulled a small, green bit of cloth out of some concealed pocket--a mask. "The masses must find their killer," she said, as she ced the mask over my eyes. My name on the red wallpaper changed from Riley Lawrence to Riley Lawrence (Mr. Evergreen).


    They were going to frame me. How did that always happen?


    ¡°I won¡¯t disappoint you,¡± Red Rock said with my mouth.


    ¡°I know you will not. I will be sure to reward your loyalty,¡± Cristobal said. "Pain is a brick in the tower of eternity. decanter vitae."


    "Decanter vitae," I/Red Rock said.


    With that, he and Mrs. Midnight went up the hidden stairway before they were seen. They must have had real trust that none of the bodies in the casks would be able to see them. Even those that had just been spilled out onto the floor were not a risk to them, apparently.


    Something about the entire event struck me as odd. Why had Cristobal, one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world, not used any magic? He handled me physically. He knocked over the casks with his bare hands. In fact, the only instance I had seen him use magic was when he used lightning bolts to get the crowd''s attention earlier. And of course, when he appeared on the ballroom floor in a cloud of smoke.


    That''s when I had a revtion. Did the cask room prevent people from using magic? Had I heard that earlier? I couldn''t remember. Perhaps that was one of the clues that Grace found that had her smiling when she said she knew how the murder was done.


    But if Cristobal hadn''t used magic, how had the murder beenmitted?


    I would have to wait for Grace to unveil that secret.


    I expected that any minute, party guests would start piling down the front stairs into the cask room. Then they would get a look at someone they believed to be Mr. Evergreen, and that would be enough to convince them of his guilt.


    That wasn''t the first thing that happened though.


    The back row where Cristobal had knocked over several casks started to make noises as the bodies in those casks began to move.


    Red Rock did not move me any closer, so I didn''t get a good view. He did not seem particrly interested.


    I watched as one of the figures, a woman whose age was indiscernible due to the prolonged period she had spent in the magical elixir, stood with great effort and started looking around.


    ¡°Help!¡± the old woman cried out. Her voice was cracked and almost unrecognizable as human from how long she had spent in the cask.


    ¡°There is no help for you,¡± Red Rock said with my mouth.


    The woman turned around immediately. I could see that her eyes were practically white with cataracts. The way these Society members had let their bodies deteriorate in their quest for immortality was horrifying.


    ¡°Mr. Gray Amber, is that you?¡±


    She had recognized my voice. Her eyes had be nearly useless with old age, but her ears had not.


    I looked up at the row she had been on and saw that I was looking at the "blue" row.


    The woman before me was Mrs. Cloudburst. The real Mrs. Cloudburst. Time and disuse had not done her body well. She was both shriveled and bloated. Her wispy white hair nearly reached the floor.


    ¡°Mr. Gray Amber,¡± she cried out in a feeble voice, ¡°Something has happened. I need your help.¡±


    ¡°No, Mr. Gray Amber here,¡± Red Rock said. ¡°I''m Mr. Evergreen.¡±


    ¡°What? No¡­¡± She croaked. ¡°I know your voice. It can¡¯t be.¡±


    She struggled to see me with her poor eyesight.


    It was then that I started to consider the limitations of the masks. When we arrived, I had assumed that the masks were designed to hide the identities of the partygoers. But I slowly realized that the partygoers didn''t care about the identities of their hosts nearly as much as they cared about letting other society members know who they were, regardless of what body they were wearing.


    Any anonymity the masks provided was just an added benefit meant to prevent the members from recognizing the host bodies and breaking the illusion of their hedonistic paradise.


    Mrs. Cloudburst could recognize me by my voice in the same way that my team and I could recognize each other. That would also go to exin why Grace had been able to recognize her friend, Mary Lee Parrish, despite Mary Lee wearing a mask.


    The masks took some getting used to. Even with their powers, it took practice not to look at the body of a person when trying to recognize them instead of their mask.


    Mrs. Cloudburst couldn''t see the mask, so she had no idea it had been switched.


    Red Rock was growing impatient with Mrs. Cloudburst.


    ¡°Lookdy, I don''t know you, and if you don''t stop talking to me, you''re gonna regret it.¡±


    Mrs. Cloudburst started to cry and back away, but the movement was difficult for her atrophied limbs. She fell onto the ground and started attempting to crawl.


    Despite knowing that Mrs. Cloudburst was a terrible person who enved a young woman in order to use her as a host, I felt bad for her. Her desperation to just live another day had driven her to this, and now Red Rock was threatening to take away that chance at life.


    Of course, he couldn''t do it. He would be no more able to pass through the magical seal that protected the cask room than I was able to. Not without consent. Given the fact that he was wearing the Mr. Evergreen mask, I doubted he would get permission.


    So we stood together in my body on the outskirts of the room, waiting to be seen by witnesses.


    It didn''t take too long for them to arrive. At first, they surveyed the damage in the cask room that Cristobal had caused. Then they caught sight of me.


    ¡°Is that¡­?¡± one of the women shouted out. ¡°That''s Mr. Evergreen, he''s back!¡±


    As more of the society members started to get a look at me and advance in my direction, Red Rock decided that he had done enough.


    He turned tail and ran up the secret staircase, flipping a switch on his way up that closed the door behind him. I was along for the ride. But not for much longer if I could help it.


    Because this, too, was a part of my n, more or less.


    <strong>Step One: Find important plot information for Grace.</strong>


    This part was simple but time-consuming. The members of the society were very loose-lipped, and there were little bits of information to be found in almost every conversation. Most of them were redundant or useless for our purposes, but still, all I needed was the slightest crumb of a clue. I didn''t need to know theplete motivation; I just needed something to help Grace make her case.


    Finding out there was a power struggle was not surprising, but it was necessary.


    If I was able to get that information to Grace, that would be wonderful, but in many ways, it was fortunate that I wasn''t able to get it to her.


    Yet.


    Because by having important information, Grace''s "Don''t Shoot the Messenger" trope buffed my Grit by a huge amount. Ten whole points. I would need those forter.


    <strong>Step Two: Get caught and possessed for Second Blood</strong>


    There was no avoiding it. If things were to go to n, I would have to make the sacrifice. Mary Lee Parrish was a stock character whose entire job was to demonstrate the stakes of the storyline. This storyline was about body snatching. In a way, I was happy to find out that the fate the victims of this storyline suffered wasn''t death. Dying was taking a toll on me. Strangely I was looking forward to helping out my team without having to get injuries on or around my neck.


    I had run down into the secretboratory and gotten caught by the magical seal. I did my best to make it look like my character was going in there to investigate the room, and he had no idea he would barely make it past the staircase. It needed to look like I fell into a trap.


    As I expected, I wasn''t killed. I was turned into a puppet. I existed in the dark recesses of a foreign mind. The experience was terrifying. I tried not to think about it because the real test wasing up.


    <strong>Step Three: Willpower</strong>


    There was a reason that I was happy to find out that I couldn''t deliver Grace her little piece of information before I was possessed. As long as I still struggled to get that information to Grace, I would have buffed Grit. I wasn''t sure how far I could exploit that but so far, everything seemed to be working.


    As Red Rock moved my body up the stairs, I realized that this passage led straight to the undergroundboratory with the caged hosts.


    Cristobal and friends hadn''t had to move me very far at all. There was arge overstuffed chair in the corner away from all the magical equipment and industrial-sized vats filled with potions.


    In it, Red Rock¡¯s original host slumped over like a puppet with its strings cut wearing his mask. Whenever Cristobal had force-fed me the mind control potion, Red Rock must have lost control of his original host body.


    It was time to make a move.


    I started fighting. I focused with every part of my being on resisting control from Red Rock. He tried to take a step forward, and I fought it. The first time it made no difference, but the second time, he tripped. I stumbled forward and smacked my face against the floor.


    Still, I fought.


    It felt like I was trying to peel my own skin off, but my heightened Grit pushed me through it.


    Having high Grit was particrly useful in this storyline because of another trope in y: Chris'' "Willpower is Magic" trope.


    That trope guaranteed that all magic was resistible through sheer effort. I was counting on that meaning that possession would be too. With my temporarily high Grit, I stood a real chance.


    I fought and pulled and screamed and banged my arms against the floor.


    ¡°What do you think you''re doing?¡± Red Rock yelled, to the best of his ability, but I was fighting him when he used my mouth too. ¡°You''re going to kill yourself!¡±


    That was likely part of the motivation that kept other hosts from fighting back. By the time they were willing to destroy themselves to fight, theycked the ability. That, and they were basic NPCs with at most 1 Grit. I didn¡¯t know how strong Red Rock was, but I could feel that my Grit stacked up well against his prowess.


    ¡°So what?¡± I yelled out, to the best of my ability.


    I jerked my neck forward, mming my face against the ground again so hard that I felt a toothe out.


    That jarred me for a moment, but luckily it stunned him too.


    I pulled as hard as I could to get control of my limbs. To my satisfaction, it was working.


    But at a great cost.


    As I pulled against him, I could feel parts of my body breaking under the pressure of the spell. Three ribs broke in session. They were so loud I could hear them popping.


    My left arm started folding backward, and then it snapped at my elbow joint, bending unnaturally.


    But I kept fighting because Red Rock was also suffering as I damaged my body.


    Some of the host ves in the cages stood and watched me struggle. A few even had enough control over their bodies to cheer.


    I could feel myself winning. I could feel it with every broken bone, torn muscle, and ruptured organ.


    With onest burst, I pulled against Red Rock''s influence and attempted to crawl forward with my one good arm.


    My right leg started to twist until my foot turned backward, and I heard a pop in my ankle.


    Just a little further.


    Only a little.


    And all at once, I could feel myself regaining control.


    I could barely breathe; it felt like one of my lungs had been pierced in the effort.


    I did my best to stand. Despite my broken ankle, I was able to do so. High Grit really was useful. I knew the pain was there, but I could bear it somehow. It reminded me of the healing tropes that had been used on me during the Grotesque storyline. The injury was there, but like in a horror movie, I could power through it.


    Moving made me tear up. But I had to go. With one nce back at Red Rock''s limp body in the overstuffed chair, I began climbing the stairs out of the hiddenboratory.


    Every step was excruciating. I just kept focusing on how it would be over soon. We were in the finale, and all Grace had to do was reveal the truth.


    Such a shame. I was really looking forward to watching Cristobal''s n y out.


    After I managed to pull myself back into the Aquarium Room where the secret staircase led, I made the effort to go back to the couch where I had hidden my Mr. Gray Amber mask. There were powerful sorcerers roaming the halls. One look at Mr. Evergreen, and I would get trapped in a painting or something.


    I doubted my Grit was high enough to stop that.


    I stuffed the Mr. Evergreen mask in the couch in its ce.


    Once again undercover, except for my extreme injuries, I began limping out into the hallways toward the door that led down to the cask room. I could only hope that my teammates would be on the periphery of that crowd like they had been before.


    I wasn''t let down.


    The entrance had been clogged up with terrified partygoers. There was an uproar, and people were screaming and fearful. Cristobal and Mrs. Midnight were among them, assuring them that they would be safe, that they would capture Mr. Evergreen.


    People started to notice that I was horribly injured, and I worried that that would cause problems with the n. Luckily, most people were quite distracted. The tales of my horribly mangled body couldn''t beat out people screaming about Mr. Evergreen being seen in the cask room.


    My team, as expected, was on the outside of the crowd, and they spotted me as soon as I got in their eyeline.


    They approached me quickly and took me to a side parlor where we wouldn''t be seen. I had been off-screen for much of my escapades. Perhaps if I had been on-screen, Cristobal''s guilt would have been revealed to the audience too soon. I wasn''t sure how much of my fight against control from the puppet serum had been on-screen because I had been distracted.


    As they approached me, I went on-screen.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡± Kimberly asked, her voice dripping with concern.


    Chris reached forward and flipped my mask off just to be sure that I was who he thought I was and that I wasn''t possessed. Without the mask, my teammates would be able to see whether I was infected or not.


    ¡°I''ve had a rough night," I said. Then I told them everything that had happened. Every detail. I didn''t know which ones would be important.


    Grace nodded as I went along. She clearly knew some of the facts that I had revealed.


    ¡°So Red Rock is out ofmission now?¡± Grace asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.


    There was onest piece of information I had to give to Grace. It was the piece that had buffed me to the point of being able to break free from the spell.


    ¡°Mr. Midnight wanted to go out on his own and start his own Society of some kind. He never did. Some people would have followed,¡± I said. Then I told them how I had learned that.


    Almost instantly after the words left my mouth, my Grit dropped back to my measly 2 points.


    I started choking on my own blood.


    Breathing was nearly impossible. It felt like I had an anvil on my chest. My arm hurt so bad that I wished it would just be cut off, and my leg might as well have not been there at all. Without all that extra Grit, these injuries were more than I could bear.


    I passed out.


    It was hard to tell how injured I was with that massive Grit. I ended up dying anyway. Such a shame. At least this time it felt like falling asleep. Note to self: That was another really good reason to start equipping my Out Like a Light trope--ending my suffering painlessly.


    The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a movie theater, my eyes magically fixed on the screen, watching my team finish the story.

 Chapter Ninety-Nine: Whos Pulling the Strings?

    Chapter Ny-Nine: Who''s Pulling the Strings?


    I was really hoping not to die again. At least I got to watch how it all yed out.


    Try as I might, I could not force my eyes over to see the audience members in the theater. I eventually gave up so that I could pay attention to the rest of the movie.


    "We can just get in there and knock over all of the casks, right?" Antoine suggested though I assumed he was just saying that in character.


    Chris shook his head. "That would be like hitting a beehive with a baseball bat. Some of these creeps are actually safer locked away in those pods. We start busting them, who knows what kind of fight we''ll have on our hands. I struggled enough against just one of them."


    "We could get the serum from the dangerous ones," Kimberly suggested meekly. "We could make them swap bodies."


    "Chris is right," Grace said. "A fight ends in us getting killed."


    "So, start suggesting a n that won''t get us killed, darling. I would really like to not get killed," Jack Goforth said. "Or possessed. I would really like to not get possessed. Dammit, how am I going to exin Riley to HR?"


    They couldn''t just knock over all of the casks, but not just because it would lead to a fight. Something Grace could not say on-screen was that she needed witnesses. Her "Get the Truth Out" trope required her to expose the truth of the mystery in order to beat the storyline. She wasn''t going to be able to get the story printed in a newspaper or magazine as we had thought might be possible. They needed to reveal the mystery to the Society itself. Can''t have witnesses if you knock them out of their casks and turn them into blind cavefish.


    I had an idea. I wondered if I would be able tomunicate it through my shback Revtion trope.


    As soon as I thought about it, a list of lines I had spoken on-screen in front of Grace appeared before me engraved on brass tes.


    At that moment, I realized firsthand how little I talked to my teammates on-screen. That was something I would have to change.


    Luckily, as Iy dying, I <em>had </em>said something useful. I didn''t know how to activate it, but Carousel seemed to understand what I wanted.


    The screen cut back to me lying on a couch dying as Grace and the others gathered around to hear what had happened to me. I sure looked rough. No wonder I died as soon as I was out of Grit.


    "There''s an aquarium room... with colorful fish," I struggled to say.


    I had been talking about the secret passage to theboratory. The shback cut off there, presumably because the audience had already heard the rest of that dialogue.


    That was all I had to say. I just hoped that Grace understood what I was trying to tell her.


    As I watched her smile, it looked like she did.


    "Here''s what we do," she said.


    I wasn''t certain what happened after that, but the next scene showed Grace walking into a packed ballroom as Society members looked to Cristobal for assurances about the now missing Mr. Evergreen.


    She had gone with just Jack Goforth. He looked nervous. Grace didn''t. She was ready for the show. It was interesting to see that the woman who spent so much time feeding people, bowling, and reading pulpy paperback novels could look so confident in a den of sorcerers.


    "Everyone," Grace said. "I know who the killer is."


    That was direct.


    "I know who did it, why, and how. I can prove it."


    Mr. Oakheart, one of the senior members below the Three, said, "Well,e out with it. Who did it?"


    "The murderer," she said, "Was none other than Mr. Red Rock!"


    The crowd started to gasp at the revtion. Some couldn''t believe the usation.


    "But he wasn''t working on his own behest. He did it on someone else''s orders," she said, looking directly at Cristobal and Mrs. Midnight.


    Cristobal picked up on this immediately.


    "What?" he said. "Why would I do such a thing?"


    "Because Ms. Monarch was about to expose information about Mr. Midnight''s supposed murder and you could not let that happen."


    "Are you using him of killing my husband?" Mrs. Midnight asked in a rage. "He loved my husband like his own flesh and blood."


    "Yes, Cristobal was a great friend to Mr. Midnight, but you," she said, lifting a finger toward Cristobal, "Were a terrible friend to him."


    The party guests gasped again. Emotionally reacting to revtions was the only thing most of the Society members got to do in this story, and they took the job seriously.


    A look of rage overtook Cristobal''s face and electricity started to spark from his fingers. Grace was in danger.


    "Here''s what happened," Grace said. As she did, whatever malicious intent might have been directed at her was superseded by her trope of the same name. Anytime Cristobal looked like he might attack her, the scene cut to a shback. He could not kill her off-screen. She was safe as long as she exined the mystery.


    "That''s right," Grace said, "The man standing with us today is none other than Mr. Midnight!"


    More gasps.


    "Mr. and Mrs. Midnight always did live in Cristobal''s shadow, didn''t they?" Grace asked, directing her attention toward the party guests.


    The screen cut away to shbacks of Cristobal receiving adoring adtion while the Midnights went ignored in the background.


    "You had considered leaving, but how could you? Your power relied on having arge following, and if you left, who would follow? No one, not if it meant leaving Cristobal. He was perfect in so many ways. They loved him, and he was powerful. Leaving wasn''t an option."


    The image changed. Now it showed Mr. and Mrs. Midnight arguing with each other inaudibly.


    "That changed when you had an idea, to use the Draught of New Life, the Decanter Vitae itself, against its creator. You brewed yourself into one of the casks downstairs and had your aplices, Mrs. Midnight and Mr. Red Rock, help you. In fact, you''re down there right now, aren''t you? I don''t know how they got Cristobal to drink your serum. Perhaps we will never know, but it is interesting that right before Mr. Midnight went missing, Mrs. Midnight had taken to drinking port wine, a much stouter drink than before. Perhaps it was stout enough to hide the taste of the mind-controlling serum?"


    I hadn''t heard about that part, but as Grace spoke, the scene she described came to life on the screen. Mrs. Midnight took Cristobal to bed and yfully force-fed him a thick red drink. Grace must have guessed right.


    "It must be difficult, retaining control over such a powerful sorcerer," she continued. "That''s why you have been so tiredtely, right? It isn''t because the Third is dead, it''s because Cristobal, the real Cristobal, has been fighting you."


    The image changed to show Cristobal/Mr. Midnight staring in the mirror as they fought for control.


    "Cristobal couldn''t ever really stop you. Doing so would destroy his precious body. Unlike us, he''s very protective over his."


    The camera cut back to the ballroom.


    "But wait," Mr. Oakheart, one of the Society members cried out, "You said Red Rock killed Ms. Monarch. That isn''t possible. He was right here with us when she died. We saw him."


    Some of the other members nodded their heads and voiced their agreement.


    "I''m getting to that part," Grace said. "That was the real impressive feat. When Ms. Monarch told you she had information rted to Mr. Midnight''s death, you had to move to action. The truth is, she likely didn''t know the implication of what she had seen. In fact, we may never know what it was, but if I were to offer a guess," Grace paused for a moment to think, "She said that she spoke to Mr. Midnight before his death, but when was that, exactly? No one is clear on the date he actually died. Did she see something she shouldn''t have? Maybe she saw Mr. Midnight after the point at which he was supposedly dead. Whatever the case, as a loyal member, she tried her best to get this information back to Cristobal himself."


    Again, Grace was right on the money. A scene showed Ms. Monarch and Mr. Midnight talking to each other about something casually. A sh forwardter showed her watching as Mr. Midnight helped someone carry arge metal cask into the Aquarium Room. When she went to get a closer look, both he and his helper were gone, and the room was empty. They had closed the secret door. She looked confused.


    "As soon as she talked to you at the party, you realized that she wasn''t going to give up. Maybe you thought that she would start to doubt herself, but she never did. You had to kill her before she talked. But how could you do that with such short notice?"


    Suddenly, the screen showed a panning shot of the cask room. In the shot, the magical seal was visible like blue electricity.


    "The cask room is basically a fortress to anyone but Cristobal. No one could get in or out because of the seal. Magic couldn''t get through the seal, even magic from a powerful sorcerer. None of the people in their casks could get out tomit the murder, even you, Mr. Midnight. Even if they could get out of their casks, they certainly couldn''t get back in. But you got around it somehow. You killed her. It was a locked room mystery. I had no idea what to think of it at first."


    Cut to Grace growing a sly smile. "But then I figured it out."


    "You see," she exined, "The murderer was Mr. Red Rock as I imed earlier. But how could that be possible? He was in the ballroom when Ms. Monarch''s host showed her being murdered. He couldn''t be in two ces at once. Besides, wasn''t a ''Mr. Evergreen'' the person she used?


    "The answer is that Mr. Red Rock was not in the ballroom at the time of the murder, but he was here for something that looked like one. The murder we saw wasn''t real. It was a performance."


    A shback to the scene right before the murder took ce. Cristobal was being led back to his bed at the side of the ballroom.


    "You couldn''t kill her, not with Cristobal''s adoring fans watching your every move. But you did know a sorcerer''s meditation that would allow you to take control of a body. Everyone knows that it was that very meditation that the Decanter Vitae was modeled to imitate. You and Cristobal worked on it together, as I am sure you remember."


    The screen shed back to the conversation Grace had with the former engineer who had exined how the Draught of New Life worked. I had been there for that conversation, but I wasn''t in the shot.


    "You couldn''t control someone in the cask room, it was protected, but you could take over one of the puppets in the ballroom. So, you did. Youy there right in front of all of us and used your magic to steal control of Ms. Monarch''s host body.


    "No one knew that when the woman wearing the Ms. Monarch mask started screaming bloody murder that it was really you, having severed control from the real Ms. Monarch. You made her body act out being murdered in loud, excruciating detail."


    The scene she described yed out as she described.


    "After you were done, you surrendered control of the host body, letting her go limp. Then, you dered she had been killed and sent your old friend Mr. Red Rock down into the cask room under the guise of checking on the victim. Of course, we would all consent to that. He had no problem getting in through the magic seal because we allowed it. Then, he ran to the cask containing the real Ms. Monarch and killed her with a knife, but that is where he made his most crucial mistake."


    The scene changed to show Red Rock pulling the real body of Ms. Monarch out of her broken cask and viciously brandishing a knife at her.


    "He attacked her with a knife. She had defensive wounds on her hands from where she tried in vain to protect herself and her throat was slit from ear to ear."


    The scene showed it all in gory detail.


    "I saw the wounds myself," Grace said.


    Cristobal didn''t respond. I could see on his face that he realized they had messed up.


    "But that made no sense," Grace continued, "I watched Ms. Monarch get murdered, supposedly. She was stabbed in the chest repeatedly. I saw her reacting to it. We all did. How is it that Ms. Monarch''s host reacted to being stabbed in the chest when she herself did not get stabbed there?"


    "She''s right," someone in the crowd of Society members cried out, "Ms. Monarch''s host looked like she was stabbed over and over!"


    Now the crowd started to agree with Grace. They were very concerned.


    "Your murder n really was brilliant, Mr. Midnight, but Mr. Red Rock failed in the execution. He has always been a screwup. The real Cristobal knew that. But you kept him around because he was loyal to you, right, Mr. Midnight? It''s strange. Many of Cristobal''s lovers have noticed how cold he has be to them recently. It was all some of them could talk about."


    In fact, Mrs. Cloudburst had mentioned something simr.


    "This is a lie!" Cristobal/Mr. Midnight screamed. "Many of you saw Mr. Evergreen in the cask room. Tell the truth."


    Many had seen someone in a Mr. Evergreen mask and verbally attested to it in a jumble of confusion. The crowd looked to Grace tobat that.


    "That wasn''t the killer you saw," Grace said. "That was one of the spare hosts possessed by Red Rock and dressed in the Mr. Evergreen mask. This Evergreen mask," she said, pulling the mask from her purse. She must have gone back and taken it from where I had stashed it. "Don''t you think it strange that no one saw him pass through the seal? He couldn''t. We hadn''t consented."


    The crowd was incensed by the revtion of the mask.


    "But Mr. Red Rock screwed up again and lost control of his host. The man overpowered him and fought to the death to sever Red Rock''s control. He even managed to crawl upstairs and tell me what happened to him. After all, willpower is often the strongest magic. If you need more proof, go look in the Gentlemen''s Parlor. His body is still there broken from the struggle."


    Cristobal seethed with rage. He shot lightning from his fingertips into the air.


    "None of this proves anything. This is just a story. I am Cristobal. You can''t prove otherwise."


    He started to move toward Grace.


    "Grace," Jack Goforth said, reaching for her arm, "I''m noticing a fatal w in your n here, babe."


    He started to pull Grace away from Cristobal toward the exit, but before he could make any progress, Cristobal flew into the air, his hair blowing in the wind, and blocked the exit with a storm of neon blue electricity.


    "You aren''t going anywhere," Cristobal said.


    "Come on, Chris, any minute now," Grace said under her breath.


    Chris ran down a hallway with Antoine and Kimberly. They made a sharp turn into the Aquarium Room.


    Cristobal lifted his hand out toward Grace. Lightning started crackling from his fingers.


    "You aren''t leaving until everyone knows that I am innocent. Tell them it was all a lie!" Cristobal screamed. "Mr. Midnight was my dearest friend. I loved the man. Of course, I could simply deny you all the power of the Decanter Vitae if you are not loyal."


    He reached out a hand toward Mr. Oakheart, who had been a prominent voice among the Society members. With great effort, he strained his hand and a thin, glowing thread appeared above Oakheart''s head and was instantly broken. Mr. Oakheart''s host dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.


    He turned his hand to Grace and started to strain. "You do not deserve eternal life if you would use it to spite me, who gave it to you!"


    If this continued, Mr. Midnight would realize that Grace was not a puppet and we might still be in trouble.


    Chris climbed up to the top of the Aquarium and brandished arge sk. He unscrewed the lid and turned it over. A greenish liquid poured out of the sk into the Aquarium and started to dissipate into the water.


    "You have a strong will," Cristobal said, "I wouldn''t have exp--"


    Suddenly, Cristobal''s body fell limp. He leaned over. His arms fell down.


    The scene shed back to Grace exining the n.


    "Go down into the cask room while we still have consent," she said. "Find the casks of as many powerful sorcerers as you can. Focus on those that arepletely opaque. Mr. Midnight couldn''t risk having his body seen. It would be one of the newer ones too."


    "Then what?" Chris said.


    "Give them a new host," Grace said.


    Over a dozen Society members fell limp just like Cristobal. Chris had not skimped.


    The screen showed those colorful fish in the tank that Mrs. Cloudburst and I had looked at. Some of them did not swim rhythmically or gracefully. Some were downright panicking.


    Chris had just turned those fish into puppets. Mr. Midnight probably didn''t find his new host as suitable.


    The needle on the Plot Cycle hit The End, as the conclusion of the movie started to y out.


    The truth had been exposed. Not just who killed the victim or how, but the fact that Cristobal was not Cristobal. That was also a mystery that needed to be exposed to the Society.


    The movie wasn''t over yet. It had a short denouement. Our part was finished though.


    As members started crowding in toward Cristobal''s body, he started to stand upright. At least, he tried.


    He was struggling to regain control of his limbs. Eventually, with enough help and encouragement from his flocks of adoring men and women, he found himself able to walk and embrace those around him.


    Mrs. Midnight was nowhere to be seen. It was probably best she get as far away as possible.


    "My people!" he cried out tearfully. They cheered for him.


    They really did love that man.


    "It''s funny," one of the partygoers said in a hushed tone, "I always thought Ms. Emerald was a bit of a ditz."


    There was no fight. There was no race out of the building. Grace had solved the mystery without getting our identities revealed. We got a happy ending (if you don''t count my tragic death). The movie ended as Cristobal embraced Grace for having freed him. They chatted inaudibly as the camera faded to ck.


    As the credits started to roll, I woke up on a couch in the room I had died in. I could hear the party still going on the other side of the mansion.

 Chapter One Hundred: Party Favors-Part One

    Chapter One Hundred: Party Favors-Part One


    As I awoke, I expected to hear Ss greeting me, but he didn''t show up quite yet.


    I reached up and felt that my Gray Amber mask was on. The tuxedo I had been wearing looked like new.


    I got up off the couch and started wandering the halls of the sorcerers'' mansion. I found my way back to the ballroom where my teammates were standing about, eating hors d''oeuvres.


    That seemed particrly troubling, seeing as we needed to get out of that ce before the sorcerers started attacking us. I didn''t know how long it would take for the ce to get dangerous again, but I knew that it would happen eventually.


    I could barely contain my surprise when I saw that Grace was still having a conversation with a now-recovered Cristobal.


    As I walked closer to them, their attention turned toward me.


    ¡°Mr. Gray Amber,¡± Cristobal cried out. ¡°You missed all of the excitement.¡±


    He was cheerful.


    I looked over to Grace in hopes that she might exin.


    ¡°Cristobal has offered to allow us to stay at the mansion for a few days because our flights got canceled due to the storm. Isn''t he kind?¡±


    ¡°The kindest,¡± I said.


    "I take care of my friends," Cristobal said. "You are all my friends. You may stay at the Mansion while the other members and I take our leave. I do not know if I will evere back to this ce."


    As a newbie, I had been engrained with a very strict "no fraternization with horrific killers" rule. Apparently, Grace had been taught a slightly altered version where we could housesit for them to weather a storm.


    Cristobal was conversing with Grace about his experience as a mind ve to Mr. Midnight.


    ¡°There could be no better punishment for my sins,¡± Cristobal said. ¡°To be a ve in my own skin, unable to make amends, unable to forget. But fate is cruel. We are rarely punished alone...¡± He looked over at the crowds of NPCs who suddenly looked very gaunt and tired.


    After a little more talking, Cristobal wandered off with one of his many admirers.


    ¡°Is someone going to exin this?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We cleared the storyline,¡± Chris said. ¡°You know, they didn''t always have lodges to go back to. Normally, you clear a storyline so that you have a ce to stay.¡±


    I was going to ask for a better exnation, but then I remembered¡­


    The guest rooms in the Astralist¡¯s Castle. The extra dorm rooms at Delta Epsilon Delta. The abandoned church from The Grotesque. Even the undergroundb from The Subject of Inquiry.


    Dyer''s Lodge wasn''t the only convenient ce to spend the night. They were all over. That was supposed to be part of the reward for clearing a storyline.


    The modern set of yers really had gottenzy, hadn''t they?


    Soon, all of the NPCs had cleared out of the ballroom.


    Ss the Showman arrived shortly after.


    I barely noticed. I was lost in thought about Anna and Camden.


    Chris and Grace got their rewards first. Grace got a level and a trope, as well as some money. Chris just got the money.


    Antoine, Kimberly, and I each got two stat tickets from our ordeal.


    Antoine received two trope tickets.


    Knight in Shining Armor


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any


    Aspect: ---


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Horror Movies have little inmon with the Chivalric Romances of old. One thing they do have inmon is for the damsel to have a valiant defender.


    When equipped, the yer¡¯s Mettle and Grit will be buffed when defending their romantic interest. The extent of the buff will be based on how convincing their love is on-screen (Moxie).


    You may try to die for her, but really, you¡¯ll just die <em>be</em>fore her.


    This would really work well with Kimberly¡¯s Looks Don''t Last strategy.


    Everyone Loves a Winner


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Stud


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Whether you are Prince Charming or an unrepentant jackass, as an athlete, everyone is your friend when you are winning.


    NPCs will be aware of a recent fictitious victory of some kind that the yer¡¯s character has achieved. This news will win the yer allies from those who admire them. This will give the yer narrative footing to use these friends for their connections and information.


    Beware: When the mood shifts, so too will your influence.


    In movies, as in life, most people are just fair-weather fans.


    This trope relied on Antoine taking advantage of the narrative leverage the trope afforded. I could see it being useful if he did.


    Kimberly was awarded two tropes.


    Breaking the Veil of Silence


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Female Major Archetype


    Aspect: ---


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Horrors don¡¯t always lie hidden. Sometimes they are an open secret. When someone who knows of the danger sees a potential victim, they are sometimes brave enough to lift the veil of silence and offer a brief warning.


    In Story:


    The yer is likely to receive warnings about dangers from NPCs who know they are at risk. The warnings will be more explicit if the yer is the next target on the enemy¡¯s priority list.


    Out of Story:


    The yer will receive warnings from local NPCs of Omens where women are a primary target. They will also hint at what types of special rewards are avable for the storyline, including Hunting Tags, Pawn Tickets, Licenses, Vouchers, Travel Tickets, Private Showings, Rescue Tickets, Bounties, Attestations of Authenticity, Carousel Tarot Cards, Writs, and More.


    ¡°Everyone knew something was going on. No one said anything!¡±


    This one sounded extraordinarily useful. I didn¡¯t even know what some of the special rewards were. I had never even heard of them.


    When in Rome


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any


    Aspect: ---


    Stat Used: Moxie


    The Party Phase is not meant to be a somber event filled with fact-finding and rigorous exploration. That can bore an audience to tears. In horror flicks, the fun before the killing starts is an essential ingredient.


    When this trope is equipped, the yer¡¯s Grit will be buffed until after First Blood if their portrayal matches the tone of the movie.


    Only the Hysteric is supposed to act like they¡¯re about to die.


    My best guess was that Kimberly had spent the party afraid of her first death and it had affected her performance. As ghoulish as it may sound, her getting her first death in might actually help her get over her hangup.


    Well, as much as a person could get over their fear of death.


    I also received two tropes.


    Dead Man Walking


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Any


    Aspect: ---


    Stat Used: ---


    How many movies have a scene where the heroes stumble upon the destruction of the killer¡¯s rampage and find one dying survivor whose final words are exposition used to prepare the main characters for what is toe?


    With this trope equipped, the yer gains a huge buff in Grit upon receiving a fatal wound, condition or otherwise having their death guaranteed. The buff will allow them to have a prolonged survival so that they might warn those toe. This will not prevent their death, but it will put it off for a scene or two.


    Famousst words require an audience.


    That really worked well with my strategy of encountering the bad guy and then informing the team about them. It also sounded like it was going to hurt. In many ways, low Grit was a blessing because it prevented a long drawn-out death (not that I had gotten to benefit from that much so far). I would have to think about this trope.


    Coming To A Theater Near You


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: ---


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Did you know that movie trailers used toe <em>after </em>the movie? In Carousel, they still do!


    Afterpleting a storyline, the yer will be able to see movie trailers of other recent or ongoing films from around all of Carousel.


    If the yer is on Deathwatch when their movie ends, they will be able to use applicable Deathwatch tropes in the scenes in the trailers.


    So, what are you going to watch next?


    That was a powerful insight trope. It might be difficult to use in any practical way, but I could see how important it could be as a scouting trope.


    As I read through my tropes, I dreaded theing conversations. The real conversations about Anna and Camden. About the future.


    Luckily, I had a very good excuse to avoid those conversations. I could watch the trailers for the other storylines. They might clue me into how the others were doing, assuming the trailers gave me any useful information.


    I equipped the Coming To A Theater Near You trope and looked at the red wallpaper to watch the trailers. Like Director¡¯s Monitor, it allowed me to passively watch in my mind''s eye. Unlike that trope, though, I had no idea what to expect.


    The first trailer started to y.


    ~~~~


    <strong>Trailer #1</strong><blockquote>


    Dark somber music filled my ears as the screen showed arge auditorium that I recognized as being part of the University of Carousel.


    A narrator''s voice boomed. ¡°You thought the past was buried...¡±


    A montage of ck and white clips of peopleughing and dancing during a party.


    ¡°The bone-chilling sequel to Ten-Year Reunion.¡±


    A quick sh of a woman screaming.


    A woman said in a panicked voice, "I told you he would be back; he will never let us forget what happened."


    Next, I saw interspersed shots of people with scared expressions on their faces. I recognized some of them. They were yers. I didn''t know their names without having the red wallpaper avable to read them, but I had seen them around camp.


    The narrator continued, "He''s back, and this time his vengeance is sharper."


    I saw a shadowy figure in a rain slicker. His face was hidden. The glint of a sharpened crowbar in one hand and a tire iron in the other shed in the moonlight. I saw more close-ups of frightened faces of people I recognized, intercut with scenes of them running through darkened streets. I could hear the sound of their heartbeats.


    Back to a party scene filled with decorations,ughter, and dancing.


    The narrator said, "Some secrets can never die."


    As the dancing continued, the camera panned to the windows. The shadowy figure could be seen approaching the auditorium while carrying his weapons.


    Suddenly, the music shifted. Something more twisted and ethereal started to y with a hint of sleigh bells of all things.


    The mysterious figure stood across the courtyard from the yers. Dark snowkes began to fall from the sky ¨C the ck snow. All of the characters, the yers included, were confused by that, and they looked up at the cloud above in awe. As a snowkended on what I assumed was an NPC''s skin, the camera cut to her eye as her blood vessels turned dark. Her eyes grew ck quickly.


    The killer, upon seeing the snow, disyed uncharacteristic fear. He quickly gathered his weapons in one hand and turned to rush for shelter in a nearby building. The area''s snowfall continued to cover everything as the whole world became pillows of ck.


    ¡°Some secrets... are colder than death.¡±


    The music got louder, and then a title appeared on the screen.


    <strong>Eleven-Year Reunion: The ck Snow</strong>


    ¡°Coming soon.¡±</blockquote>


    <em>~~~~</em>


    The ck Snow apocalypse had taken over that storyline, turning it into some sort of disjointed sequel or reboot. I had no idea what fate awaited the yers who had been caught in it.


    Before I had time to process what I had just seen, the next trailer started to y.


    ~~~~


    <strong>Trailer #2</strong><blockquote>


    The music shifted to a serene melody as images ofkes, rivers, and beaches appeared on the screen. Familiesughed, kids yed in the water, and couples lounged on the shore.


    ¡°Water, the essence of life...¡±


    The scene shifted to a secluded pond nestled within the forest. The tranquility of the pond was entuated by small waterfalls trickling from the surrounding rocks.


    ¡°And the harbinger of death¡­¡±


    The camera zoomed out to show a handmade wooden fence surrounding the pond. Warning signs were prominently disyed, including signs that said "Private Property" and "No Trespassing." Nearby, a shrine of some sort could be seen adorned with candles and mysterious symbols.


    A man''s voice could be heard saying, ¡°You know how much we paid for this vacation? We got the top package. If there''s a private swimming hole, we deserve to swim in it. What are they gonna do? Charge us extra?¡±


    A group of tourists carrying hiking equipment walked through the forest,ughing and chatting with each other. They disregarded the warnings on the fence and climbed right over. One of them, with a mischievous grin, did a cannonball into the pristine water.


    I recognized them. They were more yers from the lodge. One of the stronger teams, if my memory was correct.


    ¡°Water has a memory of its own¡­¡±


    Cut to a scene in a bathroom as one of the women in the hiking group was preparing for a shower. As she was getting ready, she looked over into the bathtub and saw that there was a long-haired figure behind the shower curtain. In a panic, she pulled the shower curtain open, only to reveal that no one was there.


    The screen cut to ck.


    ¡°Something is happening; we can''t ignore this any longer,¡± the woman said.


    ¡°We should have listened!¡±


    The main characters gathered around an elder wearing spiritual regalia. He had a grave expression on his face. He spoke in a foreign tongue, with his words disyed in subtitles.


    ¡°You must lift the curse before the next rainfall. If you fail to do this, you will be doomed.¡±


    In the next scene, dark clouds gathered overhead as the wind howled. The main characters, all of whom I recognized as yers, looked up in horror.


    ¡°It''s too early to rain already! We barely even started!¡± One of them said.


    But of course, instead of rain, ck snow started to fall from the clouds. Everyone stared at it in disbelief and horror.


    The narrator continued, ¡°Some secrets are buried deep underwater. Others under snow.¡±


    The screen faded back to ck, and then the title emerged.


    <strong>Head Below Water: The ck Snow</strong>


    ¡°Coming soon.¡±</blockquote>

 Chapter One Hundred and One: Party Favors-Part Two

    Chapter One Hundred and One: Party Favors-Part Two


    It looked like all of the storylines that had been running at the time the ck Snow Apocalypse was triggered were affected.


    The next trailer started to y.


    ~~~~


    <strong>Trailer #3</strong><blockquote>


    Intense eerie music started to build as the screen faded from ck. A high-techb came into view with equipment scattered and rms ring.


    A soldier armed to the gills, whom I recognized as Garrett, one of the yers at the lodge, said, ¡°You opened the door and you''re surprised that they came through?"


    "We followed protocol!¡± a scientist screamed back at him.


    ¡°We are the protocol,¡± Garrett responded with a smirk. He was either a great actor or he really was enjoying himself.


    A rapid montage began to show with shing lights and horrifying images of grotesque and hellish creatures. Some were skeletal with meat hanging off their flesh and weapons fused to their bones. Others were imp-like demons quickly running around with burning fangs and ws clinging to every surface. Others wererge blobs that appeared to explode with fire.


    There was a fiery minotaur-like creature wielding an axe that had been somehow fused to the ce where its hand should have been. Its axe was sharp and powerful, able to cut through an entire stone barricade in one sh.


    A group ofmandos, along with one scientist, all of whom I recognized as yers, charged at the demonic creatures, machine guns firing all the way.


    ¡°If they didn''t want to fight, they should have stayed in hell,¡± Garrett said as he hurled a grenade into a mob of the red empty demons, resulting in them being sttered along the hallway.


    I then saw an image of Garrett climbing up onto a gasoline tanker as a horde of various demons followed him and tried to get to him. He grabbed onto a rope that was dangling from a helicopter, which lifted him up. As it did, he dropped an incendiary device down onto the gasoline tanker.


    Someone in the helicopter had a machine gun and was riddling both the tanker and the demons with holes. As the helicopter moved them away, the entire ce exploded, sending demon parts every which way and killing most of the demons in the lot.


    ¡°Eat this!¡± someone said as they shoved a gun down a demon''s gullet.


    Some of the yers had really taken to Carousel.


    ¡°We''re going to have to touch down. A storm is approaching; it''ll knock us out of the sky,¡± the helicopter pilot screamed back at the yers.


    Garrett looked confused. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    He must have yed this storyline before and didn''t remember a storm ever approaching.


    The familiar ck cloud appeared in the sky, ominous and looming.


    As the helicopternded, everything turned silent for a brief moment. The team of soldiers watched in disbelief as the ck snow started to fall in the distance. The remaining hellish creatures, apparently sensing some new kind of danger, began to run around in fear and started to burrow holes. However, the holes that they dug weren''t in the earth. It appeared as if they were digging holes back into their hell dimension.


    ¡°What''s going on?¡± one of the yers asked.


    Garrett didn''t look sure. ¡°If it''s so bad they need to flee, then we had better follow them,¡± he said decisively.


    The team approached a giant red insectoid demon, gnawing its way through reality, creating a fiery interdimensional rift on the side of a building. They filled it with bullets and then jumped through the hole it had just created.


    As they did, the portal closed shut behind them.


    The screen faded to ck. Large fiery letters appeared.


    Parazoid Protocol.


    Below them, frozen in ice, the words "The ck Snow" appeared.


    <strong>Parazoid Protocol: The ck Snow.</strong>


    The narrator returned. ¡°Coming soon¡­¡±</blockquote>


    ~~~~


    I could only hope that they would survive. Some kind of bravery, jumping into hell itself to avoid the ck snow.


    Then one of the trailers I had been waiting for started to y.


    ~~~~


    <strong>Trailer #4</strong><blockquote>


    Soft uplifting music filled the air as I saw an aerial shot of Carousel looking picturesque. Families were ying in parks, children wereughing, and all of the houses were lined up neatly in rows. The footage almost made Carousel look normal. That ended quickly.


    The narrator came on and said, "In a town where life was simple¡­"


    That was a lie.


    I saw a view of the chemical nt. With little warning, a massive explosion erupted, sending shockwaves throughout the town. Residents left their houses to look up and watch as a thick ck cloud started to form and grow rapidly overhead.


    ¡°The old year came to a close, and a new world was born.¡±


    Quickly, the townspeople''s curiosity turned into panic. People pointed up to the sky and started to shield their children. ck snowkes began descending, as all of the noises went eerily silent. Silent chaos ensued.


    The scene cut to the image of a woman smiling as she walked her dog near the chemical nt. They were among the first to be touched by the snowkes. They didn''t just get hit with one; they were soon covered. The transformation into an amalgam, a mutant freak, was rapid and shown through quick cuts.


    This was the same creature that I had seen on the red wallpaper from the bus.


    I saw a man hiding out in a shed. He was arge guy. I could see sweat and fear on his face as he nursed his injured knee. It was Reggie. The light inside the shed was dim, with rays of sunshine poking through the rust holes in the metal exterior of the shed.


    A creature that made the sound of a child crying was circling around the shed, blocking out the light that shone through. The screen went ck. I held my breath as I waited for the worst. I didn''t see anything, but I heard the sound of metal scraping.


    The narrator continued, ¡°This Christmas... The town of Carousel will unite in ways never imagined.¡±


    Somethingrge was walking through the streets of Carousel. The camera never actually showed what it was, but it showed its shadow on the ground beneath. I could also hear the sound of 100 people crying as it walked. Their haunting voices sounded in unison. They were one.


    ¡°Get ready for a holiday season like no other...¡±


    <strong>The ck Snow.</strong>


    ¡°Coming this winter.¡±</blockquote>


    ~~~~


    This apocalypse was supposed to arrive in the winter... That made sense. But why had it shown up so early?


    Was Reggie the only person who had been caught by the ck snow outright? The others had been in other stories. Did that make a difference?


    I didn''t know if I wanted that to be true. While I had no desire to see yers trapped in the ck Snow Apocalypse, the more yers, the more likely it was that Reggie might survive.


    Where were Anna and Camden? They had been with him. Why had I not seen them in the trailer?


    The next trailer started to y. This new trope was giving me more questions than answers.


    ~~~~


    <strong>Trailer #5</strong><blockquote>


    The deafening roar of a ne engine under duress filled the air. Inside, rms red, and the ne shook violently. A team of firefighters¡ªthe yers who had loaded into the storyline, including Travis'' team¡ªwere strapped down, hoping to survive.


    The pilot turned his head to the passengers and screamed, ¡°The storm damaged our engines. We''re overweight. We can''t stay in the sky much longer..."


    After a few moments, "Brace for impact!¡±


    The screen started to shake as the sounds of metal screeching and trees breaking were heard. The scene of the ne crashing into the forest started to y. It sent up a cloud of dust and debris.


    yers were crawling from the wreckage. They had to help each other because some were so injured that they had to limp or crawl. The smoke and the red-orange hues of the nearby fires painted them a grim backdrop.


    They were starting out this storyline injured already. That spelled disaster.


    The scene transitioned to a makeshift forest firefighter encampment. A nurse ran over to help with the injured and give out orders as the yers arrived.


    After many of them had received some treatment, the nurse ran to them urgently and said, ¡°We need to evacuate! The fires areing this way!¡±


    The camp quickly turned to chaos. As they started to evacuate, a thick wall of fire and smoke started to separate the group. Shouts and cries were muffled by the roaring mes.


    Some unspecified timeter, a lone firefighter, an NPC, soot-covered and exhausted, trudged through the charred remains of the forest. He stumbled upon arge metal te emerging from the ground. It was covered in bizarre etchings. He crouched down to inspect it.


    ¡°What is this?¡± he asked. His voice sounded delirious.


    As he touched one of the symbols on the metal te, it began to tremble, and it started to lift. It was a door. The firefighter stumbled back, and from the dark void, a figure emerged.


    This trailer didn''t try to hide anything. The thing that came out of the dark hole was a robot. It was advanced and covered in alien markings. It appeared to be equipped with all sorts of weaponry, including a prehensile tail with a saw de on it.


    The screen cut to ck at the moment the robot made contact with the NPC.


    A few quick shots came by¡ªfirefighters screaming and running as the robot chased and attacked them. Fires burned brighter in the distance.


    One of the yers, I couldn''t tell which one, said, ¡°Something was awakened.¡±


    Their voice was raspy and damaged from smoke. A quick shot of their face revealed that the voice I heard was Vernon''s, Travis'' brother. Not only had he been slightly injured in the ne crash, but he had also been burned by the fire and clearly gotten smoke damage to his lungs.


    Vernon was a tank. And getting injured that early into the storyline was not a good sign.


    An aerial shot of the forest was shown. Most of it was burned down. Smoke still rose from the ashes.


    A voice I recognized, Tori, cried out, ¡°What does it want from us?¡±


    The scene transitioned to a shot of the robot cing something into a yellow metal box. There was fogged-up ss on the side of the box. As the robot stacked it neatly on top of a row of boxes just like it, the camera zoomed in to show that they were filled with cryogenically frozen human body parts.


    The narrator''s voice came over, ¡°When nature''s wrath meets an ancient terror, the fight isn''t just against the mes.¡±


    The screen faded to ck, and then a title emerged over it.


    <strong>Preservation</strong>.


    ¡°Coming soon. Preserve your seats now.¡±</blockquote>


    ~~~~


    I didn''t want to make any predictions. I was afraid to follow my natural inclinations because, to me, they looked doomed. I could only hope that the trailer was more dire than the reality.


    The final trailer started to y. As soon as it did, my heart broke.


    ~~~~


    <strong>Trailer #6</strong><blockquote>


    Dark atmospheric music filled my head.


    Shots of teenagers having fun at a roller rink. Everything looked happy. They were having a st. The music, though, stayed dark and dreary.


    The screen faded to ck as I heard an explosion and then a sound that I couldn''t ce, which sounded almost like a building falling down but worse.


    I saw a close-up shot of Anna. She looked worried as she spoke.


    ¡°You mean he''s been traveling to ces in time where people get killed?¡±


    The room was dimly lit. I could barely see Camden shaking his head.


    ¡°No. He''s using this book to target tragic events. His amulets can only move him to and from points in time where humans have suffered. The roller rink, the bridge copse... He''s even orchestrating his own mass casualty events now.¡±


    I saw a brief glimpse of a beat-up paperback book in Camden''s hand. Its cover was sttered with blood, as was Camden''s hand and clothes. The title of the book read, ¡°The Town of Carousel: Horrific Events Through the Ages.¡±


    Cut to frantic running through dirty alleyways and darkened streets as Anna and Camden tried to escape from a menacing figure in an overcoat. I could see the faint glimmer of some kind of amulet around the figure''s neck.


    Cut to a shocking scene that hit me right in the gut.


    Camden bound to a table. He was screaming in agony. His right arm was missing below the elbow. The mysterious figure from the alleyway stood over him. In one hand, he held the pendant that I had seen glowing earlier. And in the other, he held some sort of ice pick that he was using to inflict pain on Camden.


    As he did, the pendant started to glow in sync with Camden''s cries.


    The camera panned over a table covered in newspaper clippings with ck-and-white photos of various disasters¡ªfires, floods, mass killings. All things from Carousel''s grim history.


    In the next scene, Camden was even more banged up, but it appeared he had somehow escaped from the unknown assant.


    ¡°If we stand any chance, we have to get a step ahead of him! Do it!¡± Camden screamed.


    There was a close-up shot of Anna holding a power drill. Her eyes were filled with tears and uncertainty.


    ¡°Do it!¡± Camden shouted in desperation.


    Next, I could only see Anna''s back as the drill whirred and Camden screamed. The amulet, or one that looked very simr to it, was around Anna''s neck. As Camden screamed, it began to flicker and pulse, showing that their desperate n was taking effect.


    The screen faded to ck.


    The title card appeared: <strong>Post-Traumatic</strong>.


    The narrator''s voice came over. ¡°Some scars don¡¯t fade in time.¡±</blockquote>


    ~~~~


    Post-Traumatic! That had been the title of the storyline that I had seen at the roller rink. After they got off the helicopter, they must have run there to avoid the ck Snow.


    I just hoped that it was enough to save them.


    After thest trailer yed, I fell to my knees. I was in shock.


    As the others gathered around me to ask what had happened, I couldn''t answer.


    I felt helpless.


    I didn''t know what to do.

 Chapter One Hundred and Two: By the Fire

    Chapter One Hundred and Two: By the Fire


    ¡°I saw them¡­¡± I said.


    It took the rest of the team a few seconds to realize what I was talking about. I was having trouble putting it into words.


    ¡°They¡¯re in a storyline that was stronger than this one!¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re alone¡­¡±


    Grace started to protest, saying, ¡°Reggie is wit¡ª¡±


    She stopped talking as she saw my new movie trailer trope on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Reggie?¡± she asked.


    I looked at her and she knew from the way I couldn¡¯t speak. Reggie was stuck in the apocalypse.


    Grace grew faint.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get to the lounge over here,¡± Chris said, gently grabbing Grace and guiding her across the hall to a room filled with opulent decorations as well as plenty of expensive furniture, including, appropriately enough, several fainting chairs.


    Antoine and Kimberly encouraged me to follow, prying me up off the ground.


    Grace sat quietly in her chair. I sat on a couch nearby.


    They didn¡¯t force me to talk. The stress of having died again coupled with the sudden realization that my two oldest friends were doomed was difficult for me to process.


    ¡°I need a drink,¡± I said.


    Chris went back to the ballroom and procured us all something to sip on.


    As time went by, the conversation started to open back up.


    ¡°What¡¯s it like out there?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°A lot of missing posters are about to be added to the wall,¡± I said. ¡°The people in the stories that were running¡­ It¡¯s like The ck Snow took the movies over.¡±


    I exined how the trailers looked and how most of the running storylines had ¡°The ck Snow¡± as their subtitle.


    ¡°So we have at least two teams down?¡± Chris said, surprised. ¡°Do you remember who was on them?¡±


    Oh boy.


    I tried my best to describe which yers I had seen in which storyline. I then exined the dire situation that Anna and Camden were left in.


    ¡°They might make it,¡± Kimberly said through tears, ¡°You said they had a n.¡±


    No one corrected her, but no one echoed her optimism either.


    ¡°Meg¡¯s team. Carl¡¯s run¡­¡± Chris said.


    ¡°The team on the ne¡­¡± I said.


    Grace made eye contact with me at the mention of them.


    ¡°The ne crashed from the storm,¡± I said. ¡°They weren¡¯t a part of The ck Snow, but¡­ they were in trouble.¡±


    This hit Grace again. The rest of her team was on that ne.


    Time went on and we sat around not talking about anything important. Chris had taken to fortifying the room. He gathered up anything from around the mansion that could be used as a weapon as well as some food from the kitchen.


    He said that it wasn''t safe for us to be separated, we would be sleeping in the lounge. There were plenty of couches to amodate that.


    Eventually, once he had aplished his task, he and Antoine went out to the limousine to gather all of our clothes. They came back and reported that the limo had been abandoned. As far as they could tell the NPCs and enemies were all gone.


    ¡°We don''t know how long before they get back,¡± Chris said. ¡°We need to keep our masks on just in case. They should still work if the storyline starts back up, but hopefully, we''ll be out of here before that happens. This one is tricky. Most of the time you gotta kill all of the enemies before you can take over a ce like this. It''s not often you find yourself an ally to the bad guys when the story ends.¡±


    It really did seem such a shame that we had this very useful magical object which could at least temporarily obscure our identities and they were of no use anywhere in Carousel except for this one obscure story out in the hills.


    I got up and started moving around. I picked an unimed area in the lounge and started moving myself a couch in that direction. Antoine helped me.


    As night started to fall, Chris started a fire in the firece of the lounge. With it lit, all of the other lights could be turned off to transform the room into something that seemed at least slightly hospitable for sleep.


    Sleeping in a ce like that was a daunting proposition. Even if the NPCs and enemies were gone from the ballroom and the guest rooms, that surely didn''t mean that the enemies and the casks downstairs had been hauled away. Knowing that there were dark sorcerers in walking distance was not pleasing. Then again, I had spent the night in aboratory with a poltergeist. Eventually, I would get used to it.


    Luckily with my "out like a light" trope actually getting to sleep would not be that difficult.


    Kimberly found a record yer and started ying ssical music on it. I didn''t recognize the music but then again, it was Carousel. Everything seemed slightly off-brand.


    Chris had asked Kimberly for one of her new tropes. He just wanted to examine it. It was the one called Breaking the Veil of Silence. He seemed confused by it.


    Eventually, he was so perplexed that he was willing to talk to Grace about it even though she had stayed silent since she found out about her brother.


    ¡°What is a hunting tag or a writ? A tarot card?¡± Chris asked.


    The trope description said that NPCs will ¡°¡­hint at what types of special rewards are avable for the storyline, including Hunting Tags, Pawn Tickets, Licenses, Vouchers, Travel Tickets, Private Showings, Rescue Tickets, Bounties, Attestations of Authenticity, Carousel Tarot Cards, Writs, and More¡­¡± I had not recognized several of them. I thought I was just inexperienced.


    Chris didn¡¯t know about most of them either.


    Grace shrugged her shoulders.


    ¡°Guess their n is ruined,¡± Antoine said to Chris an hour or soter.


    ¡°Yeah, well¡­ it probably wouldn¡¯t have worked anyway,¡± Chris said.


    I thought they were talking about the Excursion trip to Snowblind. But then they kept talking.


    ¡°What n?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°Just something some of the yers were nning,¡± Chris said.


    That piqued my interest. Was he talking about the hidden lore runs?


    ¡°What were they nning?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You won¡¯t like it,¡± Chris said.


    Me specifically? What was he talking about?


    ¡°Won¡¯t like what?¡±


    Chris started tough. ¡°Some of the higher-level yers we''re going to try something stupid while Arthur was away on our excursion trip. Thought they were going to try and make a break for the lights beyond the mountain between scenes of a storyline. Arthur always told us we couldn''t.¡±


    ¡°Chris said that if it worked,¡± Antoine added, ¡°we could do it too after he got back from the excursion.¡±


    ¡°But I suppose Arthur told you why we''re not supposed to do that, right?¡± Chris asked. ¡°You''re one of the people who know the secret right? You know what happens to people who disappear, who, I assume, die without a missing poster¡±


    My eyes went wide. I heard breathing on my neck. I did know what would happen if you broke the rules. The Axe Murderer would kill you.


    Chris started tough. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I know you won¡¯t tell us anything.


    Had that been the thing that Chris and Antoine were talking about at the bowling alley? They knew that people disappeared who tried to sneak toward the mountain between the scenes of another storyline. Why would they do something so stupid?


    ¡°Carl was the one that was going to do it,¡± Chris said. ¡°Crazy S.O.B. Guess he won''t be now.¡±


    Carl was apparently one of the yers who had been in a storyline when The ck Snow hit.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°So you do know something? Camden always said you had a secret you couldn¡¯t tell us.¡±


    I could hardly hear her over the sound of breathing in my ears.


    ¡°Please, can we not talk about this?¡± I begged. I considered using my sleeping trope to just fall asleep instantly. That would end the conversation. Luckily Chris wasn¡¯t trying to cause trouble.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± Chris said. ¡°Valorie always acted the same way when the subject came up.¡±


    No one talked for a while. All I could hear was the crackling of the fire as the sound of the axe murderer breathing faded.


    But then Grace started talking again.


    ¡°You know it''s a strange thing,¡± Grace said. ¡°Did I ever tell you the whole story of how my team got here?¡±


    No one responded, but we looked in her direction from our various sleeping spots.


    ¡°You see my then-fianc¨¦ Jesse--you know Jesse--he won an exclusive package to a couples retreat,¡± she looked over at Chris, ¡°you know the one up on Gallows Hill?¡±


    Chris nodded.


    ¡°All we had to do to im them wase to Carousel during the Centennial Celebration. They said that they were going to feature us in a float that the hospitality coordinator oversaw. I didn''t know any of that when I came. To me, this trip was all a surprise.¡±


    She stood and walked in front of the firece.


    ¡°Of course, when we got here this was not the romantic getaway that Jesse had promised me. But that¡¯s enough said about that. A few yearster my brother Reggie,¡± she struggled to say his name. ¡°Showed up with his friend Dirk and Dirk¡¯s girlfriend Be. You''ve met them. Who you never met, was Reggie''s fiance Trudy.


    ¡°They took a few years of leveling up to match our plot armor but eventually they joined Jesse and I and we became a team. One day we were doing the Laughter at Midnight storyline and when we finished we all reconvened to get our rewards but Trudy never showed up. I asked Reggie what had happened to her because they both should have survived that storyline and he said that he didn''t know. She had gone missing. Disappeared as it were.


    ¡°I''d heard that people would sometimes go missing with no exnation, but I didn''t quite understand it. It never sat right with me no matter how much Arthur and a select few others insisted that it was perfectly normal and not to press the issue. Suddenly I saw that Reggie had joined in that small group of people who seemed to know some secret that the rest of us didn''t.


    ¡°I''m a naturally curious person. I have been ever since I was a kid. Growing up, Reggie didn¡¯t have any secrets from me. I couldn''t stand feeling like Reggie knew something and wasn''t telling me. So, I ambushed him one day using all of my detective tropes to try and get the truth out of him. Chief among them was this one,¡± she said brandishing her Human Lie Detector trope. ¡°This is my most reliable trope. I promise when you can tell when people are lying you never want to give that ability up.


    ¡°So, I pressed him, and I asked what had happened to her. He avoided the topic. But I kept asking and he literally ran from me. My brother Reggie, who never freaks out over anything, looked terrified just because I was asking him questions. I¡¯ve seen him cut his own hand off to avoid a zombie infection. The look on his face from that was like he had a paper cut. But this, broke him.


    ¡°I was using tropes to draw out answers and to force him to talk. You might have thought that I was driving needles under his fingernails from the way he acted. Eventually, I cornered him out on the docks on theke. I almost asked him another question, but he stopped me. He said that if I kept asking him questions he would jump out into theke and swim out of the Cove until theke monster killed him.


    ¡°He was telling the truth,¡± she said.


    She drew closer to me.


    ¡°So, when you first came back with that old familiar news I had heard several times before that Jete had disappeared. Gone missing, I had my Human Lie Detector trope ready to go. I out-leveled you by so much that there was no way you could get anything passed to me. So do you know what that trope told me when you said she went missing?¡±


    I was terrified to answer. I could feel the rule keeper breathing down my neck like he was right behind me. I grabbed a pillow off of the couch and put it up to the back of my neck just in the hope that it might ease the sensation. It didn''t.


    Kimberly and Antoine watched on with shocked expressions because I was acting like a crazy person.


    I couldn''t answer her question. She kept talking anyway.


    ¡°No? Don¡¯t want to guess. I¡¯ll tell you anyway.¡±


    She paused for a moment.


    I needed to go to sleep right at that moment with the power of my trope. I almost did, but then she answered her own question.


    ¡°It didn''t tell me anything,¡± she said. ¡°Not a single damn thing. It didn''t tell me if you were lying or telling the truth. It didn¡¯t even say the results were inconclusive. I''ve had this trope for years. I''ve used it in every circumstance where a human could tell a lie. I''ve been able to trust it in countless situations. And yet whenever you people talk about the yers that go missing suddenly it and many of my other interrogation tropes stop working. Curious, wouldn''t you say?¡±


    She turned to Chris, Antoine, and Kimberly.


    ¡°It''s almost as if Carousel doesn¡¯t want us to know what happened to the missing yers. Our tropes simply won''t let us discover it. Psychics have the same problem. Their tropes can be among the most insightful in the game and yet they arepletely blind to what happens to missing yers. For years this blind spot was enough to keep the yers at Dyer¡¯s Lodge from acting out. But even in the face of such risk, people get restless.


    ¡°I''ve heard the ns people have made to try to make a run for the mountain on the far side of theke between scenes. Personally, I think they''re stupid,¡± she looked at Chris when she said that, ¡°but I understand the impulse.¡±


    ¡°As do I,¡± Chris echoed.


    ¡°Goodnight you all,¡± Grace said. ¡°I need sleep.¡±


    I didn¡¯t wait for the breathing to go away again. I activated my trope and drifted off almost instantly.

 Chapter One Hundred and Three: Dearest Mr. Gray Amber

    Chapter One Hundred and Three: Dearest Mr. Gray Amber


    "Why do they go through the trouble of making all of these nonsense histories for each and every storyline?" Grace asked as she flipped through a leather-bound book from the vast collection of the mansion''s library.


    "What''s that one saying?" I asked, leafing through a tome rted to the magic system for the storyline we had just finished.


    "Carousel is the capital city of Hesteria, which appears to be a continent right in the spot where North America is supposed to be." She showed me the map she had been looking at and, sure enough. Europe, Africa, Asia, etc. No North or South America. A different continent had taken its ce and Carousel was its capital.


    "Hmm," Chris said. "Might exin why this storyline takes ce outside the city. The Carousel we know has a bit of everything, but it isn''t a metropolis."


    "What do you mean by that?" I asked.


    Chris started tough. "Haven''t you heard the ways Carousel gets described in different storylines? Sometimes it''s a big city, sometimes a little Podunk town in the middle of nowhere. Carousel is ying a role just like us."


    "Why would they need to do that?" Kimberly asked as shey on a couch reading a copy of Eavesdropper Magazine, the very gossip zine our characters had worked for. "Why not just write the stories to fit?"


    "All we can do is ask questions," Chris said. "Until Carousel decides to start giving some answers."


    "This part is consistent," Grace said. She held out a page with a map of Carousel. "This map is from ''81. The road we arrived on hadn''t been built yet."


    "The road to the mansion or... Wait. Do you mean the road to the parking lot? When did that show up?" I asked.


    Grace nodded. "The parking lot and the entire road down to the corn maze didn''t exist until 1989. I''ve been researching this for our hunt for Secret Lore. Figure the Secrets might be old, so better see what Carousel has looked like over the years."


    "Wait," Kimberly said, "Does that mean there were no yers before 1989? No parking lot, no yers."


    Grace let out an exasperatedugh. "Well, you would think so, but the maps are not trustworthy for that sort of thing."


    "Why?"


    "The Centennial," Chris said.


    Grace nodded. "The Centennial Celebration urs every time a new yer arrives. How can it be the hundred-year anniversary of the town every year, sometimes multiple times a year? The history books and maps all change to reflect that. They''re just props. So, we don''t know if the parking lot really showed up in 1989, but that''s what the maps have said since I got here."


    That was smart¡ªusing old maps to track changes to Carousel over time.


    "Wait," I asked. "Do new parts of Carousel keep showing up every year? I feel like I have heard some vets talking about something like that."


    Chris nodded his head. "We think so. Records are spotty, and Carousel is hard to keep track of because the storylines all take ce on different dates. Like this one, 1992. Still, we all swear we see things change. Buildings appear on roads that were empty before, that sort of thing. "


    Before the conversation could go on, Antoine burst into the library holding a tter of food. We had stayed at the mansion for four days at that point. The food from the party was starting to get stale, so now we were having to cook our food from the vast stores in the pantry and walk-in cooler. Grace had been doing that for us, but Chris told Antoine it was his turn to give her a break.


    "Steaks and asparagus," Antoine said as he came into the room. "I know how to cook a steak. I made them all medium, give or take a few degrees. I had wrapped the asparagus in bacon, but that burned."


    "Thank you," Grace said, epting her te.


    I agreed.


    We ate in silence, all putting off the conversation that we didn''t want to have.


    We had to leave the Mansion soon.


    Chris said we couldn''t risk staying for too much longer. I wanted to argue. To me, it seemed unlikely that we could trigger the storyline at the mansion again given the fact that the omen was in a limo back in Carousel.


    They said that didn''t guarantee anything. Apparently, there were multiple omens for some storylines that could bring you into different perspectives of the same story.


    That made sense on some level. The version that we had entered made the storyline out to be a ckedy of sorts. A group of gossip columnists sneaking into a celebrity-filled party and finding out that it was filled with sorcerers who snatched bodies was surely not the only storyline such an borate set piece could be used for.


    Still, the prospect of leaving was incredibly daunting.


    "The room is right up here," I said as we wound up the secret staircase.


    The ck snow cloud had been sorge that we were able to see it storming in the distance even from ground level, but as time went on it started to shrink. In order to get a good look at it, we decided to climb the tower that Mrs. Cloudburst had shown me. We were hoping to find that the storm was over.


    "So she just took you up here all on her own?" Antoine asked.


    "Well, I guess it was in the script. Or at least her version of it," I answered.


    I led them to the room at the top of the tower and opened the door. I walked in and was soon greeted with a view of Carousel in the distance.


    "Damn," I said.


    The cloud had shrunk quite a bit, but it hadn''t finished storming. I couldn''t imagine what it would be like for the people caught in it. At that point, the monsters created by the ck snow were only a secondary antagonist. The primary worry would be finding food and water. We had been very fortunate to be stuck in a well-stocked mansion.


    "What happened while you were up here?" Kimberly asked.


    "It was the strangest thing," I said. "She took me to the window and pointed at the ck snow cloud and asked if it was going to move this way. She looked really worried. I suppose that means that she didn''t have any information on it which is very interesting to me."


    Antoine and Kimberly looked at each other.


    "And what happened after that?" Kimberly asked.


    "She started getting us ready for the next scene," I said. "Ruffled her hair, kissed my cor. Had to make it look like we had hooked up. You know I think the society members were swingers or something. I''m d they didn''t y up that angle too much. I was worried <em>Mr.</em> Cloudburst might show up."


    "Oh," Antoine said. "Chris said NPCs usually won''t try to get frisky, but enemies might if that''s their MO. I figured she was technically an enemy..."


    "You thought we hooked up?" I asked. I could imagine the way we looked would lead them to believe that. "Let''s avoid those storylines with those kinds of enemies, huh?"


    Kimberly noticed something across the room. She walked over and grabbed something from on top of one of the pillows.


    "I think this is for you," she said. Handing me a letter addressed to Mr. Gray Amber. Yep, that was me alright.


    The letter had nothing but the name and a red stain as if its sender had applied lipstick before kissing the envelope.


    I stared at it for a moment.


    "Are you going to open it?" Antoine asked.


    "Give me a second, I needed to think about it. Make sure it''s not an Omen or something."


    I tore the letter open to find a letter written in fancy cursive.<blockquote>


    Dearest Mr. Gray Amber,


    I am leaving to go across the sea with Cristobal. You have every right to despise me, but I hope you will understand what is in my heart.


    ~-~


    I was trapped in a prison before he came along. My body was frail and sickly. I had no idea that when I signed up for the society, I would eventually be trading one prison for another. That''s what Cristobal''s love is: captivation¡ªI am truly his.


    I regret the things I have done to people, but how can I change when I can never leave this cycle? When I look into his eyes during the moments I have with him, however fleeting, I cannot feel doubt, or shame, or guilt¡ªonly love. The secret we all know is that only change can save us, but it is difficult; I''ve tried to save myself in every way I knew how. We all have in the Society; we''ve screamed out to the gods, to Cristobal. Please, please, save us. And he has done his best; he is the most powerful man in the world and very generous.


    When I meet someone like you, I remember the pain, the torment, given and taken, and I remember my desire to leave this all behind. Cristobal says that the pain is fleeting, that our lives together are forever, and I have to believe him. I no longer know if I deserve punishment for my sins, but the innocent and the deserving suffer together in this life, don''t they?


    I chose the name Cloudburst because I always felt like a storm of regret was chasing me, threatening to destroy my happiness. The storm came before I expected it, but it was all part of the greater n, I think. And like the storm, the feelings between us will pass. What is next may be worse, but it''s all part of that same n.


    I hope that you find a way to forget about me. You must seed, all the good people like you, must seed in your fight against people like me. I am not a good person, though I wish I was, and you deserve better than this little detour with me. It''s time we get back on our true paths; I hope you''re ready.


    Yours in Passion,


    Ms. Cloudburst</blockquote>


    Antoine and Kimberly read the letter over my shoulders.


    "You hooked up with a hundred-year-olddy, didn''t you?" Antoine asked.


    "No," I said.


    "Is it normal for NPCs or... enemies, I guess, to leave love letters?" Kimberly asked.


    "I don''t know," I said, "This is my first."


    "It isn''t a love letter, it''s a Dear John letter. She''s leaving you to stay with the cult leader," Antoine said.


    "Oh, I''m sorry Riley," Kimberly said with a smile. "I thought you were a cute couple."


    "It wasn''t going to work out anyway," I said. I looked closer at the letter. "Should we show this to Grace and Chris?"


    "We should show them everything," Antoine said. "And we''ve been talking. I think we should tell them about Dina''s whole thing."


    I was afraid he would say that. After the destruction of the ck snow, our excuse for not telling the veterans about Dina''s quest to save her son and the supposedmunication from Carousel had be thinner and thinner.


    "Look," I said, "We need to ask your brother about that Zoe chick. We''ve been putting it off too long because of the storm. If it is true that someone else in the past also had a quest like Dina''s, that would legitimize it and we need to know that before we go bbing about everything."


    Antoine shrugged his shoulders.


    "If he really did have a friend who walked into an over-leveled storyline because she failed a quest, he''s probably not going to be happy to find out that we''ve been secretly trying to figure out our quest behind his back," Antoine said, "It may turn out that this whole thing was actually just Carousel messing with us. What are we going to do if it turns out that this was all a lie?"


    I thought for a moment.


    "If this is real, it might mean there is a way to win, to save Anna and Camden, even. I''m following the trail until we get to the end, whatever that might be."


    I shouldn''t have said their names. We had somehow gone a few minutes without agonizing over our imperiled friends.


    "We should go have that talk," Antoine said.


    He led us out of the room. I tucked the letter into my hoodie pocket. Cloudburst''s script must have allowed her to leave any yer who did that little side story with her a message. So strange. What was the point? Was it a quest item? Could I pawn it for some extra tickets?


    Kimberly''s recent trope revealed that there were mechanics no one knew about. It had me second-guessing everything.


    I walked down the stairs quietly, pondering whether we should really tell Chris everything.


    What could it really hurt?

 Chapter One Hundred and Four: Goforth and Prosper

    Chapter One Hundred and Four: Goforth and Prosper


    We found Chris down in the same lounge where we had been sleeping. He was arranging various weapons that he had found around the mansion. Most of them were antiques. He had a jewel-encrusted sword and a morning star among them.


    ¡°You''re really going to try and take those?¡± I asked.


    I knew that you couldn''t just take anything after clearing a storyline. You could take most things but certain items like weapons had limitations that weren''t quite clear.


    ¡°Oh, I''m gonna try,¡± Chris said.


    The three of us stood in front of Chris. Kimberly and I looked at Antoine. Chris was his brother so he should be the one to ask the questions.


    ¡°What do you guys need?¡± Chris asked, sensing that there was something we needed to talk about from our awkward bodynguage.


    Antoine didn''t look like he wasn''t sure what to say but eventually, he came out with it. ¡°Who was Zoe Paulson?¡±


    Chris looked genuinely surprised at that question.


    ¡°Whoa,¡± he said. And then he paused for a moment and looked into the distance. ¡°Where did you hear that name?¡±


    ¡°We saw it in the Carousel As,¡± Antoine answered. ¡°There was just one reference. We think Todd wrote it so maybe you would know since you guys came here together.¡±


    Chris zoned out for a moment.


    ¡°Zoe Paulson. She''s been gone for over seven years,¡± Chris said. ¡°Wait how did you get a hold of the Carousel As?¡±


    At that question, Antoine looked back toward me.


    ¡°Some of the other yers left it out one night so we just took a look at it,¡± I said.


    ¡°So you just took a look at the book that you''re not supposed to touch? What section was her name in?¡± He asked.


    Before Antoine could answer, Chris walked out into the hall and yelled, ¡°Grace! Come in here for a minute.¡±


    Grace took a bit to arrive. ¡°What do you need Chris?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Tell her what you told me,¡± Chris said.


    So Antoine did.


    ¡°I''m amazed you could find anything about her at all,¡± Grace said. ¡°Ashwood stole a lot of the entries from it before he¡­ you know.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you''re saying that Winston Ashwood, the psychic that tricked a bunch of people to going into getting killed, tore up the Carousel As?¡± I asked. I had always assumed that Arthur had done it in order to censor it.


    ¡°Well, he''s <em>one </em>of the people who messed with it,¡± Chris said. ¡°That book''s been vandalized so many times that we keep it off-limits to anyone but a select few.¡± He shot Grace an usatory nce.


    ¡°What?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s my fault they stole it?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say we stole it,¡± I said. ¡°We returned it.¡±


    ¡°None of this matters,¡± Antoine said loudly. ¡°We were just asking if you knew who Zoe Paulson was.¡±


    Chris looked like he didn¡¯t want to answer.


    ¡°Zoe Paulson was the person who invited me to Carousel,¡± Chris said. ¡°Me and Todd and Valorie, my whole team. Then after less than a year here, she decides she can''t take it so she runs head-first into a dangerous storyline and takes the easy way out. I guess we''ll see her again if we ever beat this thing maybe. I have no idea.¡±


    ¡°The entry in the book said that Zoe had some sort of quest. Do you know what that was talking about?¡± I asked.


    Chris thought for a moment. ¡°I don''t know if you would call it a quest,¡± he said. ¡°She seemed to think that we would somehow find a cure for her sister. Her sister was sick and she thought that we would find medicine or magic and take it back to her and save her life. That hope got dashed on the rocks pretty quick obviously.¡±


    Antoine, Kimberly, and I looked at each other. That sounded very familiar.


    ¡°Why did that hope get dashed on the rocks?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Chris threw up his hands. ¡°You have to understand that she wasn''t really making any sense, especially toward the end. She said that we picked the wrong type of aspects. Is that what you wanted to know? I don''t know what that meant, but I remember her saying that a day or so before she left.¡±


    The wrong type of aspects? What could that mean?


    ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t have taken that book without permission,¡± Chris said. ¡°If we lost that, I¡¯m pretty sure Adeline would die of a heart attack. That thing has been around since before she got here.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. Kimberly and Antoine followed suit.


    ¡°There¡¯s something else we wanted to tell you about,¡± Antoine said.


    He was about to talk about Dina¡¯s quest to save her son. I still wasn¡¯t certain about that but I wasn¡¯t going to be able to convince Antoine to keep secrets from his brother any longer.


    ¡°What?¡± Chris said.


    Antoine looked back at me and Kimberly. ¡°Something that we found out recently,¡± he started. ¡°We think that Carous¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shh,¡± Chris interjected. ¡°There was someone outside the window just now.¡±


    I turned around to look out the window but was unable to see anything. For a moment we all stayed still waiting, listening.


    Then it came. A knock on the door.


    ¡°Weapons,¡± Chris whispered to each of us.


    We each moved to pick up a weapon from the collection of antiques that Chris had found around the mansion. I chose arge spear because I didn''t want enemies getting anywhere near me and those swords look so sharp I might cut my own fingers off.


    Chris quietly crept out of the lounge and around the hallway so that he could face the front door.


    I could hear muffled yelling from the other side of the door. I couldn''t make out what they were saying.


    ¡°Is that¡­?¡± Grace asked, wielding a small revolver.


    The door was solid wood so we couldn''t see who was on the other side but there were windows on either side of the door. I could see a figure pressing his face against the window trying to see through the frosted ss into the building.


    ¡°Riley,¡± Chris said. ¡°Is that an omen?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I reported back. I was using my "I don''t like it here..." trope constantly to make sure that we weren''t running into omens around the mansion.


    I didn''t see an omen. As we got closer it became obvious who was on the other side of the door because they became visible on the red wallpaper once we could get a good look at them even through the frosted ss.


    It was Jack Goforth, our NPCpanion from the storyline.


    ¡°What is <em>he</em> doing here?¡± Grace asked.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Chris said. ¡°Why would an NPC show up like this?¡±


    Grace didn''t seem to know.


    ¡°Do we let him in?¡± Chris asked.


    ¡°Still no omens?¡± Grace asked looking at me.


    ¡°Nope,¡± I answered. ¡°I would be able to tell by this point.¡±


    If he was an omen, I would be able to see it. Even if the omen he carried was very over leveled I''d still be able to tell that it was there even if I couldn''t read anything about it.


    He knocked on the door again.


    ¡°So, this is what the ¡®It¡¯s Open¡¯ trope is for,¡± Grace said.


    ¡°Never thought I¡¯d see a use for that,¡± Chris agreed.


    ¡°It¡¯s Open¡± was a trope that allowed a yer to unlock a door to a building or room they were already inside of that someone else was trying to get into simply by yelling, ¡°It¡¯s open!¡± It did not work if the yer was captured, or the door was visibly locked or barricaded.


    I had seen the trope in movies before. It was a joke around Dyer¡¯s Lodge that it was a mostly useless trope.


    ¡°I¡¯m just going to open it,¡± Chris said. ¡°It¡¯s an NPC. Be ready just in case.¡±


    Chris moved to the door. He cautiously unlocked it and opened it up.


    As soon as there was a chance, Jack slid inside. He then turned to close the door behind him.


    ¡°You guys are still here?¡± Jack asked, breathing hard. ¡°Are the cultists gone? Or are you¡­ You¡¯re not puppets now are right?¡±


    Grace and Chris looked at each other.


    ¡°They all left,¡± Grace said. ¡°We¡¯re just here to weather the storm. What are you doing back here?¡±


    Jack fanned his face. It looked like he had been running.


    ¡°Came to find you,¡± he said. He looked around and started walking into the ballroom where the liquor was kept for the party.


    We followed.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to look like I¡¯m drinking a mimosa,¡± he said, retrieving a bottle of orange juice from a small refrigerator behind the bar and pouring it into a ss of champagne, ¡°But let¡¯s pretend it¡¯s a beer or whiskey or something more macho.¡±


    ¡°Where did you go?¡± Grace said.


    Jack drank the cocktail quickly before pouring himself another.


    ¡°I went¡­ it doesn¡¯t matter where I went. I''m back, but not for long. We all need to go.¡±


    ¡°Are the sorcerersing back?¡± Grace asked.


    ¡°I would assume so,¡± Jack said. ¡°Messy situation that was, huh? If they had learned our secret,¡± he said, looking back at me, Kimberly, and Antoine, ¡°Who knows what bad things could have happened? Secrets are funny that way.¡±


    We all looked at each other. It sounded like our friends in high ces didn¡¯t want us to talk about Dina¡¯s quest.


    ¡°Yeah, it would have been terrible,¡± Grace said, looking up at Chris to see if he knew what was going on. ¡°So, you would have us leave?¡±


    Jack nodded. ¡°I would definitely have you leave. You have a house on Dyer¡¯s Lake, right Chris? Let¡¯s go there. We¡¯ll be safe there. Just a quick hike from here, huh?¡±


    Chris took a moment to respond. ¡°I have a house over there, sure, but you know how many¡­ things are between us and it right now?¡±


    ¡°A few skirmishes, sure, but I imagine most things near Carousel would be hiding because of the storm. If we stay close enough to town to avoid the wilderness and far enough away to avoid the storm, we should be fine.¡±


    ¡°Just a second,¡± Chris said. ¡°Let¡¯s go back into the lounge for a moment, you guys, and get our stuff. Jack, you wait here.¡±


    Jack smiled. ¡°You got it,¡± he said.


    We hurried back into the lounge where all of our stuff was.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± Chris asked as soon as we were inside the room.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Grace responded.


    Antoine, Kimberly, and I looked at each other. We shrugged our shoulders and pretended that we had no idea why an NPC might be acting out of the ordinary.


    ¡°Are we supposed to stay in character?¡± Grace asked. ¡°This is really unusual. Do you think it''s because of the storm?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea. I''ve seen NPCs act weird once or twice, but this is something different. How can this not be part of an omen?¡± Chris answered.


    ¡°Do you think¡­ they say that the tutorial had NPCs who would guide you to storylines and help you find ces to stay afterward. Do you think it''s like that?¡± Grace asked.


    ¡°I don''t know. I didn''t do the tutorial,¡± Chris said.


    Most yers had missed the tutorial when they arrived, including my friends and I. yers who hadpleted it reported that it was distressing and woefully uninformative. Because yers were known to give up before finishing, the vets now intercepted new yers and brought them to the corn maze.


    ¡°I mean he''s not an enemy, right?¡± Grace asked. ¡°The level 50s can sometimes be bad guys but not outside of a storyline, surely.¡±


    I decided to jump in. ¡°I didn¡¯t see any sign of him being an omen. None of us have lived in settings of storylines after beating them. Maybe this is always what happens. The NPCs stay in character and guide us once it¡¯s time to go.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Grace said. ¡°I¡¯m sure the old timers would have written about that in the As, but we¡¯ll never know since some many pages got ripped out.¡±


    I think she meant it as a joke, but no oneughed.


    ¡°We''ve already made some ns to get back to the Lodge without running into anything too terrible. You have the maps?¡± he asked Grace.


    ¡°I do,¡± she said.


    ¡°Get your bags and get ready,¡± Chris said. ¡°We need to move fast.¡±


    We each had a bag that contained everything we needed for the hike. Food, toiletries, and camping supplies, all gathered from around the mansion. Chris had also stuffed in some weapons and other loot just in case.


    We grabbed them and went back out into the hall to meet Jack.


    ¡°Bug-out bags,¡± Jack noted. ¡°That has you written all over it, Chris. These were your idea, weren¡¯t they?¡±


    Indeed, they were.


    ¡°I suppose you didn¡¯t make an extra?¡± Jack asked.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t know you wereing, Jack,¡± Chris said.


    ¡°Neither did I, Chris,¡± Jack responded. ¡°But I¡¯m the well-known tabloid journalist, of course, that¡¯s who you want on a dangerous hike. I¡¯m already prepared,¡± he said with a smile, gesturing down at his tux.


    We exited the mansion and headed west.


    ¡°You know it¡¯s lucky my stepdad sent me to wilderness camps to toughen me up,¡± Jack said. ¡°I got dragged up and down these hills as a teen.¡±


    Jack¡¯s Plot Armor jumped up six points. Strange. I couldn''t see his tropes or his stats, but I could see that.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s convenient,¡± I said.


    Jack chuckled. ¡°Indeed.¡±


    Goodbye mansion, hello camping.

 Chapter One Hundred and Five: A Bridge Too Far

    Chapter One Hundred and Five: A Bridge Too Far


    My big fancy antique spear disappeared right out of my hands when we were about a mile west of the mansion. The pack that Chris had packed for me, a leather garment bag repurposed as a satchel, also got considerably lighter because other pieces of loot and weapons had disappeared from within it.


    ¡°It was worth a shot,¡± Chris said at almost the exact same moment. Much of his loot had disappeared too.


    All that remained were a few of the less ornate weapons, some books Grace had wanted, and the essential supplies: food, water, etc.


    And the masks.


    ¡°Strange,¡± Grace said. ¡°The enchanted weapons disappear, but these masks stick around. I wonder how much they sell for.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t even been aware the spear was enchanted. That was a real loss.


    ¡°Not enough to be worth the hassle of getting them,¡± Chris said.


    Jackughed. ¡°You¡¯re just going to sell it?¡± he asked Grace.


    ¡°Not much else we can do with it,¡± Grace answered.


    Jack didn¡¯t really respond, but he stifled a hollow smile.


    ¡°Right?¡± Grace asked. ¡°If we bring it into another storyline, it disappears. Can¡¯t use one storyline''s magic in a different storyline, right?¡±


    ¡°Why are you asking me?¡± Jack asked dryly. ¡°I¡¯m just a gossip columnist. I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    As we walked, we would each try to elicit some kind of information out of Jack. He clearly knew things we didn¡¯t, but hisments were always more or less in character. asionally, he would send me a knowing nce or a sarcastic smirk.


    ¡°Who¡¯s in charge?¡± Chris asked.


    ¡°The people who buy our magazine,¡± Jack said. ¡°The customer is always right.¡±


    ¡°But who brought us here?¡± Grace asked. ¡°And why?¡±


    They had apparently never had the opportunity to interrogate an NPC that would y along before. Grace was cycling through her Detective interrogation tropes but to no avail.


    ¡°That is a good question. The hiring decisions at thepany have always been unorthodox. You should have been there when they hired me,¡± he said. He thought for a moment. ¡°It was a hostile takeover of the magazine I used to work at. A bloody mess. We printed a story that caught their attention. Guess they liked what they saw and just bought the whole brand, employees and all. To think, I had my resignation letter typed up and everything before it happened. They almost missed me. You know, you independent contractors are luckier than you think.¡±


    He chuckled.


    Something about the way he spoke made an impression on all of us. We didn¡¯t ask more questions for a while. His little story took some time to digest.


    ¡°Chris,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Look at this.¡±


    He pointed down into a ravine to our left. I walked over and followed his gaze.


    It was a snake as wide as a school bus and many times as long.


    It was dead.


    The serpenty along the ravine, its mouth of fangs syed open, as snakes sometimes do when killed. A powerful, odor wafted up to the top of the ravine. Almost fishy, but wrong. Its belly was full and wiggling. A human arm, or close enough, reached out of a tear in its flesh as sounds emanated from within.


    I couldn¡¯t tell if they were animalistic sounds¡­ or demonic, but I knew their sounds carried further than they logically should have. I could hear them as if they were right next to me.


    ¡°Omen?¡± Chris asked for the hundredth time.


    ¡°Nope,¡± I said.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening down there?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°Snake ate some goblins or something,¡± I said. ¡°Didn¡¯t chew his food.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here,¡± Chris said.


    No one wanted to argue.


    If there was a dead giant snake there, that meant there might be live monsters elsewhere. We were in real danger.


    ¡°If we keep going west we¡¯re going to hit some Omens,¡± Chris said.


    ¡°The banshee,¡± I said. A forest blockaded the woods to the northwest of Camp Dyer with an Omen rted to a banshee. I knew that much. We heard her out there sometimes, screaming bloody murder.


    Chris nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the banshee you have to worry about in that storyline, she is like an Omen within an Omen or something?¡± He looked to Grace.


    ¡°Lara has been able to divine as much,¡± Grace said. ¡°The boundary Omens are the weirdest. They have different rules and harsher penalties. That¡¯s what makes them effective, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°We need to start going south soon,¡± Jack said. ¡°But that means crossing a river, the White Cap River, I believe.¡±


    ¡°There should be a bridge up ahead,¡± Grace said. ¡°It¡¯s on the map, though this one is quite old.¡±


    ¡°I remember a bridge too,¡± Jack said. He closed his eyes. ¡°Legend... Yes, legend says the bridge is cursed.¡±


    ¡°Cursed?¡± Grace asked¡­ ¡°You mean there is an Omen?¡±


    ¡°Of course, there¡¯s an Omen on it,¡± Chris said. ¡°If there wasn¡¯t I would be surprised. The question is, is the Omen active still? The storm took out so many of them for miles.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give it a gander,¡± I said.


    ¡°We go south now until we hit the river, then follow it until we get to the bridge,¡± Chris said.


    And so, we did.


    As we walked south, I started hearing the sound of running water up ahead. We managed to find the river. That¡¯s not all we found. There was arge sewer pipe sticking out of the cliff on the other side.


    The concrete pipe was as wide as two grown men set end to end. The entire opening, however, was covered in arge, metal grate. Only a trickle managed to make its way out of the pipe and into the water, however, because the end was clogged.


    Skeletons were stacked up against the grate. Human. Dog. Rat. Remarkably, they stayed assembled despite beingpletely stripped of their flesh. Dozens of them.


    ¡°What is that green slime?¡± Antoine asked.


    I squinted to see what he was talking about. There was a green hue to the bodies.


    ¡°The Bloat,¡± Grace said.


    ¡°Looks like it left the sewers and took to the river. The monsters all look like they¡¯re taking off,¡± Chris said.


    The Bloat must have been the name for whatever green goo creature lived in the sewer system under the city. Apparently, a lot of things lived down there in sewers.


    After a few moments to stare at the sewer grate, we turned and headed west.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Chris said. ¡°Something¡¯s up ahead.¡±


    Chris had been using his Gut Instinct trope to sense out danger. This was the first time it had activated with any real urgency.


    We all listened intently to no avail.


    ¡°I need to go check it out,¡± he added.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll go. I can look for Omens and I have a little trick for not getting killed.¡±


    My little trick was Oblivious Bystander.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if it would work outside of a storyline like this, but I was betting it would. Even with no camera, other tropes seemed to work pretty well. The only tropes that appeared to be useless out of storylines were those that relied on the plot cycle as well as those that referenced other aspects inherent to storylines.


    I was beginning to suspect that whether or not the Off-Screen light was lit, we were always on camera. That wasn¡¯t even to mention the fact the Oblivious Bystander worked when<em> I</em> was Off-Screen when it shouldn¡¯t because there was no audience watching.


    More than that, letting Chris go was a mistake. If he left the group, the group lost 90% of its defenses.


    It was just logical for me to go instead. I was more useful on my own. Always had been.


    ¡°You sure?¡± Chris asked.


    I shrugged as I slipped on my sunsses, headphones, and hood. If I thought about it too long, I would get more scared. Besides, in a way, I was safer on my own. Oblivious Bystander would not work well while I was in a group.


    I trudged forward quietly. Trying not to look too aware of my surroundings.


    It didn''t take too long for me to find out what the dangerous thing was.


    I didn''t have to walk too far to find the bridge. What I didn''t expect to see, was the figure that was standing on it.


    There were no Omens to be afraid of, but that didn''t mean there was no risk.


    I heard voices, strange haunting voices that sounded oddly familiar, not because I had heard the speaker before but because I had heard the strange nature of the sound. I was listening to voices from ghosts or spirits of some kind.


    I found a grassy knoll toy down on behind a tree. As I did, I stared up at the sky and put my hands above my head. I watched the bridge from the corner of my eye through a small gap in the trees.


    I saw where the ghostly voices wereing from.


    Three bodies floated through the air toward the bridge. Their spirits were partially extruded from them. I had seen that trick before. They did not appear to enjoy floating, as they struggled fruitlessly. As they bobbed along, they talked, in oddly calm voices. It was quite diforting to witness.


    Two of them were babbling about a trespasser on theirnd and how they were going to kill him and sink their teeth into him. They were strange men dressed in shabby clothing. They spoke with strong country ents.


    On the red wallpaper, they were called Bog Brothers. Plot Armor 28 and 31. They didn¡¯t have proper names. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say they were hillbilly cannibals or simr, but I couldn¡¯t be sure. I was too far away for Trope Master to activate.


    They floated across the bridge and squabbled with each other stupidly.


    The third floating body was called the Samaritan. I recognized him. He was the shadowy enemy from the ¡°Eleventh-Year Reunion¡± trailer I had seen earlier. His plot armor was 37. He had made it out of town without getting infected. Good for him.


    ¡°I waited ten long years to get my revenge,¡± his partially disembodied spirit said. ¡°I almost had it, but then I failed. They killed my son. They will pay. This year, I will take their lives like they took his that night in the rain.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± a familiar voice said, ¡°When I am finished you will have your revenge, I guarantee it. As soon as I have mapped the astral ne, returning you to your revenge will be simple.¡±


    Simon Halle, the Astralist, stood on the bridge, effortlessly floating the men along as they struggled to free themselves.


    But he was different. His Plot Armor was 46. That didn¡¯t make any sense at all. When we faced him, his plot armor was around 12.


    I was suddenly nervous. I didn¡¯t remember him having telekinesis before. He also didn¡¯t have the ability to partially rip out your soul like he had done to his victims on the bridge.


    It appeared that the apocalypse had not ruined things for Dr. Halle. He had been collecting specimens for his experiments as they ran away from town.


    Halle Castle would have been close by. It was on the northwest side of town. It made sense that it could have been outside of the storm¡¯s path, though the roads leading to it would certainly have been cut off.


    That was a real problem. The Astralist was smart and fast. If he was hunting specimens, we would have a hard time passing by this way.


    As soon as he had crossed the bridge and left the area, I stood up and made my way back to the others to report on what I had seen.


    ¡°That is interesting,¡± Grace said. ¡°He has a higher level when you bring a Beauty-Eye Candy or a Damsel into a storyline. Or a Researcher-Schr. Or an ultist-Psychic. Other than that, he is low-level. It¡¯s interesting that his higher level is the one he keeps outside a storyline.¡±


    ¡°So what do we do?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°We can¡¯t go near him again.¡±


    She had a pretty rattling experience with him during his storyline.


    ¡°Do we just keep going west and hope to find another way across?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Whatever we do,¡± Chris said, ¡°We can¡¯t stay here. Not if he¡¯s out hunting. We can¡¯t afford a fight, not without the ability to heal afterward.¡±


    Whatever the case, we needed to think of something fast because soon, it would be dark. Camping in these woods would be suicide. We needed a n.

 Interlude: In Time--Part Two

    Interlude: In Time--Part Two


    ¡°Can he follow us?¡± I asked as we ran from the stampede.


    Camden shook his head. I could tell he was in worse condition than he pretended.


    ¡°They can only¡ª¡± he stopped and winced in pain. ¡°There¡¯s some kind of limit. I don¡¯t understand itpletely. He can only travel to historical disasters. But the magic can only open one portal to a particr disaster at once. Does that make sense? Unless he wants another version of himself to follow him. Then he has to kill a new victim. Whatever--" he winced again, "Just, he shouldn''t be able to follow us is all that matters, not until the next recorded disaster."


    Time traveling from disaster to disaster.


    This disaster... the Stampede.


    The 1996 Carousel Summer Days Stampede took over forty lives. A carnival ride¡ªa small, slow kiddie ride¡ªmalfunctioned and threatened to derail a car from its spinning track. The ride operator managed to get it switched off, but the loud sound of metal bursting loose within the mechanism sounded much more dangerous than it was. The crowd panicked. Many thought a bomb had gone off.


    <em>The Town of Carousel: Horrific Events Through the Ages</em>, the book the Generation Killer (as he was called on the red wallpaper) used to coordinate his time travel, stated that many of the victims had been trampled, but most had gotten tangled together in a narrow alleyway and sumbed to crowd crush. Everyone ran to exit the alleyway with such reckless haste that they jammed up against each other, their limbs getting caught around those next to them. Those in the front were killed as those in the back pushed forward, unable to see the carnage they were causing.


    The image of it had been awful, bodies, squeezed, tangled together until everyone involved was stuck so tight they couldn¡¯t breathe. I will never forget it.


    The strange jewel the Killer used had brought us right into the midst of the chaos. We were in Carousel in 1996.


    ¡°We have two days here,¡± Camden said. ¡°Then a houseboat sinks on Dyer¡¯s Lake and he cane through to get us.¡±


    Two days until the next disaster.


    ¡°Did you say there are other versions of him?¡± I asked. In the excitement, I had almost missed that.


    ¡°Past, present, future,¡± Camden said. ¡°Several of them. The young ones are fast and strong but also kind of dumb. I managed to trick one and get away for a while before you showed up. The old ones are smarter but weaker and slower.¡±


    We ran until we found a corner between two buildings where we could stop running and hide. Camden plopped down on the ground and pulled out some medical supplies from his pocket. The Killer had taken his arm, but had also patched it up.


    Camden must have seen me staring at his recently stitched stump.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t want me to die too quickly,¡± he exined. ¡°That magic pendant,¡± he pointed at the ne I was wearing, ¡°It has to be jumpstarted through anguish. That¡¯s why his face and arms are covered in scars. He thought he would use me instead of himself for a while.¡±


    That was too terrible to think about.


    Camden started trying to dress his wound. I quickly bent down to take over. I felt so useless, not knowing how to treat an amputation like this.


    ¡°These supplies are really old,¡± I said. The style was not modern at all.


    ¡°They were all he had,¡± Camden said. ¡°He must have picked them up decades ago.¡±


    I dressed his wound as best as I could. The stitches and cauterization that the Killer had done were clumsy, but at least Camden would not bleed out.


    Off-Screen.


    After I was done, I sat down on the ground across from Camden and we just looked at each other for a moment. We had never gotten the chance to discuss what had happened to us since we started the storyline. The roller rink had copsed into the earth soon after we arrived, and the story had not slowed down since then. Now, we were finally between scenes.


    ¡°Do you think Riley, Antoine, and Kimberly are okay?¡± I asked.


    Camden didn¡¯t answer for a time, but then said, ¡°They¡¯ll be fine. They have Chris and Grace.¡±


    ¡°Are <em>we </em>going to be okay?¡±


    Camden¡¯s eyes dropped.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± I asked. ¡°How do we beat him? Where do we go?¡±


    ¡°Anna¡­¡± Camden said.


    ¡°What?¡±


    He looked at me with a soft expression. ¡°We won¡¯t survive this.¡±


    I was afraid he would say that.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. A lump rose up in my throat. ¡°There has to be a way.¡±


    ¡°There is a way,¡± Camden said. ¡°But we can¡¯t do it. Not just the two of us.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t ept that. It was my job to keep us positive when everything looked impossible.


    ¡°You just have to take some time to think it through,¡± I said.


    Camden shook his head. ¡°I did. I was in that cell for over a week before you got there. I figured out how to beat him. You split him up. You grab as many of the amulets as you can and you take them to different times. He gets confused. I heard one of the older versions yelling at a teenage version about it. His memories get scrambled. There are ten versions. Used to be twelve once upon a time I think. Strand them in their own time periods and they can¡¯t time travel anymore. Maybe kill them, I don¡¯t know. The time travel continuity in this story is nonsense. Riley would love it. I did my research. Paid the price for it too,¡± he said, looking over at his missing arm.


    ¡°But there¡¯s only two of us¡­¡± I said, dejected.


    ¡°There¡¯s only two,¡± he repeated. ¡°And we are horribly under-leveled.¡±


    This wasn¡¯t happening. We were really going to die. My family would never know what happened to me. I couldn¡¯t hold back the tears anymore.


    ¡°But I have an idea,¡± he said.


    I perked up at that. Did he have a n to get us home?


    ¡°Just because we die, doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t do something important. I think we can get back at Carousel and help the others. It¡¯s a long shot, but what else are we going to do?¡±


    ¡°Help the others from in here?¡± I asked. That didn¡¯t seem possible.


    ¡°If my idea works.¡±


    I thought for a moment. ¡°Using time travel?¡±


    He nodded.


    ¡°But you said you thought this was fake. That we aren¡¯t actually in the past,¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s fake,¡± Camden said. ¡°The question is, how good of a fake is it?¡±


    ---


    After he exined his n, I felt numb. We were going to die, that much seemed clear. The only thought that kept me from descending into a cycle of self-pity was that we might be able to help our friends.


    But his n¡­ was difficult to go through with.


    ¡°We need anguish short of death to activate the pendant,¡± Camden said. ¡°We¡¯re traveling from the 1996 Stampede to the 2010 Red Hills Massacre. You got that?¡±


    ¡°I got it,¡± I said.


    He had exined it over and over. He made me read the entry for both events at least a dozen times. The traveler had to have a clear vision of where they wanted to go.


    The Red Hills Massacre urred just up the road from Camp Dyer. A group of college kids were found dead. Strangely, all of the deaths were ruled suicides. One student went missingpletely and there were few witnesses.


    That wasn¡¯t the hard part.


    Activating the pendant was. Anguish short of death was more than I thought I could handle.


    We had broken into a tool shed in a nice neighborhood. I held an electric drill in my hand.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°If we stand any chance, we have to get a step ahead of him! Do it!¡± Camden screamed.


    I held the drill over him, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to lower it. We had talked it over a hundred times. We just needed a shot of the drill breaking the skin. He thought he had enough Moxie to handle it from there, to y up his injury. But if that wasn¡¯t true¡­ I would have to <em>really </em>hurt him.


    I held the drill over him. I could barely see through the tears in my eyes.


    ¡°Do it!¡± Camden screamed again.


    The drill cut into his arm and he started to scream.


    Not long after that, the pendant started to glow as I thought about the strange pictures I had seen depicting the victims of the Red Hills Massacre.


    And then, suddenly, we were there. Carousel in 2010.


    The drill traveled with us, taking the electric outlet and part of the wall of the shed with it.


    I unplugged the drill and put it into a canvas bag I had slung over my shoulder.


    We were in 2010. February 2010, or at least Carousel¡¯s version of it.


    Camden chose it because there wasn¡¯t another disaster for three days afterward, giving us some time to enact his n.


    ~~~~~


    I thought back to our conversation in the alleyway as he described the n to me.<blockquote>


    ¡°A young version of him brought me to the year 2002 before we went to their hideout where you rescued me. I managed to escape by pretending I was dead. He fell for it. I ran around Carousel for hours in 2002. There was nothing important to be done. I saw plenty of NPCs, but none of them wanted to interact with me. I kept hoping that Carousel would bring the story to me--that by escaping I could find a way to win. But I was off-screen the entire time. My entire escape was off-screen. It was like it had never happened. I could have screamed. Probably did.


    ¡°But as I walked around Carousel I noticed something very strange. There was a restaurant near the center of town that had a bunch of cops and EMTs outside of it. They were just standing around going through their motions of pretending to be real. They were background characters. We see that a dozen times a day but something about it felt oddly familiar to me. They were talking about some death that had urred there.


    ¡°After the Killer recaptured me I sat in my cell and I thought about it for hours until it dawned on me that thest time I had seen cops and paramedics acting that way was when I died in the Ranger Danger storyline. I woke up after it was over and I pulled the sheet off of my face and I looked around and there were all these NPCs just going about their business walking back and forth talking about what had just happened. It was the exact same thing that was happening at the restaurant. That''s when I figured it out.¡± He paused for a moment.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What I was seeing had nothing to do with <em>this </em>storyline. I was seeing a scene from a different storyline altogether. I think Carousel recreated that day in 2002 down to every detail. I think yers, actual yers, had run a storyline at the restaurant that day in the original 2002. When Carousel needed to recreate 2002 for this time travel storyline, it just copied them, exactly as they were at that moment in the real timeline."


    He was really throwing a lot out there. ¡°So, what''s your n?¡±


    ¡°We go to 2010. Before the fall of that year.¡±


    ¡°What happened in the fall of 2010?¡± I asked.


    He smiled.</blockquote>


    ~~~~~


    We ran from the horror of the Red Hills Massacre. We had been Off-Screen from the time we left the crime scene. Camp Dyer was only a few miles away. We didn¡¯t know if we were being chased, but we ran anyway. Camden looked pale, but curiosity was driving him.


    We ran straight to Dyer¡¯s Lodge.


    ¡°Please be there,¡± Camden said. He said it several times. I guess it was our swan song, our Hail Mary. I hoped it was there too.


    ----<blockquote>


    ¡°You don¡¯t remember?¡± Camden asked.


    I shook my head. ¡°Vaguely.¡±


    ¡°Rescue tropes disappeared in Fall 2010. So we go travel back to before that happened.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to find Rescue Tropes, do you?¡±


    I was fairly certain that Carousel wouldn¡¯t make such an oversight.


    He shook his head. "No."</blockquote>


    ----


    As we got to Dyer¡¯s Lodge, we ran past the head camp counselor who yelled something at us I couldn¡¯t hear. It didn¡¯t seem important.


    We were inside the Lodge in a sh. It looked different. Fewer couches. A lot of the knickknacks had disappeared along with many of the books.


    ¡°Look,¡± Camden said, pointing to a chalkboard in the center of themon area. The board was covered in ns for a run to the mall. These yers were high enough level to n runs at the mall? We had been told it was way too dangerous.


    ¡°Oh my god!¡± I said.


    Camden was right. Carousel recreated the time period down to thest detail, even including the things that yers had left behind back then.


    ----<blockquote>


    ¡°If Carousel recreates past time periods exactly,¡± Camden said. ¡°Recreates it down to thest detail, even going so far as having NPCs show up because some yers had run a storyline on that same day, What if Carousel recreates <em>everything</em>?¡±


    ¡°Everything?¡± I asked.</blockquote>


    ----


    We rummaged through the Lodge. There were no yers there, but this was their hideout. Just like it was our hideout over ten yearster. yers had been staying at Dyer¡¯s Lodge since before Adeline and Arthur were in charge.


    ¡°Found it!¡± Camden screamed out.


    I ran toward the stairs and bounded up them.


    He was sitting on a chair at the table where the high-level yers always nned their runs.


    In front of him was the object of our desire: the <strong>Carousel As</strong>.


    ¡°The yer register,¡± Camden said, overjoyed. ¡°The register is still here,¡± he said, having flipped to the very back. ¡°It goes back to 1989.¡±


    yers had been in Carousel since 1989?


    He sat and read through the book.


    Something he read was quite sobering. ¡°I think Riley might be onto something,¡± he said.


    There were all kinds of things in this past version of the As that ours didn¡¯t have. Entire sections. Ticket types I had never heard of were discussed in detail.


    Camden pointed to a section of text.


    ¡°We¡¯ve discovered a new exploit for Rescue Tickets,¡± Camden read aloud. ¡°Our ¡®Insider¡¯ tells us to be cautious because he cannot keep Carousel distracted for too long, but the more we experiment, the more confident I am that we have found a way to increase our levels dramatically in theing months. Testing continues. We must not tell the other yers until we are sure it is safe.¡±


    "An exploit?" I asked. "Like cheating?"


    "Not necessarily. I wonder if Adeline knows about it? I don''t see where she''s written anything in here. Arthur either."


    ----<blockquote>


    ¡°What if Carousel recreates Dyer¡¯s Lodge exactly as it was in 2010. What if it recreated the Carousel As before it had so many of its pages torn out? Maybe a lot of information would still be there?¡±


    ¡°Whoa,¡± I said. Seeing the As before it was defaced was huge. ¡°But how does it help? How do we get it to our friends?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I have an idea,¡± Camden said with a weak smirk.</blockquote>


    ----


    He flipped to a part that discussed yer aspects. Then he flipped further to the Final Girl Section, and then the general section.


    ¡°This should work nicely,¡± he said.


    ¡°Which aspect do I need to pick?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t much matter,¡± he said. ¡°Pick whatever you like. Just follow the n."

 Chapter One Hundred and Six: In Plain Sight

    Chapter One Hundred and Six: In in Sight


    Because of the Astralist skulking around, we had to take a much longer detour to get back in the direction we needed to go. Chris said that we couldn''t risk going anywhere near him given the fact that the only way to beat him would be either using the chemicals in hisb or using his own machine against him. If we ran into him in the woods, neither of those things would be avable.


    We went as far west as we could until we hit the tree line where we finally found an Omen. It was the familiar Omen that stopped anyone from heading further around theke. I had seen it before. We had to go South. Luckily it only took us an hour or so to find a ce where we could cross the river without touching the water.


    Chris wasn''t sure that the water itself was dangerous but he wasn''t going to risk it. He stood, poised with a rusty old weapon that had not been taken away after we left the mansion, ready for something to jump out of the water but nothing did. His Gut Instinct trope was pretty good at predicting stuff like that but he remained vignt, as a high enough level enemy could still remain undetected.


    By the time I saw the road that led to Camp Dyer, it was already dark. I could barely see the sign at the entrance. As we walked toward the lodge the familiar chanting by the little campers caught my ears:


    ¡°Suzy Snyder, six foot five,


    Haunts Camp Dyer, still alive¡­¡±


    It almost feltforting instead of terrifying. This ce had not been touched by the ck Snow.


    We made thest part of the trail on foot. I subconsciously walked faster during thest part, ready to be somewhere safe atst. When I got to the door and turned to look at the others, I noticed that Jack Goforth was nowhere to be found. Guess he wasn¡¯t needed anymore after he guided us around the woods.


    When I opened the door and we walked in, I was greeted by dozens upon dozens of sullen faces. Most of the yers at Dyer¡¯s Lodge had survived. But not all.


    When we walked through the door, there was a spark of hope, but then when it was only five of us, that was snuffed out.


    Adeline came out to themon area from behind the bar in the kitchen and hugged Grace. They started whispering to each other. I was sure news of the fallen would reach back to everyone soon enough.


    We were offered food, though all they had left were canned emergency supplies. Guess they had prepared to be holed up during an Apocalypse eventually.


    Dina was in themon room and tried to get my attention. I dodged her gaze. I was not ready to tell her about how her quest had been dashed against the rocks when we lost our Final Girl and Schr. I¡¯m sure she would be very disappointed to know that two of the people she was relying on to beat the game were gone.


    I would talk to her in the morning. I just walked to my room and shut the door. I hated how quiet things were in there without Camden. Often, we would spend the nights before we went to sleep spitballing about how to get out of Carousel. We had theory after theory of what was going on and how it might be fixed. It was all dumb. What did we know?


    I used my ¡°Out Like a Light¡± trope to go to sleep fast so that I didn¡¯t have to deal with the emerging emptiness inside of me.


    The Apocalypsested for two more weeks. Then, one day, the radio in the kitchen just started ying its regr programming of unsettlingly positive hosts and music that sounded vaguely familiar but that I could never put my finger on.


    The storm was never acknowledged by the hosts, even when they did the weather forecast.


    A few days after we made it back, Garrett and his team--who had literally jumped into hell to escape the ck Snow--arrived. They were injured. They hade across some shadow people after clearing their storyline and suffered some cuts and broken bones as a result, along with wicked hand-shaped bruises. Fortunately, a Doctor archetype was at the Lodge to patch them up, but they were still on the mend for quite a while.


    Eventually, we sent a scout out to take a look at town. When they reported back, they said everything was back to normal. No ck snow. No mutants.


    And just like that, life went back to normal at Dyer¡¯s Lodge. People were quiet like it was a funeral, but still, things slowly started to go back to the way they had been when we had arrived. I was reminded that the team that had arrived nearly a year before mine had wiped out a matter of weeks before we got there and if it weren¡¯t for their missing posters, I would never have known they were there. No one talked about them.


    Camden and Anna were just gone. I got a few condolences but not much more. Death was a way of life at Camp Dyer. People were ready to get back to eating real food, so a run was nned to go to Eternal Savers Club for some bulk groceries.


    People were talking about the Excursion out west and their Secret Lore ns.


    Lara used a Psychic trope to tell us the news of everyone who had died. The Eleventh Year Reunion team and the Head Below Water team had been killed in the storm. Reggie had not made it either. Grace was a mess all over again because of it.


    Travis¡¯ team and the remaining Bowlers had died as well, but not in the Preservation storyline. They hadpleted that and diedter. Lara was sparse on the details, but it seemed as though they somehow triggered a different storyline afterpleting their original one, or else the killer from a different storyline had found them in the woods. It wasn''t clear to her.


    She turned to me. I knew what she was going to say before she said it.


    ¡°Anna and Camden didn¡¯t make it," she said. "I¡¯m sorry, Riley. I¡¯m sure they tried their hardest.¡±


    I had been expecting the news but still wasn¡¯t ready to hear it. They were gone. Again, I retreated to sleep to escape my feelings.


    Many yers went to the missing poster wall to pay their respects. Kimberly and Antoine went with them. I didn¡¯t because I couldn¡¯t do anything like that in public. I would go on my ownter. The path there was safe enough to walk alone.


    ¡°Lara said they didn¡¯t suffer,¡± Kimberly said as we sat on the back deck of the Lodge after their trip to the wall.


    ¡°She was lying,¡± I said. I knew they had suffered. I saw what had happened to Camden.


    Kimberly started crying. She cried a lot. Antoineforted her as best he could, but I could see everything was taking a toll on him too.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said. I really sucked at being around people sometimes.


    Dina was sitting on a chair nearby. ¡°We can still save them,¡± she said. ¡°We just have to solv¡ª"


    ¡°Yes we¡¯re still going to help you,¡± I interjected. ¡°It¡¯s all you¡¯ve wanted to talk about since we got back. Whether we can still help you.¡±


    There was an awkward silence.


    ¡°It¡¯s not just me,¡± Dina said. She got up out of her chair and went back inside.


    I looked over at Kimberly and Antoine. ¡°So, we just pretend they were never here? Don¡¯t you see that¡¯s what everyone here does? They just forget people.¡±


    ¡°What do you want us to do?¡± Antoine asked.


    The worst part of Carousel was that there was no one to be angry at. The bad guy had not shown his face. It was frustrating. There was no one to yell at.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m going back to sleep.¡±


    I stood up and walked back into themon room. The radio was still ying on the kitchen counter. No one had turned it off in the days since the storm abated.


    I found a couch that was away from everyone else andid down on it. Instead of sleeping, I spent a while just imagining scenarios where I could vent my anger. I wanted to scream at everyone.


    ¡°Riley?¡± someone behind me asked.


    I turned over to see it was Grace. She was dressed like she was about to run a storyline. A handful of other yers including Lara and Roxie were standing by the door near her.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I asked, trying to contain my emotions.


    She pointed across the room at the chalkboards used to n the Secret Lore runs. ¡°I left those maps out on the table over there if you wanted to take a look,¡± she said.


    ¡°Maps?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The maps of Carousel throughout the years. We talked about it at the mansion, remember?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Right. Thanks, I¡¯ll give them a look over,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re doing runs already?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°We have a good lead at the museum. We have to move forward. For Reggie and the others. We can¡¯t stop now.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I said. In my heart, I wasn¡¯t ready to start avenging my fallen friends yet. Grace, though, she apparently was. ¡°I¡¯ll see you when you get back.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Those maps are very interesting. Lots of fun details if you poke through them. You can see the entire town growing right before your eyes if you go through them in order.¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond.


    Then she and her new team left.


    Antoine and Kimberly stayed out on the deck with a group of other yers. I didn¡¯t know where Dina was--probably off trying to convince herself that The ck Snow was somehow a good thing. That it had put her one step closer to reviving her son.


    I was alone. I couldn¡¯t go back to my room because then I would only be reminded that Camden was missing.


    I decided to justy back on the couch and use my sleeping trope to go to sleep. I listened to the soft, strange music ying over the radio in the kitchen area.


    Just before I decided to doze off, the thought of the maps reentered my mind. I figured I might as well take a look.


    I walked over to the table she had pointed me to and saw a pile of maps rolled up into scrolls and bound with rubber bands. They werebeled by year with a ck permanent marker.


    I grabbed the one that said, 1989, the year Grace said the parking lot arrived, and unrolled it. Then I grabbed 1988 topare.


    Sure enough, the parking lot and the entire road leading to the farm with Benny¡¯s cornfield did not show up until that year.


    Someone, maybe Grace, maybe not, had taken to circling each building the year it was added to the map. They had not finished, but I decided to follow along anyway by looking at all of the settings for stories I hadpleted.


    The Museum at Halle Castle appeared in 1999, along with the road that led up to it. That seemed way toote for its arrival. If memory served, that castle canonically was brought to America¡­ I forgot when. I remembered being told this in the story. Luckily, I had a way to double-check.


    I used my Director¡¯s Monitor trope to rewatch the Astralist storyline to the point where Judy, the museum caretaker NPC, had told us about the castle''s history. There were a lot of strange cuts in that movie. Probably because my friends and I kept breaking character unintentionally.<blockquote>¡°You know, this castle was actually brought over from Europe after the destruction of World War Two,¡± Judy exined. ¡°They brought it here piece by piece, the Halle family. They knew the importance of history.¡±</blockquote>


    That''s what I thought. I flipped through the older maps. The castle was missing until 1999. The Astralist story took ce in 1999, as a matter of fact.


    I kept looking.


    Camp Dyer showed up in 1997. In fact, Dyer¡¯s Lake changed shape dramatically that year, bingrger and changing the location of some key features like several marinas and the dam.


    If I were to hazard a guess, the storyline took ce in 1997. Of course, the camp would have needed to be around long before that so that the abandoned cabin could have been¡­ well, abandoned.


    The Delta Epsilon Delta fraternity where the Ranger Danger storyline took ce was called Sigma Alpha Epsilon until 2001. I remembered people dressing like it was the early 2000s. That checked out.


    The church from the Grotesque broke the pattern. It was always there, even though the Grotesque had to have taken ce in thest few decades. I assumed that the church set was used in several different storylines.


    Aker¡¯s Plot from the Campfire anthology was not important enough for abel, but the road that led out to the entrance only showed up in the mid-nies. It was hard to tell exactly when because that area had very little in it and was not very detailed.


    Patcher¡¯s Farm started in 1976 and turned into Patcher¡¯s Family Farm, the roadside attraction, seven yearster.


    There was no reference to the building from Subject of Inquiry, which made sense. It was a secret.


    The Mansion in the Carousel Hills wasn¡¯tbeled, but it did show up in 1992, the same year the storyline was set. That was wrong. The storyline stated that the Mansion had been there for years by 1992.


    The settings for each storyline showed up around the time the storyline took ce, not when they should have arrived within the continuity of their stories. That meant that the oldest sites in Carousel would not necessarily be those that had been there for the longest ording to their own lore.


    That was assuming the dates were not rebooted by Carousel, which was a big assumption.


    Eventually, my eyes wandered back to the parking lot where we had arrived. The nearest storyline was called Permanent Vacancy. The map didn¡¯t show the names of the storylines. I just remembered it. We had been told that name when we arrived as Valorie tried to exin the concept of Omens or something like that. The terrified woman pleading to be freed as she tried to squeeze through the barbed fence was seared into my memory.


    On the map, that storyline took ce at a hotel called, ¡°Olde Hill Bed and Breakfast: The Jewel of Carousel. (Condemned)¡±


    The Bed and Breakfast didn¡¯t exist until 1989, the same year it had been padlocked off and condemned it would seem.


    I wasn''t sure if these maps were good for finding secret lore, but they still seemed important.


    Something about that little Bed and Breakfast stood out to me as odd. I couldn¡¯t ce my finger on what was so unusual about it.


    But then, I remembered what it was.


    I could haveughed. The clues we had been given were finally starting toe together. I ran back to my room and grabbed my cell phone from where it stayed on the charger. There wasn¡¯t much use for it with no signal, but I still kept it charged out of habit.


    I ran back to the table with the maps and clicked through my apps to find my messages.


    I wanted to scream for joy. I had finally found something.


    In the kitchen, the radio abruptly stopped ying the mellow music from before and started to y a tune I had never heard before, but still recognized.<blockquote>


    "Under the neon glow, where the lucky ones go,


    Bet your life on it, it''s the Carousel Casino.


    The stakes are high, but so is the fun,


    Bet your life on it, the night''s just begun!"</blockquote>


    I stared at the radio aghast. That was the jingle that Winston Ashwood imed meant there was treasure to be found. Or, as I interpreted it, it meant jackpot.


    I looked back at the map and then at my phone. I thought back to the tickets I had been awarded with a coded message on them.


    Hidden in in sight right in front of me was a "Glitch in the Matrix" "identally Captured on Film".

 Chapter One Hundred and Seven: closed fur renovations

    Chapter One Hundred and Seven: closed fur renovations


    Ever since I arrived, I could never really wrap my head around the idea that everything I was experiencing was real. I didn''t deny that I was seeing what I saw or that I could feel what I felt. But in my head, I always divided things between the real world and Carousel. As I stared at the map, I started to realize howplicated that division might actually be.


    No one who stayed here for very long thought that Carousel was actually a ce located along some narrow forested street in the middle of the United States. It became very clear that whatever carousel was it was separate from a world that we had known.


    But how separate? And exactly how was Carousel luring people from our world to its doorstep. At what point did our world end and Carousel begin?


    I stepped away from my map. I needed to take a break.


    I saw through therge ss window that there were people outside still and I decided to go ask a series of questions that most of us here had asked at least a dozen times in some form or another.


    ¡°Where is Carousel?¡± I asked as I walked outside onto the deck where Antoine, Kimberly, and a collection of veterans were sitting.


    These were not veterans that I spent a lot of time talking to. Truthfully there were so many people at Dyers Lodge that it was hard for me to keep track of them all. Even though I didn''t know who they were they did have some idea who I was.


    ¡°Depends on what you mean by that,¡± Garrett said. He was still recovering from the wounds he received on his way back to the Lodge after escaping the ck snow. ¡°If you mean where did we enter it, you should already know that. If you mean where does Carousel say it is, that is harder to answer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m talking about within the lore of Carousel, Is there an actual location where it is located, or is it really different in every storyline?¡±


    This elicited groans. I was asking questions that no one knew the answer to but still, I needed to confirm my understanding onest time.


    ¡°Now you¡¯re getting into the weeds,¡± another one of the veterans whom I did not know very well said. ¡°It could be anywhere. I saw a map where it was in Massachusetts and another in southeast New Mexico with some aliens. It can¡¯t decide. If I remember right, this very camp is in New Jersey, or at least that¡¯s what the map in the administration office says.¡±


    ¡°This ce is built like the backlots of a movie studio,¡± Garret said. ¡°You need a desert? Go south. You need forest? Go west. Town Square looks like ites from some well-to-do town in Connecticut. Yet the town has a financial district with skyscrapers that you can¡¯t find unless you know the directions. Carousel is everywhere.¡±


    He echoed much the same sentiment that Chris had earlier. Carousel was just ying a role like we were. There was a setting here for everything. And if there wasn''t, you could buy a train ticket or a ne ride to find a ce that fits your fancy.


    ¡°I saw a trailer for a storyline with a Japanese shrine,¡± I said. ¡°And I know that The Astralist is set in a German castle.¡±


    ¡°The Astralist¡¯s castle was brought to America though,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Thedy told us that first thing.¡±


    I shook my head. I had thought that too originally.


    ¡°No, she said it was brought ¡®here¡¯,¡± I said. ¡°I rewatched it. She never said it was brought to America. We just assumed.¡±


    ¡°The more you know,¡± Garrett said. He and the other veterans soon returned to their own conversation.


    I looked over to Antoine and Kimberly. I needed to talk to them. They caught my gaze as I walked back inside.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Antoine asked once we were in themon room away from the others.


    ¡°Do you know where Dina is? I found something.¡±


    ¡°Found something?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°She was out by the docks,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I¡¯ll go get her.¡±


    After a few minutes, the two of them returned ready to hear what it was I had discovered.


    I had gone through all of the possibilities, but the one that rose to the top was simple.


    ¡°I have a theory,¡± I said. ¡°I think it''s something we need to test. Why does Carousel have a German castle and an American university? Why does it have maps that put Carousel all over the globe and sometimes on different globes altogether? I mean, we¡¯ve been talking about this forever.¡±


    And I did mean forever. Many people took this evidence to indicate that Carousel was some form of afterlife. Others assumed that it was some kind of Lovecraftian deity looking for entertainment that had built this town as a torture chamber.


    I paused for a moment to think.


    ¡°Do you remember that speech that the red herring character, Evan, in the Ranger Danger storyline gave right before he used me of being the killer? I¡¯ve watched it a dozen times now. He said something about how people can be stopped from moving forward and their growth can be taken from them. I thought it was such an odd thing to talk about in the context of that story, that your dead friend won¡¯t ever grow out of being a jerk frat guy. I mean, Ruck was a jerk when the script said he was, but still, an odd thing to say. Now I don¡¯t think Evan was talking about Ruck. I think he was talking about himself, that <em>he</em> would never be able to move forward or grow. He was mourning for himself, but he had to stay in character.¡±


    I paced back and forth as I spoke.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been talking to us this whole time,¡± I said. I pulled Mrs. Cloudburst''s letter out of my pocket. ¡°But they all have to stay in character.¡±


    I opened the letter. ¡°I noticed that if you only read every other line of the main body of this letter, it stops being a soppy love letter:<blockquote>


    I was trapped in a prison before he came along. I had no idea that when I signed up for the Society, I would eventually be trading one prison for another.


    I regret the things I have done to people, but how can I change when I can never leave this cycle? The secret we all know is that only change can save us, but it is difficult; I''ve tried to save myself in every way I knew how.


    Please, please, save us.


    When I meet someone like you, I remember the pain, the torment, given and taken, and I remember my desire to leave this all behind. I no longer know if I deserve punishment for my sins, but the innocent and the deserving suffer together in this life, don''t they?


    The storm came before I expected it, but it was all part of the greater n, I think. What is next may be worse, but it''s all part of that same n.


    You must seed, all the good people like you, must seed in your fight against people like me. It''s time we get back on our true paths; I hope you''re ready.</blockquote>


    There were so many ways to read that letter. Some parts were clear, like her cry for help and her warning of things toe. Did she volunteer to y a role in Carousel and now regret it? Or was Mrs. Cloudburst a former yer who was now stuck ying a minor viin? How would that work? Was the yer the NPC being controlled or the hundred-year-old sorcerer in the cask downstairs?


    Or was it possible that she wasn¡¯t ying a character at all?


    ¡°The demon at the bar talked like it was trapped here before it got its head blown off. Cristobal and Mrs. Cloudburst talked like they were here as punishment for their sins, but both said that they weren¡¯t the only ones. Cloudburst said that ¡®innocents¡¯ suffered with them.¡±


    ¡°So, you think the NPCs are real people forced to y characters?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°We¡¯ve talked about that before.¡±


    ¡°No, not most of them,¡± I said. ¡°I think they¡¯re ying <em>themselves</em>. I think they are reenacting events that happened to them in their real lives back where they¡¯re really from. I think that somewhere in a parallel reality, there really was a society of rich folks that body snatched people. I think Carousel brought it here. The sorcerers and the victims, brought here to relive the cycle over and over again. I¡¯ve been thinking about that for a while, but it wasn¡¯t until I got thisst piece of evidence that it all came together.¡±


    I showed them to the map on the desk and pointed at the bed and breakfast near where we entered Carousel, where the bleeding woman begged for our help.<blockquote>


    Olde Hill Bed and Breakfast


    The Jewel of Carousel</blockquote>


    They stared at it for a moment.


    ¡°So?¡± Dina asked. ¡°What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°When we were on our way to Carousel, we stopped to look at the map because we thought we had made a wrong turn. We didn¡¯t see any signs for Carousel, after all. Camden snapped a picture of a sign advertising a bed and breakfast¡ªjust some little hick hotel, we didn¡¯t think anything of it. The sign was really old. It had an arrow pointing down the road toward where the hotel would be. A lot of letters were missing, but someone wrote the words, ¡®closed fur renovations¡¯¡¯ on it. A typo that was kind of funny, I guess. That picture was thest message on the group chat. We lost signal after that.¡±


    I showed them the picture Camden had sent us. Even with all of the missing letters on the sign itself, we could tell what it said:<blockquote>


    Olde Hill Bed and Breakfast


    The Jewel of the Ozarks</blockquote>


    ¡°As in the Ozark Mountains,¡± I said.


    The Ozark Mountains. Carousel lured its victims in many ways, but there was one constant: We were all told to go to a town called Carousel. The directions we were given always led us to a small road in the center of the Ozark Mountains in southern Missouri in the middle of the United States. Every yer had a simr story.


    ¡°Jewel of Carousel, Jewel of the Ozarks,¡± I said. ¡°I sifted through the possibilities and there was only one that made sense to me. I think I know what¡¯s going on, or at least part of it,¡± I said. ¡°I think there was a real ce called the Olde Hill Bed and Breakfast. A business that existed in the real world, <em>our</em> world. Their slogan was ¡®The Jewel of the Ozarks¡¯. I think something terrible happened there in 1989 and because of that, Carousel absorbed it or something, the victims, the killers, the entire hotel. But when it got here, it was given a new version of the slogan that fit its new location. ¡®The Jewel of <em>Carousel¡¯ </em>instead of ¡®the Ozarks¡¯. Everything that¡¯s brought here is rebranded as being part of Carousel.¡±


    I took three of the tickets I had received that had a hidden message on them.


    ¡°That¡¯s the Glitch in the Matrix from the tropes I was given after the Grotesque storyline. Our Friends in High ces want us to know about this hotel. A Glitch in the Matrix, identally Captured on Film by Camden, Back to Where It All Started. I think our Friends saw that he had taken that picture and designed the clues around it. I didn¡¯t realize it until I saw its slogan on the map here.¡±


    I really hoped I didn''t sound like a crazed conspiracy theorist. I wasn''t sure if I should tell them that the radio had yed themercial for the casino when I discovered the Glitch. Would that make me sound more or less credible?


    ¡°Back to where it all started?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°People from our world being brought to Carousel. The parking lot didn¡¯t exist until the hotel was brought here in 1989. I think that¡¯s how Carousel got ess to us: through the storyline it took from our world.¡±


    Dina still wasn¡¯t sure. ¡°So, you¡¯re going all in on Carousel being apletely different world from ours?¡±


    Antoine had an answer for that. ¡°If Carousel is an actual ce in the United States it would be less than forty miles from Branson, Missouri based on the directions we were given. Before we got here, I didn¡¯t think it was a big deal. Now that I¡¯ve gotten a look at it, it¡¯s way too big to stay hidden that close to a popr tourist town like Branson. Of course, Carousel could just stay hidden with magic, but I still don¡¯t think it fits. The only problem is,¡± he started, ¡°yers have done that storyline before, at the bed and breakfast. If it¡¯s so special, why didn¡¯t they find something?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t pretend to know,¡± I said. ¡°I just think this is where we are supposed to go. Maybe I¡¯mpletely wrong. Or maybe we find evidence that can help us escape.¡±


    There was a pause for a moment.


    ¡°What¡¯s the storyline there called again?¡± Antione asked.


    ¡°Permanent Vacancy,¡± I answered. ¡°And I think we can beat it.¡±

 Chapter One Hundred and Eight: Planning a Run

    Chapter One Hundred and Eight: nning a Run


    Antoine went to find Chris.


    ¡°Has he told his brother anything?¡± Dina asked Kimberly.


    Kimberly shook her head. ¡°He really doesn¡¯t like keeping secrets from Chris, but if there¡¯s a chance this can get us out, he¡¯s willing to. We just better hope this storyline is the right call.¡±


    I certainly hoped it was.


    Eventually, Antoine returned with Chris. Chris was carrying the Carousel As.


    ¡°I hear you all can¡¯t get enough of the action,¡± he said. ¡°I figure since you survived so much already, it¡¯s time you got a formal introduction to the As.¡±


    He held the enormous binder out for us to ogle.


    ¡°Antoine tells me you didn¡¯t look at any of the storyline spoilers when you stole it before,¡± he said.


    ¡°Nope,¡± I said. We had been warned about spoilers in general, after all.


    Dina shot a nce at me. I hadn¡¯t caught her up on our previous conversation with Chris.


    ¡°It all starts with the map,¡± he said as he set the binder on the table and opened it up to a page that contained arge map of Carousel. This one did not contain much information. It was more like a table of contents for the rest of the book. ¡°You look at the section of Carousel where the storyline you''re looking for is. You guys want this area over here to the east so you go to page 84.¡±


    He flipped to that page and it had an erged map that only contained the area to the east of Carousel where the parking lot and Benny''s corn maze were. We had seen a simr mini-map of the mall area when we took the As earlier.


    ¡°Then you find the individual storyline you''re after, ¡®Permanent Vacancy¡¯ and you look for the numbers below it. The first number is the page where all the spoiler-free information is. The second number is the page with all the information we have in total, including spoilers. That stuff is good for when you''re nning a run on a storyline you''ve already been through. Maybe if you''re trying to get perfection or look for loot or, recently, find secret lore.¡±


    He flipped through to the spoiler-free page for the storyline and held the page out for us to see. There was more than I expected.


    Title: Permanent Vacancy


    Omen: A woman approaches the yers from the other side of an iron fence and screams to be helped.


    Location: Olde Hill Road, gated drive.


    ¡°Now this top section can be one of the most useful sections on the entire page. It tells you which archetype you should ask for scouting information from for this specific storyline. Lucky for us this type of information is not considered a spoiler as long as you obtain it from the yer yourself. As you''ll soon find out scouting tropes can give you a lot,¡± he said.


    He pointed to a short list that read as follows,<blockquote>


    -Bounty Hunter


    -Damsel


    -Sheriff</blockquote>


    ¡°Unfortunately, we don''t have any of those archetypes here right now, but that''s not the end of the world. If you think about it, just knowing that short list should tell you a lot about what you''re about to be up against,¡± he said with a subdued grin.


    That was interesting. Bounty Hunters, Damsels, and Sheriffs had good information on this storyline. I hadn¡¯t even heard of the Sheriff advanced archetype before. The question was, why would these three have the best scouting information for Permanent Vacancy? I had my ideas.


    ¡°So, it means that¡ª" Antoine started to say.


    ¡°Whoa,¡± Chris said with a smile. ¡°You''re allowed to guess whatever you want, and it won''t be a spoiler but if I ever confirm it then it suddenly is.¡±


    He pointed down to the bottom section of the page.


    ¡°This information down here is gathered through special scouting tropes and is never considered to be a spoiler even if you did not consult the yer who wrote it. Psychics, Adventurers, Antiquarians, and several others have a lot of tropes like this though they aren''t always useful. Film Buffs do too now that I think about it,¡± he said.


    I read the entries at the bottom of the page. Chris gave us a rundown of what each one meant.<blockquote>Psychic¡¯s Charmed Forecast: The Omen Appears at 7:23 PM, Every day.</blockquote>


    ¡°This tells you around when the Omen appears. It''s pretty self-exnatory. It''s not usually this specific, but this one has the actual time.¡±<blockquote>Athlete¡¯s I Have Practice Later: It¡¯ll be quick, an hour tops.</blockquote>


    ¡°It¡¯s good to know how long a storyline is supposed to take. I¡¯m just d there was a way for Athletes to contribute because we get so few insight tropes.¡±<blockquote>Film Buff¡¯s Suitability Rating: Adults Only, Graphic Content.</blockquote>


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what it looks like. Sometimes there''s more useful stuff with this trope. Interpret it how you will.¡±<blockquote>Antiquarian¡¯s Preliminary Appraisal: Garbage--wouldn¡¯t even take it if it was free.</blockquote>


    ¡°Not a lot of valuable loot. If the Antiquarian got a look at the storyline in the mansion we just ran, the rating would be through the roof.¡±<blockquote>Final Girl¡¯s Rise to the asion: It won¡¯t be easy, but we can take it! (~PA 23).</blockquote>


    ¡°This is one of several tropes that can estimate the level of a storyline. Just remember that this is not the most reliable part because storylines can be more difficult for a variety of reasons, the choices you make, the tropes you bring, Advanced Archetypes, etc. Remember to use buffs if you are a little under-leveled.¡±<blockquote>Doctor¡¯s Crime Scene Triage: Two dead, two injured. (First and Second Blood require deaths)</blockquote>


    ¡°This one is very useful. A Doctor archetype cane across apleted storyline and determine how many necessary yer deaths there are. It is really convenient to know if you need a First Blood sacrifice or not. We don''t often get to know that.¡±


    He pushed the book back and turned to us.


    ¡°Now don¡¯t go thinking that every storyline has this much information. Everybody¡¯s seen Permanent Vacancy so it gets run more than some others. Part of the puzzle is trying to get as much information from what''s avable to you as possible. Now I have to tell you the story we all hear when we''re first introduced to the Carousel As,¡± he said.


    ¡°Go for it,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Adeline only came into possession of the As a year, maybe two, before I got here. Before then they had somebody who was in charge of guarding it to make sure that no one saw spoilers they weren''t supposed to, as I understand it.¡± From the look on his face, it wasn''t clear that he believed that.


    ¡°Anyway, Adeline thought that it would be better if anyone was allowed to look at it. All those years of not letting people see it built up some resentment--whatever. So, she says go wild but whatever you do, don''t spoil new stories for yourself. Of course, sometimes we do spoil stories if we''re just trying to beat them, and we''re not worried about getting experience. Of course, you run the risk of the story changing on us when we do that.


    ¡°Well about a year after she starts that policy, maybe a little less than that, some Schr decides that he''s going to risk it. He''s brand new to Carousel but he hates the idea of going into a storyline unprepared. His thought was that if the performance was good enough, it would make up for the spoilers. That''s not entirely ridiculous in theory but a low-level yer who''s inexperienced wouldn¡¯t be able to cut it.


    ¡°So, the first story he tries it on, the Astralist maybe. That one''s been amon newbie storyline for a long time, he does it and he can''t really tell whether or not he''s suffered because of the spoilers. So he does it again and again. But slowly it''s apparent that his team is not leveling up as fast as it should and of course, it''s all because he''s using spoilers which cuts his loot down to a fraction of what it should have been.


    ¡°Eventually the truthes out and now Adeline has to make a decision. She can''t let him keep ruining things for his team and it''s toote for him because the damn kid had a trope that let him memorize anything he looked at and he chose to memorize the spoilers for most of the low-level storylines, so he''s screwed. They decided to kick him off his original team so that his team could keep leveling up, but now they have to figure out what to do with him. The vets take him out on storylines just so he doesn''t get in trouble.¡± Chris shot a nce at me when he said that, obviously referencing the Jete incident.


    ¡°A yearter and he hasn''t leveled up much at all, hasn''t gotten his aspect, doesn''t have a permanent team. The only solution was to team him up with people running more difficult stories because those were the ones he hadn''t read. Sometimes they would alter stories with tropes to make them new to him. It was a huge ordeal and put him way behind. So that¡¯s the horror story. Now you know. Don¡¯t abuse the As.¡±


    It seemed so arbitrary, the difference between what was a spoiler and what wasn''t. It was lucky that the consequence of having a storyline spoiled for you was so mild. The Axe-Murderer didn''t get up off his couch for just any old rule vition.


    ¡°What happened to the Schr?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t here when I got here, so who knows,¡± Chris answered. ¡°Might be a missing poster of him near the Diner. He might not even exist. Could be a story Adeline made up, who knows.¡±


    He looked us over. ¡°So who are you bringing with you? Can¡¯t just go out with four yers. It¡¯s not safe.¡±


    I had the same concerns. An Athlete, an Eye Candy, an Outsider, and a Film Buff is not aplete team. But anyone we brought would be let in on our secret.


    We were missing two yers¡ªone of them our Final Girl. Our most important yer.


    ¡°We hadn¡¯t figured out who to bring,¡± Antoine said.


    Chris breathed deeply. ¡°You might consider inviting Bobby. He¡¯s around your level range and I hear he¡¯s not a bad Wallflower. Bit chatty, but he has some good tropes and I¡¯m sure he¡¯s looking for something to do after his ns with Carl were interrupted.¡±


    I was dreading he would say that. I wasn¡¯t sure if Bobby would want to do a run with me. It did make sense though. Bobby hade to Carousel with us. If there was anyone that our Friends might be okay with being told the secret, it was him.


    ¡°It¡¯s a thought at least,¡± Chris said. ¡°You don¡¯t have to go right now, you know. We still have some time, after an Apocalypse. There¡¯s no rush.¡±


    There was no way I was going to wait. Not with the chance to finally figure out what it was our Friends in High ces wanted.


    Chris grabbed the As and took it back with him wherever he was when Antoine found him.


    ¡°Dina, how well do you know Bobby?¡± Antoine asked.


    She shrugged. ¡°No better than you. He''s talked to me before. He likes to talk.¡±


    Antoine and I looked at each other.


    ¡°Maybe it''s best if you go invite him on the storyline,¡± he said.


    Dina did not look thrilled, but she obliged.


    There was a nervous energy between us. We were either about to finally move forward in the mystery or we might just end up disappointed. Whatever the case, I was ready to know.


    "What do you think we''re going to find?" Kimberly asked. "And how are we going to find something that none of the others found?"


    I thought for a moment.


    "We aren''t going to do anything on our own," I said. "I know that sounds cynical, but I just get this feeling that someone is moving the pieces into ce. I think we might get to find out what they''ve been nning. I can''t help but notice how many invisible hands have worked to put us in this ce. If this theory is correct. If we really are supposed to go on this storyline, how many variables had to be ounted for to get us to this point? And why?"


    "You always talk like that," Antoine said. "We''ve sacrificed a lot. We''re going to get through this. I don''t care who had been messing with us. Eventually, something has to shake loose. We can''t keep running in ce forever."


    That must have been the first time since the Straggler incident that Antoine had been optimistic about our situation, even if it was forced. I hoped he was right.


    After all, we were about to find out.

 Chapter One Hundred and Nine: The Warning

    Chapter One Hundred and Nine: The Warning


    ¡°So, you¡¯re going out on a storyline already, huh?¡± Bobby asked after Dina had tracked him down.


    Antoine nodded. ¡°Something we¡¯ve got to do.¡±


    ¡°You lost two of your people. I¡¯m sorry to hear that. The Final Girl was nice. She said some kind words to me after Jte¡­ disappeared.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Anna and Camden will be missed,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°What do you need exactly?¡± Bobby asked. ¡°A Wallflower is good for gathering information and some Finale tricks, or at least that¡¯s what I can do right now. Always around to lend a hand.¡±


    Antoine looked over at the rest of us. I shrugged. Frankly, I thought a warm body would be enough. We couldn¡¯t really ask too much. If fate (or the friends in high ces) had not tied us together in some way, I wouldn¡¯t even agree to let hime. There was a real chance he could learn our secret and he might not decide to keep it.


    ¡°We can use that,¡± Antoine said.


    Bobby nodded his head. He was an awkward guy. Sociable, sure, but not particrly charismatic. I couldn¡¯t really tell how old he was, just that he was older than us.


    ¡°I cane,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Do you need me to die? That¡¯s what I mostly did for Travis and the others.¡±


    ¡°We should have that covered,¡± Antoine said, though he didn¡¯t seem too keen to allow Kimberly to die. ¡°We just need someone around to help out.¡±


    ¡°I gotcha.¡±


    There wasn¡¯t much more discussion than that. We had a lot of walking to do if we were going to get across town in time to catch the Omen.


    On our way across town, I made sure to give a wide berth to the town square. Part of my reasoning was that there were so many omens concentrated in that area and the other part was because I couldn''t stand to walk past the walls of missing posters by the Diner. That wound was too fresh.


    Something that we had to invest in was a trope that would allow us to drive without getting bothered by omens. I didn''t know if such a thing existed but if it did I would snap it up at the first possible asion. Our distance from town protected us and allowed us to sleep calmly at night knowing that we were safe. It also made the trek into town a real hassle.


    As usual, I led the pack pointing out every omen that we wereing across just to make sure that we didn''t identally trigger one. Even if we were in no danger ofing in contact with an omen, I still pointed it out because I could tell that it made Kimberly feel safer to have them called out.


    As we walked along, I would point to things like a shadowy figure in the window of one of the homes of a neighborhood we walked through or the group of hooded figures that crossed the road in front of us and tell them about what the omen was and what we had to do to make sure that we didn''t identally trigger it. In both cases, it was quite simple. Don''t shine a light in the window, don''t look at the faces of the hooded figures. Easy stuff.


    The further we went, the more I started to notice how few omens we wereing across. The route we had chosen was designed to be mostly clear of omens but even then we could walk 10 minutes without seeing one. We were way too close to the center of town for that to make sense. It looked like we had gotten lucky. Or maybe our Friends were clearing a path for us.


    Whatever the case, we marched onward.


    Atst, we could see the finish line, or at least the finalp. Olde Hill Road stood before us. To the left, was Patcher¡¯s Family Farm. They still had their little agriculture-themed amusement park thing going on. I could hear people talking andughing. I could see children running around happily. It was just as I remembered it from the day that we had to walk through Benny''s corn maze.


    Though I would have loved to be able to stop there and buy a funnel cake, our business was further down the road. We walked right on by.


    At least, we tried.


    ¡°Hey,¡± a young woman''s voice cried out. ¡°Where are you all headed? You know we got a lot of fun things going on over here. All you have to do is buy some tickets.¡±


    We looked over to see a woman in a pair of beat-up denim overalls and a straw cowboy hat strolling toward us. The look on her face didn''t match the words that she was saying. She looked worried.


    ¡°How about youe back this way? You don''t want to wander in that direction once it gets dark. Juste on back I''ll get you a free corn dog,¡± the woman said.


    Antoine, our de facto spokesperson with Anna gone, said, ¡°We actually have business down that way. Thanks though.¡±


    The woman was persistent; she walked toward us even further. As she approached us she paid special attention to Kimberly, grabbing her hand.


    ¡°Come on, don''t go down there. Not this time of day; it''s going to get dark soon.¡±


    She started to pull Kimberly back toward the farmhouse.


    ¡°We need to go this way,¡± Dina said.


    ¡°What could be so important that you would have to go out there right now?¡±


    ¡°Our cars are out there,¡± Antoine said, thinking quickly. It was true. Our cars had been there for weeks.


    The woman looked truly upset. She looked over her shoulder. ¡°Come back with me and I''ll buy you a corn dog and we can talk,¡± she said in a hushed voice.


    Antoine shot a look at me, as if asking what I thought. I nodded.


    We agreed to follow her. She took us back to Patcher''s Family Farm and was true to her word. She bought us each a corn dog, though I''m pretty sure they were free for her.


    On the red wallpaper, her name was Eliza Patcher.


    She wasn¡¯t an enemy. She wasn¡¯t an Omen.


    As we assumed, she was Breaking the Veil of Silence.


    Kimberly¡¯s new trope made it so that NPCs would go out of their way to inform her of any nearby omens for storylines that specifically targeted women. Permanent Vacancy must have been such a storyline.


    We knew the possibility existed. In the Carousel As, the three archetypes that had the most scouting information about that storyline were the Bounty Hunter, the Damsel, and the Sheriff. Those threebined gave very strong clues. We knew the likelihood that this story involved kidnapping, not only because we had literally seen a woman escaping from the hotel on our first day in Carousel but also because the Damsel was an advanced archetype that specialized in being kidnapped.


    The Bounty hunter specialized in tracking down people, usually criminals.


    The Sheriff was simr.


    We had suspected that Kimberley¡¯s trope might activate on our way to the storyline. I never expected it to be that borate, however. In my head, I pictured a neighbor shouting, ¡°Better not go that way,¡± while trimming their hedges. Eliza, however, looked very concerned and was actively trying to convince us, and specifically Kimberly, out of walking in that direction.


    We decided to listen to what she had to tell us. We had a little bit of time before we had to go trigger the Omen. It wasn''t quite sunset yet.


    ¡°There are men down that way,¡± Eliza said. ¡°Strange men that have a funny manner about them. I don''t think it''s safe to go that direction for a young woman.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°What about them is strange?¡±


    Eliza looked embarrassed. ¡°They drove by. They were in a pickup truck. Two men were in the back. They said things that were vulgar to me. I know some of the otherdies around here have said the same thing. And I swear at night sometimes, I hear screaminging from down the road. I find myself checking the locks two or three times every night. Daddy says it isn''t any of our business. He says that they''re there to renovate the hotel, the bed and breakfast. I don''t trust them. He says they''ll be gone soon best not to get involved. But I can''t watch you go down that way without saying something.¡±


    She was on the verge of tears.


    ¡°Well, we''re going to be careful and I''ve got some guys with me so they probably won''t bother me,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°You don''t understand,¡± Eliza said. ¡°I don¡¯t think they would ca¡ª¡±


    ¡°Eliza?¡± A man''s voice called from outside. She had taken us inside the farmhouse and was talking to us as we sat in her living room.


    I could hear the screen door at the entrance swing open.


    ¡°Eliza we need your help outside with the carriage. Bucky is being very finicky aga¡ª¡± The man stopped talking as he walked into the living room and saw us all there.


    ¡°Eliza what is going on?¡± he asked. His name was Joshua Patcher.


    ¡°Daddy,¡± she said cautiously. ¡°These are some travelers I saw walking out east. I told them maybe they ought not.¡±


    ¡°What have you been running your mouth about, girl?¡± he yelled.


    ¡°We can''t just let them go out there!¡± she said, trying to work up her courage.


    ¡°You should not be going around spreading rumors,¡± Joshua said. ¡°That''s how you make a problem where there ain''t one. If those men hear that you''re saying this kind of stuff about them¡­" he shook his head, "That''s the type of talk that you don''t share with strangers.¡±


    ¡°I was just thinking that maybe they could stay here for the night, and maybe you could drive them out to get their car in the morning,¡± she said, still trying to convince him.


    ¡°You are going to bring trouble down on us. If these folks wanna go walking down a dark road in the middle of nowhere that''s their right. They just need to know that if the worstes, nobody''s gonna go rescue them.¡±


    He walked over to a closet and fetched something from within it.


    It was a shotgun.


    ¡°Now if you folks would like to stay and participate in the activities, by all means, go buy some tickets, but otherwise you''d best be on your way. Now I don''t want anyone finding out that you heard what you heard, you understand. We aren''t looking for trouble here.¡±


    He wasn''t exactly aiming the shotgun at us but it was clear what the threat was.


    We all stood up to leave, but then Bobby asked, ¡°Did they have any guns?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± the man asked.


    Bobby thought for a moment. ¡°Have you heard any gunshotsing from down that way?¡±


    Joshua Patcher thought for a moment, ¡°Sometimes, yeah. They must be shooting at rats or targets cause they go through hundreds of bullets a day out there. Been a week or so since I heard them though. Boys like that gotta spend all their money on booze and bullets and they got plenty of both.¡±


    More bad guys with guns.


    In a movie, a main character can get shot half a dozen times before they die. I wondered how many times a Film Buff could get shot. I was betting it was only once.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Bobby said. ¡°How many guys?¡±


    ¡°Four or five can''t be sure. They don''t exactly introduce themselves. One time they came down to the farm and started messing with the guests who were enjoying the amusements. Then their leader came and pulled them away. He was a fiery one. Guess he didn''t want to draw attention. I''d say that they were hiding from thew, but I''m not here to use them of anything.¡±


    ¡°Thanks again,¡± Bobby said.


    We turned and left the house.


    It was interesting seeing how Bobby was able to ply that information from them. I took a look at his tropes on the red wallpaper. I saw the ability that let him do it.<blockquote>


    Background Noise


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Extra


    Stat Used: Moxie


    In the movies, background characters spend their time having muffled conversations at the edge of frame that will never be heard by the viewers of the film. They could be talking about anything.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will have a heightened chance of getting background information about a storyline from NPCs as long as the conversation takes ce off-screen. The information will only be rted to things that NPC would usibly know and be willing to say. The information cannot be repeated On-Screen without finding a canon source for how the yers learned it. Doing so may mutate the story to make the information false. While the information may be reliable, the NPC''s exnation for how the information was obtained may still be fictitious. Beware.


    Background characters have to be talking about something. Why not something useful?</blockquote>


    Kimberly¡¯s trope had made the Patchers a part of the story¡ªeven if they were only a temporary part to warn her of danger toe¡ªallowing Bobby toe in and ask additional background questions with his trope. Normally, his ability likely wouldn¡¯t work on random NPCs who lived down the street from the setting of the storyline. Those tropesbined made a great scoutingbo.


    Of course, everything we learned was bad news.


    As we walked away from the farm, Eliza raced behind us and said, ¡°Good luck.¡±


    WIth every step down the dark road toward the Olde Hill Bed and Breakfast, I tried to hold my head high and act confidently.


    But the truth was, I had never felt more uncertain.

 Chapter One Hundred and Ten: Permanent Vacancy

    Chapter One Hundred and Ten: Permanent Vacancy


    yer Stats:


    <strong>yer</strong>


    <strong>Plot Armor</strong>


    <strong>Mettle</strong>


    <strong>Moxie</strong>


    <strong>Hustle</strong>


    <strong>Savvy</strong>


    <strong>Grit</strong>


    Riley


    24/2


    3


    7


    4


    7


    3


    Antoine


    21


    5


    4


    5


    1


    6


    Kimberly


    19


    3


    6


    4


    1


    5


    Dina 19 2 3 4 3 7


    Bobby 17 2 3 4 3 4


    yers¡¯ Tropes:


    Riley Lawrence is <em>the Film Buff</em>.


    <strong>"Trope Master"</strong> grants him the ability to perceive enemy tropes, but at the cost of sacrificing half of his Plot Armor.


    <strong>"Cinema Seer"</strong> buffs the Savvy and Grit of his allies when they hear him predict cinematic and impactful plot elements.


    As an <strong>"Oblivious Bystander,"</strong> Riley remains untargeted by enemies as he convincingly acts oblivious to their presence.


    <strong>"Escape Artist"</strong> buffs his Hustle to help enact usible escape ns.


    Drawing on his upbringing, <strong>"Raised by Television"</strong> enhances relevant stats when Riley takesrger-than-life or cinematic action inspired by TV or movies, though it often attracts a downturn in fortune soon afterward.


    <strong>¡°Director¡¯s Monitor¡±</strong> allows him to watch the rest of the storyline after his demise via Deathwatch.


    <strong>¡°shback Revtion¡±</strong> allows him tomunicate with allies from Deathwatch through shbacks to his past dialogue.


    <strong>"Dead Man Walking"</strong> buffs his Grit after receiving an injury or condition that guarantees his death, stretching out hisst moments.


    He did not equip <strong>"My Grandmother Had the Gift¡­," ¡°Coming To A Theater Near You,¡± "I Don''t Like It Here...,"</strong><strong>¡°Out Like a Light,¡± "Location Scout,"</strong> or <strong>"Casting Director."</strong>


    Kimberly Madison is <em>the Eye Candy</em>.


    <strong>"Convenient Backstory"</strong> allows her to believably change her backstory to assist with the current task, buffing the relevant stat.


    <strong>"Social Awareness"</strong> allows her to see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs.


    <strong>"Get a Room!"</strong> boosts the odds of important discoveries when exploring with a love interest during the party.


    <strong>"A Hopeless Plea"</strong> forces the captor to explicitly deny her release when she asks to be released.


    <strong>"Pregnancy Reveal"</strong> buffs her Grit when she pretends that she is pregnant and buffs the father''s Mettle if she dies.


    <strong>"When in Rome"</strong> buffs her Grit until Rebirth if her performance matches the tone of the movie.


    <strong>¡°Does anyone have a scrunchy?¡±</strong> allows her to shift Moxie''s points into another stat by putting her hair up.


    She will be targeted for First Blood because <strong>"Looks Don''t Last," </strong>but the longer she survives, the weaker the enemies get.


    She did not equip <strong>¡°Carousel Academy Awards,¡± ¡°Breaking the Veil of Silence,¡± or "That''s What I Said!"</strong>.


    Antoine Stone is <em>the Athlete</em>.


    His <strong>"You were having a nightmare¡­"</strong> trope allows him to repress or heal mental trauma (he is not strong enough to use its plot-resetting powers yet).


    <strong>"Gym Rat"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory.


    <strong>"It''s Part of the Uniform"</strong> gives him higher Mettle when attacking with sports equipment.


    <strong>"Just Walk It Off"</strong> heals the Hobbled status by walking.


    <strong>¡°Knight in Shining Armor¡± </strong>buffs his Mettle and Grit when defending a love interest.


    <strong>"Time Out!"</strong> allows him to go Off-Screen during a fight, reducing enemy aggression.


    Brandishing a weapon is <strong>¡°Like a Security nket,¡±</strong> buffing his Grit and soothing his and his allies¡¯ fear, whereas swinging a weapon will temporarily halt an enemy''s attack because of <strong>¡°Swing Away.¡±</strong>


    He did not equip <strong>¡°Everyone Loves a Winner,¡±</strong><strong>¡°The ybook¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Reload After Cut.¡± </strong>or <strong>"Bad Luck Ma."</strong>


    Dina Cano is <em>the Outsider</em>.


    <strong>"Guarded Personality"</strong> resists all insight abilities.


    <strong>"An Outsider''s Perspective"</strong> alerts her to new, out-of-ce, or unusual information.


    <strong>"Better Late Than Never"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle if she waits until the Finale to assist allies On-Screen against the enemy.


    <strong>"A Haunted Past"</strong> allows her to equip various tickets rted to past trauma.


    <strong>"Encouragement from Beyond"</strong> soothes her when stressed, scared, or in pain and may provide useful information.


    <strong>"Outside Looking In"</strong> grants her the ability to discern ideal spots to linger and observe events without actively participating in the narrative.


    <strong>¡°They Fell Off¡±</strong> allows her to quickly get out of handcuffs and simr restraints.


    She can leave physical or mental messages in the story that her allies can detect when in the location she left them with <strong>¡°Pen Pal.¡±</strong>


    Bobby Gill is <em>the Wallflower</em>


    Background Noise


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Extra


    Stat Used: Moxie


    In the movies, background characters spend their time having muffled conversations at the edge of frame that will never be heard by the viewers of the film. They could be talking about anything.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will have a heightened chance of getting background information about a storyline from NPCs as long as the conversation takes ce off-screen and the NPC. The information will only be rted to things that NPC would usibly know and be willing to say. The information cannot be repeated On-Screen without finding a canon source for how the yers learned it. Doing so may mutate the story to make the information false.


    Background characters have to be talking about something, why not something useful?


    The Good Samaritan


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Extra


    Stat Used: Moxie


    When a character has had a run-in with the antagonist and ends up injured, scared, and alone, sometimes it is the actions of unnamed strangers who make all the difference. They are the crowd that the character escapes into, the anonymous 911 caller who gets the police called, or, as in this case, the passerby who engages with the killer, even to their demise.


    With this trope equipped, the yer gets a Buff to their Mettle and Grit if they act to help a teammate in a dire situation. It only works if they have not interacted with the teammate on-screen at that point.


    If everyone was this brave and self-sacrificing, there wouldn¡¯t be horror movies.


    The ¡°Wisdom¡± of Crowds


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Extra


    Stat Used: Moxie


    In a stressful situation, strangers cane together and¡­ panic. In a survival scenario, groups of people are often less able to react effectively than individuals. They often dismiss harsh realities, rally against even reasonable ideas, and form tribes for arbitrary reasons.


    When the yer equips this trope, they will be able to collect opinions about the next course of action from a crowd of NPCs. Most of the ideas will be reactionary and unusable, but the crowd can still produce important information and even some solid ns. The yer will have to sort them out.


    Some decisions shouldn¡¯t be made bymittee.


    Last-Minute Casting


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Recast


    Stat Used: N/A


    The actor we had hired to y one of the minor roles in the storyline is out with the flu. We just need someone to fill in, any takers?


    With this trope equipped, the yer will instantly be assigned a moderately important NPC role. They will have no choice in the matter. They will receive limited ess to the character script when ying the role but will have ess to what they need to y the role. The role itself will give them a fresh vantage point on the story.


    All you have to do is stand there and look scared, got it?


    From Humble Beginnings


    Type: Rule/Buff


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Underdog


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Everyone loves an underdog story. Unfortunately, the first step of climbing up out of the mud is being thrown in the mud in the first ce.


    With this trope equipped, the yer¡¯s stats will receive a 30% debuff in the Party. However, their stats will raise 15% of their original amount in Rebirth, then again in the Finale, and then once more in the Final Battle.


    If you can stick around long enough, you might just get the hang of this.


    Craft Services Are The Real Heroes


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: --


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: --


    There can be no movie without food for the actors. Behind every production on the silver screen are the hard-working craft service professionals who ensure there is always plenty of food to snack on.


    With this trope equipped, food and beverages will be guaranteed to be found on the set of the story. If the story already had them, they will be of even better quality. This food will be avable to yers wherever it best makes sense in the narrative.


    After all, you shouldn¡¯t run from a zombie on an empty stomach.


    And That¡¯s Lunch.


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Recast


    Stat Used: --


    After a long stretch of filming, sometimes you just need to take a break.


    With this trope equipped, scene breaks willst longer, extending the time before yers are required to return to the set. The yer themselves will be able to see a countdown timer until it is time to return.


    Just be sure you make it back on time or the Director will lose his cool.


    He also had a trope called, ¡°The Hidden Infection¡± that would dy negative effects of an infection as long as the yer kept knowledge of the infection secret. However, once uncovered, the yer would feel the effects rapidly. It worked on all kinds of infections, from zombie bites to possession. Pretty cool.


    ¡°Don¡¯t see much use for this one,¡± He said as he unequipped it.


    I had to agree. Everything we knew about this storyline told us it was not supernatural.


    The thing is, we couldn¡¯t use any of our scouting tropes until the Omen actually showed up, which was tricky because the Omen in this case was just the NPC running at us for help.


    We waited in front of the wrought iron fence for the NPC to show up. I looked over at the sign on the gate down the road. I could see the name of the bed and breakfast, but its slogan was difficult to read because the bottom of the sign had been damaged.


    I wondered if I was supposed to figure this out long ago. Could we have gotten to this part sooner?


    ¡°Even if this doesn¡¯t work out, we aren¡¯t going to let it stop us, right?¡± Antoine said.


    No one said anything, so I said, ¡°Right.¡±


    There were so many stories of yers just giving up when their leads led them in circles. Most of those yers didn¡¯t have a mysterious benefactor guiding their every move though, right?


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to be the First Blood sac if you don¡¯t want to,¡± Antoine said to Kimberly.


    ¡°No, I¡¯ll do it,¡± she said. ¡°I have to.¡±


    The tension was building as we waited for the NPC to make her way to us.


    Eventually, we heard her in the distance. I heard a hound in the distance.


    She burst through the thick underbrush just as I remembered her. She was young and scared out of her mind.


    Her pace was so frantic that she ran right into the gate, leaving a gash on her forehead.


    On the red wallpaper, her name was ¡°Samantha Cole, a Stranger in Need.¡±


    She was level 50 and like all level 50 NPCs I had seen before her, she had tropes on the red wallpaper that I could not decipher.


    Quickly, I equipped all of my scouting tropes that would work outside of storylines.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like it here¡­¡± told me that we triggered the Omen by trying to open the gate. The difficulty was ¡°This is scaring me,¡± which meant it was tough but not impossible.


    ¡°Location Scout¡± told me there were 13 rooms in the bed and breakfast. It had all the normal ces a B&B would have. A dining room, porch, kitchen, etc. The only location that interested me was called the ¡°Graves.¡±


    I quickly ryed this to my friends.


    Bobby¡¯s final trope was a Wallflower ability called ¡°Cattle Call¡±, which was a term used for the mass casting of extras in a movie. It was a scouting trope that let him know how many NPCs were in a storyline, though the insights it gave varied in utility.


    This time, however, it gave pretty solid intel.


    ¡°There are only two NPCs in this storyline,¡± he said. He looked bewildered.


    He didn¡¯t need to take that trope into the storyline with him.


    I didn¡¯t bother with Casting Director because this story didn¡¯t appear thatplicated from that perspective. I equipped everything I needed for a run. It was time to go.


    ~-~


    ¡°There¡¯s a gate down that direction,¡± I yelled to her. ¡°Run.¡±


    She looked in the direction I pointed and started to move that way. ¡°They have another guy in the basement. My dad. Please help,¡± she screamed as she booked it toward the gate.


    We followed her along.


    When we got to the gate¡­ we were in trouble.


    Antoine had brought a pair of bolt cutters so that we could get the gate open. They were in his back pocket¡­ until they weren¡¯t.


    The needle on the plot cycle was on Choice. Carousel had taken them away and I knew why.


    The gate had a trope. Thest time I had seen something like this was the Astralist¡¯s machine, which warned of its indestructibility.


    The gate, however, had a different trope.


    Time Suck


    This plot device cannot be used within the time frame you would like.


    ¡°Look for a rock. We¡¯re going to have to bust the lock,¡± I said.


    Dina grabbed the lock and started trying to pick it with what looked like a bobby pin. She wasn¡¯t having any luck.


    ¡°Hurry!¡± Samantha screamed, ¡°They¡¯reing!¡±


    I looked around. We were meant to open the gate. It was just going to take a while.


    ¡°Got one!¡± Kimberly yelled.


    I turned to look. She had found arge rock, probably the biggest rock Antoine could lift realistically.


    ¡°It¡¯s too big!¡± Samantha yelled.


    ¡°No,¡± Antoine said, ¡°I¡¯m a weightlifter. Just give me a second.¡±


    His Mettle rose 2 points and his Hustle rose 1. It had been a while since I was around for him to activate Gym Rat.


    He hefted therge stone, carried it over to the lock, and struck it hard with the stone.


    I was confident that this was going to work. But it didn¡¯t work fast enough.


    He struck the lock one final time and it burst open. We were in.


    The needle on the plot cycle switched to Party.


    ¡°No!¡± Samantha screamed as two men approached her from behind. I hadn¡¯t even seen them. They wore bandanas around their faces as masks, though I wasn¡¯t certain they were to hide their identities. The masks were covered in dirt.


    One of them, arge one with a yellow bandana, grabbed Samantha and hauled her back in the direction they came.


    The other one was thinner and looked very worried. He stared at us like a deer caught in the headlights. I could see him reaching for something in his pocket, but he was hesitant.


    I could still hear the sounds of dogs in the distance, but I couldn''t see any.


    Before he removed whatever it was, a light hit his face. A car wasing from the direction of Carousel.


    I turned to look. When I looked back at the masked assant, he was gone.


    I wasn¡¯t able to see either of them on the red wallpaper except for the title, ¡°Grave Robber.¡±


    I looked back at the headlights. Their yellow color was soon drowned out by red and blue.


    ¡°The cops?¡± Dina asked.


    I wasn¡¯t expecting that.


    The very old model squad car approached the gate quickly. Soon, both doors opened, and out stepped two men.


    One wore a sheriff¡¯s hat and uniform, though the uniform was dirty. On the red wallpaper, his name was ¡°Sherriff Randall Halloway.¡±


    He held a gun out toward us. He was a man in histe thirties. He had a serious expression on his face. I had no doubt he would shoot us if given the opportunity.


    The other man was wearing civilian clothing and a trucker hat. He brandished a gun. His name on the red wallpaper was ¡°Deputy Bradley Speirs.¡±


    ¡°Get on the ground!¡± the sheriff screamed. He sounded wickedly serious. ¡°Get on the ground and put your hands in the air.¡±


    We had no chance but toply.


    ¡°There¡¯s a woman in there!¡± Kimberly screamed. ¡°She needs help.¡±


    ¡°Shut your mouth!¡± Deputy Speirs yelled.


    ¡°If I see even one of you move, I will put a bullet in your brain!¡± Sherriff Holloway screamed.


    He took a moment to assess the situation. I couldn¡¯t read his face.


    ¡°You said a woman was in there?¡± he asked.


    ¡°She was scared,¡± Antoine pleaded cautiously, ¡°She said she needed help.¡±


    ¡°A woman¡­¡± Sherriff Halloway repeated. ¡°I see you breaking into property here with a rock, and you say you¡¯re trying to save a woman? What woman? Youe into my town breaking shit and then you lie to me.¡±


    Sherriff Halloway continued trying to think. He reached into the car and appeared to grab something.


    ¡°This Sherriff Halloway down on Olde Hill Road. We got four trespassers trying to break into the old bed and breakfast,¡± he said.


    I didn¡¯t hear the reply.


    Four trespassers? There were five of us. I looked around.


    Bobby was nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°Deputy Speirs,¡± Sherrif Halloway said, ¡°Please restrain thesewbreakers.¡±


    He turned his attention to us.


    ¡°If you make me think you are going to harm my deputy if you so much as give me an inkling, I¡¯ll be justified in shooting you. So don¡¯t you try me, ya hear?¡±


    I trembled at the thought. The scariest part of all of it was that the needle on the plot cycle was moving much faster than usual. This storyline was only supposed to take an hour. The Party Phase couldn¡¯tst too long.


    Deputy Speirs went around to each of us and grabbed us, twisting our hands behind our backs to put them in cuffs.


    ¡°Now you don¡¯t have anything in your pockets that¡¯s gonna stick me, do you?¡± he asked Antoine as he put the cuffs on and patted him down.


    He turned to the sheriff, ¡°He¡¯s got a baseball bat over there against the fence, you see? We caught ourselves some perpetrators.¡±


    Once all of us were handcuffed, lying face down in the dirt, the sheriff put his gun back in its holster. He and the deputy grabbed me and Antoine and hauled us back into the back seat of the squad car.


    They then walked over to Kimberly and Dina and grabbed them up off the ground.


    ¡°What do we do with these two?¡± Deputy Speirs asked with demented glee. "Hey,dies, you lost?"


    ¡°We just hold onto them until Tank gets here,¡± the sheriff said. ¡°And don''t hurt anybody. Your brother''ll kill us both.¡±


    "I didn''t do anything," Speirs said. He mmed Kimberly back against the hood of the car. She fell to the ground. "I''m just enforcing thew."


    Deputy Speirs startedughing. Sherriff Halloway joined him.


    ¡°See Randy,¡± Deputy Speirs said, ¡°I told you we should have been cops.¡±


    They continued tough together as therge man with the yellow bandana reappeared at the gate.

 Chapter One Hundred and Eleven: Blood Red Sunset

    Chapter One Hundred and Eleven: Blood Red Sunset


    Dina didn¡¯t waste any time escaping.


    Therger man from before came back down to the squad car. He grabbed ahold of Kimberly and, after a quick instruction from the fake sheriff, pulled her along toward the property down a long driveway that wound haphazardly back away from the road.


    I could hear Kimberly screaming, "Please don''t hurt me, I''m pregnant. Please!"


    She didn''t have to act scared. She was scared. At least she managed to get her Pregnancy Reveal activated, though it only buffed her Grit by a single point. She had not really had time to set it up. I had a feeling that was going to be an issue with a lot of our tropes in this storyline. The Party Phase was zooming by and we were going to have trouble with that sort of thing.


    The sheriff grabbed Dina and followed him.


    The third guy gave me the absolute creeps. He was still called Deputy Bradley Speirs on the red wallpaper. Whatever trope hid his identity was still blocking me.


    But he looked thrilled as he ran up to Dina, ruffled her hair, and let out a hyena¡¯sugh. He was younger, unshaven, unkempt.


    Antoine and I were left in the back of the car as the three of them walked up to the property. Up close, it was clear that the vehicle we were in was not a modern police car¡ªnot even in 1989 where the story was set. It was old, rusty, and worn down. If we had seen it in daylight without the high beams in our eyes, our characters would have known those guys were not actual cops instantly.


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this,¡± Antoine said. I could see that he was testing the strength of his handcuffs against his pure strength, trying to squeeze his hand out of one of the cuffs. Of course, his efforts were in vain.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll be able to do that off-screen,¡± I said.


    ¡°I''m going to go for it when I get the chance," he said. "I did say I was a weightlifter, at least. Might help.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°It might if you pick your moment. Dina should be out of hers soon.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°But what about Kimberly? Those guys¡­ they looked dangerous,¡± Antoine asked. ¡°Did you see anything about their tropes?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°The two with the masks were just called Grave Robbers. I assume they have a trope to stop them from being scoped out from the road when theye to grab Samantha. The other two looked like NPCs still, but I¡¯m guessing that will change.¡±


    Antoine nodded.


    ¡°We could try kicking out the window,¡± I suggested, pointing to the window beside Antoine. There were bars blocking us from getting into the front seat. Unfortunately, as soon as I said it, I knew it wouldn¡¯t work. We were Captured on the red wallpaper. If my escape idea were usible, I would have gotten a buff from my Escape Artist trope.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± I said.


    ¡°Gotta set you up for the TV buff, right?¡± Antoine asked.


    I nodded. "We should try," I said. "I''m not sure we''ll have time." Raised by Television required the audience to know I was a Film Buff so that I could do some movie hero stunt and get a boost for it. Like Kimberly''s Pregnancy Reveal, I wasn''t sure we would get the chance to set it up with how fast the plot was moving.


    ¡°And Bobby has already gone into his role somewhere,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Any idea when he¡¯ll show back up? Do we know for sure?¡±


    ¡°Finale at the worst. Finale for Dina too,¡± I said.


    He looked up ahead. I followed his gaze.


    ¡°Right on schedule,¡± I said.


    Two of the men, therger guy and the sheriff, were running in our direction. They were absolutely booking it with a panic in their eyes.


    The sheriff reached the car, and we were suddenly On-Screen.


    ¡°God dammit,¡± he said as he opened the driver¡¯s side door and got inside.


    ¡°What do I do?¡± the other man with the yellow bandana asked. He had previously not had any important information on the red wallpaper other than ¡°Grave Robber,¡± but now had the name ¡°Tank,¡± Plot Armor 18.


    ¡°Go find her!¡± the fake sheriff yelled. ¡°Bring her to me!¡±


    The sheriff reached to turn on the car and I realized that he had left the keys in the ignition. That would exin why he was in such a hurry to get back to us¡ªhe didn¡¯t want Dina getting here first. Antoine and I couldn¡¯t have reached them.


    Antoine and I screamed and yelled and threatened as we thought our characters would do in that situation.


    He drove the car up the driveway. We curved around until the thick woods cleared and we could see arge, worn-down ntation-style manor sitting upon a hill. The side panels had once been white, but they were now gray from weathering.


    There were lights on in some of the rooms.


    Lumber had been piled up under tarps outside as if someone were nning to renovate.


    It didn¡¯t look as decrepit as I was expecting from the look of the sign in Camden¡¯s picture, but then the sign was technically thirty years older than the building, which I believed had been brought to Carousel back in 1989.


    Standing in front of the building was a man I had not yet seen. He was arguing with the fake deputy, pointing his finger out in the distance, clearly ordering the deputy off.


    I could see both of them clearly on the red wallpaper suddenly. I looked at the sheriff driving us. I could see him in my mind too.


    We pulled up in front of the house and the sheriff opened his door.


    ¡°Got two of them right here, boss,¡± the fake sheriff said like a kissass. His name on the red wallpaper was still Randall ¡°Randy¡± Halloway. His Plot Amor was 19.


    The man he had called ¡°Boss¡± was called ¡°Merritt Speirs,¡± Plot Armor 22.


    Off-Screen.


    I could see now that all of the enemies had three tropes inmon: Desperation, Home-Lair Advantage, and Nowhere to Run.


    Desperation


    This viin is in a desperate situation. The worse their situation bes, the more desperate and violent they will act. Debuffs Moxie and Savvy to buff Mettle and Hustle.


    Home-Lair Advantage


    The viin can travel freely, unnoticed due to their knowledge of the setting and its passages - both public and secret.


    Nowhere to Run


    The setting for this story is isted. There is no one to ask for help within the story, and nowhere to go that the enemy will not find you.


    That was a very concerningbination. Dina was supposed to find a way to get away and then stay off-screen until the Finale. That was the n. The question was: would she be able to do it?


    Each of the enemies had additional tropes that made them unique as well.


    ¡°The leader there and the crazy one are brothers,¡± I whispered to Antoine, though he could probably guess that from theirst names. ¡°Leader has a trope called ¡®Avenger¡¯ that triggers with the death of a loved one.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Kill the crazy one, the older brother gets more dangerous,¡± Antoine said. "Don''t kill the crazy one, you have to deal with the crazy one."


    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡±


    I told him about the tropes they all shared, but then we had to stop talking as we were suddenly On-Screen.


    ¡°Get out of the car,¡± the sheriff yelled as he pulled open the door of the cop car.


    The sheriff grabbed me by the hair and pulled me out. The man called Tank had returned and was holding onto Antoine. They forced us around the house until we came across a storm shelter about fifteen yards from the main building.


    I could hear dogs howling from somewhere on the property, as I had earlier. I still couldn''t see them, though.


    The leader, Merritt, opened the shelter and we were forced down into it. Kimberly and the NPC, Samantha, were already inside.


    We fell down into the hole, hard. I couldn¡¯t exactly catch myself with my hands handcuffed behind my back.


    Then, I stared up at Merrick. The sky above was the color of blood. It would be night soon.


    ¡°We got no aim to harm you,¡± he said. ¡°My crew and I, well we just care about one thing. Money. Ain''t nothing else too important. We will noty a finger on you as long as you do what you''re told and you don''t cause trouble. We''ll be out of here in a few days¡¯ time and then you can be on your way. As soon as our business here is finished it''ll be like this never happened. But you gotta do what we say, got it? You can trust us. We''re good believers, after all.¡±


    None of us responded. He didn¡¯t wait for an answer.


    The storm shelter door was closed. Everything went dark.


    ¡°Do you think Dina is okay?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°If they find her, she won¡¯t just let them take her alive.¡±


    We were still On-Screen so we were limited on what we could talk about.


    ¡°She¡¯s probably halfway to Carousel by now,¡± Antoine said reassuringly. ¡°She¡¯ll have the real cops here soon; we¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    ¡°Halfway to Carousel?¡± Samantha asked. ¡°I hope she¡¯s not going in that direction. Won¡¯t find much.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°I thought Carousel was just down the road.¡±


    ¡°Sure, it¡¯s there," Samantha said. "It¡¯s just there¡¯s no one there to help. Town¡¯s been pretty much abandoned for a decade now.¡±


    Oh. The Carousel of this story wasn¡¯t a midwestern college town or a bustling metropolis, it was a ghost town. Carousel had its role to y too.


    After all, we had Nowhere to Run ording to the enemies'' trope. It might not matter. Dina was supposed to stick around and stay out of sight. We hadn¡¯t nned on her running back to Carousel. I hoped she didn¡¯t decide to.


    ¡°What is going on here?¡± Antoine asked.


    Samantha was silent for a moment. The shelter was dark so I couldn¡¯t quite see her, but then I heard her crying.


    ¡°Dad hired them asborers to help fix up the old bed and breakfast. Of course, they were just trying to get in and start trouble. They have Dad locked in the basement. Think they can get even more money out of him. That''s the only reason they hadn''t hurt me or the dogs, but that one... gotta watch out for him. He''s a violent man," Samantha said, looking at Kimberly. "I¡¯m sorry for bringing you all here. I was just scared. And now you¡¯re here with us too. We¡¯re never going to leave.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Kimberly said gently. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have known¡­¡±


    I think Kimberly hugged her in the dark, or at least tried given the fact that her hands were bound behind her.


    Whatever the case, Kimberly¡¯s Moxie jumped up three points. Samantha, the level 50 NPC, must have had a trope that activated because Kimberlyforted her.


    ¡°We need to get your hands out in front of you,¡± Samantha said, suddenly affecting a much more calm and calcting demeanor. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to break the locks, but if you can get your hands in front of you we will have a better chance.¡±


    Samantha herself was not bound.


    She walked us through, one at a time, stretching our arms down below our waists and sitting down, then trying to get our legs through the loop our arms made so that our arms could go all of the way around in front of us.


    Kimberly got hers done quickly. Antoine, who worried hisrger muscles would get in the way, took a little longer.


    I wasn¡¯t really built for it. I only managed to get my hands in front of me because the others helped me force them.


    I had never yed jump rope with my arms before. With that done, at least, we stood a chance.


    The needle on the plot cycle was ticking closer to First Blood. This story was moving faster than any I had been in. It was like we weren''t even the main characters. We were just innocent bystanders who got forcibly brought into Samantha''s horrifying ordeal.


    Not too long after we had our hands out in front of us, the door opened back up and the five figures we had seen were now standing before us. I finally got a good look at all of them on the red wallpaper.


    Other than Desperation, Home-Lair Advantage, and Nowhere to Run, the kidnappers each had one or two unique tropes that defined their behavior. I tried to memorize everything so that I could predict what they would do.


    Bradley Speirs


    Plot Armor: 22


    __________


    A crazed assant with a hyena¡¯sugh. He pretended to be a deputy to lure us intoplying with him and his gang.


    Tropes


    Desperation


    This viin is in a desperate situation. The worse their situation bes, the more desperate and violent they will act. Debuffs Moxie and Savvy to buff Mettle and Hustle.


    Appeal to Authority


    This viin will first appear as an authority figure and will not be seen as an enemy until their true nature is discovered.


    Home Lair Advantage


    The viin can travel freely, unnoticed due to their knowledge of the setting and its passages - both public and secret.


    Evil ys Favorites


    Evil hates everyone, but it hates some folks more than others. This viin is liable to target the object of their prejudice regardless of yers'' Plot Armor or tropes.


    Blood Joy


    This viin is energized by carnage. Witnessing or participating in murder, muttion, or simr will buff an assortment of stats.


    Nowhere to Run


    The setting for this story is isted. There is no one to ask for help within the story, and nowhere to go that the enemy will not find you.


    This was the one to watch out for. Blood Joy was a nightmare that would make him stronger the more carnage he created. Evil ys Favorites was a tricky one. We needed to figure out what his prejudices were to n properly. Luckily, there was a good chance his prejudice was against women, seeing as we knew women were targeted specifically in this storyline.


    Tank


    Plot Armor: 18


    __________


    Arge man with a yellow bandana and a slow wit. He seems loyal to Merritt but is willing to help out any of his fellow viins. He was one of the assants originally chasing Samantha.


    Tropes


    Desperation


    This viin is in a desperate situation. The worse their situation bes, the more desperate and violent they will act. Debuffs Moxie and Savvy to buff Mettle and Hustle.


    Figure in the Shadows


    This viin will be unidentifiable before they are properly introduced in the story.


    Home Lair Advantage


    The viin can travel freely, unnoticed due to their knowledge of the setting and its passages - both public and secret.


    Nowhere to Run


    The setting for this story is isted. There is no one to ask for help within the story, and nowhere to go that the enemy will not find you.


    Hostage Taker


    The viin will not outright kill the yer inbat until the Final Battle, instead, it will attempt to take them hostage for some specific purpose.


    Just Following Orders


    This viin will do whatever their leader says regardless of their own morality.


    This guy was strong but would kidnap you instead of just outright killing you. That was useful information.


    Merritt Speirs


    Plot Armor: 22


    __________


    The leader of the outfit. He is cunning and has some really ambitious ideas, if only he could keep control of his beloved brother.


    Tropes


    Desperation


    This viin is in a desperate situation. The worse their situation bes, the more desperate and violent they will act. Debuffs Moxie and Savvy to buff Mettle and Hustle.


    Home Lair Advantage


    The viin can travel freely, unnoticed due to their knowledge of the setting and its passages - both public and secret.


    Nowhere to Run


    The setting for this story is isted. There is no one to ask for help within the story, and nowhere to go that the enemy will not find you.


    Avenger


    This viin will pursue with a fury those who harm their friends or loved ones. They will receive relevant buffs in doing so.


    Avenger was a strong trope that would activate, presumably when we killed his brother Bradley. Combined with Desperation, he was going to be a formidable threatter in the storyline.


    Randall ¡°Randy¡± Halloway


    Plot Armor: 19


    __________


    Loyal, but not particrly impassioned. Randy follows orders and is smart enough not to blow his own toes off. I''ll watch out for him.


    Tropes


    Desperation


    This viin is in a desperate situation. The worse their situation bes, the more desperate and violent they will act. Debuffs Moxie and Savvy to buff Mettle and Hustle.


    Appeal to Authority


    This viin will first appear as an authority figure and will not be seen as an enemy until their true nature is discovered.


    Home Lair Advantage


    The viin can travel freely, unnoticed due to their knowledge of the setting and its passages - both public and secret.


    Nowhere to Run


    The setting for this story is isted. There is no one to ask for help within the story, and nowhere to go that the enemy will not find you.


    Chatty Kathy


    This viin was cursed with the gift of gab. Perhaps you can make them pay for it.


    Just Following Orders


    This viin will do whatever their leader says regardless of their own morality.


    Gotta love an enemy with a built-in weakness.


    Tim


    Plot Armor: 18


    __________


    He is the youngest member of the group and the leastfortable with what they are up to. There still might be a chance to reach him.


    Tropes


    Desperation


    This viin is in a desperate situation. The worse their situation bes, the more desperate and violent they will act. Debuffs Moxie and Savvy to buff Mettle and Hustle.


    Figure in the Shadows


    This viin will be unidentifiable before they are properly introduced in the story.


    Home Lair Advantage


    The viin can travel freely, unnoticed due to their knowledge of the setting and its passages - both public and secret.


    Last Thread of Humanity


    This viin is not yet aplete monster, but with one tiny push, they may be one. Free of their burden of conscience, they will be uninhibited in their pursuit of murder. When activated, buffs Mettle and Hustle.


    Nowhere to Run


    The setting for this story is isted. There is no one to ask for help within the story, and nowhere to go that the enemy will not find you.


    This enemy was clearly meant to be turned into an ally of sorts, given his Last Thread of Humanity trope. I wasn''t sure if we would work that in or not. That sounded like a weakness for a longer storyline.


    It was evident they had not found Dina, but our characters would not know that.


    ¡°Where is Dina?¡± I screamed.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be back soon, I¡¯m sure. We¡¯ll find her. As a gesture of goodwill, I¡¯m going to bring you inside. The basement has food, a ce to sleep, and a restroom,¡± Merritt said. ¡°Now don¡¯t test us. We will not hesitate to get violent if we are provoked.¡±


    The fake deputy Bradley leaned down into the shelter. If he noticed that we had our hands in front of us he didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°One at a time,¡± he said with a devilish smile.


    Kimberly went up first.


    Whatever was going to happen would happen soon. The needle on the plot cycle was practically on First Blood.


    As Bradley lifted Kimberly up, he leaned down and whispered something in her ear.


    I couldn¡¯t hear what it was, but she took it as an opportunity. She headbutted him in the face. He maintained his grasp on her with one hand and backhanded her in the face with the other.


    With that, the clock started. For every minute Kimberly survived, the weaker the enemies would be. This was not the ideal situation for that trope.


    They had firearms. I wasn¡¯t sure how long any of us couldst.


    As soon as he hit her, Antoine was up and out of the shelter. He bounded upon the fake sheriff, the only character other than the deputy we had seen with a gun.


    Antoine knocked him to the ground and kicked the gun from his hand.


    Samantha was out of the shelter next, then me.


    ¡°You stupid girl!¡± Merritt yelled after Samantha as she ran away.


    I jumped on the gun that the fake sheriff had dropped and pointed it out in front of me. I pointed it at Merritt.


    ¡°Let us go!¡± I screamed.


    Merritt looked at me with an annoyed expression. He looked at the fake sheriff, Randy.


    Randy said, "It''s not loaded. I did like you said."


    They didn''t put ammo in their guns? Why?


    Merritt walked closer to me and moved to grab the gun.


    I pulled the trigger out of instinct.


    Nothing happened.


    ¡°You caught us,¡± Merrit said. ¡°It''s best not to have a loaded gun around a prisoner. They might fight you and take it. Then what will you do?" Heughed loudly. "Besides, we¡¯re what you might call¡­ preserving ammunition right now. I told you all we didn¡¯t mean you any harm. Didn''t even load the guns. This can all work out in everyone¡¯s favor.¡±


    He grabbed a pistol of his own from within his waistband. He reached into his pocket to grab ammunition. He quickly loaded the gun.


    ¡°Now this one does have ammunition,¡± he said as he cocked the gun. ¡°So I advise you to listen up.¡±


    Tank had gotten ahold of Antoine again and Bradley was still holding on to Kimberly.


    They forced each of us to our knees.


    ¡°Now I told you I was a believer and I¡¯m gonna show it right now by forgiving you. We¡¯re going to take you down to the basement. When you get there, tell the man downstairs how reasonable I was despite your indiscretions. That¡¯s all I ask.¡±


    He put the gun back in his waistband.


    ¡°Now,¡± he said to his men. ¡°Get them down into the basement and then find th¡ª¡±


    Bang.


    A gun went off.


    I turned to see Bradley, the fake deputy with the dementedugh. He was still aiming the gun down at Kimberly, whoy strewn out on the ground.


    Antoine broke free from Tank and lunged at Bradley but it was toote.


    She was dead.


    Antoine got several good hits on the Deputy¡¯s face and gut. The man cried out in pain at each blow but alsoughed a sicklyugh after each one. There was only so much Antoine could do in handcuffs.


    Before Antoine could exact further vengeance on the deputy, Tank, grabbed him and kneeled down on him. He was pinned.


    ¡°What did you do that for?¡± Merritt screamed at his brother. He came and grabbed him. It looked like he would strangle him. ¡°Don¡¯t you understand what you just did?¡±


    ¡°She broke my nose. We was gonna kill ¡®em anywayter. You said so,¡± the Deputy protested.


    ¡°We needed the guy downstairs to trust that we wouldn¡¯t hurt him or his daughter while he makes the withdrawal, that we were men of our word. Reasonable. Now, you went and ruined that. You idiot. If he thinks we¡¯re psycho killers he¡¯s just gonna go to the police,¡± Merritt cursed loudly, ¡°You can¡¯t control it for ten minutes?¡±


    So they nned to extort the owner of the bed and breakfast. They needed him to think they would let him go afterward and Merritt wanted us to be some sort of proof that they were not violent.


    ¡°Merritt, I didn¡¯t think about it like that,¡± Bradley said, as Merritty into him with a punch of his own. ¡°Merritt, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Merritt turned to the man who had dressed as a sheriff. ¡°I told you to watch him! Who gave him bullets anyway?¡±


    ¡°He must have swiped them himself,¡± the fake sheriff protested. ¡°Honest. I didn¡¯t give him any. It was like you said. We didn''t want loaded guns around the hostages.¡±


    Antoine reached out for Kimberly¡¯s fallen body while Merritt screamed in frustration.


    ¡°It¡¯s just one thing after another. This was a simple shakedown. Threaten the guy¡¯s daughter, and get money. How do you manage to screw that up?¡± Merritt screamed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Merritt, I didn¡¯t think about it like that. She did break my nose though; I wasn¡¯t lying about that.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn about your broken nose!¡± Merritt screamed. ¡°Now we¡¯ve got a mess on our hands.¡±


    Kimberly had only survived for a couple of minutes or so at most while Merritt did his dramatic speech. Enough to drop them down a single point. Maybe the trope rounded up.


    As Antoine and I struggled to free ourselves, an increasingly disheveled Merritt paced back and forth, his hand on his waistband right next to his gun.

 Chapter 112: The Damsel in Distress

    Chapter 112: The Damsel in Distress


    Merritt paced back and forth, growing more distressed with each step. He muttered under his breath, cursing his brother, mostly. His hand never left his waistband where he kept his gun.


    In the distance, I heard hounds howling and barking. I had heard them when we first arrived but had yet to see them. If memory served, I heard them on my first day in Carousel too when we passed Samantha.


    The noises got closer.


    Soon, Merrick¡¯s attention turned to therge hound that appeared from around the other side of the bed and breakfast and jumped upon him, grasping his wrist in its jaws.


    There were more hounds, at least six, most of which wererger breeds.


    Bradley, the psychotic one, was aiming his gun at the dogs, warding them off with loud shots, even hitting one of them. Then he ran out of bullets.


    One dog sank its teeth into Tanks thigh, another into his forearm.


    He let go of Antoine in the moment.


    Antoine seized the opportunity. He started to pull at his restraints with all of his might. We were on-screen, so if he was going to go Incredible Hulk and break out of his cuffs, that would be the time to do it. He had already said he was a weightlifter, after all.


    He pulled.


    At first, it didn¡¯t look like anything was happening.


    I had to shuffle around as the dogs attacked the men, letting loose haunting howls as they did so. I didn¡¯t get a good view for a moment as I broke free from the man who was holding onto me. One of the dogs snapped at me but was clearly more interested in the other men. When I looked back, I saw that Antoine was making progress.


    He wasn¡¯t breaking the cuffs, no. He was seeding in pulling his left hand out of its cuff, though the process tore his skin, practically degloving his hand.


    He pulled with his greatest effort, and then he had done it. His hand was free. Mangled, but free.


    With his hands free, one dripping with blood, he grabbed Merritt, who had finally gotten the opportunity to grab his gun. Antoine pushed him with all of his might. Merritt fell backward down into the storm shelter they had just let us out of.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you touch him!¡± Bradley Speirs screamed.


    He couldn¡¯t do much. One of the dogs had taken to his ankle and opened a gash in it.


    ¡°Run!¡± a voice from up near the house cried out. It was the NPC Samantha.


    She waved us toe toward her.


    Antoine was preupied, in shock over Kimberly¡¯s body. I grabbed him and pulled him away.


    ¡°We have to go!¡± I screamed.


    We didn¡¯t have long until the men had recovered from the surprise attack of the dogs.


    Antoine put his shoulder into Tank and knocked him on his backside.


    After breaking his gaze away from Kimberly and punching the fake sheriff in the face, he finally, got with the program and we ran back toward Samantha.


    Antoine was hurling insults at the men the whole way, clearly distressed over what they had done to Kimberly.


    Samantha whistled loudly. The dogs immediately took notice and stopped attacking. Some ran into the distance, perhaps back to whatever pin they had been let out of. Two of them ran toward Samantha. Oney on the ground, unmoving.


    ¡°Come on!¡± she screamed to Antoine and me. ¡°We have to get inside. Trap them out here.¡±


    Sounded like a n.


    She waved us around to the nearest entrance to the house and we followed. It was up a few steps and then we were inside. She mmed the door behind us. The two dogs that had followed us immediately sought Samantha¡¯s attention. They dogs must have missed her.


    ¡°Dad brought them up here for the renovation. They haven''t got to see me in a while,¡± she exined as she locked the door. ¡°Help me move this,¡± she said, pointing to arge rectangr piano that was up against the wall.


    Antoine jumped in to help. They moved the piano over in front of the door.


    ¡°They already boarded up most of the windows and doors on the first level to try to keep me from escaping,¡± she exined. ¡°We need to get my dad from the basement.¡±


    She led us away from the back entrance toward what looked like the kitchen area. It was kind of hard to tell with the renovations that were going on.


    ¡°Samantha!¡± I heard Bobby screaming. From somewhere in the house.


    ¡°Dad!¡± she screamed back as she ran for the basement door.


    She opened it to reveal Bobby. His Wallflower trope had recast him as the only other non-enemy NPC in the story: Samantha¡¯s father.


    They hugged.


    Antoine looked numb as he cared for his injured hand, but he still engaged in hurried conversation for the camera as he, Bobby, and Samantha talked.


    I, however, was distracted.


    I saw a piece of furniture in the corner of the room that I had seen in many hotels before. It was one of those brochure holders that were always in the lobbies advertising nearby resorts and attractions.


    Something about it caught my eye.


    I walked over to it and started shuffling through the brochures for ys, musicals, one-man shows, an amusement park, and more. Most of them had one thing inmon.


    As I shuffled through them, we went Off-Screen.


    ¡°What are you doing over there?¡± Antoine asked.


    I pulled out one brochure after another, ncing at them before moving to the next. Even with my handcuffed hands, my fingers moved numbly, even if they did shake.


    ¡°Silver Dor City,¡± I said, holding up one brochure. That was a real amusement park in our world. ¡°Branson, Missouri,¡± I said as I ran through the brochures, I read one after another, "Branson, Branson, near Branson."


    Antoine quickly walked over to the brochure stand and looked through them himself.


    ¡°So it¡¯s true,¡± he said. ¡°This story is from our world.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what?¡± Bobby asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re from our world too, aren¡¯t you?¡± I asked Samantha.


    She didn¡¯t answer, but a strange look moved over her face. It appeared an awful lot like she was ashamed.


    A thought urred to me. I ran into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.


    I started tough and grabbed a few dark red cans from the shelf and brought them back to the others. I couldn''t exin the explosions of joy that overcame me from seeing something so simple, something from home.


    I handed one to Antoine and another to Bobby.


    I opened mine and took a swig.


    It was Dr. Pepper.


    I wasn''t even much of a soda drinker, and yet seeing it there thrilled me.


    Antoine wasn¡¯t as excited as me. He had just finished wrapping his injured hand in a cloth he found, but he still opened his and took a drink.


    ¡°Those fake Carousel brands everywhere,¡± I said. ¡°They aren¡¯t fake. They¡¯re just from different worlds!¡±


    This storyline was from our world, so it had our brands.


    I was right. I could have cried to finally be moving forward and gaining some understanding.


    ¡°You¡¯re from our world,¡± I repeated to Samantha. ¡°What happened? Why are we here?¡±


    She was slow to answer.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for bringing you all here. I was just scared. And now you¡¯re here with us too. We¡¯re never going to leave.¡±


    She had told us that same line when we were On-Screen a few minutes earlier.


    ¡°That¡¯s one of her lines,¡± Bobby said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if they really understand Carousel. I¡¯ve tried talking to NPCs about¡­ my wife. They don¡¯t seem to know what I¡¯m talking about.¡±


    We hadn¡¯t brought Bobby up to speed yet.


    ¡°Can you exin?¡± I asked Samantha again. ¡°This storyline is from our world. What are we supposed to learn here? Is there a way out?¡±


    Samantha waited for a moment and then said, ¡°We should go upstairs. There is only one stairway. We can more easily defend ourselves from up there.¡±


    That made sense, but I was getting the dreadful feeling that she was ducking my question.


    Then she said.


    ¡°Dad hired these men to do work on the house. They did for a while, but then¡­ well, you can probably guess that things devolved.¡±


    ¡°I have lots of information on that,¡± Bobby said helpfully. ¡°My Recast trope is pretty limited but that kind of stuff I can see on the script.¡±


    We followed Samantha up the stairs. Once we got to thending, she turned to me.


    She looked me right in the eye.


    ¡°They said that if I went along with their ns, I would live. If I gave them what they wanted,¡± she said.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Bobby added. ¡°They want me to go to the bank to withdraw a bunch of money and then they''ll let us go. That¡¯s what they say at least.¡±


    ¡°Just a second, Bobby,¡± Antoine said.


    I kept eye contact with Samantha.


    ¡°They told you to go along with their ns and you would live?¡± I asked.


    She nodded.


    ¡°They wanted me¡­ to be their perfect hostage. I was scared. I didn¡¯t want to die¡­ It¡¯s my fault you¡¯re here. I was afraid.¡±


    Antoine and I made eye contact.


    ¡°Someone offered to let you live if you did what they said?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°And that¡¯s why we¡¯re here?¡±


    ¡°They were looking¡­ for a perfect hostage,¡± she said tearfully. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    ¡°The man on the top floor?¡± I asked. ¡°Is that the person who made you the offer? He watches us through violet lights. He looks for dark stories?¡±


    That was what the demon at the bar had said to Dina about the person who could help her save her son.


    Samantha continued to cry. She didn¡¯t say yes or no, but I felt I was not far off track.


    ¡°A n,¡± she said. ¡°A n to save us. I¡¯ve had all the time in the world¡­ I will do whatever it takes to help you. It¡¯s my fault you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°A n?¡± I asked. ¡°The n from our friends in high ces?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a way to survive,¡± she said in agreement. She had to use her lines tomunicate. She didn''t seem as good at it as Jack Goforth had.


    ¡°What is happening here, it¡¯s almost like¡­ you said that this storyline was from our world, that she was,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Does that mean NPCs are real?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°I knew it!¡± He said. ¡°Travis always said I was being too sentimental.¡±


    An idea struck him.


    ¡°Do you know what happened to my wife?¡± he asked. ¡°She disappeared. Her name was Jte Gill. Do you have any information about her at all?¡±


    Samantha gave him a look of sympathy.


    ¡°Mom?¡± she asked.


    Bobby was ying her father. She had to stay in character. Calling Jte her mother might let her do that.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where she is,¡± Samantha said. ¡°But I have to believe that we will see her again.¡±


    That answer energized Bobby.


    ¡°But how?¡± Bobby asked. He had started to tear up. ¡°It¡¯s my fault that she came. She didn¡¯t want to. He told me she would be safe.¡±


    Wait.


    ¡°Who told you she would be safe?¡± I asked.


    Bobby wiped the tears from his eyes. ¡°Dropstone_Don. The man on the forum who invited me to the horror convention. His real name was Donny. Well¡­ not really, I guess. We talked about it. He said that his wife didn¡¯t like scary things either, that she was¡­ frail. Like Jte.¡± He struggled to hold back his tears. ¡°He said she wouldn¡¯t have to do any of the scary events, that there were events for people who were afraid. He said she could hang out with his wife...¡±


    He got quiet.


    I couldn¡¯t imagine the guilt he must feel. Samantha could though, she was crying at his story.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said.


    ¡°What¡¯s the n?¡± I asked.


    She took a moment topose herself.


    ¡°They¡¯re strange men, all of them, but that one is stranger than the rest. His interests are dark. When they found the cemetery on the property, they started digging, grave robbing, desecrating. Merritt didn¡¯t like it, but it upied his brother and that was a small miracle. Bradley took to it quickly. The others, they wanted jewelry and trinkets. Stuff they could pawn. Bradley, the sick fuck, he just liked to mess with the bodies. To use them for target practice. To defile them, to use their bones to make... art. He made an ashtray out of a woman¡¯s skull¡­¡±


    She stared into the distance.


    ¡°Wait a second,¡± Bobby said once he regainedposure. ¡°These are her lines, but¡­ they aren¡¯t right.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I can¡¯t see a whole lot, but there are different scripts for different versions of the same storyline. She¡¯s saying lines from a different script. I can¡¯t really get a good look at it.¡±


    A different script?


    ¡°Like when a trope changes a script?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°Or a Detective turning a storyline into a mystery?¡±


    Bobby nodded.


    ¡°I hear them at night,¡± she whispered. ¡°Dad tells me it¡¯s all in my head, but I hear them crying out, begging, warning. I think tonight¡¯s the night.¡±


    ¡°Honey,¡± Bobby said, ¡°This is just a scary moment, and your mind is running away with it. Don¡¯t lose your head. We¡¯re going to be okay if we just do what these men want.¡±


    It sounded like he was reading off his lines from his version of the script.


    ¡°Except,¡± he added, ¡°This should be happening On-Screen.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s the n?¡± I asked. ¡°To switch to a different version of the script?¡±


    I thought we were going to get to see the real version of events for the storyline, but apparently not.


    ¡°How do we do that?¡± Antoine asked.


    Without an advanced archetype or tropes, we were left with pure Improvisation to make the change and that hardly felt within my grasp. I was just now learning how to manipte a story that way.


    Samantha reached into her pocket with two fingers and pulled out a ticket. A yer ticket. It was purple, which meant it changed the rules of the story. She held it out so that we could see.


    The Captor is Captured


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Damsel


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Sometimes the only way for things to get better for the protagonist is if they get way worse first. Horror Films often have antagonists who are thwarted with the help of other, deadlier, antagonists.


    Bigger Bad: This trope will pull in a Bigger Bad from potential antagonists suggested in the storyline.


    The Bigger Bad must be set up before the midpoint of Rebirth. The Bigger Bad may target any character that fits the narrative, including yers, unless acted upon by another trope but they will always sh with the initial antagonist.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will be able to draw in an additional antagonist¡ªa Bigger Bad¡ªas long as there is a narrative foundation for them to do so and they help push the story in that direction. Can only be activated while the yer is Captured or when capture is imminent. The Bigger Bad will attempt to, at least metaphorically, capture the enemy. If inapplicable, they will simply kill them.


    Beware, this trope can summon enemies beyond the yer¡¯s level. There is no rule that prevents the Bigger Bad from attacking the yer or their allies.


    Survive the Night, Kill the Enemy, and Give It What It Wants are now Win Conditions if narrativelypatible.


    Caution to the yer: they say the devil you know is better than the one you don¡¯t.


    She was a Damsel, an advanced archetype that specialized in being kidnapped. <em>A perfect hostage</em>.


    ¡°I knew you level 50s had yer tropes,¡± I said. I had seen Jack Goforth use Convenient Backstory. I was sure of it.


    She tucked the ticket back in her pocket after we had gotten the chance to read it. So that was how we would do it. Activating her yer trope.


    We didn¡¯t have long. The midpoint would start in around fifteen minutes.


    And even if we seeded, we would be awakening a Bigger Bad.


    But why did we need to do it at all?


    There was no time for questions.


    It was time to raise the dead.

 Chapter 113: The Bigger Bad

    Chapter 113: The Bigger Bad


    I took a moment to think. I didn''t have much more than that.


    We needed to set the stage for Samantha¡¯s trope to activate. How did we set up a shift thatrge? We weren¡¯t just trying to invite in another group of criminals; we were trying to change the genrepletely, shifting toward a supernatural storyline.


    ¡°I have a n,¡± I said. ¡°Samantha, you said the men told you to go along with their n and you and your dad would be okay. When we''re On-Screen again, can you exin to the audience that you were going to do what the men demanded of you, that you weren¡¯t going to run away and the only reason you did was because of the ominous premonitions rted to the things you hear at night?¡±


    She nodded.


    Samantha had alluded to supernatural voices crying in the night that were a part of a different version of the script. We had to lean into that. It seemed pretty clear where this was going. The men were grave robbers. That was something we knew and might have even been established to the audience already before our characters entered the story. After all, they were all covered in dirt from their digging. Carousel would have to exin that to the audience, surely.


    ¡°Then start to reallyy the warnings on thick, be emotional and scared. You¡¯re trying to warn us of the things toe. But we aren¡¯t listening. Antoine and I will be having a discussion¡­ No¡­ an argument. We''ll be arguing, reallyying into each other while you¡¯re trying to get our attention.¡±


    I thought for a moment.


    ¡°Bobby, you help her. Use any lines your character might have that are relevant and try to help her move things along,¡± I said. "Help make her look liker her warnings are falling on deaf ears."


    Was that enough?


    ¡°Two characters are distracted arguing while danger brews in the background. That''s a start, but it isn¡¯t enough because we have the goons outside. Add in a woman frantically trying to warn them of a bigger threat, that should get the job done. Dramatic irony. The audience will know about the Bigger Bad approaching, but we will be none the wiser. So, Antoine, Bobby, and me, we just ignore it as long as possible. Really let the tension build.¡±


    I nodded to myself. Trying to double-check my n in my head.


    ¡°We ignore it and that makes it more likely to happen?¡± Antoine said, checking his understanding.


    ¡°A great director once said that if a hidden bomb blows up, the audience will be surprised, but they will have spent the entire scene until that moment not feeling anything. If you show them the bomb beforehand, though, let them know that any minute the characters will meet an untimely end, that is how you create suspense.¡± I looked at Samantha. ¡°That¡¯s how we activate your trope,¡± I said. ¡°The Bigger Bad is our bomb. The longer we ignore Samantha trying to warn us about it, the more the audience sits on the edge of their seats. Carousel won¡¯t be able to resist letting it explode.¡±


    It wouldn''t be enough on its own, but with her trope, it should work.


    We went over our n a few more times. It would have to work. We didn''t have much time.


    As soon as we were On-Screen again, I could hear one of the men yelling outside. It was the crazed one, the one who had pretended to be a deputy. Bradley Speirs. The corpse defiler. We were up on the second floornding so I couldn¡¯t hear what he was saying, but he sounded more like he was having fun than anything else. It was disturbing.


    ¡°I was going to do what they said,¡± Samantha said through tears. ¡°They said to just go along with it. They wouldn¡¯t hurt me. They wouldn¡¯t hurt you.¡± She looked at Bobby.


    ¡°I know honey,¡± Bobby said. ¡°I was scared too. It¡¯s okay. This isn¡¯t your fault.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Samantha said. ¡°I was afraid of them, but I ran¡­¡± she got quiet. She looked into the distance. ¡°I ran from the voices. I can hear them, crying in the dark of the night. They¡¯reing. I was afraid of them.¡±


    Bobby looked perplexed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that, sweetheart,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re just scared. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Bobby was a passable actor if only he didn''t pause to read the script every time he spoke.


    Samantha pulled away from him, ¡°No, Dad, you have to believe me. They told me to run. I can hear them when I am trying to sleep. I think tonight¡¯s the night.¡±


    Bobby and Samantha continued talking on this subject. Antoine and I had to ignore them.


    ¡°I could jump down and run for help,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°You¡¯re not some action hero,¡± Antoine screamed, ¡°You¡¯ll break your leg. We just need to build up a fortress here.¡±


    ¡°And then what?¡± I asked. ¡°They wait us out? They kill us in the morning instead? What¡¯s the n?¡±


    Antoine crossed the room and got in my face. ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m going to wait for them to turn their backs, and then I¡¯m going to make them pay.¡± His words caught in his throat. ¡°For Kimberly.¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to say anything. I knew that Antoine was expressing real pain, but I needed to continue the ruse. That was the n. I had to escte the tension.


    ¡°That''s gonna get us killed for sure,¡± I screamed. ¡°You''re not the only one who cared about Kimberly. We can''t stick around just so that you can get revenge!¡±


    ¡°We aren''t going to run out into the night and let them hunt us down!¡± Antione screamed. ¡°Our only chance is to stay here and face them head on.¡±


    ¡°Guys,¡± Samantha said. ¡°We really shouldn¡¯t be arguing right now. I can feel them in the distance. We have to get ready. They¡¯reing.¡±


    We ignored her.


    Nothing makes the boogeymane out like ignoring the person who warned you about him. The whole time we had been talking, the Off-Screen indicator would cut a way for a few moments at a time. I hoped they were cutting to show the audience the trouble toe.


    I just hoped it would be enough. We were almost out of time. Her trope couldn''t be activated after the midpoint revtion.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said. ¡°I''m not going to stay here and get shot to hell so that you can prove how much of a man you are. Do whatever you want but don''t pretend that it''s about Kimberly.¡±


    Antoine pulled back his fist and punched me.


    I couldn¡¯t tell if he was taking it easy on me. It hurt.


    "Everything is about Kimberly!" Antoine screamed with a tear.


    I leaned forward and buried my shoulder into him, driving him back against the wall.


    ¡°Bullshit¡± I screamed. "We''re never getting out of here. Not unless we run. I''m not going to die in this rotted out hellhouse"


    ¡°Please stop!¡± Samantha cried out.


    Bobby tried tofort her. ¡°Everything¡¯s going to be alright, honey,¡± he said nervously.


    ¡°I can hear them!¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯re angry. Listen to me!¡±


    Still, we ignored her. It wasn¡¯t enough yet.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know why I agreed toe here with you guys,¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t even like me!¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t my idea to invite you!¡± Antoine said as he pushed me back.


    ¡°Listen to me!¡± Samantha screamed. ¡°We are going to die here if we don¡¯t do something!¡±


    She was trembling. I couldn''t tell if she was just a good actress or if her fear was real.


    I finally decided to look at her, to pay attention to what she had been saying. Couldn''t ignore her forever. That wouldn''t be realistic. I turned to her. She stood with her back to a window on thending that faced the fields behind the house.


    I could see, creeping in from the distance, a thick white fog. The dogs started howling in the distance.


    The fog moved with a purpose, like a living thing crawling across the field or a nket being pulled over thend by an unseen hand. I pretended I didn''t see it.


    ¡°We need to block the stairwell now. We aren''t leaving. Not until morning. We need to get ready,¡± she said. ¡°Otherwise none of us will be¡ª¡±


    A loud crash echoed through the house as a window downstairs broke.


    ¡°You sons of bitches,¡± Bradley, the unhinged grave muttor screamed. ¡°I¡¯m going to cut you into pieces!¡±


    ¡°We need to block the stairs,¡± Antoine said.


    This was a wee distraction. We needed to give the Bigger Bad room to make an appearance. Our characters couldn''t suddenly believe Samantha. We would need proof and that would take a bit to show up. Focusing on the grave-robbing goons was just the opportunity we needed. They should distract our characters long enough.


    ¡°Bookshelf,¡± I said decisively.


    Antoine stared down in the direction of the noise and then followed me over to grab arge wooden bookshelf that mostly housed phone books and one of those old encyclopedias with a different book for each letter.


    The unit wasrge and heavy. Bobby pulled away from Samantha toe help us.


    The three of us managed to drag it across the floor and tip it sideways across the staircase, creating the first of manyyers between us and the men below.


    Next, we stacked a side table and a cab. I wasn¡¯t sure how much time we had before the fighting started. When it did, we would be in trouble. They had guns.


    Moving furniture is notoriously noisy and we quickly drew the attention of the men.


    ¡°You can hide up there all you want,¡± Merritt said. ¡°We don¡¯t need to get to you as long as you can¡¯t leave. You¡¯ve trapped yourselves.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re gonna burn this ce to the ground with you in it!¡± Bradley added. Not exactly the tone his brother was going for.


    That was one worry. I really hoped arson wasn''t in the script.


    ¡°Oh hell,¡± the fake sheriff, Randy, said below as he slowly stepped up the stairs. ¡°My friend wants you to be calm is all. He still can¡¯t give up on all that money you were going to give us for letting you live. Guess I¡¯m a little less trusting.¡±


    He continued to walk up the stairs slowly.


    As he walked, I could hear something hard scraping along the wall as he went. I wasn¡¯t sure what it was until he got to the top of the stairs and I saw Antoine¡¯s baseball bat swing high ande crashing down onto the backing of the bookshelf.


    I couldn¡¯t see him behind the stack of furniture, just the bat when he swung it over his head.


    The shelving unit held firm. The baseball bat was no match for it. That, or the sheriff didn¡¯t invest enough points in Mettle.


    ¡°Come out now ore out a week from now. It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he said.


    He smashed the bat against the shelves again, as if to scare us.


    ¡°Move aside, Randy,¡± Bradley said.


    I heard the gun cocking sound that you often hear in movies.


    ¡°Get back!¡± I yelled only moments before Bradley fired his gun up at the furniture.


    The bullet hit the bookshelf with a splintering sound, but I couldn¡¯t see any damage from my vantage point across thending.


    ¡°What are you doing you idiot?¡± Randy screamed. ¡°I¡¯m right here!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t hit you,¡± Bradley said.


    ¡°Could have gotten hit by shrapnel or a ricochet!¡± Randy yelled.


    Bradley fired the gun again.


    That bullet had just as little of an effect.


    ¡°You bastard!¡± Randy screamed as he stomped down the stairs.


    For a moment, there was silence.


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°How long is this going to take?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°If it worked, then it won''t be long,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Midpoint of Rebirth is right now.¡±


    He was right.


    I cautiously looked outside toward the field. The fog had gotten even closer to the house. Whatever it carried, it would be here soon.


    ¡°Looks like we seeded,¡± Antoine said, following my gaze.


    ¡°Yay us,¡± I said with an extra dose of sarcasm. ¡°Now we¡¯ve got to survive this too.¡±


    I watched as something in the distance stirred. It was too far away to see clearly, but there were solid shapes emerging from the fog in the distance.


    ¡°They¡¯reing,¡± Samantha said.


    ¡°I hope you and our Friends upstairs know what you¡¯re doing,¡± I said. ¡°Cause it sure looks like you just made this whole thing a lot harder.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever it takes to save you,¡± she said. A tear fell from her eye.


    I pursed my lips. I wasn¡¯t ready to believe anything, but I was desperate enough to go along with whatever n might have a chance at giving us some answers, at getting Anna and Camden back, at getting us out of here.


    I could hear pounding on the door below. Then Tank started hollering. Within a minute or so, I heard them let him in. He must have been too big to fit through whatever broken window they had entered through.


    ¡°Something''s out there,¡± he said. He sounded scared to death. ¡°Get the guns.¡±


    ¡°What are you yapping about biggun?¡± Randy asked with augh.


    Tank didn¡¯t answer at first.


    I could hear someone mming cabs and rifling through drawers downstairs.


    The men sounded amused.


    Those of us upstairs were only On-Screen for a sh here and there as we reacted to the sounds we heard downstairs. Other than that, we just hunkered down on the floor, dreading what was toe.


    Then we heard them.


    An orchestra, an absolute orchestra of moaning, groaning, growling, crying, and screaming start to y outside. The sounds grew closer.


    The men downstairs got silent all of a sudden.


    ¡°What the?¡± one of them, I couldn¡¯t tell which said aloud.


    ¡°Holy hell!¡± Randy screamed. ¡°What the hell is that?¡±


    The moaning got louder as the men started to panic.


    The men started hurling expletives in a jumbled mess of panic. I couldn¡¯t make out much of what they were saying because they had gotten quiet.


    ¡°Board up the windows,¡± Merrittmanded.


    I could hear wood being moved around from the construction beneath. Then desperate hammering.


    ¡°What the heck is going on?¡± Bradley eximed. Suddenly he didn¡¯t seem to be enjoying himself. ¡°Are those¡­ are those people or¡­¡±


    There was silence for a few minutes. My heart beat so loudly I could hear it and nothing else.


    Except for the orchestra of lethargic guttural noises outside.


    I thought I knew what was out there, but I was afraid to look. Even knowing they would arrive, I wasn¡¯t ready.


    Whatever reward we got from this had better be worth it.


    I could hear a woman crying outside. Her voice sounded... fresher... than the rest. I couldn''t force myself to look.


    I shot a nce at Antoine. We must have had the same thought. He mouthed ¡°Dina?¡± at me.


    I shook my head. It didn¡¯t sound like her.


    We didn¡¯t have too long to focus on it because soon, a crash could be heard down below as a window was busted out.


    ¡°Randy!¡± Merritt screamed. ¡°Randy just hold my hand.¡±


    The whole time I could hear the fake sheriff screaming and ss breaking.


    ¡°Help!¡± he screamed. ¡°It¡¯s got me! Grab me! Please.¡±


    I could hear scuffling down below.


    He screamed in pain, he screamed from fear and then, suddenly, his screams got quiet.


    ¡°No! Why did you let go?¡± Merritt yelled. ¡°You just let go!¡±


    I heard a jingle of metal.


    ¡°I got his keys,¡± Bradley said. ¡°His cruiser is right out there. We can make a break for it.¡±


    ¡°You let him go¡­¡± Merritt said again in disbelief at what his brother had done. I heard the pain in his voice.


    Eventually, curiosity won out and I crawled over to the window to see the Bigger Bad.


    What I saw was a horde of rotten corpses standing upright. Many were missing limbs, even heads. Most of them were dressed in the suits and dresses they had been buried in, though those had been tattered and stained. This wasn''t unexpected but still, I was terrified.


    There were hundreds of them.


    They didn¡¯t exist separately on the red wallpaper. They were a unit, all of them as one.


    The Avenging Dead. Plot Armor 52.


    In the distance, I could hear Randy screaming as the Avenging Dead dragged him further away in the direction of the cemetery.


    I cowered down as their cries filled my heart with fear.

 Chapter 114: Dead Mans Fall

    Chapter 114: Dead Man''s Fall


    I stared at the horrifying creatures before me. For a while, I was too terrified to even think about looking at their tropes on the red wallpaper. When I did, I was in for a shock. Usually, when I looked at the tropes of a high-level enemy, there were some that I couldn¡¯t see. Trope Master was a Savvy-based ability, after all. Most strong enemies have enough Savvy to block the ability to some extent.


    With the Avenging Dead, that wasn¡¯t the case at all. I could see every single trope they had, which meant one thing: they had little to no Savvy.


    They <em>were </em>zombies after all. Even spiritual avenging zombies didn¡¯t need Savvy or Moxy or Hustle. That meant that the horde¡¯s entire 52 points of Plot Armor was devoted to somebination of Grit and Mettle. That was terrifying.


    As I scanned through the tropes, I found that theirck of Savvy, Moxy, and Mettle was countered by abilities that circumvented those weaknesses. Something I had learned from the Vets was that as storylines scaled in rmended Plot Armor, the difficulty inpleting them scaled faster.


    At level 20, fighting a level 20 enemy is difficult but not impossible. At level 50, fighting a level 50 enemy was a nightmare. Thinking back on it, I was lucky that the Grotesques had a readily essible weakness.


    This could illustrate that. Enemies who couldpletely circumvent stat differences with a single trope were in a league of their own. When an enemy suddenly no longer has to worry about a stat, it can devote those points to another one.


    The Avenging Dead


    Plot Armor: 52


    __________


    Tropes


    Fungible Enemy


    This enemy isposed of countlessrgely interchangeable units whose numbers will not diminish until the scene is concluded. There always seems to be more toe.


    Death Finds a Way


    This enemy will have a heightened chance of finding the victims it seeks regardless of how likely that scenario may be on paper. Determined by aparison of Effective Plot Armor.


    Inescapable Death Sequence


    Once this killer has initiated its kill sequence, the victim is doomed unless counteracted by a trope or a saving throw. Even though logically, the victim should be able to escape or fight back, they will fail.


    Hive Mind


    This creature''s mind is linked to that of simr creatures.


    Soft Magic is Confusing


    The enemy¡¯s lore is vague and broad and offers little insight into the specifics of how the enemy operates.


    Mindfully Mindless


    Despite having little to no intelligence, this enemy will somehow manage to thwart the wellid ns of very intelligent adversaries. Buffs Savvy saving throws.


    Fate Doesn¡¯t Run


    This enemy will not run after their victim, yet they are never far behind in a chase scene. Buffs Hustle saving throws.


    Join Us


    This enemy has some means of increasing its numbers through conversion.


    The Unseen Hand


    This enemy is guided by a greater force. This guidance may be a part of the lore or the meta.


    Confess!


    The presence of this enemy willpel those nearby to ponder their morality, grievances, and outlook on death.


    Your Blood Runs Cold


    Seeing this enemy will cause great mental distress. Debuffs Moxie and Savvy.


    Strength In Numbers


    The enemy is at its strongest in groups. Singling its members out will weaken them substantially.


    Territorial


    This killer will punish those who harm its domain.


    Whispers in the Dark


    This creature can sense a yer or NPC''s vulnerabilities and manipte them via impulsive thoughts, perceived as whispers.


    Cloaked in Atmosphere


    When this enemy enters a scene, it will change lighting and sound design, and possibly have other noticeable effects.


    Convenient Spirituality


    Does this enemy have powers beyond its physical body? It must, even if it doesn¡¯t often show them.


    Keep You On Your Toes


    This enemy has a heightened chance of finding and subduing victims who are not paying attention.


    I exined their tropes to everyone as quickly as I could. Then we made our n. Soon, it was time to execute it.


    On-Screen.


    Immediately, the wandering spirits outside started back in with their zombie moans. It was overwhelming. The sound of their cries set my mind in a frenzy.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± I screamed.


    ¡°I told you!¡± Samantha said. ¡°Those men defiled the graves at the cemetery in the forest across the field and now the dead are here to take their revenge.¡±


    She was beingforted by the two dogs she had let into the house when we came in. The dogs were clearly disturbed and would asionally let out a haunting howl as ifmunicating with the other dogs outside.


    ¡°Defiled the graves¡­ grave robbing?¡± I asked. ¡°The men were covered in dirt. Is that what you¡¯re talking about?¡±


    She nodded.


    Bobby decided to chime in. ¡°After they had sold all of my tools and valuables that I had at the hotel, they started looking for another source of quick cash. Even threatened to sell my dogs. One of them came up with the idea of stealing jewelry right out of the graves at the cemetery. I don¡¯t know exactly where it started but it keeps most of them out of the house, so their leader lets them do it.¡±


    ¡°But they didn¡¯t stop there,¡± Samantha said through tears. ¡°That one, Bradley, he has done far worse. He brutalized the corpses. Defiled them. The spirits couldn¡¯t rest after what he did to them. They cried out, begging for help.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± I said in my best panicky, terrified voice. ¡°If they <em>are</em> after the grave robbers, then maybe they won¡¯t bother us. They¡¯re avenging spirits, right? We didn¡¯t do anything to them. Nothing to avenge.¡±


    Cinema Seer was set up.


    Antoine looked skeptical. ¡°You can try that. One of those things gets near me and I¡¯m not going to just stand there.¡±


    Downstairs, the dead continued to try to break into the house. Their attempts were met with gratuitous gunfire.


    The men must have realized that was fruitless because soon, I could hear the sound of them pounding their way up the stairs.


    ¡°Let us up!¡± Merritt screamed. ¡°Please. We won¡¯t hurt you.¡±


    They started pounding on the stack of furniture we had piled up. Unlike before, they were making progress. I imagined they had the bigger fellow, Tank, doing a lot of the heavy lifting.


    ¡°We can¡¯t let them in here,¡± I said.


    The four of us put all of our strength into pushing back against the furniture, hoping to prevent the men from pushing their way past.


    But Tank was strong and desperate.


    He shoved against us with all his might and managed to push the bookshelf and all of the other furniture back toward us enough to make an opening.


    Even though it was only open for a moment, it was enough time for Bradley to slip through.


    ¡°Get back!¡± he yelled, holding out his gun. ¡°Let them through. Now.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t messing around like he had been earlier that night. He was angry and scared. For the first time, I thought I saw his true face.


    What could we do? It wasn¡¯t Second Blood yet. If he shot one of us, we would die for nothing.


    We backed away and let Tank push the shelving back so that Merritt and the other grave robber, who had not made much of an impression so far, Tim, through. In the original version of the story, I think yers were supposed to try to convince Tim to help them. He was quiet but clearly ufortable with the things his group was doing. In this version of events, that didn¡¯t seem as important yet.


    After everyone had slid through, Tank himself tried to squeeze in, but as he did, a look of terror overcame his face and he fell to the ground. He was kicking at something on the staircase. He tried to crawl forward.


    Behind him, the moans of the dead were louder. Strangely, I could barely hear their footsteps.


    ¡°Help him!¡± Merritt screamed. ¡°And don¡¯t you let go!¡±


    The men grabbed onto Tanks arms and pulled against the zombies on the other side.


    They wouldn¡¯t seed. They couldn¡¯t. The Avenging Dead had the Inescapable Death Sequence ability that made it impossible to escape them once they had started your death sequence even if it seemed you should be able to. Tank¡¯s death sequence was underway. They had him in their grasp.


    I could see Antoine contemting attacking our captors while they were distracted.


    It wasn''t a bad idea. He could easily shove them forward so that they were all within reach of the zombie horde. It was possible that the zombies could take each and every one of them out right at that moment. I could understand his urge.


    But there were risks in attacking them here.


    Right then, the story was about the tables being turned on a group of evil men. If those men died before the Finale, then the story would have to be about something else. Carousel would make sure of that. Either it would ensure that Antoine''s attack failed, or it would raise the stakes for the Finale. We didn¡¯t want that.


    We had heard stories of yers trying to defeat the enemy prematurely. Carousel would always get creative.


    We could, of course, pick them off one at a time but we still had to wait for the moment to be right.


    Soon, it became clear that Tank was a lost cause as his screams of fear turned into screams of pain. We could hear his bones breaking as the dead pulled at his legs and tore his flesh.


    As the zombies pulled, eventually they seeded, and Tank was dragged back down the stairs behind the bookcase.


    With him out of the way, we rushed to push the case back, closing off the staircase.


    The dead still cried out behind the bookshelf, but they didn¡¯t have the pure explosive power that Tank had, so the bookshelf held firm. That could change at any moment.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare stop pushing on that shelf,¡± Merritt said.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± Bradley screamed. He paced around thending, waving his gun around.


    ¡°You know what¡¯s happening!¡± young Tim screamed. He crying and shaking from fear. ¡°They don¡¯t like what we did to them. That we dug ¡®em up. Hung ¡®em. Shot ¡®em. Now they¡¯re gonna drag us to hell.¡±


    Bradley was enraged. ¡°They aren¡¯t going to do shit to me!¡± he screamed. ¡°I am not dying here. You got that?¡±


    He pointed his gun at Tim, but only for a moment. Then, in frustration, he tore off to some other part of the second story as Tank''s screams faded into the distance.


    For a while, that was how time passed. The dead were making all kinds of ruckus, but they were not able to make it past the barricade. I knew that they would eventually. Their tropes made it clear that they would be able to get to their targets even if it didn''t make sense. Soon, we would need to find a way to push the story forward, or else the story would go forward on its own in a way that was unpredictable and not to our advantage.


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s funny,¡± Merritt said, ¡°You guys wasted all our bullets using their bodies as target practice and now they¡¯re up and walking around, trying to kill us, and we don¡¯t have any ammo.¡±


    No oneughed but him. The cracks were beginning to show in his authoritative demeanor.


    We were in and out of being On-Screen. My best exnation was that Dina was out doing something worth watching, but I wasn¡¯t sure what.


    Eventually, we were On-Screen for good.


    With the speed that the storyline was moving, it was almost Second Blood and the Final Battle wouldn¡¯t be far behind it.


    Bradley came back to thending waving his gun around.


    He then trained it on me.


    ¡°Come here,¡± hemanded.


    I had been helping hold the bookcase against the stair opening. I was hesitant to stop.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare move away from that bookcase,¡± Merritt said, pulling his own gun on me. ¡°What do you need him for?¡±


    Bradley pointed back in the direction he hade from.


    ¡°There¡¯s a ledge out there,¡± he said. ¡°He¡¯s gonna take the keys to the cruiser and bring it around so that we can drop down on it and get out of here.¡±


    ¡°How is he supposed to get down to the cruiser? If the fall doesn¡¯t kill him, the dead will,¡± Merritt said.


    Bradley shook his head.


    ¡°We gotta try something. There¡¯s a part of the house over here where there are no windows or doors on the first floor. There are barely any of those things over there to worry about. We drop him down. He gets the car and brings it around next to the house for us to climb down on. Then we drive away. I already threw a mattress out on the ground for him tond on. And if it doesn¡¯t work, who cares?¡±


    Their Desperation trope made them more dangerous as their situation got worse. It also lowered their Savvy. Not unlike real life. I was picked for this little project because of my low effective Plot Armor, no doubt.


    ¡°I¡¯m not jumping off the roof,¡± I said. Carousel was having fun with me. I had just suggested the same thing as filler for Antoine and my fake argument. ¡°You know how far down that is?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to do whatever I say,¡± Bradley screamed. He grabbed ahold of my hair and put the gun against the side of my head. He was strong. Too strong for me to do anything about.


    He pulled me away from the bookcase and dragged me down the hallway toward a room on the other side of the bed and breakfast.


    He shoved me through the door and I saw that he had already broken out one of the windows to make extra room for the mattress he threw down on the ground.


    There was a small ledge outside the window.


    ¡°Get out there,¡± he said. He thrust the keys into my hand.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do this,¡± I said.


    He practically shoved me out the window. I crawled out on the small section of roofing on my hands and knees.


    ¡°Jump,¡± he said.


    I refused. If I was going to die, it would be on my terms.


    ¡°Get down there right now or I¡¯ll push you off,¡± he screamed.


    I moved to the edge of the roof, as far away from him as I could.


    He had to lean all of the way out the window to get to me, but even then, only the tips of his fingers could reach.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going. You¡¯ll have to shoot me,¡± I said.


    I looked down at the ground and saw the mattress. I could barely see it through the fog. He had thrown it about ten feet from the house. I would have to jump to get to it.


    While it was true that there were fewer dead around this part of the house, there were still plenty nearby. Jumping was a death sentence.


    ¡°Get off the roof this minute you pussy,¡± he screamed.


    He pointed the gun at me but never pulled the trigger. We both knew why. The idiot had wasted his bullets already on the zombies. If he had ammo he would have shot me by now. I had to pretend my character hadn''t thought of that yet.


    He tucked the gun in his waistband and leaned out further onto the roof. In the background, Merritt watched cautiously.


    Bradley leaned out to me. I was barely able to avoid his grasp.


    Eventually, he gave up. His Desperation grew too great. He climbed up out of the window and moved closer to me.


    ¡°Get over there,¡± he screamed.


    A little closer.


    The funny part was, his n might have worked. Who knows. I didn¡¯t want it to. I had ns of my own.


    As he got closer, my heart beat so fast I worried it might explode. It was now or never. Second Blood was upon us.


    He reached out to try and push me, to urge me to jump out onto the mattress. His left hand reached toward me. The other held onto the window frame.


    I tossed the keys up at his right side. His instincts were sharp. He reached out to grab them with his right hand. Caught them right out of the air. Without those keys, his n would fail. His escape would be ruined.


    As he let go of the window frame, I grabbed his left hand and pulled with all my might. I may not have that much Mettle, but I did have some weight to throw around. I grabbed onto him and pushed off the ledge with my legs. I wanted to push him off and climb back inside. That is what my character would try to do. That was a pipe dream, though. There was no way I could avoid falling.


    In an ordinary matchup, he would beat me ten times out of ten. But this wasn¡¯t a physical matchup. This was a battle of the wits and he was out of bullets.


    He was unable to grab hold of anything to save himself.


    We fell off the roof together. We didn¡¯t get anywhere near the mattress. I hit the ground first. There was something hard there, under the fog. A cement block retaining wall if I was to guess.


    Something broke inside me. I couldn¡¯t say what, but as Iy in shock trying to evaluate my pain, I realized that there was very little. I had broken my back, perhaps. I couldn¡¯t move my legs very well. My arms still worked, though moving them was difficult.


    My Grit jumped up ten points. My Dead Man Walking trope had triggered. It was ironic. I couldn¡¯t walk at all. Still, the moment of my death was now stretched out. I was bleeding from the back of my head and I could taste blood in my mouth.


    It was enough for Second Blood to trigger. It was possible the camera would never look at me again. I might as well be dead.


    ¡°Get back!¡± I heard Bradley yelling.


    Through great pain, I managed to turn my head to see him. He was barely injured. The dead surrounded him though. For a moment, he even tried to point his gun at them, as if they could be intimidated.


    He tried backing away from them, but then something ran up to him andtched onto his arm with its teeth.


    It was a dog, but not an ordinary one. This dog had crossed to the other side. It was the one that Bradley himself had killed. I could see its deadly wound. It''s strange that zombie animals seem to move at normal speed but human zombies are usually slow. Maybe it''s because we walk upright.


    That¡¯s when I saw her.


    She was stumbling forward from the horde.


    Kimberly.


    She had risen from the dead.


    Her skin was pale and her clothes bloody. She shuffled forward, arge hole in the back of her head. One hand on her stomach, as if out of habit.


    On the red wallpaper, she was Dead and Infected, though this wasn¡¯t a typical zombie infection.


    She approached Bradley and grabbed him as he turned to look at her.


    ¡°No!¡± he screamed. He cursed at her and threatened her with acts of violence and depravity, but none of that mattered now.


    She grabbed him, and soon others did too.


    They started dragging him back toward the cemetery.


    For a moment, I thought I saw Kimberly look at me, as if she was still there, still in control, but that moment passed, and she continued to drag Bradley away while his brother screamed from upstairs.t


    It would have been better for the story if Antoine had killed Bradley out of revenge. I just couldn''t pass up the opportunity.


    Iy there and wondered how long I would be kept alive, dead in all ways but myst ounce of consciousness.


    I stared up at the nearby zombies and waited to see if they would take me as they had Bradley. They didn¡¯t seem to care that I existed at all.


    Either way, I would be joining them soon.


    Whatever the case, the Finale was here, and it would soon be over. I just hoped Antoine and Bobby could figure it out.

 Chapter 115: Back To Where It All Started- Part I

    Chapter 115: Back To Where It All Started- Part I


    I was dying.


    Dead Man Walking as a trope was starting to look like a real bust. Iy there on the ground barely able to move. My statuses were ring constantly, including the onebeled, ¡°Dead.¡±


    And yet I did not die. My sudden boost of grit prevented me from cking out. My adrenaline was still pumping so I did everything I could to try to get back to the action even though it was hopeless.


    My legs weren''t doing what I was telling them to do. My arms though, were at least operational. It hurt to move them but I had to try.


    I pushed and I crawled for what felt like an eternity but I might have been able to move 5 yards. Just far enough to see the other side of the bed and breakfast. Useless.


    As I watched the zombies surrounding the house, something caught my eye. Laying on the ground next to the busted window where the sheriff had presumably been dragged away from, was Antoine''s baseball bat.


    I couldn''t do anything with it but I still tried to crawl toward it.


    I failed. I just didn''t have it in me.


    Something was happening inside of the house that I couldn''t see. An argument or a fight. I heard a loud crack and then less than a minuteter, Tim, the quiet young grave robber was being drug out of the house kicking and screaming. He was terrified out of his mind.


    And then, to my surprise, even though I had literally predicted it On-Screen with Cinema Seer, the dead started to walk away.


    They had imed theirst guilty soul.


    I couldn''t believe what I was seeing. My mind was so bbored that I could barely hear when Dina finally made her appearance.


    ¡°Riley?¡± She asked quietly. ¡°What happened here? This was supposed to be a straight-up home invasion or something I thought.¡±


    I couldn''t speak. I turned to look at her, hoping that I might be able to summon some information for her that would help us. The Finale wasn''t over.


    We still had a fight. I could hear something going on in the house. There was onest enemy to be defeated.


    With myst bit of strength, I pointed over toward Antoine¡¯s baseball bat. That would have to be my contribution. Dina seemed to understand. She quickly walked over, grabbed the bat, and then took a deep breath before walking around to the other side of the bed and breakfast.


    The entire encounter was off-screen. To the audience, I was likely dead.


    Soon after that, I died for real.


    I woke in a theater watching the remainder of the story.


    Merritt stormed out of the bed and breakfast like he was going to chase after the zombie horde. He looked angry in a way I had not yet seen him. All of his tropes were designed to maximize how dangerous he was the more desperate he was. They also made him stronger if his brother was killed. He was probably a real threat in that moment.


    He screamed back in the house, ¡°Why didn''t they take me? They took my brother; why didn''t they take me?¡±


    Samantha walked out of the house with a limp. She had been struck in the face. After a moment it became clear that she was probably hit with the same hammer that Merritt had in his hand.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t hurt them,¡± Samantha said. ¡°They only wanted to get revenge on those who disturbed their peace.¡±


    Merritt didn¡¯t take that well. Unfortunately, he was beyond reason.


    ¡°You did this!¡± he screamed. ¡°You¡­ invited them, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°No, I swear,¡± Samantha cried out.


    Merritt grabbed her and lifted the hammer over his head. Before he could bring the hammer down on Samantha, something struck him.


    He jumped out of the way, reeling in pain from the hit.


    Standing behind him, holding Antoine''s baseball bat, was Dina.


    Merrick didn''t hesitate to attack her. She swung at him, but he was stronger andpletely unafraid of being hit.


    He managed to strike her in the arm with the hammer. She had high grit, so it looked like she would recover.


    Then he tackled her. He pinned her against the ground with one hand and raised the hammer. He struck her three times, though I couldn''t actually see the blows.


    In an instant, one of the dogs that had been in the house ran outside andtched on to Merritt, but he easily threw the dog aside.


    It was enough of a distraction for Dina to take the baseball bat and hit Merritt in the face with it. It wasn''t a hard swing and she didn''t have much leverage, but it was enough to get him to fall off of her so that she could get up.


    She then went for another blow onto his back.


    She was causing damage, but not enough.


    Just as he was about to attack her again, he was struck by a flying coffee table. An entire coffee table.


    The camera cut to Antoine standing in the doorway. It looked like he had been badly beaten. Still, he limped out the door, and with each step, he seemed to get stronger and bolder.


    Merritty on the ground trying to scramble to his feet.


    Antoine stopped next to Dina and held out his hand. Dina handed over the baseball bat.


    Heid into Merritt screaming and raging. He struck him over and over and over.


    Eventually, the muted thumps of the baseball bat gave way to crunchy wet sounds of the baseball bat having destroyed Merritt¡¯s skull.


    After that, the camera panned around to the results of the carnage. It showed undead Kimberly lumbering to the graveyard and finding a hole that had been dug. She lowered herself down into the hole, giving one look back toward the bed and breakfast.


    It showed Bobby lying on the floor of the upstairsnding. He was dead. I couldn''t see his head but from the amount of blood, it looked like that hammer had been involved. Merritt must have killed him while I was lying around useless.


    I woke up quickly. I was lying on the ground fifteen feet or so from where I had died. Zombie Riley had been trying to crawl to the cemetery. All healed up, I stood and ran around the bed and breakfast to find Antoine and Dina standing almost in the same ce as they had been in the movie.


    They had been healed, as had Samantha. It only took another minute for Bobby to make his way down.


    ¡°Kimberly''s in a grave at the cemetery,¡± I said.


    Antoine looked in that direction and soon we were all walking there, the five of us.


    With every step, I started to wonder what the point of all this was. Why had we been summoned to this ce?


    Wasn''t this supposed to be the special storyline that would somehow reveal everything to us? It wasn''t so long ago that we were contemting whether or not we would get rescue tropes as a reward for this storyline but once we got here everything that I had been predicting had been thrown asunder.


    This storyline wasn''t easy, but Samantha''s intervention had probably made things more better, not worse. Those zombies definitely helped us take out the bad guys.


    That wasn''t supposed to be what happened. This was supposed to be an overwhelming challenge and we were supposed to rise to the asion and prove ourselves. Wasn''t that how this part of the story was supposed to go?


    Where was all the information about how we had ended up in Carousel? This was the storyline from our world; it was supposed to tell us things that we didn''t know, but aside from getting my theories confirmed we hadn''t learned anything new. I started to fear in my heart that this whole quest was just a trick. That this was part of the hellish torture that Carousel had prepared for us. That it gave us hope just take it away.


    The cemetery was old and it didn''t look like anyone had been buried there in over a decade. It was clear to see the destruction that the grave robbers had made on the cemetery. Corpses were littered about. Many had been strung up in trees and used as target practice. Those in the trees were still alive. Those who had returned to the earth appeared to be dead once again.


    The ones hanging from the trees would growl and try to shake down from where they were trapped. It was a disturbing sight to see.


    We quickly found the hole that Kimberly had lowered herself down into. She was standing next to it brushing graveyard dirt off of herself.


    She wasn''t ready to talk when we arrived. I couldn''t me her. That was her first death and though it had been instant I knew that dying took a toll regardless.


    Predictably, once we were all gathered together after the storyline, Ss the Mechanical Showman made his appearance.


    ¡°Congrattions, you won a ticket!¡± He said in that tired old tone.


    If we were going to get answers, this might be the point where it happened.


    We walked closer and as Antoine was about to press the red button, Ss disappeared.


    He reappeared 30 yards away eastward.


    We looked at each other in confusion. Then we walked toward him.


    Before we could get close enough to push his button, he disappeared again and reappeared 30 yards further in that same direction.


    And so we followed, our paths lit by the moon and Ss'' yellow lights.


    As we went I noticed there was something very strange about this cemetery. At first, it appeared to be a regr lot with 100 or so graves out in the backwoods like I had been expecting. But the further we walked, the further the cemetery went.


    Soon we had left the cemetery proper and yet we still saw graves in the forest. We even saw bodies strung up in the trees the same as we had around the cemetery. They moved and growled but they didn''t seem too harmful.


    And it just kept going like that for hundreds of yards.


    We walked for 10 minutes. 20 minutes. Half an hour.


    More graves and more bodies strung up in trees.


    ¡°Is this a glitch?¡± Antoine asked.


    I wasn''t sure.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. ¡°Might just be how Carousel manages to get an unlimited amount of zombies. In zombie movies, there are always tons of them and they seem toe out of nowhere. Maybe this is just how Carousel pulls off that trick.¡±


    I wasn''t sure though. If it was a glitch, what would it mean?


    ¡°I''m so sorry,¡± Samantha said.


    I turned to look at her. My heart raced just from the possible implications of what she had just said. What was she sorry about?


    ¡°I told you I would do anything to save you,¡± she said. She was crying. She looked terrified. ¡°This was the only way.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Antoine asked.


    But before she could answer I realized that something was different. I heard something in the distance and right behind me at the same time. Breathing.


    It was the axe murderer. I could hear him back in the direction that we hade from. That was the gift of having been in his presence before. I could detect him.


    ¡°Go,¡± she said. ¡°Go!¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s move,¡± I said. I needed to be careful because one wrong word and I would be cut in half.


    I ushered the others to move quickly.


    ¡°What''s going on?¡± Dina asked.


    I didn''t have time to think about an answer.


    ¡°We need to follow Ss,¡± I said.


    Maybe it was something in the tone of my voice but they stopped questioning me for at least that moment.


    Samantha stayed behind. She turned and started walking, then running back in the direction we hade from.


    Ten minutester, the sound of the breathing had faded. I could only guess what had happened.


    How many rules had she broken to help us?

 Chapter 116: Back to Where It All Started- Part II

    Chapter 116: Back to Where It All Started- Part II


    Ss continued his game and we continued to follow him.


    We walked for a long time. In the end, it was over an hour. It didn''t seem like we were getting anywhere. I just saw the same types of graves., the asional body hanging from a tree that had been used as target practice.


    A growing feeling of unease overtook me the further we moved into the unending forest of graves.


    Something special was happening. I should have been excited. Ss was bringing us somewhere for a reason. All I could think about was what false assumptions I had made along the way and how we were about to pay for them.


    Eventually, Ss stopped.


    We all looked at each other. Antoine was not in the mood to wait around. He was the first to hit the button.


    At least half a dozen tickets came out of Ss¡¯ dispenser. Ticket types I had never seen before. I wasn¡¯t interested in most of them just yet. There was one ticket type I was looking for.


    A marigold yellow trope ticket.


    Antoine shuffled through his rewards looking for it.


    And there it was:


    A Race Against Time


    Type: Rescue


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Sport


    Stat Used: Hustle


    Monsters and serial killers make formidable foes, but one enemy takes more victims than all of them put together. Time. When everything is at stake, will you make it across the finish line?


    Rescue: When a yer enters apatible storyline with this trope while possessing any missing posters of deceased yers who died in that same storyline, the storyline will be changed into a Rescue. Seeding in the Rescue will revive the dead yers. This ticket will indicate on the red wallpaper if a nearby storyline is applicable.


    With this trope equipped and activated sessfully, the storyline will shift into a scenario where the yers are forced to race against some established time limit to aplish a discrete task to save downed yers. Downed yers will not be able to assist in their Rescue barring a trope that allows them to. The race will, as it sounds, be a feat of Hustle, but may incorporate other tests as well.


    Applicable stories will typically be those with high-Savvy enemies who can design the race or high-Hustle enemies to race against the yer.


    Countdown: The yer will be able to see the timer rted to this trope.


    Takeover: This trope will cancel out any story alterations except those inherent to the Archetype or Advanced Archetype associated with this ticket.


    Beat the Clock is the only Win Condition. No others may be added to the Rescue.


    Lived to Tell the Tale: Any yers who survive a storyline altered by this trope will not die regardless of whether the storyline is failed. Those who die will need to be Rescued.


    I sure hope you didn¡¯t ck on cardio.


    My heart skipped a beat. A genuine Rescue trope. Most yers I had met had never even seen one.


    I was still skeptical. I had been fearing this very thing.


    ¡°This is good though, right?¡± Kimberly said, desperately. She must have seen the look on my face. ¡°We can save everyone now.¡±


    Dina and Bobby sounded overjoyed in the background.


    I didn¡¯t trust good things that I didn¡¯t earn. I was more interested in finding out <em>why </em>we were just now getting Rescue tropes. Why take them away just to give them back like this? Why bring us into this weird never-ending wooded graveyard?


    I went and hit Ss¡¯ red button. We all did. One after another.


    Antoine got one stat ticket, two tropes (including his A Race Against Time rescue ticket), and three tickets we had never heard of before.


    No one had ever mentioned some of these ticket types. I was dumbfounded.


    The first was called a Luggage Tag, which I immediately understood to be one thing.


    ¡°It¡¯s an item inventory,¡± I said. I was so taken aback by the realization that we had been ying without our inventories this whole time. Why would we just now be receiving something this essential?


    Small Luggage Tag


    Weight Limit: Ten Pounds


    Transferable: No


    Sign this ticket and ce it inside the carrying implement of your choice, be it a backpack, purse, or simr item. This Luggage will be your inventory on the red wallpaper. Any objects that could feasibly be ced in the Luggage will be able to fit, in any amount up to thebined Weight Limit of all Luggage Tags. Contents will appear on the red wallpaper. The luggage will never get heavier. Items ced in the Luggage will only be retrievable in storylines if they make sense in the narrative.


    When an additional tag is required, you will be alerted on the red wallpaper. Every time the Luggage is damaged in a story, the Luggage tag has a chance of needing reced.


    I thought back to the overstuffed bag that Arthur carried into storylines that contained all of his monster hunting equipment. To think, with Luggage Tags, he could have carried everything in a small duffle or even a satchel. Did Arthur just not know they existed?


    His next ticket was called a Criminal Bounty.


    Criminal Bounty


    Name: The Star-Crossed Killers


    Plot Armor: 20-40


    Wanted for Torture, Mayhem, Murder, Witchcraft


    Reward: Dead- 10 Dors, Alive- 100 Dors Per Killer


    Last Know Location: East of Carousel, across the Hanging Bridge.


    Details: The killers¡¯ spree has left several dead and many others wounded. Bringing them to justice remains a high priority of the Carousel Police Department.


    Antoine exined that he could see a wanted poster for these Star-Crossed Killers on the red wallpaper, though the faces were nk.


    His final ticket was something called a Keepsake.


    Congrattions, you have earned a Keepsake. Please select an applicable Trophy item from what remains of the killers you defeated to keep in your possession. This Keepsake may not be used in for its usual purpose in a storyline, but it can be spent for a one-time use of one of the following rewards:


    A boost to a saving throw for [ Mettle ]


    Or


    Use of the trope: Desperation- As the situation gets more desperate, move stats in Moxie and Savvy into Mettle and Hustle


    Or


    To assist in the following situation: N/A


    I wasn¡¯t sure what an applicable Trophy was, but that ticket sounded great. Again, no one back a Dyer¡¯s Lodge had mentioned this type of ticket before.


    His trope reward, other than the rescue ticket, was:


    Coyote in a Trap


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Any


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Grit


    In a life-or-death situation, a survivor must choose anything that isn¡¯t death, even horrific injury.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will have a greatly increased chance of escaping when Captured or winning a Chase Sequence, if they injure themselves in order to aplish the feat. They will be able to survive longer than usual with their injury. The sess of escape depends on the narrative, enemy tropes, the yer¡¯s Grit, and whether the injury is sufficient to aid in escape.


    They say a coyote will gnaw its own leg off to escape a trap. What are you willing to do?


    It was easy to tell what featnded him with this reward. Personally, I liked my Escape Artist more. It was only a Buff, but I was getting really tired of hurting myself.


    For killing Merrit, Antoine got a killer collectible card.


    Merrit Speirs


    Criminal


    In the dim shadows lurked Merritt Speirs, a strategist with ns ever so intricate. Yet, the wild whims of his brother Bradley threatened to unravel it all. As the weight of desperation grew heavier, Merritt''s onceposed demeanor began its chilling transformation. From shrewd mastermind to monstrous malevolence, he stands as a testament to the perils of brotherly love unchecked.


    Kimberly didn¡¯t get a stat ticket. She got one trope, and two other tickets. One of the other tickets was a Luggage Tag like the one Antoine got. The other one was something she was thrilled to see.


    Carousel Rewards Program


    Reward: The Red Mist trope


    To gain the reward, the yer must: Die for First Blood (five) times.


    The ticket had a hole punched in it already inside a little square. She needed four more hole punches to get the reward. The Red Mist was a trope that guaranteed an instant death. Roxy had that trope. It was the envy of everyone who saw it.


    Surely someone would have mentioned these.


    Kimberly was lucky. She died once and got The Red Mist, with a few extra steps. I imagined it was because her death was instant, but still, I was jealous.


    Kimberly also got a marigold yellow ticket.


    The Woman in Mourning


    Type: Rescue


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Aspect: Beauty


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Killers are not just guilty of harming their primary victims. They are also guilty of a cascade of pain that washes over everyone who knew and loved the victim.


    Our scene begins with a funeral.


    Rescue: When a yer enters apatible storyline with this trope while possessing any missing posters of deceased yers who died in that same storyline, the storyline will be changed into a Rescue. Seeding in the Rescue will revive the dead yers. This ticket will indicate on the red wallpaper if a nearby storyline is applicable.


    With this trope equipped and activated sessfully, the storyline will pick up a week after the events of the downed yers¡¯ deaths. A funeral will be held. It will be raining outside. Everyone will be asking why this tragedy urred. Little do they know; the tragedy has just begun.


    The killer is at the funeral and only the yer suspects them.


    The yer will rue benefits for establishing a strong, emotional connection to the deceased.


    The story will y out as a Thriller, as the Woman in Mourning tries to prove the killer is to me and get them arrested or even kill them if narratively applicable. Situations will arise to bring higher stakes and tension.


    Applicable stories will typically be those with high Savvy or Moxie, human or human-passing enemies. Most supernatural plots will be excluded depending on the capabilities of the enemy to adapt to the new role.


    Known Killer: The yer will know who the killer is immediately, regardless of their tropes. They do not need a strong exnation for their knowledge in the narrative. If the enemy has a disguise trope, the yer will have a more difficult time proving the killer¡¯s identity to anyone else.


    Takeover: This trope will cancel out any story alterations except those inherent to the Archetype or Advanced Archetype associated with this ticket.


    Bring Them to Justice is the only Win Condition. No others may be added to the Rescue.


    Rescue Variant: A Rescue Trope of the same name exists for the Craven-Hysteric and the Seer-Psychic. The tropes arepatible and offer a bonus when used together.


    Odds are, no one will believe you until it is toote.


    I was starting to see how Rescues worked. They were very specific as to what storylines they werepatible with.


    Dina didn¡¯t get any stat tickets. She got a Rescue Ticket and a Luggage Tag.


    You don¡¯t know me, but¡­


    Type: Rescue


    Archetype: Outsider


    Aspect: Stranger


    Stat Used: Moxie


    When a tragedy urs, many wonder what they could have done differently. Others wish they could have sent a warning somehow.


    Now, you can.


    Rescue: When a yer enters apatible storyline with this trope while possessing any missing posters of deceased yers who died in that same storyline, the storyline will be changed into a Rescue. Seeding in the Rescue will revive the dead yers. This ticket will indicate on the red wallpaper if a nearby storyline is applicable.


    With this trope equipped and activated sessfully, the storyline will y out the way it would originally if there were no yers involved. All yer roles will be yed by NPCs. Those NPCs representing downed yers will be shown on the red wallpaper. The story will, of course, end in the worst possible way.


    Unless you can stop it. Stay in the shadows, stay out of the limelight. Give the NPCs warnings or advice. Help them out of view of the audience. yers in the Rescue can use buffs and other tropes to aid from the sidelines, but they must bepatible with staying in the background. yers will not be the main characters. All ipatible yer tropes will be unequipped at the start of the Rescue. Some tropes will work differently, but still be usable.


    Applicable stories will typically be those with a versatile main cast. Be warned: this Rescue will activate in storylines that it does not synergize well with. Further, some enemies with meta-knowledge will be able to interfere with the yers.


    Takeover: This trope will cancel out any story alterations except those inherent to the Archetype or Advanced Archetype associated with this ticket.


    Save the Innocents is the only Win Condition. No others may be added to the Rescue.


    Lived to Tell the Tale: Any yers who survive a storyline altered by this trope will not die regardless of whether the storyline is failed. Those who died will need to be Rescued.


    You can tell them how to survive. Better hope they listen.


    That sounded like a nightmare to use. Maybe Dina and Bobby would be able to work together on a Rescue like the one described, but it would be a while before they had the tropes needed to make it work. This Rescue basically turned the whole team into Wallflowers or Outsiders in effect.


    Bobby got a stat ticket, a Luggage Tag, and a trope. He didn¡¯t get a Rescue Ticket.


    My Only Role is Exposition


    Type: Insight/Rule


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Recast


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Nuanced characters and subtle storytelling are for snobs. We need the information right away so that we can get to the shing.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will be given more interesting and useful information during the Party and Rebirth. While important plot points may not be revealed, the yer will have some insight on where to obtain such information. The nature of the information they obtain will depend on the role they are cast in. They will only have ess to the information while On-Screen. When the yer is delivering exposition, allies who are not nearby will go Off-Screen.


    Be warned: the yer will lose ess to the extra information if the audience gets bored during the exposition, so try to be engaging.


    Don¡¯t be afraid to take notes.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if this was meant to be an ironic reward or not. Seemed useful.


    Lastly, I received two tropes, the same Keepsake Antoine did, a killer collectible, and a Luggage Tag. No stat tickets for me.


    I got a trope for pointing out where Antoine¡¯s baseball bat was. Sometimes the feats that got you tropes astounded me.


    The Insert Shot


    Type: Insight/Action/Buff


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Filmmaker


    Stat Used: Savvy, Moxie


    An insert shot is when the camera shows a close-up of an object or detail in a scene. The filmmaker chooses it to convey importance.


    During the Party, the yer will have increased odds of finding important objects for the story, be it a weapon, MacGuffin, or simr. They will be able to ¡°Mark it¡± on the red wallpaper, alerting fellow yers to its presence and causing the camera to get several key insert shots of the object to help build its importance to the audience.


    The object will have an increased usefulness in the Finale, whether that means granting higher Mettle for a weapon, higher Savvy for a book, or simr.


    If the object was relevant to the yer¡¯s death, this trope can be used after the Party on Deathwatch.


    Try this trope in Conjunction with Chekov¡¯s Stagehand.


    An object¡¯s power grows with the audience¡¯s anticipation.


    Like my friends, I received a Rescue Trope.


    The Wrong Reel


    Type: Rescue


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Filmmaker


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Not everyone has an uncle in the industry who can get their dream projects funded. Some people have to work frence just to make ends meet while trying to make their filmmaking dreamse true.


    That¡¯s what you did. You became a frence editor. Piecing together wedding videos and the asional indie film. That is until you got a few film reels that no one was ever supposed to see.


    Rescue: When a yer enters apatible storyline with this trope while possessing any missing posters of deceased yers who died in that same storyline, the storyline will be changed into a Rescue. Seeding in the Rescue will revive the dead yers. This ticket will indicate on the red wallpaper if a nearby storyline is applicable.


    With this trope equipped and activated sessfully, the yer will begin by viewing raw footage of the failed storyline as if it were filmed by the killer or victims themselves. Horrified by what they see, they begin to call the police. The phone line is dead. That¡¯s only the beginning of your problem. You were never supposed to see that footage and now the killer knows you have it. They will besiege you as you and your ¡°roommates¡± hope to survive until helpes in the morning.


    Applicable stories will typically be those with high Savvy enemies who either filmed the carnage of the previous run, or otherwise were capable of learning the yer possesses the footage. Some supernatural entities will also be applicable.


    Additional Requirements: A Base at which you will be besieged. A room where you will watch the footage. When you have this trope equipped and the missing posters in your inventory, the footage and equipment to edit it will be delivered to your door by post.


    Countdown: The yer will be able to see the timer rted to this trope.


    Takeover: This trope will cancel out any story alterations except those inherent to the Archetype or Advanced Archetype associated with this ticket.


    Survive the Night is the only Win Condition. No others may be added to the Rescue.


    Better pay attention to the film. You won¡¯t get many chances to watch it again.


    So, there it was. My own rescue ticket.


    Would this be the one we used to save Camden and Anna? Only time would tell.


    I was surprised to find that I had been given the credit for Bradley¡¯s death. Often when a death got too attenuated, the yer wouldn¡¯t count as having killed them. There were obviously some rules I had not been told about.


    Bradley Speirs


    Psychopath sher


    In the inky depths of malevolence, Bradley Speirs thrives. A creature of impulsive cruelties, dark curiosities, and feigned stupidity, he is a storm that even his brother Merritt struggles to contain. Time and again, he derails Merritt''s meticulous machinations, leaving chaos in his wake. Yet beneath the surface, a sinister delight bubbles; Bradley revels in the bloody aftermath. For where his brother sees strategy, Bradley only craves the thrill of the spatter.


    So, the good news was we got Rescue tropes.


    What was the bad news?

 Chapter 117: Back to Where It All Started- Part III

    Chapter 117: Back to Where It All Started- Part III


    As we stared at our new rescue tropes, Ss shed his lights. He disappeared and reappeared five feet away.


    Except he wasn¡¯t facing us. The back of his machine was to us. And there was something on it.


    A cloth bag with somethingrge and rectangr was duct taped to the back of Ss¡¯ box.


    Taped to that, was an envelope with three names on it: Riley, Antoine, and Kimberly.


    ¡°What?¡± Antoine asked.


    I shared the sentiment.


    The others had stopped freaking out over the rescue tickets. We approached the object carefully.


    I grabbed the envelope and ripped the cloth bag open. Inside the bag, was thest thing I could have expected: the Carousel As.


    Antoine flipped through the book. I focused on the letter in the envelope.


    ¡°Guys,¡± I said. I didn¡¯t get their attention at first. ¡°Guys,¡± I said louder.


    They all looked at me.


    I held out the letter.


    ¡°It¡¯s from Anna,¡± I said, almost not believing it myself.


    They were speechless. I was speechless.


    After my brain started working again, I straightened out the letter and started to read it aloud.<blockquote>


    Dear Riley, Kimberly, and Antoine,


    If you¡¯re reading this, that means Ss agreed to Camden¡¯s n. Camden is a genius by the way. This was all his idea.


    I¡¯m sure you know this by now, but the helicopter ride we were meant to take to our storyline was doomed. We ended up running to the roller rink Riley pointed out near the airport. Reggie used a trope to sacrifice himself so that we could get there in time to beat the ck snow. I hope he survived. I wish I could tell Grace how much of a hero he was.


    The storyline was called Post-Traumatic. It involved time travel. Camden tells me I cannot say too much because we don¡¯t want to spoil the story. Suffice it to say, he realized Carousel didn¡¯t use real-time travel to make the story work. It just recreated the past. He figured that a version of the Carousel As existed in the past, so we went to pick one up. It was amazing.


    As much as I would like to say that we are going to try our best and conquer this storyline just the two of us, I know that isn''t realistic. When Camden passes, I will officially be the Last One Alive and Ss will show up to give me my Aspect. I will attach the As to the back of Ss so other yers don¡¯t see it. It contains information that they should never see.


    ~


    I had written up pages and pages to send. I wanted to talk about the times we shared before Carousel. I wanted to talk about the feelings I have for each of you, and I wanted to tell you how much I love you all.


    I didn¡¯t include those because Camden showed me the As Holders¡¯ Journal. In those writings, I found hope. Horror, too, but above all else, hope.


    You don¡¯t need me to send you a letter telling you how I feel because I want you toe and save me so I can tell you in person.


    I will choose the Girl Next Door Aspect. I think it fits my personality the best. Look it up in the As so you will know what to expect when youe to save us.


    With love,


    Anna


    P.S. Camden says hello. He is in his own world right now marking up the As so that you can find the important information quickly. He isn¡¯t feeling very well either.</blockquote>


    The As Holder¡¯s Journal? I didn¡¯t remember the version we had read even having that section. Antoine quickly turned to the page Camden had helpfully listed as ¡°Start Here.¡±


    Camden had gone through and marked every single entry that he wanted us to read. He had likely searched them out with his Eureka trope.


    We opened the book right there on the forest floor and started to read the entries that Camden had put a star next to Ss moved his shlight to help us see it. What a gent. The Journal started in 2001, which didn¡¯t make much sense at first, but I kept reading. There were entire sections that had been cked out to the point they couldn¡¯t be deciphered.<blockquote>


    December 4, 2001


    Mark¡¯s team wiped this morning. It was the Alienist. The god-damn Alienist. Easiest storyline to avoid in the whole town and somehow, he ended up getting mixed up in it. His team isn¡¯t the only one. Patrick tells me that the strong group of friendlies we ran into in May got posteredst week. Shame. Even if they didn¡¯t want to share resources, it was nice knowing that they were out there trying to figure out the Throughline.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    December 12, 2001


    Everything is getting harder. When I got here back in ¡¯98, the tutorial was difficult and confusing, but we still managed to get through it. Now, newbies routinely fail it or even go missing before it¡¯s over. If they seed, the trouble isn¡¯t over. They get pushed out the door toward stories on the Throughline that are way out of their league. That didn¡¯t happen to us back then. We¡¯ve been talking about finding a way to prevent yers from entering the Tutorial at all. It¡¯s all just hot air. No one wants to piss off Carousel, even to save lives.


    Thest group of newbies failedpletely. Took my best brawlers across town to try to greet them. Thought we could guide them, train them. Show them kindness we never got. Guess it didn¡¯t matter.


    Got to thinking about Tommy again for a long time. Wonder if he still ys baseball. He would be 15 now. He¡¯s growing up. Bet he goes by Tom or Thomas now. I hope I can see him again one day.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    February 24, 2002


    Picked up a Film Buff today. Came to Carousel all by herself, can you believe it? A Film Buff Archetype. We went through the tutorial with her so she didn¡¯t get swallowed by Froggy. What a silly idea. I can¡¯t even imagine how a ss like that could be useful in a story. Her main trope cuts her effective PA in half. Sounds like another Lamb ss to me.


    She¡¯s smart as a whip though. We¡¯ll get some use out of her. Amelia. Amelia the Film Buff. She¡¯s a firecracker alright.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    March 15, 2002


    Amelia got her Aspectst week. Fanatic. That¡¯s her alright. A fanatic for all things. Movies. Walks in the park. Carousel¡¯s strange music. Food. God, does she love food. She dragged me out to the Italian ce on Gore Street a few nights ago. She has the ce all scoped out already. Didn¡¯t run into a single Omen. She¡¯s fearless and maybe even smarter than Carousel itself.


    Iughed until my cheeks hurt. It¡¯s been a long time. Thought I forgot how.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    June 7, 2002


    I feel numb all over. I told Amelia I loved her today. I know it¡¯s early, but we could die tomorrow. Heck, it¡¯s Carousel. We could die at any moment.


    She told me that she loved me too, but she wanted me to know something.


    She had a secret. She wasn¡¯t trapped in Carousel like me. She wasn¡¯t tricked. She came here on purpose. She has these letters that are from someone calling themselves our ¡®Insider¡¯ who wants to help her find her parents¡­ Her parents who disappearedst year when their boat vanished in the Caribbean.


    For such a smart woman, how can she believe letters like this? Clearly, this is some demented trick from Carousel. She says she doesn¡¯t think so. She says to trust her. And I do, but it¡¯s difficult. I said we were in a Horror movie. Nothing good will ever happen to us. She grabbed my hands and said, ¡®We can change the story together. Don¡¯t you see that? ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¡¯


    This is not a ce for happy thoughts and fairy dust.


    She wants my help, but I can¡¯t even think about that right now. I¡¯m sick to my stomach.


    I need to go think.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    June 15, 2002


    NPC acted weird yesterday. Level fifty, one of the Paragons. The Beauty Paragon, I believe. She said that Amelia and I were meant to be. She could tell by looking at us. Just came up to me while we were at the market getting groceries. Told me to trust my heart. Got all heavy-handed with it. Almost out of character.


    I¡¯m afraid. Afraid to die. Afraid to fail and never see my son again. Afraid to trust someone and have it all be a cruel trick.


    Amelia says not to worry.


    How can she be so optimistic? We spent the day at a baseball game. Had to leave before the flying saucer got there, of course, but for a few hours it was like were just a normal couple. When you¡¯re in love with someone, it feels like the world loves you too. Even Carousel somehow gave us a break. We strolled along the Riverwalk. It was a nice sabbatical from my normal existence where I am afraid all the time.


    I had never even seen the Riverwalk. It doesn¡¯t even make sense to be there, geographically. The river shouldn¡¯t even exist in that spot. It turns out it is only there if you walk toward downtown from the baseball field. I wonder how big this ce would be if you unfolded it. If youid it out from end to end.


    I told Amelia I would do anything for her. Even her quest. I won¡¯t trust the Insider, but I will trust her.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    July 30, 2002


    Amelia has a theory about the Throughline. She says it¡¯s like a video game. She thinks we have been forced into someone else¡¯s game, their save file, she called it. I liken it to picking up a book halfway through. It¡¯s hard to understand what¡¯s happening if you don¡¯t know what came before. ¨€¨€¨€ ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€.


    We don¡¯t know the beginning of the story at all. The Throughline has always been super confusing. I thought that was because this is a horror story. Amelia says it wasn¡¯t supposed to be like this. It¡¯s like Carousel thinks we know what all of the yers that came before have aplished, that we are sharing information.


    Honestly, we should have been sharing info. It¡¯s hard when half the people here will attack you for going near their base and the other half are actively trying to find your base so they can steal your stuff.


    She has been talking to the Insider. Ss appears to be in on it, though I can¡¯t tell if he is a real person or just the world''s most infuriating telephone. She also sees clues everywhere. She gets information from NPCs at every turn.


    She says the Insider is trying to figure out something they are calling ¡®Project Rewind.¡¯


    The idea is to ¡®Rewind¡¯ the Throughline back to the beginning so that we can understand what the hell we are supposed to be doing. I¡¯ve been working at itpleting the Throughline for years. It doesn¡¯t matter how strong we get. If you don¡¯t know where you¡¯ve been, you can¡¯t know where you¡¯re going.


    ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€


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    I only vaguely know much of anything. The strong group who wipedst year seemed to have some idea. Of course, that does us no good. We aren¡¯t strong enough to rescue them. What were they doing messing around near the Highwayman anyway?


    We let Cordelia in on our little secret. It¡¯s nice to have a Final Girl in the know. She can really be an asset. ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    November 15, 2002


    I went through and censored any mention of the plot of the Throughline. Entire years of information are now gone from this journal. Thest two Holders of the As have been all but wiped from its pages. Amelia says that she and the Insider think the Throughline can be spoiled like an ordinary story, but they aren''t sure. I think they aren''t telling me something. That might be one reason for our inability to move forward in the story. I can¡¯t say for sure. The information we had wasn¡¯t exactly that helpful. The original As Holder got here back in ¡¯92. We even had some oral histories from people who got here in ¡¯89, though not too much. They¡¯re all gone now. Thest vestiges of them have been hidden away for the ¡®Highrollers¡¯ to find.


    Apparently, that¡¯s an inside joke between Amelia and the Insider. The Highrollers are an elite group of yers that we are supposed to be setting up to beat the Throughline and save us all. Highrollers is a better name than what they were called before: the Party of Promise. That was a little too dorky. Amelia is keeping things about Project Rewind hush-hush for now, even from me.


    I would get upset, but she seems so thrilled to be making progress that I can¡¯t help but be a little optimistic too. She talks to Ss like she is talking to an employee. You¡¯d think she was the one in charge by the way the Insider listens to her. The Paragons greet her like they are all friends. Everyone loves her. She¡¯s brighter than the sun in this ce.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    April 20, 2003


    Brought a new group of yers into the fold. They beat the Tutorial by themselves. They will be an asset to our group.


    I asked Amelia if they were the Highrollers. She avoided the question. Guess not.


    Something happened with the Throughline today. The Mayor seems ticked off at us for notpleting thest storyline he pointed us to. Says we¡¯ll have to wait for next year now. I have moved from confusion to frustration to apathy on this matter. We don¡¯t have ess to the Omen for the story he wants us to go on. Where are we supposed to find it? I think it is a portable Omen. Did some other team pick it up and then get postered?


    What¡¯s the point of leveling up if we can¡¯t even get to the next story in the main plot?


    The Throughline is getting more dangerous. Amelia says that yers on other teams are overlevelling and causing the Throughline itself to get more difficult aspensation. She says we need to make an envoy to the other groups around Carousel to warn them against overlevelling, but I told her it was hopeless. Whatever trust existed a decade ago is long spent.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    April 30, 2003


    So, Amelia just let me in on the current n. I am terrified of what might happen.


    The Insider thinks it can distract Carousel indefinitely. I have no idea how it would do that. They aim to take the Throughline offline so that it doesn¡¯t keep interfering with us. We won¡¯t even be able to see it on the red wall. The insider says that to do that, they will have to prevent Ss from distributing many different ticket types, as those tend to have unpredictable results that could jeopardize Project Rewind.


    I am hesitant to go along with this. They said they were getting rid of basic things like licenses and luggage tags. I can¡¯t imagine that will be a good thing. I said that they could identally lead to a second cataclysm. They didn¡¯t respond. It¡¯s like they want that to happen.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    June 4, 2003


    I took a look at the missing poster wall today. Several dozen yers just got put up there, including groups of yers we had been feuding with. I asked Amelia if she knew anything about that and she got quiet. That means yes.


    Those yers were dangerous to us, but they were still people. How did the Insider even do it?


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    March 17, 2004


    Not much has happened rted to Project Rewind in thest year. I am writing today because the Insider finally figured it out. Carousel is sleeping, almost. The Throughline is not on the red wall anymore and the NPCs have quieted down. As I was warned, Ss has stopped handing out all manner of tickets now other than tropes, stat tickets, and the killer collectibles.


    The Tutorial is in shambles. Could hardly call it a Tutorial now.


    I am starting to wonder what else the Insider has done to change Carousel before we met.


    Amelia tells me not to worry. That isn¡¯t quite doing it for me anymore.


    I got to level 80st week. Finally managed to get the Witch Doctor AA. Now I can y a fun kind of Doctor, Amelia says. Now I can justify all those points I put in Moxie. Still no exit in sight. Amelia is catching up fast. We ate at a fancy French restaurant to celebrate. Didn¡¯t even mind when the Soul Eaters showed up and we had to kill them. That¡¯s romance in Carousel for you.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    October 1, 2004


    How could I not see it?


    The clues were there the whole time. Amelia has been hinting at the problem with the Throughline this whole time and I have been willfully ignorant of the solution. She just came out and said it. I can¡¯t avoid it now.


    This is wrong. It¡¯s against everything I stand for. I can¡¯t argue with the logic, but if this is the cost of Project Rewind, I don¡¯t know if I can help her.


    I don¡¯t have it in me. I can¡¯t.


    I am sick with the thought that my sweet, amazing Amelia could even go along with something like that, let alone pioneer it.


    They have solidified their n. They say it will take a decade or more to get operational. Project Rewind has started. How can I look at the faces of the yers in our group, knowing what we have to do to them?


    Amelia says to trust her, that she knows what it sounds like, but it is the only way. She talked to Samantha Cole about it. Even though the Paragons can¡¯t exactly break character, it¡¯s clear that Samantha is willing to make the sacrifice. She mes herself for getting all the yers trapped here. Can¡¯t argue with that logic, but still, she is willing to fall on her sword.


    I guess I¡¯ll have to do the same eventually.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    December 11, 2006


    Found a new base of operations. It seems too good to be true. A Lodge with enough rooms for over a hundred yers. All we have to do is avoid entering a locked cabin. Apocalypses don¡¯t even reach all the way out here. What a steal.


    Been training our recements. Soon, every yer who lived in Carousel before the second cataclysm will have to take the quick way out. Adeline, William, and Arthur will be fine leaders once we¡¯re gone. They don¡¯t know anything they aren¡¯t supposed to. The Throughline was so messed up by the time they arrived that they never saw more than a few stray plotlines of it. They should be fine.


    Arthur is trying to be a Monster Hunter. If there is anyone who can do it, it is him. He reminds me of Tommy.


    Of course, we will need someone to carry forward Project Rewind in our absence. The Insider has chosen Wace, or whatever Ethan is calling himself nowadays. Even talks to him through the radio, more or less. I used my Psychiatrist tropes on him to make sure he was trustworthy. I think he is. He has the exact kind of cold, detached personality to be able to do what needs to be done. Plus, there is little danger of him making friends with the other yers and not being able to go through with it. He¡¯s¡­ a character.


    When it¡¯s time to go, Winston will be the next As Holder. I hope he has what it takes. Otherwise, our sacrifice will be in vain.


    I havee to terms with it. Amelia says that we will need to be preserved to help beat the Throughline when the timees. She talks about it like we are just going to sleep, to be awoken again one day in the future. She uses the words destiny and fate a lot. Carousel has not broken her.


    It¡¯ll be like we¡¯re sleeping, she says over and over. She acts like I am afraid of death. I have died more times than I can remember. This is something different.


    -CW</blockquote><blockquote>


    March 4, 2008


    Winston has been doing his part. We are the only group in Carousel now. Once we figured out how to intercept yers before the Tutorial, our numbers really started to take off.


    Amelia and I went to all of our favorite ces today. We watched baseball, went to the Riverwalk, and ate at the Italian ce again.


    We are going to leave together. Cordelia went a month ago. She chose the monster nt to the north. It sedates its victims with a hallucinogenic poison. Not a bad way to go out. We¡¯re the only ones left who truly remember the Throughline. Our very presence threatens to reawaken Carousel. Hopefully, our sacrifice will be enough to fix things and Project Rewind will never need to be executed.


    But I know that¡¯s just an empty hope. I''ve always said that Carousel isn¡¯t a ce for happy thoughts and fairy dust.


    I am leaving the As in the hands of Winston now. He knows what to do.


    I am not afraid anymore. I will simply be going on a long walk with my best friend. I know that there is a real chance we won¡¯t ever be rescued, but I have to believe in the Highrollers. We¡¯ve put in so much work to give them the best chance possible of seeding.


    I hope they don¡¯t waste it.


    Amelia is the love of my life, and I would love another fifty years with her, but if the past six are all we get, I still count myself the luckiest man in Carousel.


    -CW & AW</blockquote><blockquote>


    July 2009


    Preparations are being made tomence Project Rewind. Everything is moving as scheduled.


    The Insider has a lead on an exploit for Rescue Tropes that will allow yers to elerate their levels. If the exploit turns out to be a punishable offense, then our n will move forward as written. If not, at least we will have a way to conquer the most powerful storylines. We will be able to Rescue Amelia and the others and move forward with a different n.


    I believe the n will work, however. As long as it doesn¡¯t wake Carousel too early, we should be okay.


    -Winston Ashwood, Esq.</blockquote><blockquote>


    October 2009


    The exploit failed. There is good news, however.


    We¡¯ve discovered a new exploit for Rescue Tickets. Our Insider tells us to be cautious because he cannot keep Carousel distracted for too long, but the more we experiment, the more confident I am that we have found a way to increase our levels dramatically in theing months. Testing continues. We must not tell the other yers until we are sure it is safe.


    And if it isn¡¯t safe, we certainly mustn¡¯t tell them.


    The Monster Hunter continues to be a thorn in my side. I can see his jealousy. Curtis never let him see the As and then he left it to me. I can feel a power ying forward.


    -Winston Ashwood, Esq.</blockquote><blockquote>


    January 2010


    I was right to sense a power struggle. I need to consider giving them the As before they just take it. I will need to rid it of any knowledge that might clue them into Project Rewind. I am certain they will not like their role in it.


    Something Amelia was not able to tell Curtis, was that even though the Throughline was not on the red wall anymore, many yers have identally stumbled upon knowledge rted to it, even without meaning to. After they gain enough information, they are brought into the Throughline, even without their knowing it. Curtis did not have the constitution to deal with the implications of that.


    All yers with a connection to the Throughline must be taken off the board. Including myself.


    Soon, I will be censoring the As once again as all of the Holders have done before me. I will leave entries about Rescue Tropes and anything that does not give too much information about the Throughline or the Party of Promise for now. I will hide the pages for the proper eyes to find. If only I could think of a ce to store them where only the Party of Promise will see them. These pages would be a boon to anyone trying toplete the Throughline, I imagine.


    Personally, I never liked the ¡®Highrollers¡¯ moniker. It is all too casual.


    I have been doing my duties ording to Project Rewind for some years now. I have fortified my mind to prepare for the next stage. I have intentionally distanced myself from the yers at the Lodge. Doing so makes my destiny more ptable, but also makes them not trust me.


    I sincerely hope the worst does not happen. Ss gave me a trope to help me conceal my mission from even the most prying investigators. I can only hope it seeds.


    -Winston Ashwood, Esq.</blockquote>


    ~


    I was speechless. Truly speechless. Whatever Project Rewind was, I needed to learn more about it. Luckily, Camden had the page marked for me. I turned to it. It was a single page. Its steps were written simply and without any more detail than needed.


    I read it aloud.<blockquote>


    Project Rewind<ul><li>Take the Throughline off the red wallpaper and keep Carousel sedated until Project Rewind has concluded.</li><li>Find a punishable exploit for Rescue Tropes. This will trigger an immediate recall.</li><li>After that, Ss will simply stop distributing Rescue Tropes. Without the ability to rescue postered yers, the third cataclysm will arrive.</li><li>The remaining yers will be sent to fail various storylines at all levels. An equal distribution for the missing poster wall is optimal.</li><li>The Insider will select a team, henceforth known as the Highrollers because they''re getting all theps. This team will consist of at least one invitee, one guide, and one secret keeper. A single yer can be all three, though that is not rmended.</li><li>The Highrollers will be trained to understand how storylines work. They will be given knowledge of Secret Lore and will be made aware of the Insider.</li><li>They will be directed toward a storyline with an out-of-bounds zone, preferably Permanent Vacancy. This must be done within the first few months of their arrival because otherwise the Highrollers risk being inadvertently brought into the Throughline, causing Project Rewind to fail.</li><li>Once there, the Insider will trigger all manner of mobile Omens to ensure the pacification of all remaining yers.</li><li>Once the Highrollers are out-of-bounds and all other yers have been postered, Project Rewind wille to fruition.</li><li>The Insider will reinstate the Throughline, which will reset back to the beginning.</li><li>The Highrollers will exit the out-of-bounds area. They will have every advantage our years of toil have set up for them.</li><li>They will have the knowledge needed to win.</li><li>They will have an invitee, a guide, and a secret keeper.</li><li>They will have ess to all ticket types, including Rescue tropes.</li><li>They will have a well-stocked missing poster wall that they can use to elerate their levels as they advance along the Throughline.</li><li>With the Throughline reinstated, the Insider will go into hiding in an effort to escape the wrath of Carousel.</li><li>The Highrollers will carry with them all of the hopes, dreams, and goodwill of those who came before them.</li></ul>


    I wish them luck,


    Amelia</blockquote>


    ~


    Everything was a setup. Everything. I knew we were being guided around, but I could never imagine this.


    My mind was ready to explode. Suddenly so much made sense. How had the yers at the Lodge gone so long without progressing? How did they not even know what the main plot was?


    It was kept from them!


    The others finished reading just after I did. They had a simr reaction.


    Even Dina was shaken, and she had been ready to watch the world burn since she got here.


    "Did it say that it say that all the other yers would be postered?" Antoine asked.


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± I said.


    I pulled out my ¡°Coming to a Theater Near You,¡± trope. I equipped it and was soon watching trailers in my mind''s eye.

 Chapter 118: Back to Where It All Started- Part IV

    Chapter 118: Back to Where It All Started- Part IV<blockquote>


    <strong>Trailer #1</strong>


    The first trailer opened in ck and white as the camera showed arge building with stone columns and a giant banner hung across its face that read


    <em>Carousel Museum of Natural History</em>


    <em>Join Us for a Limited Time Exhibit:</em>


    <em>Unraveling the Secrets of the Sands!</em>


    Guests arrived wearing tuxes and dresses. Among them, intercut in shes, were Roxy, Grace, and Lara, as well as the other yers they had brought with them distributed throughout several different shes of the crowd. They were all dressed for the event, but I could tell they were distressed.


    Inside arge showroom, a woman stood in front of a podium and said, ¡°Wee to the first in a series of exhibits that the Carousel Museum of Natural History will be hosting about ancient cultures from around the world. This year¡¯s exhibit will be an exciting opportunity. We have in our collection the contents of the tomb of the lost pharaoh, Setemkara!¡±


    The crowd pped and cheered. A red curtain in the center of the room was raised to reveal an ornate sarcophagus.


    The camera cut to a man in a fedora whispering to Grace with a smile, ¡°Who did they have to bribe to get ahold of that?¡±


    ¡°It was supposed to be donated from a collector,¡± Grace replied.


    The woman at the podium continued, ¡°We stand here tonight on the very anniversary of King Setemkara¡¯s discovery fifty years ago. We are proud to be the first host of these artifacts in a public exhibit in their entire history. We hope to send the message that history truly belongs to everyone.¡±


    The party went on and people drank and celebrated the exhibit. Suddenly, the lights went out. The entire room wentpletely dark. There was a loud sound of stone scraping against stone.


    When the lights came back on, the sarcophagus was open. There was nothing inside.


    Cut to a scene where Grace exined, ¡°King Setemkara was paranoid that someone would exhume his body and use it in a ritual to condemn him in the afterlife. These scrolls indicate that he had a trap built. It doesn¡¯t exin what the trap was, only that it would ensure anyone who disturbed his rest would be punished. But it¡¯s clear it wasn¡¯t a simple booby trap.¡±


    ¡°Then what did it do?¡± Roxy asked.


    ¡°Ladies,¡± Lara said, shining a shlight down a dark hallway with an exit sign hanging from the ceiling. At the end of the hallway, there was no exit, only a passage made of stone. Hieroglyphics adorned the walls.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t just the museum anymore,¡± Lara continued, ¡°We¡¯re inside his tomb.¡±


    Cut to scenes of well-dressed people running from something down a museum hallway that transitioned into another ancient corridor. Someone stepped on a stone that they shouldn¡¯t have and the door behind them closed. Sand started to pour down from the ceiling.


    ¡°We have to find our way out of the tomb!¡± Roxy screamed. ¡°We can¡¯t kill it. We have to run.¡±


    She was afraid. Roxy had been a good actress, but I thought her fear looked real.


    ¡°The museum has changed,¡± the man in the fedora said in a panic, ¡°He¡¯s filled it with traps of all kinds. Abyrinth with no way out.¡±


    The familiar narrator¡¯s voice came on over the loudspeaker, ¡°Maybe history doesn¡¯t belong to everyone.¡±


    There was a sh of a figure standing in a doorway. They were only visible as a silhouette, but it was clear that the figure was wrapped in bandages from head to toe. An ornamental crown could be seen on its head.


    The screen cut to ck. The words ¡°Whispers of Sand¡± appeared on the screen, but were soon blown away by the wind.


    The narrator came back to say, ¡°Coming soon.¡±</blockquote>


    ~


    Grace, Roxy, and Lara were doomed if Project Rewind was set up correctly.


    ~<blockquote>


    <strong>Trailer #2</strong>


    The scene opened with hundreds of people pushing shopping carts through the aisles of arge warehouse. I recognized it immediately as Eternal Savers Club. That was the store where we got all of our food.


    ¡°Look I''m going to need you toe in next Monday. I know it''s a holiday and I know I said that you could take it off but we really need you. And you do know that evaluations are just around the corner and this would look really good for you,¡± a man wearing a red shirt and a tie said to one of the employees wearing an Eternal Savers Club vest with a small circle that had the letters ESC on it.


    The employee he was talking to lookedpletely dead in the face. No emotion at all. He stood up from the chair he was sitting in and walked over to a desk that had a bunch of security monitors on it as well as a microphone.


    He reached down, picked up the microphone, and said, ¡°We have a code crimson in the manager''s office. A code crimson.¡±


    The man, apparently the manager, said ¡°What are you talking about? There''s no crimson on the chart.¡±


    Momentster, several more employees showed up. Their faces were emotionless.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± The manager asked. Then, the screen cut away and there was a loud scream.


    The screen cut to one of the yers I recognized but whose name I didn''t recall. ¡°Look kids,¡± she said. ¡°This move is going to be good for us. I finally get the promotion I''ve been working to get for years.¡±


    ¡°At a grocery store,¡± a young man said. He was another yer.


    ¡°Eternal Savers Club is more than just a grocery store. You should know, I just got both of you jobs there,¡± the woman said.


    The young man was sitting next to a young woman and eximed, ¡°What?¡±


    This story definitely had horroredy vibes to it.


    Cut to a scene of the young man, presumably the son in the family, mopping up a floor inside Eternal Savers Club. Underneath one of the shelving units, he found a wallet. He pulled out an employee ID card that showed the wallet belonged to the in manager.


    ¡°What did they say happened to the old manager?¡± The son asked his mother somewhere off-screen.


    ¡°He retired. That''s what it says in the system,¡± the woman said.


    The young man mumbled to himself in a different scene, ¡°he was only 45 how could he have retired?¡±


    Cut to another scene inside Eternal Savers Club where the young man is restocking the shelves during the night and sees a group of cloaked figures walking to the store room. He follows them but when he gets there they''re nowhere to be found.


    There was then a montage of characters running. The brother and sister characters were in a cage next to what looked like some sort of demonic altar.


    The yer portraying the sister was panicking and said, ¡°This isn''t supposed to be here!¡±


    The one ying her brother said quickly, ¡°Well yeah, devil worship paraphernalia is supposed to be on aisle 6.¡±


    The trailer moved on to show a few action scenes that were hard to discern followed by a scene of a cloaked figure wielding a knife. He moved the knife downward and then there was a demonicugh.


    A demonic voice said, ¡°More. I need to consume more.¡±


    A bit heavy-handed with the symbolism.


    ¡°What''s happening?¡± The mother character asked in a panic to some other yers in a scene. They all looked genuinely confused. Maybe it was just because I had never seen this particr storyline before but it seemed like they were genuinely perplexed by something. It was possible that that was just a necessary scene but still, there was something off about it to me. ¡°Ritual sacrifice. Demons. I didn''t read anything about that in the... manual.¡±


    The way she said ¡°manual¡± sounded unnatural and forced like she was not actually talking about the employee manual. It struck me that she must have been talking about the Carousel As.


    Or it was all just a joke because the movie was some sort of ckedy.


    The screen cut to ck.


    <em>The Eternal Savers Club</em>


    The narrator¡¯s voice came back, ¡°Coming to a theater near you!¡±</blockquote>


    ~


    I didn''t know much about the Eternal Savers Club storyline, but the yers looked like they had been surprised by something.


    ~<blockquote>


    <strong>Trailer #3</strong>


    The next trailer started and instantly my blood ran cold.


    I recognized the image in front of me.


    I was looking at Camp Dyer.


    The familiar children NPCs were ying kids'' games out in a field next to the lodge.


    ¡°Is it true what they say about this ce?¡± One of the campers asked a shell-shocked Valorie. ¡°That a girl died here?¡±


    Valorie paused for a moment but then tried to regain herposure.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°But that was a long time ago. And it was a terrible ident. You have nothing to worry about.¡±


    There were more scenes intercut of the campers and theke.


    ¡°We came here to do what we have to do,¡± a male NPC said. I recognized him. He was a camp counselor who slept in one of the cabins to watch the children. ¡°There''s no going back. We don''t have any time.¡±


    I couldn''t see who he was talking to.


    I could hear the campers singing their little rhyme:


    ¡°Suzy Snyder, six foot five,


    Haunts Camp Dyer, still alive.¡±


    That rhyme faded quickly as a little girl was seen walking away from the abandoned cabin.


    She walked up to Arthur as hey back in a reclining beach chair in the shade.


    ¡°Mr. Arthur,¡± the little girl said, ¡°I found this in that cabin over there. Am I allowed to have it?¡±


    She reached out and dropped arge stic locket into Arthur¡¯sp. The locket opened.


    It started to y a song that sounded like a 90s teen idol was singing, but the locket was low on batteries so the song came out all deep and stretched out:


    ¡°Girl, I can¡¯t say no to summer with you,


    And I think that you are feeling it too,¡±


    Arthur¡¯s eyes gotrge, and he screamed, ¡°What the hell is this? Why?¡±


    Cut to a scene of yers being chased by an unseen figure. There were so many yers. More than I had ever heard of in a story all at once. More than I thought was possible.


    The music from the locket continued:


    "As the seasons change, one thing will always be true,


    That I¡¯ll never say no to summer, to summer with you."


    The camera cut to arge, pale hand shoving a piece of rebar down on an unseen target. Then, I saw Chris¡¯ face of surprise, the apparent victim.


    Thest frame before the title card was of an imposing figure walking out of the water. They were difficult to see, but it was clear that they had long hair and a jacket sorge it was too big even on their hulking frame. Their legs and feet were bare. Something was weird about their face, but I couldn¡¯t tell what because it was in shadow.


    The title card appeared.


    Say No To Summer


    ¡°Coming soon.¡±</blockquote>


    ~


    ¡°What''s going on?¡± Kimberly asked.


    I looked at Antoine and then at Kimberly.


    ¡°Camp Dyer,¡± I said. ¡°The storyline at Camp Dyer was triggered. It got everyone.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Antoine said. He realized the implication immediately. ¡°How strong is that storyline? Do you know?


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± I said. ¡°Grace¡¯s team and the team that went on a grocery run were also in storylines that looked strong.¡±


    I took time to exin all of the trailers I had just seen. We stood there in the middle of the strange woods silently contemting the meaning of all of this.


    Project Rewind required that they all be wiped out. Every single one of them.


    We were alone.


    We were all jarred as a voice started to cackle right next to us. Ss started delivering a rhyme. It reminded me of the one we heard when we first got to Carousel, with some notable differences.


    Wee to Carousel, the town where moviese to life.


    Will you rise to the asion or fall to the knife?


    The film¡¯s about to start, and you''re in the front row!


    The audience is watching you, so give them a show.


    You had better be willing to do what it takes,


    Because even as I¡¯m speaking, Carousel wakes.

 Tales of Carousel: The Guest House

    Tales of Carousel: The Guest House


    It was time. Brent¡¯s time to shine.


    For thirty seconds, he was going to step in and be the hero.


    It wouldn¡¯t look like it.


    His new trope set him up to save the day in the most gruesome way. It was a self-sacrifice trope, one of the most powerful kinds of tropes in the game.


    <strong>Curiosity Killed the Neighbor-- </strong>A Wallflower trope designed to attract all attention from the enemy and the camera and give his allies the perfect chance to escape, regroup, or go on the offensive.


    All he had to do was walk out of hisfortable hideout, ask, ¡°What the hell is all this ruckus?¡± and then those little goblin creatures would leave Adeline alone ande attack him. They would kill him instantly, usually in a painful way.


    He wouldn¡¯t even be a named character in this storyline. His allies would get a boost in Hustle. They would be set up for an easy win. He would be in ribbons. Dead.


    Adeline stood in the street at the end of the cul-de-sac attempting to kick the little demons off her.


    Now was the time.


    Just one quick act of bravery and she would be safe. Brent would be dead.


    But why should he?


    Adeline hadn¡¯t died once. Not a single time. She was a Final Girl in every way. Wasn¡¯t it her turn? Why should he have to die again?


    He didn¡¯t want to. He stood behind a bush near the street. He could help her so easily. His death would be quick. They¡¯d yank his head off or cut him in half, something sudden and terrifying for the audience. He knew the drill.


    He just couldn¡¯t do it.


    They didn¡¯t need her alive to win anyway. He watched through the bush as she was attacked. He was sorry. Kind of.


    He backed away. He wasn¡¯t going to die this time. He refused.


    ~-~


    ¡°Hey, Ss,¡± Miles, the team¡¯s Comedian, said as he pressed down the button to obtain his rewards. ¡°I¡¯d like a tall brte who willugh at my jokes and hold me in her arms all night long.¡±


    Ss the Mechanical Showman waved his shlight and out of his dispenser shot a series of tickets, as well as a few coins.


    ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t take requests,¡± Ss said in his showman voice. ¡°You¡¯re thinking of my cousin, the jukebox.¡±


    Miles threw back his head and gave a throatyugh.


    Then, he turned toward his teammates and said, ¡°Hey, guys, did you hear what Ss just said? Ss just said his cousin¡¯s a¡ª¡±


    He stopped short as he realized that his team was preupied by a rather loud discussion between William and Brent.


    William was a blue-blooded college man with well-defined muscture who held himself like a young senator.


    ¡°I knew you¡¯ve been holding out on us,¡± William said firmly. ¡°Now, I can prove it. You could have saved Adeline. Everything was set up just like Arthur and I nned, but you didn¡¯t go through with it.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Brent said. He stood defiantly against therger man and refused to give an inch. ¡°I can¡¯t be everywhere every minute of the day. I didn¡¯t know she was in danger.¡±


    ¡°You said something simrst time,¡± William said trying and failing to keep an even temper. ¡°Butst time, I didn¡¯t have my War Games trope. This time, I saw you right next to Adeline. You could have saved her from those things. Not like we needed the trope to know that you have been avoiding your job. You think we haven¡¯t noticed how you¡¯regging behind in levels. It¡¯s because you¡¯re not doing anything in storylines, and Carousel knows it.¡±


    Arthur held his arm out, ¡°William, this is pointless. He knows what he¡¯s doing. We¡¯re not going to get him to stop by yelling at him. Let¡¯s just go back to base and tell Curtis.¡±


    In the background, Adeline silently wept.


    Brent stammered something indecipherable and then said. ¡°This is so fucking stupid. Why does she automatically get to live? I¡¯ve died plenty. Why should I have to sacrifice myself? You ask me, it was good for her. Finally getting the raw side of the deal.¡±


    William¡¯s eyes grew wide. ¡°It¡¯s your job! We were relying on you! Arthur makes the ns because he¡¯s the Schr. Adeline ys her role as Final Girl. Miles dicks around because he¡¯s the Comedian. Jenny is our Eye Candy. And I make sure everything runs smoothly because I¡¯m the Soldier.¡±


    ¡°Soldier?¡± Brent said. ¡°You were in the ROTC. You ran around campus ying dress-up. You are not a soldier.¡±


    ¡°When I found her,¡± William said, trying to hold back his rage. ¡°She was eaten to hell. I¡¯m sorry, Adeline, I have to tell him. They took her face. Her teeth. Her fingers, eyes. They did everything but kill her because they couldn¡¯t kill her. Do you know why?¡±


    Brent didn¡¯t answer. He grew enraged with every word William said.


    ¡°Because she is the Last One Alive,¡± William continued. ¡°She can¡¯t die until the rest of us do. If you had used your sacrifice trope, your death would have been almost instant. You were an extra. Hers took hours, you son of a bitch. That¡¯s my sister you did this to. I¡¯m never doing a run with you again.¡±


    William walked by Brent toward Ss the Showman.


    ¡°So, it¡¯s true?¡± Arthur asked Brent. ¡°You¡¯ve just been, what, goofing off this whole time? Did you get yourself written offst year at the parade? Is that why you were nowhere to be found when we needed you? I knew it.¡±


    Brent didn¡¯t answer.


    Arthur took that as a yes and followed behind William. Jenny gently guided Adeline over toward Ss.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have to die. It¡¯s not fair,¡± Brent said so quietly that no one could hear him.


    Once they had all gotten their tickets and were heading back to base, Brent ran up to Ss, pped his button, and waited for Ss to dispense his rewards.


    It was true. Brent had been leveling much slower than the rest of his team. It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t care or didn¡¯t want to help. He just couldn¡¯t bring himself to die on purpose. He had died enough since arriving. Now that he had collected some Wallflower tropes that could keep him alive, he intended to stay that way.


    ¡°Those guys are assholes,¡± he said to Ss. ¡°Fuck ¡®em.¡±


    Ss took a little longer than usual to give up Brent¡¯s winnings. Brent didn¡¯t get much. He never did. Almost no money. No stat tickets. It had been a month or more since he got one of those.


    He did get one thing, though. Something he had never dreamed of acquiring.


    ¡°Writ of Habitation?¡± he read aloud as he looked down at the folded piece of paper Ss had given him. ¡°Nobody¡¯s gotten one of these in ages!¡±


    <strong>The City of Carousel</strong>


    <strong>Writ of Habitation</strong>


    By the decrees of the City of Carousel and under the authority of the Office of the Mayor, this document certifies that:


    Bearer: Brent Henderson


    Henceforth has the right and authority to im as a Base of Operations, the dwelling, structure, or property described as follows:


    The property known as the "Guest House" located at 616 Nowlinger Rd., is a detached single-story residential dwelling constructed primarily of reinforced concrete and steel bars, epassing an approximate total square footage of 1,200 sq. ft. Situated approximately 100 feet to the northeast of the main residence, this structure boasts three main rooms, which include features such as a bedroom devoid of windows, a bathroom with a securely locked utility closet, a kitchen equipped with a solid steel door, and a living area fortified with shatter-proof windows.


    Under the provisions of this Writ, the following conditions apply:<ol><li><strong>Protection from Omens:</strong> The property and its immediate vicinity are free from the activation of any Omen, ensuring the bearer''s safety from unforeseen threats emanating from said Omens.</li><li><strong>Duration of Habitation:</strong> This Writ grants the bearer habitation rights for a period of 5 years.</li><li><strong>Guarantee of Livable Lodgings:</strong> The property is ensured to provide basic amenities including a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, a functional locking door, and weatherproofing sufficient for standard habitation, though not necessarily of premium quality.</li><li><strong>Provision of Sustenance:</strong> Drinkable water and sustenance will be provided, though quantity may vary and is not guaranteed to be of the highest standard.</li><li><strong>Guarantee of Safe Acquisition:</strong> Upon signing this writ, the bearer is assured protection and will remain unharmed in their good faith efforts to take actual possession of the designated property.</li><li><strong>Transferability:</strong> This Writ is non-transferable. Any attempt to sell, trade, share, or give away the rights to the imed property will result in immediate nullification of this document and all protections herein.</li><li><strong>Maintenance of Sanctuary:</strong> The bearer is <strong>not</strong> responsible for the upkeep and maintenance of the property. Such repairs and upkeep will be administered by the City.</li><li><strong>Covenant of Quiet Enjoyment: </strong>The bearer will not be required to perform in any storyline while inhabiting the property.</li><li><strong>Respect of Boundaries:</strong> The protections offered by this Writ are bound to the described property only. Straying outside its confines forfeits the guarantees granted herein.</li><li><strong>Limitations: </strong>This Writ of Habitation is valid for one tenant only. If additional tenants are found on the property, this writ is null and void.</li><li><strong>Act of Gods use:</strong> The Office of the Mayor and the City of Carousel shall not be held liable for any damages or threats arising due to unforeseeable acts of nature or apocalyptic urrences beyond the City''s apparent control.</li><li><strong>Renewal and Extension:</strong> Upon expiry, the bearer has the first right to renew this Writ. Renewal terms and conditions will be dictated by the City of Carousel''s then-current rules.</li></ol>


    Sealed with the emblem of the Office of the Mayor.


    Date of Issue: January 12, 2004


    <em>That ce is a fortress</em>, he thought as he read the description. <em>And I won¡¯t have to do any storylines while I¡¯m there.</em>


    He didn¡¯t get a chance to read the whole Writ because he had to catch up with his team. His former team, perhaps. If William wasn¡¯t willing to do runs with him, he was likely on his own.


    ~-~


    The Geist Estate was once the grandest property in all of Carousel proper. Bartholemew Geist had built the mansion that rested within its gates. His son Carlyle had built upon it and expanded it to its current size. His granddaughter Cherise had built the Sanitorium on the far side of the property to care for the mentally infirm as a charitable effort. It had once been beautiful.


    By the time Brent hade to live there, it had all gone downhill. The Sanitorium had closed down after some bad press, or so the lore told. The mansion itself had half-burned to the ground. The west wing was ash. The main house was rotted, and thebyrinthine dungeons had been flooded by rain. The east wing, though. That was dry and habitable.


    They squeezed nearly a hundred people into it at times, the smallest wing. The poption fluctuated as some yers would go find their own Bases from time to time. They all came back eventually.


    Or they died.


    Brent bunked in a room with twenty-two other men. It had a working firece and bathroom. That was a plus.


    Brenty in his bunk listening as rumors of his cowardice spread around the estate. People didn¡¯t go easy on cowards. Even the Hysterics would give him the cold shoulder, and being cowards was their whole thing.


    This ce was unbearable.


    He had nearly drifted to sleep when someone approached his bunk. It was Curtis. The bossman.


    Brent threw on his best semnce of remorse and turned to face the man.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to tell you that what you did was wrong, do I?¡± Curtis asked.


    Brent shook his head.


    ¡°A quick death is easy to get over, all things considered,¡± Curtis continued. ¡°A long, drawn-out one can leave scars that take years to fade. Adeline¡¯s in pretty bad shape. Even with my Psychiatrist tropes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Brent lied. ¡°I was just scared.¡±


    Curtis didn¡¯t seem to buy it.


    ¡°You¡¯re being assigned a new team. We don¡¯t know who yet, but whoever it is will want some concessions.¡±


    ¡°Concessions?¡± Brent asked.


    ¡°To make sure that you can¡¯t just wander off instead of helping,¡± he said. ¡°We put a lot of trust in Wallflowers and Outsiders to not just run away. They¡¯ve got the tropes for it. Never thought I¡¯d actually find someone who would be willing to do it, though. It takes trust to seed here in Carousel.¡±


    Brent was silent for a moment. Hey in his bed and contemted his next words.


    ¡°Is that what this is?¡± he asked, moving his arm around the crowded room. ¡°Sess? If this is seeding, I can¡¯t imagine failing.¡±


    As if to emphasize his point, a ghastly howl sounded from somewhere down in the flooded dungeons.


    ¡°Ghouls are riled up from the storm. We¡¯ve got it handled,¡± Curtis said. ¡°You may not like our lodgings here, but you have no idea how much worse it can get.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Brent said.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Curtis said. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you tomorrow. Maybe we can get something worked out?¡±


    Brenty on his back staring up at the ceiling. He grabbed the Writ he had just won from his pocket.


    The Writ was valid for one tenant only. It sounded like it would be a good break from all of this. Dead things wading through flood waters below. Ash-covered wraiths floating from ce to ce, victims of the fire long ago. Haunted paintings. Escaped mental patients of yesteryear. This ce was a nightmare.


    Sure, the yers were careful and there hadn¡¯t been casualties yet, but it was only a matter of time.


    He couldn¡¯t stay here any longer. He tucked the Writ back in his pocket. He had made up his mind. He was moving. Maybe once he was gone, they might care how they had treated him.


    The Writ guaranteed his safety as he traveled to im the property. Even then, the journey from the Geist Estate to his new Base was terrifying. He had gotten Amelia to help him map out the safest route. She really liked nning things out. It was in her meticulous nature.


    By the time she was done, he had a detailed and thorough n of passage so even if the Writ¡¯s protection failed, he would have options of where toy low and how to get back.


    As he packed his bags, he waited for one of his former teammates toe and ask where he was going. They could see him packing, prepping, and getting ready to head out.


    None of them stopped him or asked questions. Adeline watched him but didn¡¯t say anything as he left.


    It turned out that all of Amelia¡¯s nning was for not, as the Writ¡¯s protection got the job done just fine.


    ~-~


    The Guest House was in the newer, nicer part of town. The house in question was on a small acreage abutting the golf course. Quite the upgrade.


    Brent smirked as he approached the home at 616 Nowlinger. He was nervous about knocking on the door. In Carousel, that was a nonstarter. You just didn¡¯t do it. You risked awakening a serial killer or something.


    Luckily, as Brent approached, his newndlord andndy were out front toiling in the garden. They noticed him as he walked up.


    ¡°Are you our new tenant?¡± the woman, Martha Montresor called to him as he arrived.


    She was a kind-looking, bubbly woman with a short stature and rosy-red cheeks. She reminded him of Mrs. use.


    Her husband, Rev. Ned Montresor was not quite Santa use. He was lean, stern, and fit for his age as if he were a veteran.


    They were low-level NPCs. Their home was nice, and the weather was perfect.


    ¡°I sure am,¡± Brent said.


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Martha said cheerfully. ¡°My husband will show you around. I have to go check on lunch.¡±


    Brent smiled.


    He had heard stories of when Curtis and the others had arrived at the Geist Estate after receiving the Writ of Habitation for the Mansion. They ¡°inherited¡± it from a distant rtive. That was the story at least. The story here was different. Brent was a tenant. Simple. Straightforward.


    No Omens.


    No drowned dead things howling in the basement.


    No teammates to pressure him.


    ~-~


    Rev. Montresor showed him around the property. He was told not to go into the main house. He was warned that sometimes golf balls get hit in the yard. In fact, he would learn that firsthand.


    Mr. Montresor showed him around the Guest House with little enthusiasm.


    The ce had everything. A bed, television, fully stocked kitchen, and bathroom. Everything he needed to just rx.


    ¡°You guys have a dog?¡± he asked, pointing to the doggy p on the front door.


    Reverend Montresor looked at where he was pointing.


    ¡°Nope,¡± he said.


    The tour continued.


    As he was being shown through the living room, a loud thud sounded behind him. He jumped. ¡°Motherfucker!¡± he screamed in shock.


    He turned to see the window on the opposite wall. It was unaffected. He could see a golf ball rolling away in the yard. The Writ had said the windows were shatterproof. Now he knew why.


    ¡°Now, we don¡¯t toleratenguage like that here, son,¡± Rev. Montresor said sternly.


    ¡°Oh. Sorry. I¡¯ll try to remember,¡± Brent said.


    The Reverend didn¡¯t respond. He just gave Brent a stern look and left.


    Brent double and triple-checked that there were no Omens to be found around the Guest House. Sure enough, there were none. He didn¡¯t have any proper scouting tropes, so he had to walk around, looking at every object and waiting to see if the needle on the plot cycle moved up to Omen. It never did.


    He was safe.


    He was free.


    Mrs. Montresor dropped off some cookies an hour or soter. They were delicious.


    He jumped back onto his new bed and, before he knew it, he was asleep. It had been a long time since he had slept that well.


    ~-~


    He was awoken in the morning by a knock on his door. He looked at the rm clock. It was 5:30 a.m.


    He didn¡¯t want to get up. The knocking continued.


    Eventually, he gave in.


    He dragged himself to the front door. As he went to open it, he realized, to his horror, that he couldn¡¯t.


    He struggled to try to turn the handle. It wouldn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°Hello?¡± he asked in shock.


    ¡°Down here, dear,¡± Mrs. Montresor said gently.


    The doggy door opened a bit.


    Brent was hesitant to take anything from them.


    ¡°Take it, son,¡± the Reverend said on the other side.


    ¡°Why is the door locked?¡± Brent demanded.


    ¡°This will exin everything,¡± the Reverend said.


    He looked down as someone on the other side slipped arge book through the doggy door. It was red in color and ornately designed.


    He caught a glimpse of the hand that was holding it. Something shed on the red wallpaper.


    A sudden realization dawned on him.


    He moved to the window beside the door and opened the curtain.


    Twelve people were standing outside including the Montresors.


    They were allbeled ¡°Adherent,¡± on the red wallpaper. Enemies. They had ten levels on him. They must have had a trope to hide their true nature until now.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t possible,¡± he screamed. ¡°There weren¡¯t supposed to be any Omens.¡±


    He was certain he hadn¡¯t seen any Omens, let alone triggered them. Here he was, though, trapped.


    He ran around the house. There were no exits. The windows, as advertised, were shatterproof. He had imagined it a perfect fortress. Unfortunately, the qualities that make a perfect fortress also make a perfect prison. Someone hade in the night and cleared out his food. The television was gone. How had he slept so hard he couldn¡¯t hear it?


    The cookies.


    He ran back to the door.


    ¡°I¡¯d really like to go now,¡± he screamed.


    ¡°We have to cleanse you, dear,¡± Mrs. Montresor said sweetly. ¡°You¡¯ll thank uster.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± he said aloud after pacing back and forth for some time. ¡°Fuck!¡±


    ¡°That kind ofnguage is not appropriate,¡± the Reverend said with a terrifying ferocity.


    The stalematested all day.


    ¡°If you want food,¡± Mrs. Montresor said, ¡°You just have to show us your earnest desire for repentance. Read from the book. The Great Spirit will guide you.¡±


    Brent bent down and picked up the red book. It was like a bible from a nightmare world. The passages were insane, unlike anything he had ever read before.


    ¡°Just let me go,¡± he begged.


    But they didn¡¯t. Not that night. Not any night after.


    Days passed. Then weeks, months.


    Brent sat by the door.


    When he heard someone show up outside, he would recite from the book for his daily bread.


    ¡°Yea, in the shadow of night''s deepest despair, when brimstone doth rain like molten tears and fires of judgment burn hotter than the very pits of Hell¡­.¡± He paused. He wanted to protest, to yell angrily, but that would just make them punish him. ¡°Let thy heart be rent asunder in repentance, that thy soul may find refuge in the righteous embrace of the Great Spirit. For in the unyielding grasp of yearning and sacrifice, redemption shall bloom like a lone, rose in the midst of an eternal, deste grave."


    The figure on the other side of the door didn¡¯t speak for a moment.


    Then, they asked, ¡°Why did you pause?¡±


    They didn¡¯t wait for an answer. They walked away, taking his food with them.


    Brent wept.


    ~-~


    ¡°What is that?¡± Miles asked.


    William held the object up so that the others could examine it. ¡°It¡¯s Brent¡¯s driver¡¯s license. He must have left it on ident.¡±


    ¡°Whoa,¡± Jenny said. ¡°That takes me back. What¡¯s it been? Two years?¡±


    ¡°Nearly three,¡± William answered.


    ¡°Do you think he¡¯s still out there?¡± Adeline asked. ¡°I mean¡­ he never got postered. Do you think he found a way out?¡±


    The others didn¡¯t seem very optimistic about that.


    ¡°Amelia and Curtis say that sometimes people just disappear,¡± Arthur said.


    ¡°What happens to them?¡± Adeline asked.


    ¡°How should I know?¡± Arthur asked. ¡°Wherever he is, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s at peace¡­. Did you guys hear about the new Base?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± William said. ¡°I hear it¡¯s pretty nice.¡±


    ¡°I grabbed the Writ from Curtis,¡± Arthus said, pulling the paper out of his pocket. ¡°Check it out.¡±


    <strong>The City of Carousel</strong>


    <strong>Writ of Habitation</strong>


    By the decrees of the City of Carousel and under the authority of the Office of the Mayor, this document certifies that:


    Bearer: Amelia Trenton


    Is granted the right and authority to im the expansive estate known as:


    <strong>Dyer''s Lodge</strong>


    Located within the premises of Camp Dyer


    Eastern Shoreline of Dyer''s Lake


    Under the provisions of this Writ, the following conditions apply:<ol><li><strong>Extensive Boundaries:</strong> The bearer is granted dominion over Dyer''s Lodge and the surroundingnds within Camp Dyer, extending to the entirety of the eastern shoreline of Dyer''s Lake.</li><li><strong>Protection from Omens:</strong> Dyer''s Lodge, Camp Dyer, and its immediate vicinity are safeguarded from the activation of any Omen by ident, ensuring the bearer''s safety and those within their domain from unforeseen malevolence.</li><li><strong>Guarantee Against Encumbrances and Hostility:</strong> The described property shall remain free fromirs, nests, or havens of any adversarial entities. All hostile presences nearby will immediately vacate the vicinity and abstain frombative behavior.</li><li><strong>Amenity Assurance:</strong> Dyer''s Lodge is equipped with essential amenities, suitable for habitation and guest reception. This includes drinkable water and basic sustenance, though the luxury level of these provisions may vary.</li><li><strong>Duration of Habitation:</strong> This Writ grants the bearer and their heirs habitation rights for an indefinite period, ensuring long-term security and ownership.</li><li><strong>Transferability:</strong> Ownership of Dyer''s Lodge is automatically extendable to the chosen heirs of the bearer. This writ remains active and non-expiring until an event of the original bearer''s choosing.</li><li><strong>Maintenance and Enhancement:</strong> While Dyer''s Lodge is provided in a state ready for habitation, the bearer has the full right to further enhance, renovate, or expand the structure and surrounding areas as they see fit.</li><li><strong>Act of God use:</strong> The Office of the Mayor and the City of Carousel shall not be held liable for any damages or threats arising due to unforeseeable acts of nature or urrences beyond the realm''s control.</li><li><strong>Renewal and Extension:</strong> While the duration is indefinite, any future terms and conditions, if they arise, will be dictated by the City of Carousel''s then-current rules, with the bearer given priority consideration.</li><li><strong>Vitions:</strong> Breach of any conditions mentioned herein may result in discussions and negotiations rather than immediate revocation.</li></ol>


    Sealed with the emblem of the Office of the Mayor.


    Date of Issue: December 15, 2006


    ¡°You see that,¡± Arthur said. ¡°Guarantee Against Encumbrances and Hostility. You know what that means?¡±


    He didn¡¯t wait for an answer.


    ¡°No howling ghouls,¡± he said. ¡°No haunted paintings. No fiery ghosts waking us up in the night every winter.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± William said. ¡°Didn¡¯t even know you could get these things where they guaranteed there would be no enemyirs on the property. Always thought you had to scout the ce out yourself. Make sure you won¡¯t get attacked.¡±


    ¡°Might do that anyway,¡± Arthur said. ¡°Can you imagine trying to live in a ce without checking for enemies first?¡±

 Tales of Carousel: Youve Got Mail

    Tales of Carousel: You''ve Got Mail


    Zara Fitzgerald waited as the phone rang. This phone number was one of the weird ones. For whatever reason, you had to wait a good 14 or so rings before you got the answering machine. Most of the time you could get to that machine in less than seven.


    She knew how many rings it took because she had counted them every time she attempted to call Tina Trammell for the past two weeks. She usually didn''t have this hard of a time getting ahold of a woman with a missing child, even when that missing child was of legal drinking age.


    As she waited, she spun slowly in her chair and surveyed the busy room behind her. Reporters mored to get their stories to print. It was a busy week. There was a lot of pressure from the higher-ups. Zara was above a lot of that. Her story was going to be big. It was the kind of story that could get published in long form and lend credibility to the paper.


    Beep.


    ¡°Ms. Trammel, this is Zara Fitzgerald at the Chicago Beacon. I was hoping that I could get in contact with you to discuss your son''s case. Sadly, I can''t say that there are any developments, but I do have some questions that I didn''t think to askst time¡ª¡±


    Click.


    ¡°Hello?¡± A small voice answered.


    Finally, Zara thought.


    ¡°Hello, Ms. Trammell. This is Zara Fitzgerald. Do you have a moment to talk?¡±


    ¡°Sarah, is that you?¡± Tina Trammel asked. ¡°The reporter?¡±


    Tina had not once gotten Zara¡¯s name right. It was far toote to correct her though.


    ¡°Yes ma''am,¡± Zara said politely. ¡°I was just calling to see if you were willing to answer some more questions about your son. I''ve been talking to a few of the other parents and gathering up some background details. It would be really helpful if you were willing to do the same.¡±


    There was a pause at the other end.


    ¡°Oh, I don''t need to do that,¡± Ms. Trammell said.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Gordy isn''t missing,¡± she said. ¡°I finally got a hold of himst month. He has the most remarkable stories.¡±


    ¡°You''re saying that Gordy contacted you and you''ve spoken to him directly?¡± Zara rified.


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Tina answered. ¡°We spoke for hours. He got a job at a travelpany. He works on cruise ships and other things like that. He told me all about it. Isn''t that wonderful?¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± Zara said. Frankly, there wasn''t much more she could say. When a group of young people goes missing, you don''t just expect one of them to show up with a job. ¡°Can you tell me whatpany he works for?¡±


    ¡°Well dear, I don''t remember exactly,¡± Tina said. ¡°He says that he''s gotten to travel the world. You have to understand when he was growing up that he didn''t get to do that. His father and I didn''t have the means to take him on vacations. I always regretted that. He told me that all he ever wanted was to go to exotic ces and meet new people. And that''s what he''s been doing all this time.¡±


    Tina''s voice cracked as she cried. Tears of joy. Tears of relief.


    ¡°That''s wonderful to hear,¡± Zara said. ¡°Is he still with his girlfriend? They werest seen together back in May.¡±


    ¡°Why yes I think so,¡± Tina said. ¡°They''re together in the pictures.¡±


    Zara thought for a moment.


    ¡°Pictures? He sent you pictures? In the mail or¡­¡±


    ¡°No, dear. He sent them on theputer.¡±


    Zara was numb. She had investigated hundreds of disappearances. The vast majority had shown up within a day or two. Often it was just the result of a glorified custody dispute. This was something else. Five people went missing. And they weren''t the first. Zara had found at least three other groups who had gone missing and around the same part of the country in just the same odd way. In her experience, people rarely just showed back up.


    It happened of course. Usually though, when people went missing of their own volition, their loved ones were well aware of the reason.


    ¡°This is a little forward to ask, I know, but is it possible for you to show me these pictures?¡±


    Tina didn''t answer. She seemed hesitant. Zara worried that she had gone too far.


    ¡°It''s just, you know, having this job I so rarely get to see happy endings. It would really mean a lot if I could see Gordy and Megan,¡± Zara said softly.


    ¡°Let me see if I can make this work,¡± Tina said. ¡°I never have been very good with theputer. It was Gordy''s. Can you tell me your¡­¡±


    She lost the word.


    ¡°My e-mail address?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that''s it. Your e-mail. So I can send it over the World Wide Web.¡±


    ¡°[emailprotected],¡± Zara said slowly, sounding it out.


    ¡°Oh dear I''m going to have to write that down,¡± Tina said.


    Zara had thought she would do that the first time.


    ¡°OK, Hun I''m going to have to hang up with you,¡± Tina said. ¡°For some reason, I can''t get on the web while I''m on the phone.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Zara said. ¡°Dial-up can be a real hassle that way.¡±


    ¡°OK bye dear,¡± Tina said.


    ¡°Goodbye, and thanks again. I''m d to hear about your son.¡±


    Zara hung up the phone and sat back in her rolling chair. She thought about the implications. Up until that moment, she believed that Gordy and his four best friends had disappeared together. If he was actually off gallivanting around on cruise ships, was it just a coincidence that the other four disappeared at the same time?


    No. Zara did not believe in coincidences.


    It took three hours before she finally got the e-mail. She had almost given up hope and was about to redial Tina Trammell when it came in.


    It immediately became clear that Tina had not just sent the photographs. She had forwarded the entire e-mail chain. Zara was not going toin.


    The e-mail that Gordy had been using was [emailprotected]. Out of a journalistic habit, she immediately typed in  in her browser. There was no website attached to that address. Unfortunately, she didn''t know what that meant or if it meant anything. All she knew was that she wasn''t going to be able to learn about this supposedpany from their website.


    With a few clicks, she began downloading the photos. It was going to take a while. The building''s inte was a bit outdated.


    As she waited for the first of the pictures to load, her attention was taken away when her boss, Archie Henderson, dragged a rolling chair over next to her and straddled it backward. He took a deep breath as he did so. He tried to look casual, just one of the guys at the office, but Zara knew better.


    ¡°It''s not done yet, Archie,¡± she said before he had the chance to open his mouth. She turned in her chair to look at him.


    He expected as much. Archie had worked for the Chicago Beacon for almost 20 years. He had learned when a reporter wasn''t going to write a story. Journalistic integrity was best selectively employed, Archie thought.


    Zara Fitzgerald disagreed.


    ¡°We need it to print,¡± he said.


    ¡°No, we don''t.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we do actually.¡±


    ¡°No, we do not actually need it. And you know it too. It is not essential news. A rich pop star going on an extended booze cruise hardly counts as a disappearance and you know that.¡±


    ¡°Zara¡­¡± Archie started to say, but then he got a glimpse of her of her screen. ¡°Is this your missing kid? The college kid fromst year?¡±


    Zara looked back over her shoulder toward her screen. The picture had loaded now. Sure enough, there was young Gordy Trammel. It looked like he was at some sort of carnival... no a circus. His girlfriend, Megan Davis was standing right next to him. She looked scared as she surveyed the unseen crowd. He looked like he was trying not to be scared.


    For a moment Zara and Archie both just stared at the picture.


    ¡°That look strange to you?¡± Zara asked slowly.


    ¡°Strange ratio for a photograph. Almost looks more like a frame from a movie. Where did you get this?¡±


    ¡°The mother,¡± Zara said. ¡°She seems satisfied. I haven''t gotten a chance to go through All of them yet.¡±


    There was an awkward amount of silence as they stared at the young couple walking through a circus. There was straw on the ground and arge tent in the background. People wereughing and having fun. Everyone but the two central subjects who at best looked ufortable. Gordy had a strained smile.


    ¡°Not everybody loves the circus as much as you and I,¡± Archie said. He returned to the previous subject. ¡°That rich pop star helps sell papers And this is a legitimate disappearance by every measure that we could use. If it turns out she is on a booze cruise or doing drugs in Thand we''ll report on that too but for now, she''s missing. Again.¡±


    Zara held her tongue.


    ¡°Look, our owner has shed our budget. He thinks this Inte thing is going to permanently eat away at our profitability. Until we prove otherwise, we have to bring out the hits. Misbehaving celebrities are a godsend at a time like this,¡± Archie said.


    More than anything, Zara just wanted to get back to the pictures. Something felt off about this entire thing.


    ¡°Yes, Mr. Henderson,¡± Zara said, with a dash of disdain.


    ¡°So, it¡¯s back to Mr. Henderson, huh?¡±


    ¡°I guess so,¡± Zara said.


    Taking onest glimpse at theputer monitor, Archie Henderson breathed heavily and mumbled to himself as he trudged back across the busy floor to his office.


    There were four photographs but she was still caught up on the first one. There was something so odd, soposed about the photo even though the main subjects did not appear to be doing anything remarkable.


    It even looked like someone set up lighting for the photograph.


    Her eyes wandered around the frame until she saw in the background something that wasmon at circuses. A clown performing a juggling act for some children. There was something strange about the clown''s face. Its makeup almost looked like arger face drawn onto the face, forehead, and scalp of the clown. That was not remarkable. Circus performers had all kinds of fancy makeup and often clowns had their signature look.


    What was odd, was that it almost looked like the painted-on eyes were staring at Gordy and Megan.


    It must have been a trick of the light.


    Zara continued to look through the picture until she saw a tuft of orange hairing from a young woman in the background walking in the crowd.


    Is that Nia Mitchell? Zara thought. It couldn¡¯t be.


    It looked like her though. Zara had memorized her face.


    Another thing that made this case special and that assured Zara that there was somethingrger going on, was that Gordy¡¯s ssmate Nia Mitchell had gone missing one year before him. She was not the subject of much investigation because her parents didn''t press it. Unfortunately, if a missing person''s loved ones did not pressure the news media and the police, fervor would die down depressingly quickly.


    No one seemed that interested in finding out what happened to Nia Mitchell.


    Except for Zara.


    She walked over to the nearest filing cab and opened it up. She pulled out the file on Nia.


    She sat down to make a phone call.


    Unlike Tina Trammell, Marideth Baker picked up immediately.


    ¡°Baker Residence,¡± she said cheerily.


    ¡°Hello Mrs. Baker,¡± Zara said. ¡°You probably don''t remember me. My name is Zara Fitzgerald. I spoke to you about 18 months ago about your daughter Nia.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Well, I was wondering if maybe there had been some updates. Have you heard from Nia?¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°We have. We talked to the police. She''s no longer officially a missing person. I''m sorry we didn''t contact you.¡±


    ¡°So she''s back home?¡±


    Another pause.


    ¡°She''s... somewhere. Right now things aren''t so good,¡± Mrs. Baker said. Her disposition changed immediately. She sounded sad.


    ¡°Do you have a phone number I could contact her at? I understand that things may beplicated,¡± Zara said.


    ¡°We don''t. Not anymore. Nia¡­ you might not understand. As far as I know, she''s fine. She''s struggling on her path with the Lord right now. I believe that one day the spirit will show her the way home.¡±


    Zara got a sinking feeling.


    ¡°I''m sorry. I know that this is intrusive but understanding missing people is my job and my calling. It would help a lot if you could exin something. Did you have this falling out in person? Have you actually seen Nia?¡±


    A third pause.


    ¡°It was a phone call. She told us that she wasn''t a believer anymore and that she''d run off with a man. An atheist if you could believe that.¡± Mrs. Baker started to cry. ¡°Her father put his foot down and said that she''s not allowed back home until she repents. I haven''t heard from her since.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s horrible to hear,¡± Zara said. She contemted asking for the phone number that Nia had called from but she realized that it was unlikely Mrs. Baker could acquire it easily or that she would want to get it at all.


    After a few more words offort, Zara ended the phone call.


    What did all this mean?


    She decided to look through the rest of the photographs.


    The rest were shot just like the others. High detail, well-lit, wellposed. Like a still from a movie.


    The second photograph appeared to have been taken in front of an old decrepit mansion. Zara wasn¡¯t certain where the architecture originated from.


    There they were. The five missing kids. Nia was not in this photograph. It was just those five.


    Then came a picture near a parade. It was simr to the circus. Very lively. Not much to see, though. The next picture took ce on an airne. Nia was there. At least in that one, Gordy was smiling and more at ease.


    There was no picture of a cruise ship, an odd omission seeing as Gordy supposedly worked for a cruise line of some kind.


    Zara had recently spoken to the parents of all of the other missing kids. None of them had reported contact with their children, including Gordy Trammell¡¯s girlfriend Megan Davis¡¯ parents.


    Not yet, anyway.


    The email chain didn¡¯t turn up much pay dirt. A few I love youments, a few stories of Gordy¡¯s days working for the tourpany. Somehow, he managed to say nothing using a lot of words. No ce names were specified. No people with titles at thepany were mentioned.


    The email conversation itself was looking to be a dead end.


    Of course, she could just email Gordy herself.


    She switched to her e-mail and typed in the address which Gordy had sent the pictures from. Sheposed a message asking him where he was and if he was free to talk.


    To her surprise, the reply was almost instant. The weird thing was that the reply wasn¡¯t from Gordy¡¯s email address. It was from [emailprotected]. That itself was strange. Even stranger is that the email did not appear to be a form letter or auto-response.


    <strong>Email Chain between Zara Fitzgerald and Damon at Cruise Mail</strong>


    ---


    Subject: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 1, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: [emailprotected]<blockquote>


    Hello,


    Gordy Trammell? Are you avable to talk?


    Best,


    Zara Fitzgerald</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 1, 2002


    From: Damon [emailprotected]>


    To: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    This is Damon with Cruise Mail. Unfortunately, your email is not on the whitelist. ChiBeacon¡­ that wouldn¡¯t be the Chicago Beacon, would it?


    Damon</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 1, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: Damon [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    Yes, it would. We¡¯re currently trying to track down a missing person. Damon, I was trying to reach Gordy Trammell. Is there a way you can put me in contact with him?


    Zara</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 2, 2002


    From: Damon [emailprotected]>


    To: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    I can certainly look up his file and confirm his employment, but I can¡¯t give away more information than that. It¡¯s an employee privacy issue.


    Damon</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 2, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: Damon [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    Anything you can tell me would be useful.


    Zara</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 3, 2002


    From: Damon [emailprotected]>


    To: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    We do have a Gordy Trammell on file. Unfortunately, there is no Z. Fitzgerald in his emergency contacts, so I can¡¯t give you much more than that.


    Damon</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 3, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: Damon [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    I¡¯m contacting you on behalf of his mother, Tina Trammell. Is she an emergency contact?


    Zara</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 4, 2002


    From: Damon [emailprotected]>


    To: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    I¡¯m afraid not. Good afternoon, Ms. Fitzgerald.


    Damon</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 4, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: Damon [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    Who is his emergency contact? Where can I look to find more information about yourpany?


    Zara</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 5, 2002


    From: Damon [emailprotected]>


    To: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    His current emergency contact, and I should not be telling you this, is a Megan Davis.


    You can find out more information about us in any trade magazine or travel agency which we have partnered with.


    Damon</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 5, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: Damon [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    Look, Damon, I need to confirm that this kid is alive and ounted for. Is there any way you can help me with that?


    Zara</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 6, 2002


    From: Damon [emailprotected]>


    To: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    That is above my pay grade. I can put you in contact with our legal department. You can take it up with them.


    Damon</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 6, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: Damon [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    Yes, please.


    Zara</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 9, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: Damon [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    Just checking in. It¡¯s been three days and you have not given me the information you promised.


    Zara</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 10, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: Damon [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    Can you tell me what state your business is registered in? I can¡¯t seem to find any information about you at all.


    Zara</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 11, 2002


    From: Damon [emailprotected]>


    To: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ve run it up the chain and I will not be able to give you their information at this time. We do business as Cruise Mail. That is not our legal name. You have to understand; we tend to attract employees whose lives beforeing to us can beplicated. We owe them a certain amount of precaution.


    After talking it over with legal counsel and Mr. Trammell, I can, however, invite you out for an in-person meet and greet at one of our partner locations. You can establish for yourself that Mr. Trammell is alive and well.


    Damon</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 11, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: Damon [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    That¡¯s a little unorthodox. Where exactly would this meeting take ce?


    Zara</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 12, 2002


    From: Damon [emailprotected]>


    To: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    Our closest office to your location. Near Branson, Missouri. A popr destination for our clientele, as you can imagine. I am sorry to say we cannot offer amodation in Branson itself, but we can rmend the Olde Hille Bed & Breakfast nearby. We are avable on the 28th at 8 a.m. Would that be eptable?


    Damon</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 12, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: Damon [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    I don¡¯t have much choice.


    Zara</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 13, 2002


    From: Damon [emailprotected]>


    To: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    Will you being alone? We would like to know what to tell the hotel.


    Damon</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 13, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]>


    To: Damon [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    No. Expect four.


    Zara</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 14, 2002


    From: Damon [emailprotected]>


    To: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    Very well. I will call you with directions to our locatiion. It can be a bit tricky. The meeting is set for the 28th.


    Damon</blockquote>


    What did I just agree to? Zara thought to herself.


    Best case scenario, she was walking into the weirdest corporate meeting of her life. She didn''t think that would be the case. What she expected, was that this was some sort of cult.


    It was inevitable. One cannot spend their entire life trying to find missing people withouting across a cult or two. Needy disced people are their perfect target. This was something she had done before. If things didn''t look safe, she would never show up.


    She had told them that she was bringing three other people. Truthfully, she didn''t have three people that she could invite. She had one though, And he was worth three all by himself.


    Leopold Abernathy had faced down the Vietcong, the mob, and the pushback to the Civil Rights Movement. Those were the times that Leo called the good old days. He had not gone one day without a gun strapped to his hip since he was a grunt in the army. Then he wore one as a police officer. Now, he brought his gun with him as a Private Investigator.


    He was the perfect person to bring along.


    ~-~


    ¡°The fuck I will,¡± Leo said. ¡°I told you. After I get a picture of Senator Couch bunking up with his secretary, I am out of here for good. Just one more week and my worries will be over.¡±


    ¡°Cause you''re moving to Barbados?¡± Zara asked.


    She had invited him out for coffee.


    ¡°Keep guessing, baby girl, maybe someday you¡¯ll guess right.¡±


    ¡°If I guessed right, you¡¯d just retire somewhere else,¡± Zara said.


    Leo¡¯s long-awaited retirement was his favorite subject to talk about when he was stressed or knee-deep in his work, which was almost always.


    ¡°You know it,¡± Leo said. ¡°Now why do you want to get me kidnapped by a cult in the middle of Missouri?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s actually southern Missouri.¡±


    ¡°See that doesn¡¯t make any sense either,¡± Leo said. ¡°Why would a cruisepany have offices in andlocked state?¡±


    Zara took a deep breath. ¡°They sent me this,¡± she said, sliding a brochure across the table. "It says they started with cruises but then expanded. Now they do packages in lots of tourist destinations. Including Branson, Missouri.¡±


    ¡°And I suppose you have no one else to cover your ass?¡±


    ¡°Just you, Leo,¡± Zara said.


    ¡°How many missing kids?¡± Leo asked.


    ¡°Six. All 21 and under.¡±


    Leo scrunched his face. ¡°Damn. Okay, but the first time I hear a banjo, I¡¯m out of there. They don¡¯t think you¡¯reing down there alone, do they?¡±


    ¡°No. Told them I was bringing three people.¡±


    ¡°Good. We¡¯ll tell them it¡¯s me, and the two snipers hiding in the trees,¡± heughed.


    He took a deep breath.


    ¡°Am I getting paid this time?¡±


    ¡°You got paidst time.¡±


    ¡°After weeks of hounding. Your boss approve this?¡± Leo asked.


    ¡°He will. If he doesn¡¯t, I¡¯ll pay you out of my pocket.¡±


    Leo couldn¡¯t tell her no.


    ¡°d to see you¡¯re putting that inheritance to good use.¡±


    Zara was going to need all the help she could get. She didn''t know what she was onto, but she knew it was something. Finding the truth was what mattered. Finding those kids.


    When the time came, she and Leo packed up in her car the night before their meeting. They needed to scope out the ce, make sure everything was 5 by 5.


    <strong>Two Weeks Later</strong>


    Subject: Re: Seeking Information on Gordy Trammell


    Date: April 27, 2002


    From: Damon [emailprotected]>


    To: Zara Fitzgerald [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    I''m trying to make it work... Give me a second.


    Wait. Can you hear me?


    Zara Fitzgerald. Looks like it''s got you. If you can hear this message somehow, don''te to Carousel.


    You''re not responding. I''m not sure if you can even hear me.


    I''m sorry I didn''t get here sooner.


    Damon</blockquote>


    ---


    Subject: Re: Zara Fitzgerald Resignation


    Date: May 01, 2002


    From: Zara Fitzgerald <>[emailprotected]>


    To: Archie Henderson [emailprotected]><blockquote>


    Archie,


    Frankly, I¡¯m astonished it¡¯s taken me this long to write this. After our confrontation on the phonest night, you shouldn¡¯t be shocked to see this email, but let¡¯s not kid ourselves - you''ve probably been too busy appeasing your corporate overlords to notice. Here¡¯s the crux: The Chicago Beacon''s descent into mediocrity and its tant disdain for journalistic ethics are so profound that my stomach churns at the thought of being associated with it any longer. I¡¯m not just resigning; I¡¯m disassociating.


    I¡¯ll hire a consierge service to pick up myputer and files because, frankly, setting foot in that building again would be an assault on my professional dignity. While we''re on the subject, ensure my final paycheck reflects everyst cent owed to me ¨C considering the current administrative ipetence, I''m attaching detailed instructions, so there¡¯s no "misunderstanding".


    This resignation isn¡¯t about you, Archie, or the few souls still clinging to integrity amidst the newsroom''s devolution. But let''s not embellish our exchanges with misced sentimentality. I appreciated working with you, back when you were a journalist, not whatever sell-out title you wear now.


    To say I''m disappointed is an understatement. This isn''t just goodbye; it''s good riddance to a once-proud institution now withering under a mix of cowardice, greed, and ineptitude.


    No regards,


    Zara Fitzgerald</blockquote>

 Tales of Carousel: Ill Love You Till the Day You Die

    Tales of Carousel: I''ll Love You Till the Day You Die


    ¡°You will not believe what I just learned,¡± Miss Hart said as she rushed to the side of her best friend Mrs. Ford. ¡°The bride <em>did </em>invite her family. They refused to show up. I just confirmed it.¡±


    Mrs. Ford fanned herself with a copy of the wedding program. ¡°The rehearsal hasn¡¯t even started, and you¡¯ve already gotten the scoop, have you?¡±


    ¡°That''s not the scoop. The scoop is the reason they aren''ting,¡± Miss Hart said with a grin.


    After waiting a moment for Miss Hart to continue, Mrs. Ford said, ¡°Alrighte out with it.¡±


    Mrs. Ford got close and, with a grin started to say, ¡°It¡¯s because¡ª¡±


    But as she did, a third person arrived in theirpany.


    ¡°Oh you incorrigible gossips are at it already aren¡¯t you?¡± Mr. Greene said as he arrived next to them, carrying a te of finger sandwiches.


    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± Miss Hart said.


    ¡°I didn''t say I wanted you to stop,¡± Mr. Greene said. "I came over here because I sensed there was an interesting conversation happening.¡±


    ¡°Well as it happens, I have just learned that poor Percy¡¯s bride was almost married a time before. The wedding didn¡¯t go through. Her family sided with her former fiance.¡±


    ¡°Is that why they aren¡¯t here?¡± Mr. Greene asked.


    ¡°Hush, let her speak,¡± Mrs. Ford said.


    ¡°As a matter of fact, it is why they aren''t here. The reason for the failed engagement is all the more interesting,¡± Miss Hart said.


    Mr. Greene and Mrs. Ford were hooked. They waited eagerly for the reveal.


    ¡°Daphne, the bride, she had a former lover that hasn¡¯t quite let her go. He began stalking her. That¡¯s why her wedding fell through. The families on both sides me her for her choice of men. And now Percy has been drawn into her grasp and the cycle is repeating all over again.¡±


    ¡°A stalker?¡± Mr. Greene asked. ¡°Are we in danger?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Miss Hart said. ¡°But then they did hold the wedding all the way out here in Snowblind for a reason. They did hire private security. But I am sure if there was a real threat they would never have gone forward with things.¡±


    Mrs. Ford and Mr. Greene were aghast.


    ¡°I thought the security was normal for a wedding of this ticket price. That it was part of the Franklins showing off their wealth. I had no idea there were other reasons,¡± Mrs. Ford said. ¡°I might have sat this one out if I had known.¡±


    Miss Hart looked at her incredulously. ¡°I have never known you to turn down a social asion. Let alone a wedding.¡±


    ¡°I still might have stayed home,¡± Mrs. Ford said. ¡°If I had known we would be put up in hotels at the bottom of the mountain instead of in the fancy resort because some psycho is on the loose.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have,¡± Mr. Greene said. He nced across the room as the bridal party started preparing for the rehearsal. He made eye contact with the groom. ¡°I live for wedding drama.¡±


    Percy loved a good Party. Before the action started, it was like a vacation. This time, it really was a vacation. A fancy venue, rooms with a maid, wedding preparations everywhere.


    He had to enjoy it while itsted.


    The thing he liked the most, more than the pampering and the treats and the peace, were the memories.


    They floated in the air, here. Reminding him of time spent together. Of whispered secrets in the dark, of ''I love you''s and gentle touches and longing nces.


    They weren¡¯t his memories, but he could feel them in the pit of his stomach, on the back of his neck, in the quiver of his breath. Whoever this man had been, fictional or otherwise, he was in love. He had been a young man on the cusp of a great adventure with the love of his life.


    Percy embraced these memories. That was the only way he had to live anymore, to focus on the person he could pretend to be for a time. Others ignored the electric prong of their character¡¯s memories, most never even reported feeling them. Not Percy though. For a few short moments, he got to be someone else, somewhere else.


    In this role, he got to be in love. He was going to get married. He wholeheartedly embraced the opportunity to escape Carousel, if only in his imagination.


    He was an imposter, but everyone was an imposter in this ce. It didn¡¯t matter. It was real to him for the moment.


    But where was his bride?


    ¡°Percy,¡± Ang said. ¡°They¡¯re looking for you in the office.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re looking for me?¡± he asked.


    Ang chuckled. ¡°You are the groom.¡±


    ¡°Right. The groom. I¡¯m important.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the second most important person here, little bro,¡± she said.


    He looked at her confused. ¡°Oh, right. Show me the way, sis,¡± he said chuckling. In this story, she was his sister. He had almost forgotten.


    She turned and waved him forward. As he walked past, she grabbed onto his arm and leaned in to whisper in his ear, ¡°Stay sharp. You know we¡¯re going make sure everything works out, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, not so sure.


    Angughed again as she showed him the way to the office.


    ¡°Come on in, son,¡± Mr. Franklin said as Percy and Ang arrived. ¡°Sweetheart,¡± he said, holding his arm out for Ang, ¡°You should be in here too.¡±


    Mr. Franklin wrapped Ang up in one arm and held her there as Percy walked forward into the room.


    In the office was arge table with papersid upon it. Across from them, two men sat with serious looks on their faces. They looked at Percy and nodded as he walked up to the table.


    Seated near him was a beautiful woman, who smiled when she saw him. She jumped up from her seat and wrapped her arms around him.


    ¡°It¡¯s really happening,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re getting married.¡±


    This was her. This was the woman he was in love with. He could feel it.


    When a person goes too long without feeling deep infatuation, they forget what it feels like. The moment he saw her, every cell in his body rejoiced.


    Thest time he had felt this it had been in a dream that ended too soon. He didn¡¯t want this one to end at all.


    ¡°Daphne,¡± he said softly, ¡°There you are.¡±


    The phrase, ¡°There you are,¡± was the most romantic three words Percy knew. His real father had told him that is what true love felt like. It was a sudden revtion. You found the person you loved standing right in front of you. He had waited his whole life for it and when he saw her, in the throw of his character¡¯s feelings, it just slipped out unintentionally.


    ¡°Here I am,¡± Daphne said. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry that we have to think about¡­ this on our wedding weekend. You must regret me already.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Percy said without the faintest idea of what she was talking about.


    They looked into each other¡¯s eyes for a time.


    One of the men across the table cleared his throat. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to put a damper on the weekend. The sooner we debrief you, the sooner the festivities can continue.¡±


    The man was tall, with dark hair and a dark, stylish suit.


    Mr. Franklin leaned forward. ¡°Take a seat kids,¡± he said. ¡°Detective ckwood, go ahead.¡±


    Percy and Daphne took seats next to each other. They held hands as the men spoke.


    ¡°You can call me Marcus if you are worried about your guests finding out why I¡¯m here, though I''m certain they will find out soon enough,¡± Detective ckwood said. He grabbed a file folder and opened it on the table. The first page was a mug shot. ¡°Adrian Vale. We¡¯ve been searching for him for months at your bequest, Mr. Franklin. Best we can tell, he dropped off the radar and skipped town before the hearing for the temporary restraining order that Miss Sinir sought the year beforest. No sign of him since.¡±


    Mr. Franklin didn¡¯t look pleased. ¡°So we just wait for this lunatic to show up and ruin my son and future daughter-inw¡¯s wedding? Do you know how much this has cost?¡±


    Detective ckwood eyed him intensely. ¡°I assure you, Mr. Franklin, if he shows his face anywhere near Snowblind, he will be arrested or hospitalized long before you or any of your party guests ever know about it.¡±


    He slowly pushed the file across the table. ¡°Everything we know is in this file. He hasn''t used checks or opened a bank ount in his own name in well over a year. The unfortunate truth is that a person can go without detection for years if they use even the slightest precaution. Purchase items with cash, take jobs that will pay you under the table, pay rent off the books.¡±


    ¡°Well he must be somewhere,¡± Mr. Franklin said. ¡°He resurfacedst year when Daphne was set to wed the Steadman boy,¡± he looked down at Daphne, ¡°I¡¯m sorry to bring that up.¡±


    He took out a cigar and lit it, something he often did when stressed.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Detective ckwood said. ¡°The threatening letters, stalking, and phone calls. Those were all problems fixed by choosing this remote location. The good news is he''s not exactly wealthy enough to chase Ms. Sinir across the country. Even if he found out where the wedding was taking ce, it''s unlikely that he could get here. He has no current driver¡¯s license and he hasn''t registered a vehicle with any state.¡±


    ¡°That doesn''t mean he doesn''t have a vehicle. He could have paid cash,¡± Mr. Franklin said.


    Percy looked back at his character¡¯s father. The man wanted his money¡¯s worth. He wasn¡¯t satisfied with the risks that this stalker represented. He felt he knew this man as well as his real dad. This behavior was typical. He was a sweet man to everyone except the people who took his money, be it waiters, employees, or private detectives. From them, he expected results.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t think the information you have gathered is equal to your reputation,¡± Mr. Franklin said. ¡°I was told you were the best.¡±


    Percy tried to ignore them. He pulled the folder over to himself and began looking through the information that had beenpiled. He stared at the man¡¯s face, Daphne¡¯s stalker, Adrian Vale. A big man. Percy couldn¡¯t take him in a fight. Hopefully, he wouldn¡¯t need to. He had his best man, Gus, for that.


    He slid the mug shot of Vale over to Daphne. She nced down at it and then looked back up at him with a look of apprehension.


    ¡°As it happens,¡± Detective ckwood said, ¡°I am developing a lead as we speak. One of my contacts is chasing down some information. I will report back to you once I know more. In the meantime, perhaps we should go over the security details for the wedding. I assure you that we have covered every possible detail.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Mr. Franklin said.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start with the ns for the rehearsal tomorrow¡­¡±


    ¡°And then I say ¡®I do,¡¯ right?¡± Percy asked.


    ¡°Ideally, yes,¡± the minister said with a smile as he walked the bride and groom through the ceremony. ¡°Otherwise, some people are going to be awfully disappointed that they made the trip. Then I turn to the guests and introduce you as man and wife.¡±


    The wedding party started to p, as did all of the guests who had shown up for the rehearsal.


    Percy and Daphne were still holding hands. He felt the urge to kiss her, so he did. She kissed him back.


    ¡°This is just the soft opening,¡± one of the groomsmen said. ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s the premiere. If our performance is half as good, we¡¯re still going to bring the house down. Although, Percy, I do have some notes on the kiss.¡±


    Percy chuckled.


    ¡°This is my wedding,¡± Daphne said, ¡°Not a y. And I could see you making eyes at Ang the whole time, Benji.¡±


    ¡°Talk about a bridezi,¡± Benji said. ¡°She¡¯s lying Ang, I would never make eyes at you without your express written permission.¡±


    ¡°Uh huh,¡± Ang said before changing her gaze to the muscr man in a tuxedo shirt standing between Percy and Benji. ¡°I think the best man is supposed to keep the groomsmen in line.¡±


    The man in the tuxedo shirt, Gus, said, ¡°Don¡¯t look at Ang, Benji. She doesn¡¯t want to date you.¡±


    ¡°I would never,¡± Benji said. ¡°Who could think about finding love at a wedding?¡±


    ¡°Oh my god, Benji,¡± Ang said. Turning to Daphne, she said, ¡°We have to go meet with the caterer, remember?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Daphne said. ¡°The caterer. The meeting we have with the caterer. We should go do that.¡±


    They turned and left with the other bridesmaids, giggling as they went.


    ¡°What was that about?¡± Percy asked as he watched them leave.


    ¡°Bachelorette party,¡± Gus said. ¡°Better watch out.¡±


    Percy didn''t respond. He was still too caught up with the sight of Daphne.


    ¡°I think she¡¯s the one, guys,¡± Percy said with augh.


    ¡°Until she sleeps with a stripper,¡± Benji said.


    ¡°Where are they going to find a stripper in the mountains?¡± Gus said.


    Benji shrugged.


    ¡°Same ce they found all these snow bunnies,¡± he said, pointing out therge ss window toward the ski slopes below.


    People were out on the slopes wearing neon jackets and snow pants of various hues. Some of them, women and men, wore fashionable outfits that drew attention from all over.


    ¡°I¡¯m d your fianc¨¦ has a psycho ex,¡± Benji said. ¡°I wish my dad could rent out an entire ski resort for my wedding. Instead, he just gave me a pack of condoms and told me never to get married.¡±


    Percy didn¡¯t say much. He was smiling. Content. Hopeful.


    ¡°You have that look again,¡± Gus said. ¡°You need to control that shit.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Gus was having trouble putting his thoughts into words. ¡°You get those rose-colored sses and you lose allmon sense. All¡­ urgency.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Percy said. ¡°Everything will be okay.¡±


    Gus didn¡¯t look so sure. ¡°I hope you know what you¡¯re doing. This isn¡¯t exactly a situation you can just bail on if things don¡¯t go as nned.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know it,¡± Percy said. Normally he could. Running away was his strong suit. Being the center of attention was not. ¡°I was trying to find some alone time and the¡­ photographer. The uh wedding photographer followed me everywhere I went. Can¡¯t get a moment alone.¡±


    ¡°Now you know what it feels like to be us,¡± Benji said. ¡°The ¡®photographers¡¯ here have been pretty persistent, though, haven¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s your big day, Percy,¡± Gus said, ¡°You¡¯re the star.¡±


    They all had a good chuckle.


    From across the room, Mr. Franklin called out, ¡°Percy!¡±


    ¡°Here we go again already. I told you I don¡¯t get a break,¡± Percy whispered to his friends. More loudly, he said, ¡°Yes, Dad?¡±


    ¡°Have you seen that damn detective?¡± Mr. Franklin asked. ¡°I have some things I want to talk over with him.¡±


    Percy shrugged. ¡°Not since this morning. Try the restaurant at the top of the mountain,¡± he suggested. ¡°He might have gone there.¡±


    Mr. Franklin looked up toward the peak of the mountain. ¡°Thanks, son. I¡¯ll check it out.¡±


    Once his character¡¯s father had left, he turned to his friends and said, ¡°That should take care of him for an hour or so.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do with you, Percy,¡± Gus said.


    ¡°How was the bachelorette party?¡± Percy asked.


    Daphne smiled coyly. She was arranging choctes on a small te.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    Percy got closer. ¡°You know, alcohol, chiseled men in tear-away pants. Phallic popsicles or something.¡±


    She stopped arranging the candies and looked up at him curiously, her onyx-ck hair framing her face. ¡°Aren¡¯t all popsicles phallic?¡±


    Percyughed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s just something Benji was saying.¡±


    ¡°You should never listen to anything that man says,¡± she said.


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°You have to get out of here before midnight, you know that. We aren¡¯t supposed to see each other on the day of the wedding until the ceremony.¡±


    Percy looked over at the clock on the wall. ¡°I have forty minutes.¡±


    ¡°You can wait one more day,¡± she said.


    Percy didn¡¯t want to. He knew the Party would be over soon and so would his vacation. He didn¡¯t want to go to bed. He was like a kid trying to stretch his weekend by staying upte on Sunday. Soon, Monday woulde.


    ¡°Let me stay a little longer, at least,¡± he asked, practically begging.


    She smiled and his heart fluttered.


    ¡°Just a little bit longer,¡± she said with augh. ¡°You¡¯re really getting into this, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Percy,¡± Daphne said, ¡°Wake up! You have to get out of here before anyone sees.¡±


    ¡°Crap, I didn''t mean to fall asleep,¡± Percy said. ¡°I''m sorry." He ran around the room pulling his clothes on. "I didn¡¯t mean for this to happen.¡±


    ¡°Just go get ready. The ceremony is still six hours away. We¡¯re fine. It¡¯s going to be okay.¡±


    Percy nodded as he gathered all of his things and headed out the door.


    As he did, he looked down on the ground and saw a smallment card for the resort that had the words ¡°I¡¯ll love you till the day you die¡± written on it.


    ¡°Daphne,¡± he said, bending down to pick up the card, ¡°Daphne, someone slipped this under the door.¡±


    Curious at first, then terrified, she grabbed the note and flipped it over, looking for more writing but finding none.


    ¡°We go to the detective, right?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Right.¡±


    They practically ran there.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t he supposed to be in the office?¡± Percy said, grabbing at the doorframe as he nearly lost his bnce. He felt dizzy and ragged.


    ¡°Just breathe,¡± Daphne said.


    Percy was having a hard time. His survival instincts instructed him to run, but that wasn¡¯t an option here. They were in the mountains, and he didn¡¯t have a vehicle. Even if he did, he knew the story would follow him wherever he went.


    The office was empty.


    ¡°Let¡¯s check the chapel,¡± Percy suggested. ¡°Do you know what rooms everyone is in?¡±


    ¡°I can check the registry,¡± Daphne said.


    They practically ran across the resort to the chapel. They didn¡¯t see a single soul on their way. The resort waspletely rented out for the wedding and the staff seemed strangely absent.


    As they ran into the room, Percy¡¯s attention was drawn immediately to therge window that overlooked the ski slopes.


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± he said as he stared out at the ski lift.


    The lines had been cut. No cars were moving up or down.


    ¡°How do they get up the mountain without the lifts?¡± he asked.


    Daphne looked out at the damage. One row of lifts had fallen to the ground. The other remained airborne but was sagging.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they do,¡± she said in a panic. ¡°They said there was too much snow this year. The roads are impassable.¡±


    Percy realized that the employees of the hotel, most of them at least, would not be able to get up the mountain.


    ¡°Percy, look,¡± Daphne said, pointing up at the wall behind the pulpit.


    Percy turned to see the words, ¡°I¡¯ll love you till the day you die,¡± written out again in red paint.


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± Percy said. ¡°We have to go get the others.¡±


    First, they went about finding Gus¡¯ room. When they arrived, the door was open and Gusy in his bed. Blood-drenched feathers rested around his body.


    ¡°He was killed in his sleep,¡± Percy said, analyzing the scene. ¡°Never even got the chance to get up.¡±


    That wasn''tpletely true. Gus had tried to block the stabbing with a pillow, the only thing in reach at that moment. It had not been effective.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Percy said in a panic, ¡°It¡¯s too early¡­ It¡¯s not even First¡­¡±


    He stared off into his mind¡¯s eye.


    ¡°We need to find Ang,¡± he said.


    Daphne nodded. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. I brought this all on you. Adrian was never going to let me escape.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t time for that,¡± Percy said, grabbing her hand. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    They quickly made their way across the hall and found Ang¡¯s room with the door open. Ang was nowhere to be seen.


    Until they walked into the room and saw the balcony.


    Angy outside on the small chair that was left out on the balcony. She was only wearing a T-shirt and jeans. Her skin was blue. There was snow in her hair.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± Percy said. ¡°She can¡¯t be dead. It¡¯s not possible.¡±


    He pulled open the balcony door and examined her body. She was practically frozen to the touch.


    ¡°She can¡¯t die before¡­¡± Percy said.


    ¡°Why would she not defend herself? Maybe she got drunk and fell asleep out there,¡± Daphne said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand what is happening. This is too soon,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re in the Party still.¡±


    Daphne''s eyes widened as he said it.


    Percy knelt on the ground and wrapped his arms around his stomach.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Daphne asked through tears.


    ¡°I¡¯m dizzy,¡± Percy answered. ¡°Where is Benji? Maybe¡ª¡± he started to say.


    ¡°Percy, we need to lock the doors,¡± Daphne said. ¡°Adrian¡¯s going to be here soon.¡±


    Percy could hardly hear her.


    ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to be a main character,¡± he said in a panic.


    ¡°No,¡± Daphne said. ¡°None of that talk. We just have to find somewhere to hide, right?¡±


    She ran over to the door and shut it, locking it behind her.


    ¡°Percy, I love you,¡± she said.


    ¡°It¡¯s toote,¡± Percy said. He started to scrunch his face and hold his stomach. ¡°Gus and Ang¡­ they¡¯re dead.¡±


    ¡°Come here,¡± Daphne said, guiding Percy from the floor to the bed. Through tears, she said, ¡°All that matters is that we love each other. Even if we only get to be together for a few seconds in the scheme of things, at least I got to be with you. I was so lucky when you came along, Per¡ª¡±


    Percy convulsed, falling off the bed in the process.


    ¡°Don¡¯t interrupt me!¡± Daphne said, ¡°This is my favorite part.¡±


    She bent down and hoisted him back onto the bed.


    ¡°All that matters is that we love each other. Even if we only get to be together for a few seconds in the scheme of things, at least I got to be with you. I was so lucky when you came along, Percy. We were meant to be together forever.¡±


    He looked at her throughbored breaths, as if seeing her for the first time. The veil had been lifted. The rose-colored sses were gone.


    Who was this person? He was in love with her. Was she even part of his team? Why did he feel so sick all of a sudden?


    ¡°Choctes,¡± he said with great difficulty.


    ¡°You love chocte. I told you to leave before midnight. It¡¯s bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the ceremony on the day of their wedding. You didn¡¯t want to leave. What was I supposed to do?¡±


    ¡°How?¡± he asked. She had killed them all so soon.


    Except he realized she hadn¡¯t killed them soon at all. The Plot Cycle, which he swore had said Party moments before, now was much further along.


    ¡°The Finale?¡± he asked tears streaming from his eyes as he realized what had happened. She had tropes of her own and he had fallen for them wholesale. He had thought this story had a very long Party Phase. It didn''t. They were all fooled.


    The detective!


    His father had been looking for the detective the day before. Had that been First Blood, Detective ckwood''s disappearance? Had they all slept as the story had passed them by, one phase at a time? They weren''t prepared for this.


    ¡°I just want you to know,¡± she said, ¡°That I really do love you.¡±


    The story was all but over and he had failed. This was why he wasn¡¯t supposed to be the main character. He wasn¡¯t any good at it. He had fallen for her in every way possible. Love had betrayed him. He felt a pang in his heart. He didn''t know if it was the betrayal or the poison.


    Not like this. They had taken such a risk toe here. They could lose because of him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to y anymore,¡± he said before he even knew what he was saying.


    Daphne¡¯s eyes once again got wide. She rushed to put a finger over his mouth and said, ¡°This isn¡¯t a game. My dear. I love you so much.¡±


    Percy was beyond thinking straight as he felt another convulsioning on. The poison Daphne had somehow gotten into his system, by confection or affection, had done their work. He would die. His team wouldn¡¯t be rescued, not all the way out here.


    ¡°I quit. I don¡¯t want to y,¡± he said. As he did, the Plot Cycle stopped.


    ¡°No!¡± Daphne screamed. ¡°What did you just do?¡±


    Daphne looked at him with fear and with¡­ pity. He swore there was pity in her eyes. Why? What <em>had</em> he done? Was quitting the game actually possible?


    She turned and looked out the window, past Ang¡¯s body. The fear in her eyes was palpable. She started breathing heavily.


    With a look back at Percy she turned to walk to the door.


    As she opened it, she paused.


    She drew a knife from somewhere hidden in the folds of her dress, a bejeweled, silver knife.


    She walked across the room at once, trembling, but trying to fight through the fear.


    ¡°I told you, Percy,¡± she said tearfully as she readied her de. ¡°I¡¯ll love you till the day you die.¡±


    With another fearful gaze at something outside the window, she swiped the de downward toward Percy¡¯s neck and sent him to an early grave.


    And with another sh of her knife, she joined him.


    Introducing: Daphne Sinir as <em>The Homibride </em>in <em>Homibridal Part III: Widow''s Peak</em>

 Arc II, Chapter 1: Now Playing

    Arc II, Chapter 1: Now ying


    ¡°What were they thinking throwing another anniversary celebration after what happenedst time? Thirty years isn''t enough for the whole town to forget. All they¡¯re going to do is bring back bad memories. The mayor has lost his mind! I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s the centennial, it¡¯s in bad taste.¡±


    - Bonnie Hayworth, A Concerned Citizen


    ¡°My family doesn''t have any skeletons in our closets. And if we were truly cursed, how could I be killing it on the stage and screen right now? You don¡¯t reach this level of stardom without some cosmic vibes on your side.¡±


    - Ramona Mercer (February 21, 1965 - August 5, 1992)


    "Step right up,dies and gentlemen! If you reckon there''s a ticket in this town that offers more thrill and excitement than what we have right here, I challenge you to seek it out! Why wait? Off you go!"


    - The Barker


    ¡°I talk to the soothsayer, and sheys out the story of my family¡¯s sins end to end and what do you know, the damn thing makes a circle.¡±


    - Jedediah ¡°Jed¡± Geist


    <em></em>


    August 2, 2022


    <em>Wee to Carousel, the town where moviese to life.</em>


    <em>Will you rise to the asion or fall to the knife?</em>


    <em>The film¡¯s about to start, and you''re in the front row!</em>


    <em>The audience is watching you, so give them a show.</em>


    <em></em>


    <em>You had better be willing to do what it takes,</em>


    <em>Because even as I¡¯m speaking, Carousel wakes.</em>


    We were speechless.


    So many things had been done to ensure that we¡ªor a group of people like us¡ªended up in that forest, out-of-bounds. I had asked for answers and I had gotten them.


    ¡°I just got him back,¡± Antoine said, pacing back and forth. ¡°I just got Christian back and now what? He¡¯s dead. Is he dead? Is there any chance he can make it?¡±


    He was asking me. I was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but he had to ask.


    I didn¡¯t want to have to say it out loud. I had seen the moment Chris died with my scouting trope. I was certain he had not survived. I shook my head.


    He continued pacing back and forth.


    ¡°Can we go?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°How long do we have to stay here?¡±


    ¡°Wait your turn,¡± Ss said in his usual jokey cadence, ¡°There¡¯s plenty of disappointment to go around. Hehehe.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t a direct answer, but Ss rarely gave direct answers. It was enough for us to understand.


    We had to wait here in the infinite forest until everyone had failed their storylines back in Carousel. That could take hours. It could even take days. If we left too early, Project Rewind wouldn¡¯t work.


    And Project Rewind had to work.


    Whether it was the right decision or the wrong decision, so many people had sacrificed themselves for that n.. or been sacrificed by others. It was our only hope. It had to work.


    Dina sat with her back against Ss. She was the only one of us that looked relieved to learn about thetest developments.


    Bobby hadn¡¯t moved an inch. He still stood there in shock. ¡°Can someone exin what¡¯s going on? How did you know toe here?¡±


    No one answered him. He didn¡¯t repeat himself.


    ¡°Antoine,¡± Kimberly said gently, ¡°Do you want to try your trope? It might help.¡±


    He stopped pacing.


    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t need that right now.¡±


    She was talking about his <strong>You Were Having a Nightmare¡­ </strong>trope, which was good for helping with his stressors. Stressors like being in the woods and not being able to leave. He had been trapped in the Straggler Woods for years by Ss and our Friends in High ces to help unlock Secret Lore. Whether those years were real or in his head, I couldn¡¯t say. Didn''t much matter.


    The trope made his trauma feel like it had not happened, that it was only a nightmare, but even that had its limits because of his low stats. Every minute we spent in this unending forest surrounded by wiggling corpses hanging from trees was further agitating him. I couldn¡¯t me him.


    ¡°I just thought it might help,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°I know my limits,¡± he said. He was breathing hard.


    ¡°Do you want to juste over here with me and wait?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I am fine,¡± Antoine said a bit too firmly. He recognized that he may have overstepped. ¡°Look, I can¡¯t forget right now. I can¡¯t. That trope makes everything foggy. It makes me forget. Makes all the bad things feel fake. Maybe in a few days, I can do it.¡±


    Kimberly walked to him, grabbed his hands, and asked, ¡°Doesn¡¯t it help?¡±


    ¡°It helps,¡± he reassured her, ¡°But I don¡¯t want it right now. I don¡¯t want to forget this. I need to keep... this," he said, moving his hand toward his chest. "I need it until we get Chris back. I can¡¯t forget this feeling until we do it.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t forget,¡± Kimberly said softly. ¡°It¡¯ll still be there. He¡¯s your brother. We¡¯re going to save him. We¡¯re going to save him, right everyone?¡±


    Dina and I nodded, but Bobby was still lost in thought.


    ¡°Please,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Just do it for me. I don¡¯t want to see hurting.¡±


    ¡°I say if he doesn¡¯t want to forget, don¡¯t make him forget,¡± Dina said solemnly. ¡°He wants to save his brother. It¡¯s fuel. It¡¯ll help him keep going.¡±


    Of course, that would be what Dina thought.


    Kimberly shot her a fierce nce.


    I didn¡¯t know how long we would be waiting there, so I said, ¡°Look, if he wants, he can use my sleeping trope. Just to help him wait things out.¡±


    Kimberly and Antoine looked at each other, silentlying to an agreement.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Just that, though.¡±


    He walked over near Ss and found a soft grassy spot. As I handed him my sleeping trope, he handed me his nightmare trope. He must have been afraid Kimberly would try to activate it the moment he nodded off. Unequipping it wasn¡¯t enough for him to be sure.


    <strong>Out Like A Light</strong> did the trick and he was soon asleep.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never forgive you for what you did to him,¡± Kimberly said. She was looking at Ss. ¡°I don¡¯t care why you did it. I¡¯ll never forgive you.¡±


    Ss didn¡¯t respond, but for a moment, I thought I saw his lights dimmed.


    Time passed. Hours. I sat near the group, listening to make sure that none of the far-off undead noises got any closer.


    ¡°Can someone exin to me how you knew toe here?¡± Bobby said eventually.


    This was hard to exin, but he deserved to know, especially if he was going to be on our team.


    We took turns. Dina exined her letters. I showed him my tickets with the encoded messages. We had even brought our cell phones in the hope that we might find a cell signal over here so we showed him the picture Camden had sent of the sign for the bed and breakfast.


    Bobby was quiet for a while. I expected him to get angry, but mostly, he just looked sad.


    After a while, he said, ¡°You know, I remember making that.¡±


    ¡°Making what?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°The ¡®closed fur renovations¡¯ sign,¡± he exined, ¡°I have the NPC¡¯s memory, or at least some of it. I remember that. I had just moved us out to the middle of nowhere. My daughter, well, the NPC¡¯s daughter, Samantha, and I moved out here to start over after her mother died. We were going to start the little B&B and raise a whole pack of dogs. Train them to do tricks to impress the guests. When I wrote close fur renovations as a dad joke, Samantha rolled her eyes, but she smiled too. It was a happy memory.¡±


    He didn¡¯t speak for a few moments.


    ¡°Jte and I decided not to have kids. She had some gic things she didn¡¯t want to pass on. I always wondered what it might be like though. To have a child. Now, suddenly, I have another hole in my heart for this kid that wasn¡¯t even really mine. What are you supposed to do when there is nothing left of your heart but holes?¡±


    He was asking me. Or maybe he wasn¡¯t. I¡¯ve never been the best at these conversations.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t figured that one out yet,¡± I said honestly.


    ¡°They¡¯re reminders of the people you love,¡± Dina said, shedding a rare tear. ¡°If you can¡¯t live without them. You either stop living or you do what it takes to get them back.¡±


    ¡°You rescue them,¡± Antoine said. He had woken back up. He was calmer.


    That was all we could do. Anna and Camden were out there waiting for rescue. I was going to do it no matter how long it took.


    We waited even longer. The only lights we could see by were the yellow shing ones on Ss'' box.


    ¡°I saw my son,¡± Dina said nonchntly.


    That took me by surprise.


    ¡°Where?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I was hiding out in the woods. Trying to stay away from those assholes. Suddenly, the dogs started howling. A thick fog came over the field. I could hear his voice, telling me not to be afraid.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°Guess that¡¯s around the time Samantha¡¯s trope activated. Made things supernatural, so your trope got stronger.¡±


    Dina had a trope called <strong>Encouragement from Beyond</strong> that allowed her dead loved ones tofort her in some form during a storyline. In a story without magic, the effect was like getting a sudden memory of her loved one. In stories with explicit magic, that trope became much more literal.


    She nodded. ¡°He told me not to attack the dead people. That they wouldn¡¯t hurt me. I tried to find where the voice wasing from, and I did. He was sitting on a log waiting for me. A shinging light.¡±


    ¡°That must have been¡­ quite the experience,¡± I said. I knew what people said to you when your loved ones died. I had heard plenty of it myself. I had no idea what to say to someone who just saw their loved one¡¯s ghost. Heck, the very mention of my grandmother had freaked me out. Dina didn¡¯t seem freaked out at all.


    ¡°He wanted to talk about you,¡± she said.


    ¡°About me?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He said that you used to watch scary movies with your grandfather,¡± she said.


    I didn''t want to hear that.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you should be listening to that stuff,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s just Carousel. That wasn¡¯t your son.¡±


    ¡°I believe it was. I know that Carousel would jump at the chance to mess with us; I¡¯m not stupid. I just don¡¯t think it would settle for a fake. I think it brought Sean¡¯s soul here to torment me. I think it¡¯s really him. Besides, wasn''t Carousel supposed to be asleep?¡±


    ¡°Dina¡­¡±


    ¡°He said you and your grandfather would watch scary movies and that he would fast forward through parts you weren¡¯t supposed to see.¡±


    That was true, but it didn''t mean her son''s ghost was real. It was just the effect of the trope.


    ¡°Stop,¡± I said. ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to know what else he said?¡± she asked. She was almost ready to cry.


    I didn¡¯t answer. I couldn¡¯t decide.


    ¡°He said go downstairs first. When you get three choices: up, down, or through a door with an eyeball on it. Go downstairs first. Do you know what that means?¡±


    ¡°Go downstairs first?¡± I repeated. ¡°I have no idea.¡±


    That didn¡¯t even make sense. In a horror movie, going into a basement is almost always the wrong decision.


    ¡°You have to remember that,¡± she said.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Fine.¡±


    I tried to think of something else to say, but I couldn¡¯t. More than anything I just wanted to get out of there.


    Downstairs first. A strange warning for sure.


    We stayed there waiting for a few more hours. Eventually, Ss started ying music and then disappeared.


    We all looked at each other.


    "I guess that means we''re alone," Kimberly said.


    We were. The training wheels were off.


    It only took us fifteen minutes to walk back to the bed and breakfast. It took hours to walk in, but minutes to walk out.


    As soon as we were out of the out-of-bounds zone, something appeared on the red wallpaper. It was something that Amelia and the Insider had taken offline so long ago.


    Now ying


    The Throughline


    Storylines


    Bonus


    The Centennial Celebration:


    The Final Straw II: Abridged


    The Astralist: Short Film


    Delta Epsilon Delta: Theatrical


    The Grotesque: Monster Hunter Rewrite


    Even More Stories from the Campfire: Fatal Folktales: Extended


    Subject of Inquiry: Theatrical


    The Strings Attached: Detective Rewrite


    Permanent Vacancy: Alternate Ending


    ???


    Secrets of Carousel #6: The Dark Water


    ???

 Arc II, Chapter 2: The Keepsake

    Arc II, Chapter 2: The Keepsake


    I held my new Keepsake ticket in my hand as I searched one of the rooms back at the Bed and Breakfast. There were clothes that definitely belonged to Bradley Speirs. There were knickknacks spread around. Cigarette butts. Empty beer cans. I could see on the red wallpaper that all of these things belonged to the deceased psychotic killer. None of them were what I was looking for.


    When we arrived back at the bed and breakfast, Samantha was nowhere to be found. I wasn''t surprised. We didn''t know how long we had before the storyline started back up (or if it would), but we were going to take the chance to rest before we headed back to Carousel proper.


    I could see crumpled-up pieces of paper on the ground. I unfolded a few just to read them. Some were letters to a woman named Wanda. Bradley was begging for forgiveness for some unmentionable thing. Other letters were also to Wanda but in those, heshed out calling her every curse word that he knew but mostly sticking to his few favorite slurs.


    Some of the pages were old and yellowed and covered in dust. Others looked fresh. The killers in Carousel were stuck on their own loops. That must have been part of Bradley''s. Writing letters he could never send.


    For all the junk in the room, I couldn''t find one item that was meaningful enough to be used as a Keepsake. And I had to find something. A keepsake was like a trophy or simr that you''ve got after defeating an enemy. It was a new type of ticket. Antoine and I had both gotten one and they both had the same reward.


    They could give us a single-use version of the signature trope from that storyline: <strong>Desperation</strong>. In Antoine''s hands, it was a good trope. In my hands, it would be a game changer. The trope allowed you to transfer Savvy and Moxie into Mettle and Hustle the more desperate your situation became. For me, it would be a "break ss in case of emergency" type of deal. As a yer with little to nobat ability, it could be really handy to keep around.


    I had to find an item that I could use to activate it. The ticket wasn''t enough. I needed some kind of memento from Bradley Speirs to imbue with the power. Unfortunately, after I threw Mr. Speirs off the roof, guaranteeing his death, he was dragged away by a horde of zombies. Having no corpse to plunder meant that it was difficult to find an item that I could use as a keepsake.


    I had to keep looking.


    Holding the ticket, I noticed that I was able to see whether an item in my view belonged to Bradley Speirs. There were lots of things that he ¡°owned¡±, but it was mostly trash. I needed something that was important to him in some way, from what I could tell. Antoine had gotten lucky in that department. The enemy he killed was Merritt Speirs. Antoine found a ss ring right next to Merritt¡¯s bed after 10 seconds of looking.


    I decided to look through Bradley''s nightstand and sure enough, as soon as I cracked open the drawer, I saw an object in the shadows that indicated on the red wallpaper was an applicable keepsake. Sess.


    It was a magazine with the words ¡°Sports Illustrated¡± printed on the cover with a photo of a woman in a bikini on the front.


    He must have been a real sports fan.


    I decided to keep looking. I wanted something small and I really didn''t want to carry around the swimsuit edition of a sports magazine. I needed to review my options.


    I decided to take a break and look for the next thing on my to-do list.


    Scouring the entire bed and breakfast, I was only able toe up with two decent bags that could be used with Luggage Tags. There was arge duffel and a neon green belt pouch. The pouch was probably very useful, but it would not really blend well in any storyline not set in the 80s.


    The duffel would be perfect for Antoine. I wasn''t sure but it looked like it might be just big enough for his baseball bat to fit inside of. I could give the belt pouch to Bobby.


    There were other options that I could use. There was a cloth shopping bag and all manner of sacks strewn around the bed and breakfast but nothing that was terribly convenient. I was struck by an idea. Luggage Tags were not just for actual pieces of luggage.


    I grabbed my sunsses and Walkman out of my hoodie pockets. I took the Luggage Tag from my stack of tickets and ced it in the pocket of my hoodie. As soon as I did, it disappeared. A box appeared on the red wallpaper titled Inventory.


    Inventory


    Token of Affection- Mrs. Cloudburst¡¯s Love Letter, The Strings Attached


    Enchanted Object- Masquerade Mask, The Strings Attached


    I was shocked to see that there were already things in my inventory. I had thought that those items had been lost permanently whenever the storyline at Camp Dyer had been activated. It turned out that wasn''t the case. It was nice to see that I still had those things, though I really wished that my clothes, toiletries, or even my cell phone charger had also been saved. s.


    Testing to see how it worked, I reached into my pocket, grabbed my Mr. Gray Amber mask, and pulled it out as if it had been there the entire time. Despite being removed from my pocket, it stayed on the list of my inventory on the red wallpaper. I ced it back inside. I then ced my sunsses and Walkman back inside my pockets.


    Iughed at the result.


    Normally carrying around my sunsses required me to be very careful and the Walkman was slightly too thick and heavy to carryfortably inside of my pocket. With the luggage tag, those things fit inside with ease. I took a few minutes just experimenting. My sunsses wouldn''t get broken anymore from what I could tell. They weren''t in my pocket unless I was looking for them.


    That setup had limitations of course. I could only carry items that would fit inside of my pockets, and I could never take out all the items in my pockets on-screen because that would look ludicrous, but it was the best I had, and I wasn''t going toin about it.


    ¡°I figure if you cut a hole right here, you can make a space in the lining for your bat,¡± I said, showing the duffel to Antoine. ¡°Should be able to store it there.¡±


    He took the ck bag from me and said, ¡°Thanks. Where did you find it?¡±


    ¡°Bradley¡¯s room,¡± I said.


    ¡°You get a Keepsake like you were talking about?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Still looking,¡± I said.


    We were outside on the wraparound porch. Kimberly was skimming the As while Antoine ate a slice of the pre-made sub sandwich we had found in the refrigerator.


    ¡°Look,¡± I said. I pulled out my mask and love letter.


    Kimberly nced up, saw the mask, and then reached down to the cloth bag Anna had wrapped the As in and pulled out her mask as well. She must have already activated her Luggage Tag using that bag.


    ¡°You¡¯re going with that?¡± I asked, looking at the bag.


    ¡°I¡¯m recing it as soon as I can,¡± she said. She stuffed her mask back in the bag and then retrieved a few small objects from the bottom of the bag.


    She held out her hand. They were seeds.


    ¡°Benny¡¯s seeds?¡± I asked with augh. Kimberly had obtained those seeds on our first night in Carousel. Benny the Haunted Scarecrow had awarded them to her for unknown reasons when he found her inside the corn maze.


    ¡°A Token of Affection,¡± she said, smiling.


    ¡°Women love gifts from the heart,¡± I said.


    ¡°I''m trying not to get jealous about it,¡± Antoine joked with a sly smile. He was trying his best to be in high spirits. I could see that he was tired. Maybe physically, maybe more than that.


    ¡°I should have told him I was in a rtionship, huh?¡± Kimberly joked.


    ¡°All I''m saying is that when I get some levels on that scarecrow, I¡¯m going to give him a talking to,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°What if I love him too?¡± Kimberly asked, pretending to be emotional about it.


    Antoine turned away from her. ¡°So that¡¯s how it is. One skinny dude gives you a handful of seeds and you drop me?¡±


    ¡°At least he has a job, Antoine,¡± she said. ¡°Scaring away crows. Guarding pumpkins.¡±


    ¡°Of course, you throw that in my face,¡± he said, smiling. ¡°Don¡¯t forget, he kills people. Turns them into pumpkin-headed monsters.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s management level! He''s got dreams!¡±


    I sat there as they joked back and forth and seemed to forget about me. It wasn''t so long ago that Kimberly would have never been able to joke about what happened in the corn maze or any other storyline. Even she was getting used to things. Her mood had lifted ever since finding the Carousel Rewards Program punch card that would earn her <strong>The Red Mist</strong> trope and guarantee her painless deaths.


    I cleared my throat. ¡°I just want to know what they''re for,¡± I said. ¡°The Tokens of Affection.¡±


    Suddenly remembering I was there, Kimberly picked up the As from where she had set it down and flipped it around so that I could see what she had been reading.


    The page wasbeled ¡°Tokens of Affection¡±. The section wasn''t long; it only took up half the page.


    I read through the paragraph quickly. It appeared that they were used for a variety of things. It didn''t give much detail because the author of the section didn''t want to spoil any plots, but it appeared that there was a subgenre of romance horror and a collection of tropes that used Tokens of Affection as a resource. There was a list of tropes that used them. They werergely Eye Candy rted.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± I said. ¡°Can I use this?¡±


    Kimberly shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m done with it. What are you going to look for?¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± I said, ¡°Tutorial stuff. Rescue tropes, that kind of thing.¡±


    She nodded solemnly.


    I took the As with me as I walked around the porch. I sat down on a reclining chair and propped the book open. To my right, was a small table with a y ashtray that had been absolutely filled with cigarette butts. On a hunch, I grabbed my Keepsake ticket and saw that, as I had suspected, the cigarettes had been Bradley¡¯s. They were not usable as a Keepsake, of course.


    Somewhere on the other side of the porch, Kimberlyughed at something Antoine said.


    The ashtray <em>was </em>usable as a Keepsake. The second object I had found that had been important to that psychopath. What kind of life did he have to live that the only objects I could find that were important to him were a bikini magazine and an ashtray. Even for a psychopath, that seemed depressing.


    Who was I to judge Bradley Speirs on that? When I came to Carousel, I had packed up all of my belongings in boxes and put them in storage so I could end my lease. Nothing but clothes and movies were left of me back in the real world. If I were a monster killed by a yer in Carousel, which of my belongings would be important enough to be a Keepsake?


    My sunsses? The Walkman?


    Probably.


    Whatever the case, I finally had my Keepsake.


    I grabbed the ashtray and dumped it out. There was something on the inside, some sort of blue paint had been added to the ashtray before it was baked. It was a handprint. It must have been from a baby or a toddler. ¡°To Daddy¡± was the inscription.


    That was surprising. He had a kid.


    I <em>almost </em>felt bad about throwing him off the roof.

 Arc II, Chapter 3: Late Arrivals

    Arc II, Chapter 3: Late Arrivals


    The As was written like a riddle.


    That¡¯s what I concluded. That¡¯s not to say that it rhymed or yed tricks, but it was clear that the writers who had contributed to it knew there were penalties for making things too simple or obvious. The book wasrger than any I had ever read, with hundreds upon hundreds of full pages in its bindings with pictures and hand-drawn charts, but it might have only contained a hundred straightforward and direct sentences.


    My Rescue trope, for instance, forced enemies toe to my team¡¯s base and try to kill us instead of us going to them. It set the win condition as ¡°Survive the Night¡±. As I looked up the definition of Survive the Night, this was what I found:<blockquote>


    Survive the Night: the basic idea is to keep those baddies at bay until something called ''sunrise.'' Now, don''t go thinking ''sunrise'' is always the morning light peeking over the hills - it could be all sorts of important time-based happenings in the game (clouds covering the full moon, anyone?), but that you¡¯ll have to figure out as you go. Most times, it¡¯s exactly like it sounds, which makes all the other times all the more dangerous. As for ''night,'' well, it usually means the time when the moon''s up, but sometimes it could be more like a tough spot or a rough patch in the story. Fighting off the bad guys doesn''t mean you gotta steer clear of them entirely as Carousel is apt to dislike; how you handle that is kind of up to you as long as the story satisfies. Most times, it looks like keeping the main characters out of trouble is what gets you the win, but there are other times when that might not be the whole story.</blockquote>


    From the sound of it, the authors of the As never wanted readers to rely on its contents so much that they got blindsided when Carousel mixed things up. I could appreciate that, but it sure would have been nice to get a more predictable ruleset.


    I flipped to the section on the storyline Post-Traumatic. As I did, I heard Antoine and Kimberly still chatting. Antoine was trying his best to portray an optimistic and steel-nerved hero for Kimberly. She tried her best not to notice when it got difficult for him.


    In the distant yard, Bobby was ying with the remaining dogs that had been in the storyline. His character was their owner and they treated him like he was their master. He almost looked like he enjoyed himself as he yed tug-of-war with arge hound. The dogs all knewmands and were very well-trained. He fed them handfuls of treats and almost looked like he was enjoying himself.<blockquote>


    Title: Post-Traumatic


    Omen: A roller rink that flickers in and out of time, leaving a pit when it disappears.


    Location: Pit Boulevard entrance.


    Ideal Scouting Archetypes: Antiquarian, Researcher-Schr, ultist-Psychic</blockquote>


    And that was it.


    No free scouting information. No idea of the level range. Nothing else. It was going to be a difficult road ahead to get them back. I wasn¡¯t going to stop until I had it all figured out. I knew other things. <strong>My Coming To A Theater Near You</strong> trope had given me lots of information. I knew the story involved time travel and muttion. I knew an amulet was involved. I also knew about a book.


    ¡°The Town of Carousel: Horrific Events Through the Ages,¡± I said aloud. I hadn¡¯t let myself forget. I knew the book was a useful tool. I had a hunch that if I could find a copy, it might give us an advantage in the storyline. That meant a trip to the library or any number of shops around Carousel. Whatever it took, I would do it.


    ¡°Anything useful?¡± Kimberly asked.


    I had been lost in thought and hadn¡¯t heard her arrive.


    ¡°Not as much as I would like,¡± I said.


    ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out,¡± she said. ¡°Antoine is wondering if he could use your sleeping trope. Just for a quick nap.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°I thought he still had it.¡±


    ¡°Well, he says it disappeared.¡±


    I reached into my pocket and there it was. I pulled the ticket titled <strong>Out Like A Light</strong> and handed it over.


    ¡°He¡¯s just tired,¡± she said sheepishly.


    I nodded. And smiled back.


    She disappeared around the side of the porch. I closed the As and took a break.


    I looked over the Now ying section of the red wallpaper. I hadn¡¯t yet looked up what all of those descriptions meant next to the storylines we had yed, but most sounded likemon sense. I would have to do thatter. Antoine wasn¡¯t the only one who needed sleep.


    I awoke to the sound of knuckles rapping on one of the white support columns on the porch.


    My first reaction was fear. A million possibilities moved through my head in a second and none of them were good. I looked over to the source of the sound.


    It wasn¡¯t the Speirs brothers.


    It wasn¡¯t an NPC, a Paragon, or otherwise.


    Standing on the porch with their bags packed, were a man and a woman. The man had sandy hair that went everywhere. He wore a tie-dye shirt and cargo shorts. The woman wore a red jacket and ck jeans. She had long ck hair that she had up in a messy bun.


    They were in their early twenties or so.


    My eyes widened as I looked at them on the red wallpaper.


    They were yers.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± the man said, ¡°He¡¯s alive.¡±


    The man¡¯s poster featured him dressed as a clown leaning against a train. The axe murderer was hidden underneath the train waiting to strike.


    Isaac Hughes is <em>The Comedian</em>, it read.


    Her poster showed her with her eyes closed in deep concentration sitting in a chair around a circr table. A window was behind her. The axe murderer reflected in the ss.


    Cassandra Hughes is <em>The Psychic</em>.


    They were both at Plot Armor 11. They were brand new.


    I just stared. New yers already? That felt¡­ early.


    ¡°Hello?¡± the woman asked cautiously.


    ¡°Sup?¡± I answered slowly.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said. ¡°Sorry to bother you. We¡¯re looking for our brother Andrew, Andrew Hughes.¡± She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. ¡°He wrote us a letter. Told us to meet him here,¡± she pointed up at the bed and breakfast. ¡°Do we have the right ce?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t prepared for this.


    ¡°Just a second,¡± I said. I raised my voice, ¡°Guys,¡± I yelled as loudly as I could without freaking out the new yers. ¡°Guys. Antoine, Kimberly, Dina!¡±


    It didn¡¯t take long for them to arrive. Antoine had woken up and was carrying his bat. When they rounded the corner and saw me, they were confused. When they saw the new yers, they were even more confused.


    Antoine immediately tried to take control of the situation.


    ¡°Hey, you all,¡± he said smoothly, throwing his bat back out of sight. ¡°You new to town?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± the woman said. ¡°We¡¯re here for the Centennial. Our older brother got us jobs. He works at,¡± she nced at the letter in her hands, ¡°Hallowed Heart Hospital. They¡¯re doing a booth or something. He needed some help. We were supposed to meet him or someone else here that will tak¡ª¡±


    ¡°Is this a haunted house?¡± her brother interrupted. He pointed at the boarded-up windows. ¡°It looks like a haunted house.¡±


    ¡°A haunted house?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°For the Centennial. It¡¯s a horror thing, right?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°Oh, right. It¡¯s kind of a haunted house, yeah,¡± Antoine said.


    Isaac nodded. ¡°Most haunted houses get the looks right. So rarely do they capture the smell of death this urately.¡±


    His sister nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.


    ¡°Are any of you the people who are supposed to bring us into town?¡± she asked.


    Antoine looked over at me.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll go with you.¡±


    ¡°What did you say your brother¡¯s name was?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°Andrew Hughes,¡± Isaac answered with a grin. ¡°Dr. Andrew Hughes, actually. He¡¯s the smart one. I¡¯m the good-looking one. And Cassie¡¯s the girl.¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Cassandra said under her breath kicking her heel back into his shin. She turned back to us. "If you can help us find him, that would be great."


    Heughed at her reaction.


    ¡°Just a second,¡± I said as Antoine, Kimberly, Bobby, Dina and I huddled around the side of the house.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Bobby asked.


    ¡°Was Andrew Hughes one of the vets?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Did you talk to anyone when we were at Dyer¡¯s Lodge?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°I talked to you guys,¡± I said.


    ¡°No,¡± Antoine said. ¡°There was no Andrew Hughes. He might have arrived a while back. We don¡¯t know how long they were waiting to be brought here.¡±


    He had a point. Dina hadn¡¯t arrived in Carousel until ten years after she turned down the road to get here.


    ¡°So, we need to find a way to ask them what year it is,¡± I said. ¡°Not that it¡¯s a priority. Their brother is definitely dead regardless.¡±


    ¡°We could ask who they voted for in thest election,¡± Dina suggested.


    ¡°That¡¯s not exactly the best ice breaker depending on what the answer is,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Why are there new yers here already?¡± Bobby asked. ¡°I thought we were supposed to do this alone?¡±


    ¡°Reinforcements?¡± Antoine suggested.


    That could have been it. The Insider must have brought them in on purpose. Their letter told them toe to the bed and breakfast specifically.


    ¡°First thing,¡± I said, ¡°We need to get them up to speed¡­ How do we do that?¡±


    We all looked at each other. This would be tough.


    How exactly were we supposed to keep new yers calm? It turned out that Valerie had used Team Leader tropes on us to keep uspliant. We didn¡¯t have any of those.


    .


    .


    .


    Wee to Carousel, newbies.


    Isaac Hughes the Comedian had the following tropes equipped when he arrived at the bed and breakfast:


    If he¡¯s still cracking jokes¡­


    Type: Healing


    Archetype: Comedian


    Aspect: Jokester


    Stat Used: Moxie


    ¡­he¡¯s probably not that hurt. In the wreckage of unknown terror, the heroes stumble on the body of a fallenrade. The sadness cannotst for long, because before even asking what happened, their fallen friend fires off a sarcastic or silly remark. Instantly, sorrow changes toughter or annoyance, but either way, reliefes with it.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will be able to heal some of the damage that they have taken if they make a joke, quip, or perform some physical humor the next time they are On-Screen after the scene where they are injured. It works better if the character has already established themselves asic relief.


    With good execution and the right circumstances, the yer will be able to heal allies who have suffered the same injury at substantially the same time (i.e. surviving an explosion or falling from a great height).


    If the yer¡¯s injuries are extensive and known to the audience, the healing effect of this trope diminishes greatly.


    Who says death isn¡¯t aughing matter?


    Weapons of Mass Absurdity


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Comedian


    Aspect: Stooge


    Stat Used: Moxie


    In a panicked moment, a character in distress will grab just about any weapon that might help them survive. Some weapons, though, are better than others.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will gain a buff in Mettle and Hustle when they select an unorthodox or humorous weapon to defend themselves with. This trope can be used in two main ways. First, a weapon that is legitimately useful, but still funny will trigger the buff. Second, a funny weapon, but useless will trigger the buff if they discard it in favor of a better weapon.


    In propedy, the punch lines can be literal.


    Cassandra "Cassie" Hughes the Psychic also had two tropes.


    The Anguish!


    Type: Healing/Action


    Archetype: Psychic


    Aspect: Seer


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Those gifted with psychic abilities rarely get their supernatural knowledge for free. In movies, they are often the vehicle by which the audience and other characters learn of the horrors that have happened to others. Sometimes their connection is so strong that they can intuit when their loved ones are in pain. Often, they can feel the pain themselves.


    Health Monitor: This trope gives the yer the ability to see allies¡¯ health-rted statuses on the red wallpaper even without looking at them or being in close proximity.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will be able to deflect pain and reduce the severity of injuries from allies by psychically ¡°sharing¡± their pain. When an ally is injured, acting as if you feel the pain too will show the audience the severity of the injury and demonstrate stakes, making the necessity of the ally getting severely injured less important to the narrative.


    Beware: When you start using the trope, the pain will be pretend. You¡¯ll know it¡¯s working when the pain bes real. Carousel doesn¡¯t like to be cheated.


    If performed remotely, the injured ally will go Off-Screen intermittently as the yer bes the focus and cries out in pain.


    You¡¯ve probably heard of <em>living</em> vicariously through someone else, but what about dying?


    We are not abandoned¡­


    Type: Buff/Perk


    Archetype: Psychic


    Aspect: Exorcist


    Stat Used: Moxie


    As mortals face the horrors hidden in the darkness, they wither in the absence of hope, the absence of faith in a higher power. Sometimes, a character has to remind their allies that light does not die in the shadows.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will be able to keep their allies¡¯ spirits high by reinforcing a narrative that a higher power is in control. The higher power could be a god, fate, their dead loved ones, luck, humanity, or even the universe itself. The more they reinforce this narrative and theme, the more courage and optimism their allies will feel. When done well, this trope can heal Incapacitation, certain forms of spiritual Infection, and even buff Grit.


    Indeed, the light does not die in the darkness. It is the darkness, that dies in the light. Or something like that.


    These didn''t really seem like starter tropes.

 Arc II, Chapter 4: Seeing is Believing

    Arc II, Chapter 4: Seeing is Believing


    Convincing people they were trapped in Carousel was a pain. We spent the better part of an hour exining it to them one bit at a time. They actually looked excited at first, like they thought this was some type of interactive LARPing game that the town was putting on. Come to Carousel! Survive horror movies. Win a prize! That type of thing.


    I had a bright idea to show them my hoodie pockets that had been upgraded with my Luggage Tag. So many items went in, a tape yer, my sunsses, three ice-cold Dr. Peppers. Yet, there was no visible bump to show that anything was in my pocket.


    I even took off the hoodie so that they could feel its pockets were empty. Then, I put it back on and pulled out the items again.


    Unfortunately, that n was short-sighted.


    "Okay, Chris Angel," Isaac said. "You can make some objects seem to disappear in your pocket, which <em>obviously </em>means that we are trapped in an interdimensional torture prison based on horror movies. Am I understanding that right? That checks out... Do you know any card tricks?"


    "I tried," I said in shame.


    Unfortunately, much of the magic in Carousel was subtle. It was movie magic. Most of what we could show them looked like sleight of hand or deception. A devoted stage magician could do the trick with the hoodie easily. I was left feeling like a fool.


    "Your turn," I said, looking to the others. "Can I see that letter from your brother again?" I asked Cassie.


    She handed it to me cautiously. I got the sense that she felt something was up. She just wasn''t ready to really believe us yet.


    I tried to tune out the conversation going on around me. My friends, especially Kimberly, given that she was the most sociable, were trying to convince Cassie and Isaac that Carousel was not as it seemed. It wasn''t going well.


    "Oh, right," Isaac said with augh and a nce at his sister. "The town is haunted. It''s real spooky. We get it. Andrew told us about the celebration being like Halloween or something."


    "Look, I understand it''s hard to believe," Antoine said, "Just give us a chance. Have an open mind."


    Cassie gently said, "Isaac is always like this. Don''t take his sass personally. You have to understand though, that this sounds like the setup of a prank."


    Kimberly and Antoine looked at each other.


    I read over the letter that Cassie and Isaac had received from their brother again. They were being good sports about the whole thing so far. I half expected them tough us off the porch the moment we told them what Carousel was.


    I had a different tactic. Carousel liked to hide messages wherever it could. The letter from their brother seemed a great ce for one. I wasn''t sure if these two had been invited by Carousel itself or by our Friends in High ce (the Insider, whatever we were calling the person who was guiding us from the shadows).


    Still, I searched the letter up and down. It was written hastily on stationery. It was kind of hard to read. No message jumped out at me at first:


    (the transcript is below if you don''t want to decipher it)


    Reading through it was a nightmare. Cassie had warned me that her brother''s writing was tough. I wasn''t ready for this. I noticed there were several misspellings. In fact, all of the errors were due to missing letters. I decided to power through the whole letter searching for missing characters.


    It took a while.


    (Transcript)<blockquote>


    Hey Isaac & Cassie,


    Just got your letter ¨C talk about timing! Reading about your recent escaades was the highlight of my week (Isaac, how did you even convince Cassie to try kyaking?). I''m sory I haven¡¯t written back sooner. Life here at Hallowed Heart as a resident is non-stop, but I always make time to catch up on your adventures, even if it''s just in my thoughts.


    Now, onto some exciting news and a fantasic n! You mentioned you''re both free early next month, right? Perfect timing, because Carousel''s Centennil Celebration is happening then, and I¡¯m somehow in charge of a booth. I know, I know, it sound like a typical Andrew situation. But here¡¯s the deal: I need your help. Think of it as a mini family reunion, but with more confeti and cotton candy. The whole thing is spooky and horror themed. Like Halloween and the Fourth of July had a baby. How can you resist?


    Okay, so logistcs ¨C because we Hughes always need a n. The streets into Carousel ar going to be closed for the festival (ssic sall-town shenanigans), so you¡¯ll have to park nearby and walk to the Olde Hill Bed and Breakfast. Trust me, the stroll is worth it; the views are postcard-perfect.


    Now, don¡¯t forget about the tickets. Here¡¯s the fun part: yu¡¯ll find this kooky ticket machine that looks exactly like a fortune-teller¡¯s booth. I can almost hear it prediting, "Cassie will return the book she borrowed from her brother two years ago." Grab your tickes there; it¡¯s hard to miss!


    Since you¡¯ve let me know when you''reing, I''ll do everything humanly possible to meet you at the B&B. If, for sme unlikely reason, I¡¯m still stuck at the hospital, one of the friedly faces from the B&B will guide you to where we''ll be set up in the town square.


    I can''t wait to see you both. Having the three of us together again ¨C it''s going to be smething special. You guys are the best siblings a guy could ask for, and I''m super excite to create more memories, Hughes-style!


    Counting the days,


    Your brother who''s always here, even when he''s running around like a headless chicken,


    Dr. Andrew Hughes (You have to call me Doctor now, remember?)</blockquote>


    Then I had to figure out what it all meant. I was trying my best to do it quickly, piecing together the clues. It was the type of puzzle Carousel was so fond of--the type you would find if you looked but overlook if you didn''t. Reading the hand-written letter made it especially hard to find it. If it was all typed out I would have gotten it a lot faster.


    "Are you seeing the red wallpaper yet?" Bobby asked. "I just ignored it when I got here. I wish I hadn''t..."


    Bobby was a friendly voice, but as he spent much of the conversation ying with those dogs that had belonged to his character, he wasn''t exactly doing much to convince Cassie and Isaac of the truth of Carousel.


    "Red wallpaper?" Isaacughed. "What the heck are you talking about?"


    Cassie didn''t look so certain. At the mention of the red wallpaper, she got a concerned look on her face as she stared off into the distance.


    "Look," I said, "I know this is hard to believe. I didn''t truly believe what was going on here until I saw Dina''s head get cut off by a scarecrow. Then her body reanimated and started chasing me."


    "That was about the time I started believing too," Dina said with a faint smirk.


    "If you don''t believe us, that''s okay," I said. "But look at this real quick. If it doesn''t make you at least a little curious, we''ll leave you alone, alright?"


    Antoine gave me a quick look that I interpreted as "You had better know what you''re doing."


    I turned around the letter that they had let me read.


    "Written out long-hand it''s kind of hard to tell, but this message has a lot of letters missing. The ''p'' from escapades, the ''c'' from predicting, the ''n'' from friendly," I said.


    "So what?" Isaac said, "He''s a doctor. You''re lucky to be able to read it at all."


    "For sure, but if you actually keep track of the missing letters, there''s a coded message," I said.


    "A message?" Cassie asked. She wasn''t just looking at me. She was looking past me, getting glimpses of the red wallpaper, no doubt. She was adapting to it pretty quickly.


    "partastiemoctonod," I spoke very slowly as I put together the missing letters. "partastiemoctonod. Whatever. If you read it backward, it says... ''Do note, it''s a trap."


    Cassie and Isaac looked at each other. I might have finally caught them off-guard.


    She snatched the letter back out of my hands and started double-checking my work. Isaac read over her shoulder.


    I gave Antoine a nod.


    "I don''t understand. This has to be a..." Cassie said. "If it''s a trap... why would he try to warn us?"


    "It''s weird," Kimberly said. "Carousel has a strange code it abides by. It gives warnings. Omens... It''s all fake though. The warnings are almost never enough. The omens can trick you."


    "It''s the <em>illusion </em>of fairness. The illusion of consent," I added. "It''s amon theme here."


    Isaac took the letter from Cassie after she was finished. He was grabbing handfuls of his own hair, tugging gently, then running his fingers back over his head in a sort of petting gesture. This had gotten to him.


    "So where is Andrew?" Cassie asked desperately.


    I was not the right one to answer. This was a delicate topic.


    "I''m so sorry," Kimberly said, reaching her hands out to Cassie''s. "If he was here, he''s probably trapped in a story somewhere. He''s waiting to be rescued."


    Kimberly wisely left out the word ''dead''. If I were to guess, the running around like a headless chickenment from his letter might have been Carousel''s tongue-in-cheek way of telling us exactly how he died, but I couldn''t tell them that.


    "Isaac," Cassie cried out, turning back toward her brother who was still reading through the letter, trying to disprove what I had said. She reached out to embrace him. "What if they''re telling the truth?"


    "They''re not!" Isaac said. "They can''t be. This is bullshit. It¡¯s a prank. It¡¯s his handwriting so he must have put them up to this?"


    He had moved onto a different theory altogether. The "it''s a prank" theory. At least we had left the "it''s part of the spooky holiday" stage.


    ¡°No,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We¡¯ve never met him.¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Cassie said again softly. She reached for his arm. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°They have to be!¡± he said sharply.


    ¡°I have another idea,¡± I said. ¡°I think it¡¯ll prove that what we¡¯re saying is true.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°We need to go for a walk,¡± I said, flicking my gaze toward the back of the property.


    Antoine understood immediately.


    ¡°What exactly is back here?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± I said.


    In the distance, the overgrown cemetery waited. I had to hope that it had not been reset in the night after we left. As we drew close, we were greeted by the faint groans of something in the distance. I could hear the sounds of rope straining as something hanging from it writhed back and forth.


    We didn¡¯t have to go far. In fact, we didn¡¯t even have to step over the stone boundary of the graveyard to see them.


    In the distance, the undead hung from trees where Bradley Speirs and the other grave robbers had hung them up for target practice. They had reanimated because of Samantha Cole''s Damsel trope, but, being unable to return to their graves, they never went back to eternal slumber.


    They hung from nooses, bungee cords, and at least one electrical cord, lined up like targets. Large chunks were missing from their flesh and their clothes were peppered with holes from the gunshots.


    ¡°Oh my god!¡± Cassie eximed, covering her face with her hands. Her many rings clicked together as she did so.


    We were twenty yards from the zombies.


    ¡°They¡¯re just¡­ they¡¯rewn ornaments,¡± Isaac said. He was clearly starting to doubt himself.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t get too close,¡± Antoine said. ¡°They aren¡¯t exactly friendlies.¡±


    It was true. Our interests had been aligned temporarily with them, but they were not our allies.


    ¡°Just look at them,¡± I said. ¡°Really focus. Do you see something in your mind?¡±


    They were skeptical, but they did as I asked. Cassie must have. She was crying.


    ¡°The Avenging Dead,¡± she read off the red wallpaper.


    ¡°No, no,¡± Isaac said. ¡°This is¡­ fake obviously. Easy to fake. I¡¯ve seen better work in student films.¡±


    I remembered being in his shoes.


    Something rustled in the distance. One of the bushes that grew in the graveyard started to move.


    ¡°We need to go,¡± Antoine said, he had his bat at the ready.


    We turned to run. Even Isaac joined us in fleeing despite being adamant that we were lying to him.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Bobby said. His canine friends had tagged along. They were whining, pacing back and forth at the stone divider that was inset into the ground around the perimeter of the cemetery.


    I stopped running just in time to see what creature had been moving in the distance.


    Soon, it emerged.


    It was a dog. An undead dog. The one Bradley had shot.


    Cassie screamed again as it ran toward us. Couldn¡¯t me her there.


    The living dogs waited excitedly for their departed friend to join them. When it got close, it stopped.


    ¡°It can¡¯t pass the border,¡± I observed from its tropes. It had nothing to avenge. It also had no grave to rest in. It could only wait, trapped in the cemetery by some arbitrary magic from another world.


    Slowly, we crept back toward the dogs. The living ones were working up the courage to cross over into the cemetery and the undead one struggled and fought its boundary to no avail. The dogs moaned excitedly to see their friend.


    ¡°How?¡± Isaac asked as he stared at the dogs greeting and sniffing each other.


    Faking some swinging bodies in the distance was possible. Faking a walking, moving, whining dog that was visibly missing half its skull and brain? Not as easy.


    ¡°You see that in any student films?¡± Antoine asked.


    Back at the bed and breakfast, Isaac had grown quiet. Cassie was still crying. The real purpose of our little field trip had been to jumpstart their ability to see the red wallpaper. Even if the undead didn''t change their minds, the haunted vision of some fancy red wallpaper probably did. We couldn''t fake something in their minds.

 Arc II, Chapter 5: The Founders Tale

    Arc II, Chapter 5: The Founder''s Tale


    ¡°How much time do we have before something happens?¡± Kimberly asked.


    With the arrival of new yers, we knew that Carousel would soon do something to attract them to the Tutorial. My friends and I had been shepherded into a storyline before that could happen, cutting short the process. This time, however, the Tutorial was inevitable.


    ¡°Let me think,¡± Antoine said as he took a moment for mental calctions, ¡°When we were intercepted by Arthur and the others after we arrived, it took us maybe an hour to get into <em>The Final Straw II</em>. I assume we have more time than that though. The vets wouldn¡¯t have risked cutting things too close. So we probably have at least some time.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the best guess I have too,¡± I said. ¡°The section on the Tutorial in the As doesn¡¯t say how long it takes for someone toe pick up newbies, so I assume it isn¡¯t something we need to know. We also know that these two will be forced into a storyline at some point, so we had better start heading in that direction.¡±


    With new yers, we knew the next step. The Tutorial. With as much as we had been through it was kind of funny that the tutorial or something that sent chills down our spines. It was jarring to find out that for all our time in Carousel, we had only just begun. I wasn''t sure what we would find. I was excited. I was afraid. Mostly, I was curious.


    He stood on the front porch. None of us really had much luggage. We had left that at Camp Dyer. I wished that there was some way we could further prepare for what was about to happen, but we couldn''t.


    Antoine jumped up and down and shook his arms out as if he were trying to shake the nervousness right out of his body. Kimberly stood with her arms folded trying to make herself small.


    ¡°Hope you guys are ready for this,¡± Dina said she looked excited and intense. ¡°We only get one shot. No one is left to help us.¡±


    I wished she would at least act like she wasn''t thrilled.


    ¡°I need to put out food for the dogs,¡± Bobby said. ¡°I figure we could be gone for days, right? Digger doesn¡¯t need much; he¡¯s pretty small. Barkley needs the special breed stuff for his coat but there isn¡¯t much left of that. I wish we had more time.¡±


    He headed off toward the dog pens to get them all ready.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Kimberly said after he had left, ¡°Won¡¯t the whole B&B reset after we leave? Does putting food out help?¡±


    I shrugged. I wasn¡¯t going to stop him. ¡°Just let him have this," I said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll carry the As,¡± Antoine said, stuffing it into the duffel bag I had found for him. It was likely the safest ce for it, though the book weighed so much I wasn¡¯t sure if the magic of the Luggage Tags would even protect it. They were designed to stack so you could upgrade a bag to hold more and more weight. Between the book and his bat, he might have already exceeded his ten pound limit.


    ¡°Everybody good?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Isaac started to say, but then he lost his train of thought. Both he and his sister were still in shock. Now we were shoving them out the door.


    I just wanted to get them out of here and on the way to town before they tried making a run for it like Jete had when we got here.


    ¡°Do you need help with your bags?¡± I asked as Isaac and Cassie started picking up their belongings.


    Isaac shook his head and started walking out toward the road. I had trouble reading his mental state, but I didn''t think that any of the options were good. He was either scared or paranoid or angry or all of the above.


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Cassie said gently. She was still having a hard time. ¡°I packed light.¡±


    I started to walk toward the road where the others were headed. I stopped short.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay to be scared,¡± I said. ¡°Bad things will happen, but you can work and n. We can keep going.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t the one who should have been trying to make anyone feel better. My greatest aplishment in life had been learning to feel nothing. I didn¡¯t know what to say.


    ¡°When you all said that we have to die¡­¡± she started.


    I thought about how Arthur had treated the subject when we got there, he and Adaline both. They never tried to assure us that we would survive. They never gave us false hope to cling to.


    ¡°You die. It hurts and it sticks with you,¡± I said. ¡°You never really get used to it, but you hesitate less. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    That didn¡¯t exactly lift her spirits. She moved some of the dark hair out of her eyes and then started walking forward.


    I wished I had better news for her.


    We walked out to the road. The others were waiting.


    Bobby walked along with the four dogs in tow. As he stepped over the threshold separating the B&B from the road, the dogs stopped, sat, and watched him. When he noticed, he looked back to them with a look of defeat on his face. Perhaps he had hoped they would follow him further into Carousel.


    They were NPCs and had scripts and rules of their own. Of course, I had no idea what a dog¡¯s script looked like. Whatever it looked like, it told them not to leave the setting of their story.


    ¡°So we hoof it,¡± Antoine said when we saw nothing in the distance.


    And we did.


    For the second time in my life, I walked the Olde Hill Road toward Carousel. It waster in the day than it had been the first time. Darkness wasing quickly.


    We joked idly that Carousel had forgotten us. Of course, there was a shadow of hope in our voices as we did.


    However, when night finally came, we saw the lights.


    Two fiery globes floated toward us down arge stretch of road. I checked and double-checked that it wasn¡¯t an Omen.


    It wasn¡¯t until the lights got closer that we heard the sound of hoofbeats and wheels in the distance.


    Sure enough, as we waited longer, we saw that the floating lights were actuallynterns attached to the front of arge, ck carriage that was being pulled by two jet-ck horses. Sitting behind the horses was a young man who wore Victorian garb including a top hat. His clothes were all ck, of course.


    We moved to the side of the road as he approached. I was holding my breath unintentionally.


    As the carriage got to us, the young man said, ¡°Wee, dear travelers, to the gateway¡ª¡±


    He didn¡¯t quite manage to get the horses stopped as he passed us. ¡°Shoot,¡± he said loudly as he pulled on the reins to get the horses stopped. He looked back at us. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Just a second.¡±


    He stood and turned toward us and nervously said, ¡°Wee, dear travelers, to the gateway of Carousel. I am your humble conveyer through the veils of reality and fantasy, the charioteer to escort you to the Centennial Celebration. Please, step inside my carriage and leave your disbelief behind."


    He jumped down from the driver¡¯s seat of the carriage and opened the door. ¡°Now you''re supposed to get in,¡± he said. ¡°Wait, are you not visitors? I¡¯m only supposed to get visitors. Sorry, it¡¯s my first time.¡±


    He was young. He must have been a teenager. He was gangly, with e that had been covered in a faint, white face paint to make his face pop against the night sky. On the red wallpaper, he was a basic NPC named Kenny Patcher.


    ¡°We are visitors,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Good,¡± Kenny said, taking off his hat and bowing. ¡°The actual Centennial Celebration doesn''t start until tomorrow, but we heard some people wereing early. That must be you. This is carriage ride is free if you¡¯re interested.¡±


    This was it. We all looked at each other. Antoine got on first. The rest of us followed. It was a high step. By the time Antoine, Kimberly, and I had climbed up into the carriage, Kenny remembered there was a stepping block he was supposed to put out to help us get into the carriage, so he scrambled to get it set out for the others.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he said nervously. He closed the door and fiddled with something I couldn¡¯t see. He climbed back into the driver¡¯s seat. There was a rectangr hole that allowed us to see him up there.


    The carriage was nice. It almost felt like we really were just on a fun little ride up to a festival somewhere. There was an antique device that looked like an old radio with a tape yer.


    Kenny brought us back almost to the parking lot so that he could find a ce to turn around. I half expected Cassie and Isaac to bail but they didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Kenny said, turning his head back to us to yell, ¡°Carousel used to celebrate its founding with something called Carousel''s Eve. This was years ago before my time. It was a big deal to the Geists because they were all into showbiz. Carlyle, the founder¡¯s son, recorded this story to y on the radio, but we decided to y it to people visiting Carousel during the Centennial. Just a second.¡±


    As the carriage wheels ground against the gravel road, the young driver, with nerves like taut strings, clumsily reached out behind him and summoned life into the old tape yer with a twist of a knob. The sound sliced through the static and the voice of Carlyle Geist filled the space around us.


    "Ah, good evening, my esteemed guests," boomed Carlyle''s voice, its resonant timbre enveloping us like a cloak, "I bid you a chilling wee to the spectral soiree of our not-so-simple Carousel. I stand before you, albeit merely as a voice from this recording, to serve as your host on this eerie carriage ride. I shall tell a story so chilling, so steeped in truth, that it threatens to freeze the very marrow within your bones and alter your understanding of the realm of the living and the dead. This is, of course, assuming the stories passed down by my father hold a kernel of truth."


    His voice, as it floated through the carriage speakers, bore an uncanny resemnce to the Ghost Host from the Haunted Mansion, deep and haunting. This man was obviously an entertainer.


    "Our story unfurls many decades ago, shrouded within the opaque embrace of a bygone era, one that has since been swallowed by the mists of time and obscurity. It begins with my progenitor, the enigmatic Bartholomew Geist, who, through fate or fortune, came toy im to thisnd. This legacy was an unusual one, bestowed not by blood rtions but by the contractual pen of a banker¡ªa figure of mystery named Ss Dyrkon, a man¡ªif he could indeed be called a man¡ªwhose very existence seemed as ethereal as the fog that slinks across the moors when day gives way to night."


    At the mention of Ss Dyrkon, my friends and I nced at each other with raised eyebrows. Ss as in the Mechanical Showman?


    "Dealing with Mr. Dyrkon was a peculiar affair. He and my father were strangers in the flesh, their interactions limited to the curious dance of ink on paper and the distant, often distorted, exchanges over the telephone wire. Letters from Mr. Dyrkon were crafted in eloquent, almost hypnotguage, while phone conversations were infused with his voice that twisted and turned like the unpredictable winds, each word dripping with the promise of untapped wonders. My father, whose heart and mind were always chasing the fantastical, was seduced by the enigma that thesemunications presented and the strangend that seemed ripe for the taking."


    Carlyle¡¯sughter broke through, a sharp crack that seemed to acknowledge the absurdity of the narrative he wove.


    ¡°If I may interject a slice of cynicism, it was likely the lure of riches that beckoned my father, not fantasy. But let it be said, every man is entitled to narrate his life''s tale in the manner he sees fit. And my father''s rendition was always drenched in the hues of the mysterious, a life replete with unexpected turns and thrilling escapades."


    As the carriage trundled along the gravel path, the air grew biting, a reminder that it was autumn in this part of Carousel.


    "Upon his peculiar arrival, my father beheld a nameless draft ofnd that was little more than a scattered jigsaw of deste homesteads and a smattering of forlorn shops, each one silent as a grave. The eerie stillness suggested that the residents had been taken by an otherworldly force, leaving behind a frozen snapshot of their daily existence. The fieldsy fallow, untouched but for the phantoms of crops long since failed to be harvested."


    I huddled closer within my hoodie as Carlyle''s words painted a vivid and unsettling picture in my imagination.


    "The silence here was omnipresent, a silence so tangible it seemed to adhere to one''s very skin. At the center of this somber tableau stood an unfinished clock tower, a monolith that watched over the scene with an air of usation, its hands perpetually pointing to the hour of the supernatural. It was amidst this quietus that my father envisioned his grand dream¡ªnot a carousel adorned with gilded horses and the merriment of fairground music, but a Carousel that would be a haven for souls of every stripe. A ce to celebrate not just sublime but also the grotesque, a veritable yground for those with an appetite for the peculiar and otherworldly."


    Anotherugh from Carlyle, perhaps even more sardonic than thest, sliced through the cold air.


    "My father, always the consummate showman, may have been inclined towards the dark and dramatic, but he was no warlock. His correspondence with Mr. Dyrkon sowed the seeds of his grandiose vision. And though it seemed as if some archaic sorcery was at y, the transformation of this ghost town into a bustling hub of life was a result of something far more mundane. The prospect of employment, and the dream of owningnd, these were the spells that drew workers and their families to us. They, much like yourselves on this night, became part of the enduring legacy of my family¡¯s peculiar and morbid fascination."


    Carousel had been a ghost town before Bartholomew Geist purchased it from the bank if the story was to be believed. Interesting.


    "And thus, from the ghostly quiet, the Carousel began to spin, its web catching all manner of¡ª"


    The carriage hit a bump. The tape yer started to rewind back to the beginning. Kenny quickly turned it off. ¡°Oh, sorry. This thing is finicky. Just a second. He fiddled with it behind his back and tried to make it continue ying.


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°Sorry¡­ oh my gosh. Okay, so the rest of the story is on a disy in town square if you want to read it. Something about a curse. I¡¯m sorry for the.. uh ¡­ malfunction. You didn¡¯t miss much. The town grew. The Geists started making movies here. This tape was from before the fire. Oh right, the fire! You can read about that in town too.¡±


    The poor guy looked petrified at the failure of the tape.


    ¡°Is that story true?¡± Bobby asked. ¡°Did Bartholomew Geist really find the original town abandoned?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± the driver said, ¡°I don¡¯t know. I wasn¡¯t around. I mean, you know that, sorry. Never really questioned it. Geist was the founder of the town. That¡¯s what they teach in ss, at least. I don¡¯t know about anything before that.¡±


    He paused for a second. ¡°You know, there is an old graveyard south of town square near the old Geist estate. Maybe you could look there. Who knows.¡±


    Just as he finished speaking, I saw something on the red wallpaper change. Under the ¡°Now ying¡± section, an entirely new section appeared called: ¡°Leads¡±.


    Leads


    The Founder¡¯s Tale.<blockquote>


    Informational Disy [!]


    Cemetery on Geist Estate [?]</blockquote>

 Arc II, Chapter 6: The Night Before

    Arc II, Chapter 6: The Night Before


    The tape had stopped ying by the time we got to the end of Olde Hill Road. The inside of the carriage was quiet as we all waited to find out where this ride would take us. Antoine held Kimberly but neither dared to say a word.


    The windows of the Carriage were warped in the way that old ss often was, but I could still see clearly enough when we passed the plot ofnd called the ¡°Patcher Rehabilitation Ranch¡±.


    At first, I was confused. I didn¡¯t remember there being such a ce before, but then I realized exactly where we were. Bobby must have realized about the same time that I did because he scooted up to the seat directly behind the driver and leaned forward.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t there an amusement park or something there?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Over there?¡± the driver, Kenny Patcher, asked. ¡°That¡¯s my family¡¯s ce. We rehabilitate injured horses.¡±


    As he said that, I saw three other carriages exactly like the one we were riding in being stored in arge barn. The only difference was that one was an off-white color and one was brown.


    ¡°No,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Patcher¡¯s Family Farm. With hay rides and a corn maze.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Kenny said, ¡°Yeah, they used to do a little roadside attraction a long time ago. Way before I came along.¡±


    That didn¡¯t make sense. I surveyed the ce as the carriage pulled away. Therge farmhouse we had been in days ago was gone. There was no sign of the various farm-themed attractions. We had been brought there an hour or so after we arrived.


    We had run our first storyline there, The Final Straw II. Suddenly it didn¡¯t exist anymore. I saw no signs of a corn maze or a flying scarecrow named Benny.


    I kept my eyes peeled as the carriage moved forward the rest of the trip. I looked for other changes. I was not incredibly familiar with the town, especially not the route we were taking, so finding differences was difficult.


    Still, I felt like the ce before me was changed. The ce felt more modern. Carousel had always been a tapestry the old and the new, but now, it looked like a mostly ordinary town. A suburb even.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°No Omens out there,¡± I said. ¡°Not a single one.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a good thing?¡± Cassie asked meekly.


    I shrugged.


    ¡°The yers before us said that predictability was the most important part of surviving here in Carousel,¡± Dina said with a shadow of amusement. ¡°Wonder what they would have done if they were here right now.¡±


    ¡°I think they would have been thrilled,¡± Antoine said. ¡°They were doing the best they could to survive. They lived for years thinking that this ce was just an inescapable bottomless pit. And then when we found out it might not be, we just kept them in the dark. All they wanted was answers¡­ and now everyone¡­ now Chris is dead.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to save him,¡± Kimberly said as if she was responsible for fixing every negative emotion Antoine ever had.


    ¡°Maybe. Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves,¡± Antoine said. ¡°The yers couldn¡¯t win the first time. We have to do our best not to repeat their mistakes or we might just end up on missing posters ourselves.¡±


    There was silence for a time. Nothing but the sound of hoofbeats.


    ¡°Is anyone optimistic about the near future?¡± Isaac said. ¡°Somebody¡¯s gotta¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ keep things light.¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure that¡¯s your job,edian,¡± I said.


    Isaac sighed. ¡°Then we¡¯re screwed.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to be okay,¡± Cassie said weakly like she was trying to will it into existence.


    None of us knew if we would be okay. We didn¡¯t even know that we would survive the night.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just focus on the Tutorial,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s important information here. We can worry about our futures after it¡¯s over.¡±


    We were afraid, but also a little excited. Excited that when Project Rewind ended, we were the ones left alive. Excited that we might just be able to find out why we had been brought to this ce.


    As the carriage moved further down the road and the neighborhoods grew denser, a loud explosion could be heard in the distance. For a moment my heart jumped into my throat. Everyone in the carriage moved into action, ready to flee or fight.


    ¡°It¡¯s just fireworks,¡± Dina said, as bright purple light filled up the sky.


    More bursts followed in many colors. More followed.


    ¡°Looks like they¡¯re letting them off early,¡± our driver, Kenny said nervously. He had been ignoring us and our conversation like most NPCs when you started talking about the meta.


    After we had all calmed down, Cassie asked, ¡°How do we find out what happened to Andrew?¡±


    I knew this conversation couldn¡¯t be avoided for too long, despite my best efforts. Their older brother Andrew had been killed in Carousel. We didn¡¯t know when or how yet.


    ¡°So, there¡¯s something we have put off asking because¡­ there was always something more pressing. What year do you think it is?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What year?¡± Isaac asked cautiously. ¡°2022. Please say that doesn¡¯t surprise you.¡±


    I looked around at my friends. ¡°Oh good. Yeah, that¡¯s the right year. What date exactly?¡±


    ¡°It should be April 1st,¡± Cassie said.


    April¡­ that meant they had arrived on the long road to Carousel a month or so before we did. Like Dina, who had been out of time for ten years, they had been preserved until a precise moment.


    ¡°I wonder why you weren¡¯t a part of our group then,¡± Bobby said.


    I had theories, but there was another question. I quickly checked the As registry for Andrew Hughes before we left. There wasn¡¯t one. That meant that he either had been in Carousel before the As was written or he was not in the same group as the As¡¯ creators.


    Or, of course, he had arrived after the date that our version of the As was plucked from time by Anna and Camden.


    Given their ages and what we knew about them, it looked like he was recent. Very recent.


    ¡°When did your brothere to Carousel?¡± I asked.


    Cassie and Isaac looked at each other. ¡°A little over a year ago,¡± she said.


    That meant Andrew had been part of the group that had arrived in Carousel directly before mine. I didn¡¯t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. With Isaac¡¯s tie-dye shirt and Cassie looking like she had thrifted clothing items from head to toe, it was easy to believe they hade to Carousel from any of thest three decades.


    But they were new, well, new enough.


    ¡°That means his team must have been the one that wiped out a few weeks before we got here,¡± Antoine said.


    I heard Cassie take a sharp breath, but she didn¡¯t say anything. I got the impression she was holding back some emotion.


    ¡°What happened to him?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± Dina said. ¡°The yers before us didn¡¯t like to talk about the dead.¡±


    We had been trying not to use the word, ¡°dead¡±. From what we exined, Cassie and Isaac would know their brother was dead, but it was gentler to say he needed rescue.


    Cassie started to cry.


    Isaac looked like he wanted to say something, to double-check, rify, but he didn¡¯t. We had exined how it worked. No matter how much you exin something like this to a person, it takes a while for reality to catch up.


    ¡°But we can save him?¡± Isaac asked eventually.


    ¡°Yep,¡± I said. ¡°But we have to save ourselves first.¡±


    I had no concept of time as we arrived at the town square. Through the windows, we could see the streets bustling with NPC families and people working in the booths at the celebration. It all seemed so¡­ normal.


    There were carnival rides, fun houses, and exhibits of all kinds, all themed around horror and, sometimes, horror movies.


    I looked around for Omens or signs of the abnormal.


    The only abnormal thing I saw was exactly how normal everything actually was. They were just people having a fun night out. I could smell tasty carnival treats and hear calliope music in the distance. The fireworks had mostly slowed down, but the ck powder smell in the air remained. Kids ran around wearing monster masks, chasing each other with sparklers.


    Kenny got down from his seat and opened the door for us. The steps were nowhere to be found. He must have left them where he met us, or they had otherwise fallen off the carriage on the road.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± he said, rushing, as he helped each of us down.


    At least he offered. We mostly jumped down except Kimberly, who took his offer for help and thanked him. I could see him blushing through his pale makeup.


    As he was helping her down, I got a look at the vintage tape yer that Kenny had used to y us the audio about the founding of Carousel. Strangely, it looked like there was no tape in the yer at all. It was empty.


    Strange.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the first step?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°We investigate,¡± I said.


    ¡°We stay together and watch out for danger,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Can we find some funnel cakes?¡± Bobby asked.


    I took a moment just to look around. The park near downtown was filled with people and rides. The Ferris wheel was the very same one that had been set up for <em>The Grotesque</em> scene between Roxy and I. Carousel really did like to recycle.


    As I scanned our surroundings, I saw something that looked out of ce.


    ¡°Was there a clock tower before?¡± I asked.


    My friends turned to look where I was staring. In the distance was arge, ancient-looking clock tower.


    ¡°I think there was a clock tower mentioned in the audio tape,¡± Bobby said.


    We stared at it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember if that was there,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°I can rewatch <em>Delta Epsilon Delta</em>ter. I think there were some establishment shots from the square in that one,¡± I said.


    ¡°What¡¯s <em>Delta Epsilon Delta</em>?¡± Cassie asked.


    ¡°A storyline we cleared. A murder mystery. I can watch it like it was a movie,¡± I said.


    ¡°Film Buff,¡± she said under her breath.


    I nodded.


    ¡°What is an NPC?¡± she asked afterward. She must have seen Kenny on the red wallpaper.


    Antoine swooped in. ¡°Non-yer Character. Any person not trying to kill you.¡±


    Cassie shuddered.


    As we moved onto the sidewalk, a person in a werewolf mask chased a fake-knife-wielding masked man down the street, howling the whole time.


    The calliope music ended, and a band somewhere started to y some off-brand version of Monster Mash. I knew it was a band and not a recording because they were terrible. Despite that, people cheered and made merry.


    ¡°Madam Celia!¡± Kimberly said, pointing to an empty booth across the street.


    Madam Celia was a psychic Paragon, a level 50 NPC who knew information about Dina¡¯s quest. She wasn¡¯t at the booth, but a sign read, ¡°Madam Celia Dane¡¯s Ethereal Emporium: Antiques and Spiritual Readings.¡±


    The booth was covered and none of her merchandise had been stocked yet. The celebration didn¡¯t technically start until the next day, so she hadn¡¯t finished it yet.


    Kimberly exined to Cassie and Isaac who Madam Celia was while I continued to survey the area. Everywhere I looked there was something new to see.


    Across from us, there was a little path into the park. A spot had been set up for someone called, The Barker on the red wallpaper. That was all the information it gave. Not level, or character type. The space consisted of nothing but arge step stool and a microphone.


    A man dressed in a red and white striped shirt and suspenders stood on the stepdder as if he were climbing up. He held onto thedder with one hand and the microphone with the other.


    "If it''s thrills you seek, the Banshee''s Drop will have you falling... perhaps falling too far!" he announced into the microphone.


    "Look at this daring group,¡± he said, addressing a group of four people walking in front of him, ¡°Ready for a fright¡ªor perhaps you hunger for a taste of deep-fried spider legs? We don¡¯t sell them here; I was just asking if you hungered for them."


    Little kids nearby said, ¡°Eww,¡± as their mothersughed and smiled at them.


    ¡°Or perhaps sir, you would like to march with our invisible phantom parade starting next evening? The price of admission is an arm and a leg¡­ and one or two vital organs,¡± the Barker said.


    Some peopleughed at his corny joke.


    ¡°The Ferris Wheel of Fate turns round and round¡ªIt is guaranteed to send you on a one-way trip back to where you were when you started!" He cleared his throat. ¡°The mayor¡¯s office would like me to remind you not to mess with the caskets set up around the downtown areas. Those are for emergencies only.¡±


    The man continued tounch one joke after another, sometimes advertising the attractions, other times heckling passersby.


    My attention was brought back to the sidewalk we were standing on as a woman approached us. She wore a fashionable suit and was talking to someone on a cell phone. On the red wallpaper, her name was, ¡°Rhonda Moore-Coordinator.¡± She was a Paragon. Level fifty. Tropes were visible but unreadable, just like Madam Celia and all the others I had seen.


    ¡°I don''t care that it''s only rainwater; we can''t have the you-know-what backing up during the centennial. You need to get someone to fix it immediately!¡±


    She hung up the phone as she approached us. ¡°Hello! Wee to Carousel, the town where moviese to life! Are you all visitors?¡±


    Kenny was about to take off with the carriage, but just as he heard Rhonda¡¯s greeting, he shouted, ¡°Wee to Carousel, the town where moviese to life!¡±


    It was as if he had forgotten. He then stirred his horses to move forward and waved back at us.


    ¡°We just got here,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Great!¡± Rhonda said, pping. ¡°My name is Rhonda Moore. I am responsible for making sure this all goes smoothly. Many of the attractions have already been set up if you want to go explore. Otherwise, you can find your lodgings ande back tomorrow when things kick off for real.¡±


    For some reason, as she spoke to us, I really felt excited about doing just as she had said, exploring.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got to go, just ask anyone with a Centennial shirt on and they can point you to an attraction. I hope I see you tomorrow!¡±


    She then waved goodbye and was back on her cell phone within ten seconds.


    ¡°Now we explore?¡± Cassie asked cautiously.


    ¡°Now we explore,¡± I said.

 Arc II, Chapter 7: A History in Flames

    Arc II, Chapter 7: A History in mes


    The only thing we knew that needed to be done was to check out the informational disy about the founding of Carousel that was supposed to be somewhere in the town square. We had been given a new space on the red wallpaper for Leads and, while I still wasn¡¯t certain of what we were up against, I was d to have direction.


    Even with all the excitement and joy surrounding us, knowing that something wasing created a palpable sense of dread. I could only imagine that people who showed up here without knowing anything would probably be having a good time at that moment, albeit a confused one. Having not been forced to be aware of the red wallpaper or being told that Carousel was a cosmic trap would make this experience a lot better.


    Dina was the first to discover the disys in the town square containing various information about Carousel. They were mostly coges of pictures and newspaper clippings on cardboard. Soon we found our way over to them and were eagerly trying to find any relevant information. They looked like they were a step up from a history report that someone might have done in junior high. They were informative but not exhaustive.


    We found the disy that gave information about the founding of Carousel and quickly started to read over it. I smiled as I read because the articles on the disy board and the pictures that were featured reminded me of how this exact same thing was done in movies. When using newspaper clippings to give information, there were always convenient titles and evocative pictures, and all we saw from most of the newspaper clippings were the first few lines.


    <strong>The Founding of Carousel</strong>


    <strong><em>August 5, 1922</em></strong>


    <strong><em>The Haunted History of the Geist Family</em></strong>


    <strong>Bartholomew Geist Acquires Bankrupt Township</strong><blockquote>


    <em>April 12, 1922</em>


    In a move that has stirred both curiosity and skepticism among industry onlookers, the enigmatic film and theater producer Bartholomew Geist has secured ownership of a recently bankrupted and abandonedmunity. The acquisition, brokered by the reclusive and astute financier Ss Dyrkon, represents a significant expansion of Geist¡¯s diverse and somewhat arcane business interests.</blockquote>


    <strong>Geist Seeks Partnership for Local Revival</strong><blockquote>


    <em>June 5, 1924</em>


    Bartholomew Geist announced today his intentions to revive the lifeless agricultural, industrial, and tourism sectors of his newly acquired property, now dubbed ¡®Carousel,¡¯ with the aid of investors. ¡°It takes a vige to raise a town,¡± Geist mused...</blockquote>


    The next article was folded over so that only the title and first few lines could be read. I quickly unfolded it to read the rest of the story.


    <strong>Carousel: Home of the Stars?</strong><blockquote>


    <em>April 3, 1934</em>


    The Geist family, increasingly known for their contributions to the film business, are proceeding with their extensive project to convert sections of Carousel into permanent film sets, aiming to bolster their film production endeavors and instill a culture and history that will


    (fold)


    drive tourism. However, this initiative has faced criticism from local residents, who are concerned about the quality and safety of the construction. Many of these structures have been deemed substandard and unsafe for public essibility.


    A particrly stark example of these issues is the recently attempted public swimming pool, which was installed with such significant ws that it remains unused. The issue has underscored the broader problem of hasty construction throughout the town.


    The most notable case highlighting these concerns is the Rapid Falls Tenements, located in the northern district of Carousel. These buildings, although aesthetically pleasing and designed to emte the dense urban districts of major cities for films set in such locations, have been colloquiallybeled ¡®The Prettiest Slums in the World¡¯ by locals. Residents report that the buildings suffer from such poor craftsmanship that it seems ¡°thest coat of paint is the only thing holding these things up,¡± indicating a potentially hazardousck of structural integrity. This sentiment underscores a growing dissatisfaction among the popce with the Geist family¡¯s ambitious cinematic projects, raising questions about the bnce between artistic creation andmunity safety.</blockquote>


    <strong>Cherise Geist¡¯s Asylum: A Charitable Sanctuary or Set Piece?</strong><blockquote>


    <em>October 10, 1964</em>


    Cherise Geist, eldest granddaughter to Carousel¡¯s founder Bartholomew Geist, has initiated the construction of a state-of-the-art asylum. Whileuded for her charitable efforts, local historian Marty McKay quipped, ¡°Sure, it¡¯s for charity, but don¡¯t be surprised if it doubles as a set for their next big flick, and a tax write-off for the Geist family.¡± McKay added, ¡°The socialite is known for her love of drinking and dancing. Perhaps this is a way to rehabilitate her image...</blockquote>


    <strong>Miss Carousel Crown Goes to a Geist</strong><blockquote>


    <em>August 6, 1972</em>


    The crown of the first annual Miss Carousel Pageant was awarded yesterday to none other than a member of the founding family, Miss Lillian Geist. The Pageant, held at the Carousel 50th Anniversary Celebration, was meant to celebrate the vitality of themunity....</blockquote>


    <strong>mes Engulf Geist Factory</strong><blockquote>


    <em>January 1, 1984</em>


    In a regrettable turn of events, a ze engulfed a key manufacturing facility belonging to the Geist familytest evening. Official reports confirm there were no injuries or fatalities associated with the incident. Prompt action by local fire services, alerted by a vignt young resident who has been dubbed a ¡®Guardian Angel¡¯ by employees, who first spotted the congration, prevented any potential harm to the factory workers, who were unaware of the escting danger until the arrival of emergency personnel.


    The affected factory, an early industrial endeavor established by Bartholomew Geist, has been a cornerstone in the Geist family¡¯s diverse business operations. Bensen Geist, the current CEO of Geist Industries, was present during the incident and has publiclymitted to reconstructing the facility. His statement assured themunity that the rebuilding efforts would serve as a catalyst for innovation and growth, stating, ¡°We will emerge from the ashes with a vision renewed for the future of Carousel.¡±


    The cause of the fire is currently under investigation, with further details to be disclosed as they be avable. The Geist family has pledged full cooperation with the authorities to ascertain the origin of the ze and to implement measures to prevent future incidents.</blockquote>


    <strong>Tragedy Strikes on the Set of Geists¡¯ Latest Fright Feature</strong><blockquote>


    <em>February 18, 1984</em>


    In what can only be described as life imitating art, a chilling ident urred during the filming of Bartholomew Geist¡¯stest horror venture, resulting in 4 fatalities, including Carlyle Geist, celebrated actor and presenter. Details are forting. After a string of failures, Geist Productions was relying on theirtest film to turn things around. That hope has been frustrated by these events. While the...</blockquote>


    <strong>Mystery Shrouds Geist Manor ze</strong><blockquote>


    <em>April 10, 1984</em>


    The ancestral home of the Geist family fell to a baffling infernost evening. Fire officials are left scratching their heads at the odd patterns of the ze, with Chief Inspector Harrow noting, ¡°The ze hollowed out the main structure while leaving both one wing and several corridorspletely untouched.¡± The fire started during an unnamed social event. Guests and Geists alike attempted to escape the smoke and me. Harrow noted that all the Geist family members present were engulfed.</blockquote>


    I read each of the articles twice. There was just enough information there to start piecing together a timeline of Carousel¡¯s alleged history. Unfortunately, the most important parts were the parts that weren¡¯t in the articles. Those with the details we would have to discover on our own.


    The Geists had basically been eradicated 40 years prior. At that moment, there were too many possibilities for where the story was going. I needed to keep my mind open. The worst thing that I could do was decide that this was some sort of curse or grudge and only look for evidence of those things.


    After we had read the information and discussed it a little, I noticed that the Lead instructing us to find the informational disy had disappeared from the red wallpaper. Instead, new sub headings had been added under the Lead ¡°Vetting the Founder¡¯s Tale¡±. These new subheadings instructed us to look for information about the Geist family and its demise.


    ¡°So, this is basically like a video game?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°With quests and all that?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see if you still want to call it a video game in a few days,¡± Antoine said.


    In a way, it was like a video game. The Tutorial was about to start, after all.


    After that, we meandered around the town square and looked at the various booths that had been set up. Cassie and Isaac were specifically interested in finding a booth that the hospital was running. They seemed to hope that their brother would be there. I didn''t want to dash their hopes so I didn''t say anything. I expected that once we found it, it would likely be some sort of health awareness propagandabined with some sort of carnival game or scary movie prop. That would be in fitting with the rest of the booths.


    We didn¡¯t find it. What we found was a disy of cardboard cutouts of figures from Geist horror movies. There was also a wall filled with old vintage movie posters. I scanned over them repeatedly, as if subconsciously expecting to recognize one of them, but I never did. That was Carousel, though. Everything was familiar but different.


    The sight of all the alternate reality horror film posters had been much more interesting to me than it was to my friends. Soon, I could feel them starting to pull away, drawn toward other parts of the celebration preparations. I took onest look at the line of vintage movie posters and rejoined them.


    ¡°Where to?¡± I asked. Sickening anticipation was building. This ce felt normal, or at least as normal as the average Halloween fair. It didn¡¯t feel foreboding, not in the way I was expecting. These people seemed happy. It was too normal. I felt like Carousel was teasing us.


    No one had an answer. Like me, they were taken in by the sights, sounds, and smells of a town in the throes of a celebration.


    In the distance, the Barker continued selling people on the virtues of the various carnival rides. ¡°See the scares from a hundred feet up!¡± he boasted of the drop ride. ¡°Let the world blend into a sea of swirling colors,¡± he said of the ride that spun so fast that the passengers could defy gravity and crawl along the padded walls.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t there be a carousel in Carousel?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°I don¡¯t see one anywhere.¡±


    Antoine and I made eye contact and smirked. How many times had we asked that same question?


    ¡°Let''s just take our time,¡± Antoine said, ¡°The story wille to us.¡±


    He said that like it was a good thing.


    ¡°I''m not looking forward to that part,¡± I said, as a clown walked across the street selling balloons. Despite its spooky clown makeup, it was just an ordinary NPC. If anything was going to be a monster, it would have been the clown.


    It was at that moment; I nced down the street and saw a man in a fancy suit. He wore a red sash that said the word ¡°Mayor¡± in golden letters and a hat to match his suit. His gray mustache was intricately manicured. A chill went down my spine.


    I got the attention of my friends and directed them in the direction I was looking. They were just as disturbed to see him as I was, with the exception of Isaac and Cassie, who did not know what the big deal was.


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°He¡¯sing this way.¡±


    We had heard references to the mayor here and there, but we had never actually seen him. We knew he was involved in the Throughline from the writings in the As, but to what extent, we couldn¡¯t be sure.


    Curiously, on the red wallpaper, his name was Mayor Roderick Gray. To my great surprise, he was a level 3 NPC, just like most of the people we had seen so far. I had expected an ultimate antagonist or simr. It was still possible that he was the bad guy being disguised by the narrative and powerful tropes, but I could not be certain.


    He got closer. Behind him, an entourage of yes-men and security personnel walked. He waved at the families participating in the festivities and said, ¡°Wee to Carousel!¡± to everyone who made eye contact.


    As he walked toward us, I scanned for Omens. Still, there were none. Soon enough, he was upon us. He was practically right next to us on the sidewalk. He turned, looked right at each of us, smiled warmly, and said, ¡°Wee to Carousel, the town where moviese to life!¡±


    Then he and his followers walked across the street toward a booth about civic engagement. He never looked back.


    ¡°Seems like a nice guy,¡± Bobby said nonchntly.


    Somehow that was even more unnerving.

 Arc II, Chapter 8: Nondescript

    Arc II, Chapter 8: Nondescript


    ¡°Why did they not put the booths all in one ce?¡± Dina asked as we made our way up yet another row of carnival rides.


    We had seen booths for everypany, social club, public utility, and college organization. There was nothing out of the ordinary at any of them. We wandered without progress for so long, I started to doubt that we should be there at all.


    This ce <em>was </em>a good microcosm for Carousel itself, though. It was the first time yers would see important names like the Delta Epsilon Delta fraternity, which was running a carnival game where yers armed with a long foam hammer tried to strike the heads of various frat members as they popped out of holes in arge plywood construct. It was whack-a-mole. All of the frat guys were tipsy but seemed to be having a good time. I didn¡¯t see any faces I recognized.


    KRSL, thepany that had been behind the research facility in the <em>Subject of Inquiry</em> storyline with the psychically manifested poltergeist had a giant wheel contestants could spin for various prizes (all of which were KRSL products).


    And it went on and on like that. They were spread around the concessions, carnival rides, and t-shirt booths.


    Eventually, though, we found the booth we had been looking for. Hallowed Heart Hospital was doing a blood drive, giving out free healthy snacks, and administering flu shots all in one area.


    As we approached, Cassie, who had said few words, found the nearest nurse and asked her bluntly, ¡°Is Dr. Andrew Hughes here?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± The woman stered on a smile. She was a level 3 NPC. No title. I doubted she would know much.


    ¡°Dr. Andrew Hughes,¡± Cassie said. ¡°He was supposed to be working at this booth.¡±


    The nurse didn¡¯t appear to recognize the name. Still, she looked around quickly, and said, ¡°I don¡¯t know of a Dr. Hughes.¡± She leaned back and yelled back into the booth, ¡°Do we have a Dr. Hughes?¡±


    A buff male nurse with a long dark ponytail simply shook his head from within the booth and then went back to sorting through some things in boxes.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry honey,¡± the nurse said. ¡°You said he was supposed to be working the booth for Hallowed Heart?¡±


    Cassie didn¡¯t answer at first. ¡°I apologize, I must be mistaken.¡±


    She turned back around toward us.


    It doesn¡¯t matter how much proof you have. Hope blinds you. She had been holding out hope that her brother would be there.


    At least we let her and Isaac search. The yers that we met at the lodge didn¡¯t indulge our curiosities. Adeline had trained them not to.


    ¡°We need to keep moving,¡± Dina said quietly but firmly. She looked spooked.


    She must have seen something. Her <strong>Outsider¡¯s Perspective</strong> trope alerted her when things were new, unusual, or out of ce. She didn¡¯t necessarily know what was causing the trope to trigger, but it was still useful information.


    We picked up the pace and continued our path around the booths and rides.


    ¡°There,¡± Dina said, pointing to the observation tower ride.


    Unlike all of the other rides, it didn¡¯t require tickets. That was important because we hadn¡¯t taken the time to win or buy any.


    It consisted of arge octagonal cabin with windows in every direction. It would slowly rise up a few stories high, and then slowly descend. It was smallpared to some of therger versions at amusement parks, but it still went high enough to see the whole area.


    More than that, it was practically empty, despite how crowded the rest of the rides were.


    We stepped into the cabin. Dina kept a watch out behind us until the doors closed and the room began its slow ascent. Unlike most observation towers, where the room would spin all the way up the tower, this one simply rose. It was lifted by arge pair of jacks.


    ¡°What was it?¡± Antoine asked Dina as soon as the doors closed.


    ¡°We¡¯re being followed,¡± Dina said sharply.


    We rushed to the window facing the way we hade in.


    ¡°A man,¡± Dina said. ¡°I can¡¯t describe him.¡±


    ¡°What was he wearing?¡± Kimberly asked.


    We scanned the crowds for someone looking up at us.


    ¡°I can¡¯t describe him as in I magically can¡¯t describe him. I can¡¯t focus on details,¡± Dina said.


    ¡°Like from a trope?¡± I asked.


    Dina nodded. ¡°He¡¯s right ther¡ª¡± she started to say, ¡°No¡­ I lost him somehow.¡±


    I looked around the festival grounds. I saw no indescribable men as if that was a thing I could look for.


    ¡°Did you see him on the red wallpaper?¡± Bobby asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Dina said. ¡°He wasn¡¯t there.¡±


    I was about to ask her another question but then thought better of it. There were only two ways to not appear on the red wallpaper that I knew of. The first way was to have an Outsider trope called <strong>Guarded Personality</strong>, which would prevent any type of insight into a yer. Dina had that trope. Travis, one of the Outsiders at the lodge, had that trope. That trope was beatable with a high Moxie or Savvy though.


    The other time I saw someone not show up on the red wallpaper was when I saw the axe murderer. I couldn¡¯t say anything to my friends about that though.


    Unable to see the man who was following us, we reverted to trying to figure out where we were supposed to be.


    ¡°Maybe the booth you go to has something to do with what happens next?¡± Kimberly suggested as she looked down at the grounds. ¡°Maybe we¡¯re supposed to be doing the activities.¡±


    ¡°I wonder what the face painting booth would do, then,¡± Isaac said, unable to even summon the energy to smirk at his own remark.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand how nothing is happening,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t there be a guide or something?¡±


    They discussed our situation. As they did, I started trying to think about this ce as if it were an actual game. I looked around. My eyes rested on Isaac and Cassie. They stood there, still holding the luggage that they had brought with them.


    ¡°What if we¡¯re not supposed to do anything at the fair tonight?¡± I asked.


    They paused and waited for me to exin.


    ¡°Cassie and Isaac,¡± I said, pointing to them. ¡°They¡¯re still holding their luggage. If this was a real fresh start, then there would be eight or nine people, all lugging around bags and boxes. I mean, think of all the crap we had when we got here. We had to ditch it at the front of the corn maze before we did <em>The Final Straw II</em>.¡±


    Something clicked.


    ¡°We need to find a ce to stay,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°I think it makes sense,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s dark, things are winding down,¡± I looked out at the festival, ¡°Kind of. This isn¡¯t even the real start of the Centennial. That''s tomorrow. A bunch of new yers would be looking for a ce to put their things. Especially since whoever invited them¡­ isn¡¯t going to be here to pick them up.¡±


    We had been so obsessed withpleting the tutorial and moving the story forward that we had forgotten to act as if we were new yers who thought they were on vacation. The first thing that new yers would do when they got to the Centennial event would be to find a ce to stay the night. That hadn¡¯t even entered our minds.


    ¡°That would exin why nothing¡¯s happening,¡± Bobby said.


    ¡°So we need to look for a hotel,¡± Dina said, scanning the horizon as the observation deck lowered down.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Though the process of searching for a hotel may be the thing that causes something to happen.¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re leaving,¡± Isaac said, ¡°I could really use a bite to eat.¡±


    That didn¡¯t sound half bad. I walked across the observation cabin and stared west. In the distance, a sign flickered with the word ¡°Diner¡± though the ¡°N¡± and ¡°R¡± sometimes weren¡¯t visible.


    We had prepared for the man Dina had seen to be standing at the doors of the observation deck as soon as the doors were opened, but he wasn¡¯t there. We quickly made our way out.


    The Diner had been a staple of the diet of the yers of the lodge. By going there, we could get some food and visit the Community Board across the street where yer''s missing posters could be found. If we could get ahold of their brother¡¯s poster, it might help Isaac and Cassie get their heads in the game.


    We wound down our way through the Centennial toward the Diner. No one jumped out to stop us from leaving.


    The Diner was a bit of a walk, but it was much faster than we were used to given the Omens were not present. We could actually walk in a straight path.


    As we approached, I could see that the NPCs had graciously left us an empty booth, as they always did at the Diner.


    We stepped onto the street and walked toward the end.


    ¡°Uh oh,¡± Dina said.


    At first, I assumed the mysterious man was back, but as I followed her gaze, I saw that she had noticed somethingpletely different.


    The Community Board that held all of the missing yer posters was gone.


    In its ce, there was an NPC operating a pair of post-hole diggers.


    We approached. The whole wall of the building had been covered with boards and posters thest time I had been there. Now, there was nothing.


    ¡°Howdy,¡± the man with the post-hole diggers said as we got close.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Antoine said. ¡°What happened to the¡­¡±


    ¡°The Community Board?¡± the NPC said. ¡°Tore it down. Mayor wants all of them refurbished. He said the wholework of them was rotting in ce. He wasn¡¯t wrong. Gonna get a new board up so that themunity has a ce to post about lost cats and coat drives and whatnot. Should be done in a few days.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Antoine said in shock.


    ¡°Are the missing posters gone?¡± Kimberly asked in a panic.


    That would be one heck of an oversight for Project Rewind. If the missing posters were gone that meant that none of the other yers could be rescued.


    ¡°Are they gone for good?¡± Kimberly asked again.


    ¡°That part''s not my job,¡± the NPC said.


    ¡°Let''s not freak out here,¡± I said. ¡°He said that he would have the board done in a few days. That doesn''t mean the missing posters are gone it means that we haven''t unlocked them yet. Think about it. You have an NPC out here working in the middle of the night on a glorified bulletin board. He gives us some line about when the board will be back up.¡±


    ¡°Straight out of a video game,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Right,¡± I said. Truthfully, I wasn''t certain, but somebody needed to say something positive. Of course, it would make sense to prevent yers from seeing the missing posters before they hadpleted the tutorial. Especially if the goal was to prevent yers from panicking and trying to run.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Bobby said. He looked to the NPC. ¡°How many boards are you putting up in this spot?¡±


    The NPC was struck by the question. He grinned. ¡°Now that I think about it, I¡¯m putting up six boards here. Gonna have an extra connectedmunity in this part of town.¡±


    Heughed to himself and got back to work.


    That was a clever question. Bobby''s <strong>Background Noise</strong> trope allowed him to gather information from NPCs as long as they weren''t on-screen. We knew that there was originally only one Community Board in this area but that more got added as more yers died In order to amodate the extra missing posters. Since the NPC was adding six boards, it stood to reason that there were a lot of missing posters to go on them.


    Even with that good bit of news, the missing poster being gone was quite the gut punch. Still, we made our way inside the diner. We didn''t speak.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be back up as soon as we get through the tutorial,¡± Antoine said, though I suspected he was trying to convince himself.


    ¡°There may be a storyline that''s designed to teach us about rescues. Or we have to wait until we''re awarded our first rescue trope. Of course, we already have some so it might trigger automatically,¡± I said trying to be reassuring. I wasn''t sure I hit the mark.


    The others piled into a booth. I asked Antoine for the As. I sat down at the low bar and started flipping through the pages for answers.


    I found the section on the missing poster board. There was nothing about the Community Board returning after the Tutorial. There was also nothing about it disappearing. That was kind of good news.


    ¡°There is another missing poster board at the police station,¡± I said, reading the entry. ¡°We can check that one too if we want.¡±


    Of course, if missing posters were taken from the game when it reset, that wouldn''t matter. Still having another ce to look was somefort.


    Dina sat down next to me at the low bar.


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s funny,¡± she said. ¡°We spent an hour telling these kids how dangerous the town was and then when we got here, it almost looked like a fun ce to be.¡±


    ¡°Kind of undermines our message,¡± I said, trying to see the humor.


    We ordered our food. We had some money saved up. Not a lot, but some.


    As I ate, I looked across the store to see the owner, Gloria. She held a coffee pot and stood next to an empty booth. She looked lost in thought. Almost sad, maybe confused. I wondered why.


    Back at the table, Antoine had reverted to nning things out to take his mind off the missing posters.


    ¡°So we find an NPC that is wearing one of those Centennial T-shirts and we ask them where to find a ce to stay. If Riley¡¯s right, then they should point us toward where we need to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shit!¡± I yelled as a face appeared outside the window of the Diner right next to Antoine''s head. He had appeared out of nowhere. It was a man; I couldn¡¯t say what he looked like. Or what he was wearing. I couldn¡¯t say much about him at all.


    He said something through the ss that sounded like a whale¡¯s call to me.


    My friends practically jumped out of the booth from fright.


    The man made his way around the Diner toward the entrance. Antoine started pulling his bat out of his duffel.


    He opened the doors and walked across the room to where we were standing.


    It was almost like he was more freaked out by us than we were by him.


    For a moment, he just looked us over. He was blocking our way to the exit. There was nothing we could do unless we wanted things to get physical.


    ¡°You,¡± he said as he looked over us, his heart clearly racing. ¡°How did you get to this ce?¡±


    The confusion on his face was matched by the confusion on ours.


    "How did you get to Carousel?" he asked.

 Arc II, Chapter 9: Carousel Loves Families!

    Arc II, Chapter 9: Carousel Loves Families!


    ¡°I am asking you literally. Where did you enter Carousel from?¡± the man said.


    I was hesitant to answer.


    Antoine wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°Olde Hill Road,¡± he said. ¡°By the run-down bed and breakfast.¡±


    The man ran his hand over the top of his hair. ¡°That¡¯s interesting. Okay. I have to tell you something. You¡¯re not going to want to believe me. Heck, you probably won¡¯t believe me at all, not until it starts happening.¡±


    ¡°Until what starts happening?¡± Kimberly asked.


    The man contemted his answer. ¡°Sit down. This will sound weird.¡±


    We all did as he asked. The other NPCs in the Diner had long gone back to what they were doing before the man entered the building.


    ¡°I am bound by forces that frustrate my attempts to help you, but I <em>am </em>trying to help you. We all have our puppet strings, even me, even you. Listen beyond what I say. There are things out there that can¡¯t be true. At the Centennial, things that don''t line up. It¡¯s all part of the trick. You were not invited here for the reasons you think you were. Tell me, why <em>did </em>youe here?¡±


    It seemed that Carousel was getting right into it.


    ¡°Horror convention,¡± Bobby said with sadness in his eyes.


    ¡°My brother invited me to hiske house,¡± Antoine answered. ¡°He invited my friends too.¡±


    Cassie took a deep breath. She stared at the man the way someone might stare at a ghost. ¡°Our brother too. He¡¯s a doctor at the hospital.¡±


    ¡°I see. I¡¯m sorry to tell you this,¡± the man said. ¡°But you were tricked. You¡¯re loved ones aren¡¯t here. If they¡¯re likely dead. There is no horror convention.¡±


    ¡°What the hell are you talking about?¡± Antoine said. He looked shocked at the wordsing out of his own mouth. It was all a knee-jerk reaction. It didn¡¯t make sense. Antoine knew what the man said was true. It made no sense for him to react that way.


    Yet, I knew why Antoine had said it. Every word that wasing out of this man''s mouth was hostile to my mind. Everything he said I didn''t want to believe even though I knew it to be true. There was something going on.


    ¡°This is not Carousel. It certainly isn¡¯t this happy ce,¡± the man said pointing his hand back in the direction of the celebration. ¡°This is part of the trap.¡±


    ¡°A trap?¡± I asked, hoping to get some rification. Still, my mind revolted against the information he was giving us. I didn¡¯t want to believe it for some reason. ¡°Why would anyone want to trap us?¡±


    At this point a new yer would be extremely skeptical and likely would not have seen anything supernatural. I tried to speak as if I thought the whole conversation was a joke or the ravings of a lunatic.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the man said. ¡°But whoever set the trap did so because they want you here. I don¡¯t know for what purpose.¡±


    ¡°Can you be a little more cryptic, please?¡± Isaac asked. His instinct to make a quip was stronger than his unease.


    The man rolled his eyes.


    ¡°So, what are they going to do now that they have us?¡± I asked with a forced smirk.


    ¡°If I told you, you wouldn¡¯t believe me,¡± the man said.


    ¡°Try us,¡± I said. We needed to slow down and get as much information as possible. I had to fight the temptation to jump forward in the conversation torger questions.


    He shook his head. ¡°I think they want you because your story hasn¡¯t been told yet, unlike the rest of us. The only people in this whole town who haven¡¯t gotten to The End yet are the seven of you. They want to know how far you can go.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s they?¡± Antoine asked.


    The man smiled. ¡°After it starts happening, I¡¯ll try to find you. Then we can talk. When you¡¯re ready to believe me.¡±


    He started to get up.


    ¡°You¡¯re a Stranger,¡± Dina said quickly.


    The man looked at her and nodded his head. ¡°I know. You don¡¯t know me. I don¡¯t know you, but you have to believe me.¡±


    Dina wasn¡¯t calling him an ordinary stranger. She was trying to say that he was <em>the </em>Stranger. The Stranger Paragon was the manifestation of the Outsider Aspect called the Stranger. We had met several Paragons before and read about others in the As.


    It would make sense. The Stranger was the Aspect of the Outsider that existed in the periphery, guiding their allies with cryptic warnings. They were nameless and mysterious.


    As I looked the man up and down, he was, indeed, mysterious.


    As he walked away, he looked back at us and said, ¡°Don¡¯t forget what I told you. Oh, and if you¡¯re looking for lodgings, the Visitor''s Booth might be of service.¡±


    After he was gone, I said, ¡°I told you we were supposed to be finding a ce to stay. An NPC just interrupted his cryptic warning to send us in that direction. Can¡¯t get more clear than that.¡±


    ¡°What did he even tell us?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°What substance should we take away from that for the Throughline? We didn¡¯t even get an entry on the Leads board.¡±


    He was right. Nothing the Stranger had said was entered on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°I think he <em>was </em>the Stranger Paragon,¡± I said. ¡°I think he was using a special trope so that he could give us cryptic warnings but we wouldn¡¯t believe him.¡±


    ¡°Is that what that was?¡± Bobby asked. ¡°I felt like my brain was doing somersaults.¡±


    ¡°Then what was the point?¡± Antoine said. ¡°If we didn¡¯t already know he was telling the truth, we would have just dismissed the warning and went on our way. I thought he would at least tell us what to look out for.¡±


    I contemted it for a moment. Whatever trope he had used to make us doubt him hadn¡¯t worked, though not for long. We already knew most of the things he said. For us, it was a really odd encounter. For actual new yers, it would have been an odd moment they allughed about. Even the grave warnings would be dismissed under the effects of his trope.


    His short rant was supposed to give us information without actually changing our minds or making us suspicious.


    "I think his whole thing was meant to stop us from running away," I said. "Like it was a logistics thing for the game. If a new yer was already suspecting something was up but wasn¡¯t certain, he would ease their suspicion with that trope. A trope that makes people not believe what they are told would stop yers from sensing something was off about Carousel before they were supposed to. If we had run into him at the festival and Dina hadn''t warned us, he would have just yelled that stuff at us and run off.¡±


    Magically eliminating yers¡¯ skepticism while directly telling them that they should be skeptical must have served Carousel¡¯s purpose.


    "But we avoided him so he had to chase us down awkwardly," Antoine said.


    "We need to get our heads on straight," I said. "If we keep going like this we might miss something important. I mean, this is the Tutorial. We have to act like we do not know what is going on."


    "Way ahead of you," Isaac said.


    ¡°The Visitor¡¯s Booth?¡± an NPC withrge, bushy sideburns asked. ¡°That¡¯s right over there. Turn at the ropedder game and go straight. They should be able to set you up with a hotel for the night.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°I am so tired,¡± I said as we trudged toward the booth, which had been near the center of town square the whole time. We had passed it while looking for the hospital booth. ¡°What do you think the odds are we actually get to sleep tonight?¡±


    ¡°One in ten,¡± Antoine said.


    I sighed.


    The booth wasrge and was upied by some smiling NPCs, including one named Gina. It faced a circr patch of grass next to a statue of Bartholomew Geist. It was smaller than the one that had chased me during the Grotesque storyline.


    Directly in front of the statue, some men in hard hats were digging a hole. The mayor was near them with his entourage. They were lifting arge metal object out of a wooden crate.


    The mayor noticed some people watching and waved to them.


    Kimberly struck up a conversation with the NPC Gina.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°We¡¯re in town for the Centennial and somehow we can¡¯t find the people we were supposed to stay with. Can you suggest us a hotel for the night?¡±


    ¡°Oh my gosh,¡± Gina said. She was a stout woman with a toothy grin. ¡°Things are so hectic right now. I bet that¡¯s why you can¡¯t get ahold of them. We can certainly set you up with some rooms. This happens with every big event in Carousel. I can check if anyone has canceled their rooms and maybe we can set you up with a ce for the night. What do you think?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a lifesaver! Thank you so much!¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be just a moment. I¡¯ve got to look through the books. If you want a sneak peek of a big event, the mayor is setting up the time capsule right over there. It¡¯s so exciting!¡±


    Therge metal object near the mayor was a time capsule. I had heard of these, but never actually seen one in real life. The capsule was an airtight container that people could put letters or heirlooms into before it was buried. Decadester, the capsule could be dug up and the future mayor could unseal it to reveal all of the neat old stuff inside.


    As we approached, we saw the capsule more closely. There were words painted on the side:


    <strong>Carousel¡¯s Centennial Capsule¡ªA Hundred Years of Fun!</strong>


    Buried August 5, 2022.


    <strong>Do not open for One Hundred Years!</strong>


    <strong>Carousel Loves Families!</strong>


    That "Carousel Loves Families" slogan was on signs and booths, flyers and carnival food wrappers. Now, it was on a time capsule.


    ¡°I see you are admiring our new tradition!¡± Mayor Gray said enthusiastically as we walked up. ¡°Well, she goes into the ground soon, never to be seen again for a hundred years. Isn¡¯t that exciting?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Why, I n to drop in this letter,¡± he said, brandishing a fancy envelope. ¡°It contains my advice to the mayor of a hundred years from now, as well as my hopes for the future of Carousel. I believe in this ce. I believe in what it can be. Do you?¡±


    He was looking at Dina.


    ¡°Well, I just got here,¡± she said.


    He smiled knowingly. ¡°I assure you by the time you leave, you will be a believer in my vision for this ce. It will be a ce of prosperity, of happiness, of reconciliation between what has been and what can be. Do you know who said that?¡±


    He was looking at me this time.


    ¡°Bartholomew Geist?¡± I guessed.


    ¡°Yes and no,¡± he said, looking back at the statue behind him. ¡°It was actually another of our founding fathers, Ss Dyrkon. Geist repeated the words loudly and often, though.¡±


    The mayor looked like he was about to say more, but before he could, the men digging near the statue started calling for him.


    I looked over. One of the men rammed his shovel down into therge hole they had been digging. A nging sound echoed over the square.


    ¡°Pipes?¡± the mayor asked calmly. ¡°I was assured that this would be a safe ce to dig for the capsule.¡±


    The men continued finessing the dirt with their shovels as the mayor looked down into the hole quizzically. He looked absolutely at a loss for words.


    ¡°This is¡­¡± he said. ¡°This makes no sense. It can¡¯t be. Who do we call about this? Who would know?¡±


    Before we could investigate further, we were approached by the woman from the visitor¡¯s booth. She handed Kimberly a handwritten note and map.


    ¡°Now just follow these directions,¡± Gina said. ¡°We¡¯ve got you set up with three rooms all in one wing of the hotel. It¡¯s a nice one if you ask me. Newly renovated. Room service, the whole nine yards. Normally we wouldn¡¯t do this, but given your dire situation, we thought, why not just go the extra mile? I mean, it is a time of celebr¡ª¡±


    She stopped talking and stared over in the direction of the hole. I followed her gaze. Most everyone else was already looking in that direction.


    The men were working together to lift somethingrge and metallic out of the ground. It was a cylinder covered in dirt. There were handles and atch on the side. It look simr to the time capsule that had been prepared for the centennial, but it was slightlyrger, and slightly different in its shape.


    ¡°I never heard anything about this!¡± the mayor yelled. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping dirt off the side of the object. As he did, the bewilderment on his face grew, I knew this because he would look back at the crowd that had gathered just to make sure they were seeing the same thing he was.


    As he wiped the dirt away, words were revealed words:


    <strong>Carousel¡¯s Time Capsule!</strong>


    A Hundred Years of Thrills--Here¡¯s to a Hundred More!


    <strong>DO NOT OPEN UNTIL August 5, 2092.</strong>


    Buried August 5, 1992, during Carousel¡¯s Centennial Celebration


    The Mayor,pletely speechless, continued to wipe so as to uncover the final words:


    <strong>Carousel Loves Families!</strong>

 Arc II, Chapter 10: The Cut Scene

    Arc II, Chapter 10: The Cut Scene


    The time capsule that was buried thirty years too early caused quite a stir. Most who learned of its existence found it amusing. Of course they did. My friends and I knew that it was an omen of what was toe, but everyone else in that part of the square that night wereughing and scratching their heads about it.


    The Mayor, however, was some uniquebination of angry, embarrassed, confused, and paranoid. He alternated between those emotions with every sentence.


    ¡°I demand to know who is behind this!¡± He whisper-screamed to his entourage as they scrambled to find someone, anyone, who might be able to exin the situation. ¡°Don¡¯t make a scene! We don¡¯t want people walking over here. How¡­. would there be a time capsule already buried here and why does it say that 1992 was the Centennial? Is this a setup to make me look foolish?¡±


    His people did not know the answer.


    The first person who was called in to help was Rhonda Moore, who was the coordinator for the Centennial. She was also a Paragon, which was an NPC that the As defined as ¡°The left and right hands of Carousel. These NPCs y a variety of characters in storylines. They can be protagonists, allies, or viins. The current theory is that each one specializes in either an Aspect or Advanced Archetype (Detective Paragon, Researcher Paragon, etc.), though their exact nature is not understood. They can be more or less powerful depending on what is needed. They pretend not to know anything outside of their scripts, but they are lying. They remember you between stories, I swear.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if that entry was in the version of the As at Camp Dyer like it was in ours. My best guess was that Paragons were on our side. I needed to know more before I could be sure.


    The only way I had of recognizing a Paragon was their default level being 50 and the fact that they had numerous small posters on the red wallpaper that should normally have contained tropes, but they were all grayed out. I had originally thought it meant they were secretly enemies, but now I didn''t know what to think.


    Rhonda Moore, though, was born to tell people what to do. She had a calming presence that put even the mayor at ease, if only for a few moments. I saw her whispering in his ear the moment she arrived. She immediately started to takemand of the situation, directing citizens away from the mysterious time capsule.


    ¡°I am so sorry that you had to see this whole mess,¡± she said as she spotted us watching the situation unfold. ¡°I know you probably just want to get to your hotel and dpress so you will be ready for tomorrow. If you could wait a minute, I¡¯ll find someone to show you to your hotel.¡±


    I felt the subtle strings of a trope pulling over me. It was like the allure of watching videos on the inte when you have homework to do, an ever-present temptation. In this case, the temptation was to do exactly as Rhonda had requested of us.


    I looked at my friends. They felt it too. Rhonda had just used a trope on us to keep us in that exact location. It appeared that the Tutorial relied on Paragons like Rhonda to ensure yers did as expected. That itself was odd. If Carousel wanted us to stick around for some exposition, why not just make us do it all on its own? Why involve a Paragon?


    If I were to guess, I would say Rhonda embodied the Team Leader Aspect of the Final Girl Archetype.<blockquote>


    Final Girl: Resilient characters often left standing at the end.


    Team Leader Aspect: Inspiring figures adept at guiding others through terrifying situations.</blockquote>


    It was pretty clear why we were being asked to stay there. Rhonda and the Mayor had brought in the help of several other people from the town: Constance Barlow the Head Librarian we had met, The Police Chief Curt Willis, and Tar Bellows who owned the Pawn Shop.


    In fact, everyone other than the Mayor and his aides were Paragons.


    We were about to watch a type of cut scene. We had to stay there and observe.


    Tar was asked to bring a pair of bolt cutters to remove an intimidating metal lock on the top of the time capsule they had just dug up. He was a bald, heavily muscled man. We had met him when we visited his pawn shop. He had hinted to us (not so subtly) that there was importance to the extra tickets I had been awarded, which led us to discover the rough message contained within them.


    I half expected for him to give us a wink or some acknowledgment, but he didn¡¯t. He was dead-focused on getting the time capsule open. He stood there, awaiting themand from the Mayor.


    The Mayor was failing to conceal his unease about the situation. He wasn¡¯t sure whether to open it or not. The debate that ensued was hushed, but it did help introduce some of the new Paragons.


    ¡°How would this end up here?¡± he asked Constance, ¡°You¡¯re the Carousel historian. Tell me I have not gone mad.¡±


    I had known Constance as the Head Librarian, but apparently, she was an expert on Carousel too. I made a note of that.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t gone mad yet,¡± Constance answered. ¡°Unless you¡¯re asking if the people of Carousel somehow lost track of the date for thirty years.¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± the Mayor said. ¡°But I do want some other exnation for the circumstances we find ourselves in.¡±


    The time capsule they had dug up was supposedly buried during the Carousel Centennial thirty years prior in 1992. That was confusing, given that the town was currently celebrating its centennial in 2022. A hundred-year anniversary is typically a once-in-a-lifetime experience for any town. Not for Carousel, apparently.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t there procedures and regtions for things like this?¡± the Mayor asked harshly.


    ¡°Fortunately, the procedures are printed on the side,¡± Constance said dryly. ¡°Open in a hundred years. We¡¯re 70 years shy.¡±


    The Mayor shot her a sharp look.


    ¡°Chief,¡± the Mayor said. ¡°Do you have any ideas?¡±


    ¡°What do you want me to do, Roderick?¡± Police Chief Willis asked. ¡°Call in the bomb squad? Tell them we have a mysterious object?¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s the procedure, yes.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a bomb squad,¡± Rhonda Moore interjected before the Chief could answer. ¡°You defunded it years ago.¡±


    ¡°That''s true we don''t have a bomb squad anymore,¡± the Chief said, ¡°But I can hand this over to ol¡¯ Tugg Montgomery and he¡¯ll open it for us. He¡¯s got loads of experience with explosives, assuming that''s what this is. We¡¯re always getting calls about it.¡±


    The Chief was clearly amused by the time capsule. It was hard to tell his emotions at first, with the reflective sunsses he wore despite it being nighttime. He might have been in his mid-fifties but he was fit and held himself confidently.


    Someone I had not seen before made her way into the center of the discussion. Her name was Kitty Lincoln. She was a in woman whose most defining feature at that moment was the neon yellow safety vest she wore that had the words, ¡°Carousel Alliance for Residential Protection¡± (CARP) written on it.


    In fact, ording to the red wallpaper, she was the President of CARP. With her level being 50 and her litany of unreadable tropes, she was clearly a Paragon. She had not been one of the people brought in by the Mayor or Rhonda Moore. She hade on her own.


    ¡°Do you really think it¡¯s going to explode?¡± she asked, quivering at the thought.


    ¡°It will if we give it to Tugg,¡± Chief Willis said. He and Tar looked at each other and startedughing.


    ¡°You are not striking the appropriate tone here,¡± the Mayor said. ¡°I want to know what is going on here and I want to know it now.¡±


    Half of them looked exasperated the other half amused. They continued on. Constance Barlow crafted a theory that the time capsule was a prank.


    ¡°I assure you, Roderick, this was a practical joke. I find it odd that you would get up in arms about this. It''s not as if we could lose 30 years. Point in fact, the statue here was installed 30 years ago during the anniversary celebration. I suspect that our prankster took that as an opportunity to bury this fake time capsule next to it.¡±


    For a moment that satisfied the Mayor.


    Unfortunately, Kitty Lincoln was there to rain on his parade.


    ¡°How did they know that you were going to dig right here,¡± she asked. ¡°The area where we chose to bury the time capsule was the subject of huge debate. The Carousel Alliance for Residential Protection worked with the City Council to decide the location that would be safest to dig and this was the location that we concluded was proper. How could anyone else have known that information, especially 30 years ago?¡±


    As Kitty spoke she got a procession of eye rolls.


    ¡°Kitty,¡± Rhonda Moore said, ¡°While we did receive the letters from CARP, we had already decided on this location months in advance. Don''t forget that we actually have no idea when this capsule was ced underground. It could have been buried only months ago. As Constance has said, it is likely a practical joke.¡±


    Kitty didn¡¯t seem to like that her organization¡¯s contribution was being dismissed, but she said nothing.


    ¡°So do you believe that we should open it now?¡± the Mayor asked, looking at Rhonda.


    Rhonda thought for a moment. ¡°I think it would be best if we opened it in front of the townspeople tomorrow when they''re gathered at the opening day of the Centennial. It would be quite the photo op. Very odd and on-brand for Carousel.¡± She then reduced her volume down to a whisper. ¡°Though we might take a peek in first just to ensure that we won''t be embarrassed.¡±


    ¡°I can open it now,¡± Tar said, slowly moving his bolt cutters toward the lock. He looked like he was bored with the conversation and just wanted to get the capsule open.


    As we watched them debate this, Isaac leaned over to me and whispered, ¡°Why does it even have a lock? Who did they think was going to be getting into it once it was buried?¡±


    He asked the question in a jokey cadence, but it wasn¡¯t a bad question. Why lock a time capsule you are about to bury?


    ¡°Maybe they were trying to stop something from getting out,¡± I suggested, only half kidding.


    The Paragons continued their whispered debate, which only persisted because of some unspoken concern the Mayor had that only Kitty Lincoln seemed to agree with. While she didn¡¯t want to open it because it might contain anthrax, a bomb, rats, or vulgar writings (?), the Mayor¡¯s concern was harder to pin down.


    The more the conversation went on, the more I started to sense some kind of dread from him that his script didn¡¯t have the words to exin.


    All of this set the scene for <em>her</em> to arrive. She walked like she was gliding. Her style of dress was even more mboyant than it was the first time I saw her. She wore an extravagant purple dress, and more scarves than any one person needed. She wore multiple rings on most of her fingers and earrings that could have been used as windchimes made from precious stones.


    Madam Celia Dane. She was a Psychic Paragon as best I could tell, either the Seer or ultist Aspect, I couldn¡¯t be sure though I leaned toward the former.


    ¡°Greetings,¡± she said, loudly. She put on more of a show than I remembered. ¡°I sensed my services were needed.¡±


    ¡°You know things are serious when the psychic shows up,¡± Police Chief Willis joked.


    If Madam Celia heard thement, she ignored it.


    ¡°I am here to ease your mind, Roderick,¡± she said looking at the Mayor.


    The Mayor didn¡¯t see the humor that the Police Chief did.


    ¡°And how will you do that?¡± he asked.


    Madam Celia moved close to him and said, ¡°You will open the capsule. That¡¯s what I have to say. Whether it is now, tomorrow, or the next day, or thirty more years from now, you will open it. When you do, you will figure out what message the past has for us. The voices of the dead can be louder than the living here in Carousel. When they choose to speak, you will hear them. There is no use dying what will happen. There is even less use ignoring what already did.¡±


    The other Paragons acted slightly unsettled by her tone.


    ¡°Celia,¡± the Mayor said in a worried tone, ¡°This was buried on August 5, 1992. Surely I don¡¯t have to tell you what day that was.¡±


    The was a silence as the Paragons suddenly seemed to realize whatever it was the Mayor was hesitant about.


    ¡°No¡­¡± the Chief Willis said. ¡°You''re not suggesting... I¡¯m not sure where your mind is, but you¡¯re wrong. Whatever it is¡­ it can¡¯t have anything to do with that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you,¡± Rhonda Moore said, ¡°It had to have been put there recently. It doesn''t make sense. The date they put is in bad taste, but there is no reason to think it is urate. Either way, it could be a PR disaster now that you bring that up.¡±


    Constance the librarian started to argue her prank theory again, but she was cut off.


    ¡°Open it,¡± Mayor Gray said. ¡°Celia is right. I will open it. No use putting it off. Go ahead, Tar.¡±


    It sounded like something happened thirty years ago, something that might be rted to the contents of this time capsule. Something they weren''t talking about.


    Tar had the lock snipped in seconds. He stepped aside and eagerly awaited a glimpse at the contents.


    ¡°If you could back up for a moment,¡± the Mayor said. ¡°I¡¯d like to see what¡¯s in it first myself.¡±


    Tar and the others reluctantly moved to the side so that only the Mayor was facing thetch that would open the capsule.


    Mayor Roderick Gray stood before the metal cylinder with raw reverence. It could have been a prank, a typo, a casket, or something beyond exnation. It was all of those things until he opened it.


    It took a bit of pulling. The hinges were rusted, and a seal had been formed. He did manage to get it open.


    As he did, he stared down into the container, grabbed a shlight offered by Tar, and examined the contents. His expression of curiosity never changed. He just stared. I couldn¡¯t read his face. He stood still for a minute. I never got a clue of what he saw.


    He closed the lid.


    ¡°Did you bring another lock like I asked?¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± Tar answered, brandishing a padlock from his pocket and handing it to him.


    ¡°Have this brought to my offices¡­ the ones at the clock tower. We should get the hole covered with a tarp so we can bury the proper time capsule tomorrow as nned. Can someone remind me of when it is supposed to rain again?"


    "Three days from now," Rhonda answered quickly.


    "Good. We''re in the clear. The contents of the previous capsule deserve careful consideration, Rhonda. We won¡¯t be showing them to the popce just yet. Clear out. It¡¯s near curfew, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    All the while he spoke, he stared into the distance, like he was still processing what he had seen.


    The police chief looked at his watch. ¡°It is. We need to get these people cleared out of here.¡±


    The Mayor apanied the workers as they loaded the old time capsule into the crate that the new one hade out of. They used a forklift to haul it away.


    A calm hade over the Mayor that he didn¡¯t have before.


    Something else had changed too.


    On the red wallpaper, in addition to the appearance of a collection of unreadable tropes, his Plot Armor had risen to 50.

 Arc II, Chapter 11: The Librarian

    Arc II, Chapter 11: The Librarian


    Things rapidly started shutting down. It wasn¡¯t as quick as what usually happened between scenes, but as the NPCs cleared out, it was evident that new yers were not supposed to stick around.


    ¡°Just another day in Carousel,¡± Rhonda Moore said to us as she saw us standing there. ¡°It¡¯s always something, but that¡¯s why I love the job. The hotel we booked for you is a bit of a walk from here. You should probably ask someone with a shlight to show you the way. Or you can wait for me and I can do it. We¡¯re friendly around here. Don¡¯t you fret.¡±


    She then walked away toward a booth in the distance.


    ¡°Surely Carousel isn¡¯t thirty years older than everyone thinks,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said.


    ¡°Did anyone else notice the Mayor¡¯s plot armor just went to 50 when he opened that capsule?¡± Bobby asked.


    We all did.


    ¡°I guess that¡­ doesn¡¯t happen a lot?¡± Isaac asked. He was trying to stay calm.


    I shook my head.


    ¡°I wish we could at least have seen what was in the capsule,¡± Antoine said.


    I agreed.


    ¡°Whatever it was,¡± I said, ¡°Carousel went out of its way to make sure we were paying attention to that event. It has to be meaningful. It could go in a few different directions. We need to know more.¡±


    In the meantime, we needed to choose a guide to get us to our next destination.


    Rhonda had used one of her <strong>Team Leader</strong> tropes to help ensure we stayed calm. It probably would have worked better on a group of new yers who didn¡¯t know Carousel¡¯s true nature yet. For me, I couldn¡¯t fight the potent cocktail of dread and excitement that bubbling up in the pit of my stomach.


    Before us, were five people with shlights, all Paragons, all doing their own thing.


    Tar Bellows was examining the lock he had cut off the capsule as if looking for clues.


    Rhonda Moore was directing some other NPCs at one of the booths.


    Kitty Lincoln was furiously writing notes on a notepad.


    Constance Barlow was talking to one of the other librarians.


    Police Chief Willis was shining his shlight down into the hole under the tarp.


    We had to choose.


    ¡°We get to choose our own Paragon,¡± I said. "Any favorites?"


    ¡°What happens next?¡± Cassie asked. She was freaking out. I couldn''t mer her. She twisted the many rings on her fingers nervously.


    The answer was a mystery, and yet, my friends and I all agreed. We were about to do a storyline. We had no doubt. The slow, safe Carousel could onlyst so long.


    ¡°Either we¡¯re already in a storyline and can¡¯t tell,¡± I said, vocalizing a suspicion I had since we were picked up by the carriage, ¡°Or we¡¯re about to be.¡±


    We knew the part of the Throughline, referred to as the Tutorial by previous yers, had storylines in it. Confused, unhelpful storylines (at that time), but storylines nheless.


    ¡°Which one do we choose?¡± Kimberly asked.


    The choices were diverse.


    ¡°Tar and the Chief are likely to help with fighting. Maybe even Rhonda, she is a Final Girl, after all,¡± I said.


    ¡°You¡¯re assuming they¡¯re going to help us?¡± Dina asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s probably right,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Why else give us a choice?¡±


    Dina shrugged.


    ¡°Constance is probably Insight or nning. Kitty is definitely a Hysteric of some kind so¡­ she would do whatever a Hysteric does. Rhonda, again, would help with team synergy,¡± I said.


    ¡°Well,¡± Antoine said, ¡°Normally new yers would be making this choice, so it can¡¯t matter too much when ites to surviving.¡±


    A valid point.


    ¡°So,¡± he continued, ¡°We should go with the person that can tell us the most about Carousel. Like the Carousel Historian.¡±


    No one had better ideas.


    Kimberly walked to Constance and asked her to guide the way. I saw her nod. As she did, the other Paragons all dispersed, one by one. They hadn''t been picked.


    ¡°She has to shut down the library¡¯s booth and then she can help us,¡± Kimberly said when she returned.


    Constance went to wherever her booth was and within a few minutes, the rest of town square had cleared out.


    The anticipation was killing me.


    We waited alone in town square, until suddenly, we weren¡¯t alone at all.


    ¡°Strange happenings, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± someone behind us said.


    We turned to see the Stranger.


    ¡°It¡¯s you again,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°It is,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯d give you some cryptic hints about what''s toe, but I suspect you aren¡¯t as clueless as you''re supposed to be. Normally I would try to keep my distance. Avoid scaring yers away¡ª"


    ¡°yers?¡± I asked. We had never been referred to as yers by Paragons.


    ¡°Yes. yers. Don¡¯t have to worry about you freaking out, do I? I can break the charade and warn you. Some things are stirring that you are not ready for. Carousel is cranky. After all, it did just wake up. You need to get ready soon.¡±


    ¡°Get ready?¡±


    ¡°Your tropes. Be ready with whatever you¡¯re packing. Look, I will keep an eye out for you. It¡¯s scripted to some extent. I can intervene. I will do whatever I can to help you. And if you make it to the opening of the Centennial, I¡¯ll tell you more. You¡¯ll see me again soon, but then we¡¯ll have an audience. Good luck.¡±


    He started to slip away, but Antoine grabbed his arm. ¡°Wait. The opening of the Centennial is tomorrow, right? The 5th of August. You¡¯ll find us tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find you on the day of the Centennial,¡± the Stranger said, nodding. Then he left.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°He can talk about us being yers. Can the others?¡±


    That was a very good question. It was a strange relief to hear one of the NPCs, Paragons or otherwise, be upfront with us. The irony of The Stranger Paragon being the first to do it was not lost on me.


    I put on a brave face as best I could.


    Within a few minutes of the Stranger leaving, Constance was back and ready to show us the way.


    ¡°Those little maps the city hands out can be so hard to use,¡± Constance said. ¡°They are so tiny you can hardly read them. Rhonda was furious when they came back from the printers. Well,e along. My home is near your hotel. It really is a lovely ce full of history. Of course, then it got gutted and reced with modernist garbage.¡±


    She began leading us north away from town square and the Centennial.


    We talked about her job and asked her questions about the history of Carousel.


    ¡°Come by my booth tomorrow. The library has put on a much better disy than the ones the high schoolers did. They only focused on the spooky propaganda for the Centennial. There is so much more to learn.¡±


    That was a failure. No special information tonight.


    When we asked about the time capsule, that too was shot down. She merely repeated her stance from the debate she had with the other Paragons.


    It was around that point that I looked at her again on the red wallpaper.


    I had nced at her a hundred times and each time it was the same. Now, it was different.


    I still saw her name and poster, but now, her poster had changed and the gray tropes that I had been unable to read had disappeared. Three visible tropes reced them.


    Antoine had noticed too and was nudging the others to look.


    We could all see them because they were yer tropes and she, from what we could tell, was suddenly a yer. Her poster had changed to her at the library buried in books with the axe murderer lurking behind. It was the same as Camden¡¯s poster.


    Constance Barlow is <em>The Researcher </em>(Schr)


    Tropes:<blockquote>


    <strong>¡°The 911 411¡±</strong> allows her to spend the majority of the storyline in a separate setting where she can do research for her allies. Her allies can call her for information she can look up, but she has a dy in how quickly she can provide the information. Her Plot Armor lowers for each piece of information she shares. Warning: if she is made aware of the reality of the danger and tries to help in any way other than providing research, the enemy will target her next if applicable.


    <strong>¡°Eureka¡±</strong> allows her to locate desired information within a body of text at an elerated rate.


    <strong>¡°Where did I see that?¡±</strong> allows her to use props, like books, newspapers, or even the inte, as a cover to receive information on a subject matter when she had no real sources. She must pretend to remember reading something about the subject and then shuffle through props to find the text, which will appear on the red wallpaper. This takes time depending on how important the information is and may fail if the yer asks for information that is too useful.</blockquote>


    I remembered reading about Paragons in the As, but when they said they could act as yers, I assumed it meant like how Jack Goforth had been in <em>The Strings Attached</em>, an ally, but still basically an NPC.


    She looked like a yer on the red wallpaper now. Her level was now 24 instead of 50, the same as mine. Schrs could choose three aspects: Researcher, Sleuth, and Strategist. Of those three, she was the Researcher Paragon.


    My friends and I walked in silence as we dealt with the change.


    Eventually, I spoke.


    ¡°You can be a yer, a side character, or an enemy,¡± I said. ¡°But you¡¯re a yer right now, right?¡±


    Constance remained silent for a time as she prepared her answer. ¡°Yes, for a time. I suppose there is no point in keeping up pretense for now. During theing trial, I will be a yer, but I should warn you. There is some utility in staying in character. I know you Film Buffs like to drop the act as soon as you get excited about some plot point or genre trope. Some lines of dialogue can only be reached when ying the game sincerely. You cannot beat the game unless you are willing to y it. Do you understand? We¡¯ve been worried you might not realize that.¡±


    She actually broke character. The Stranger talking about the reality of Carousel was one thing. He was a meta character already. His script had him breaking character left right and center.


    Constance wasn¡¯t like that. I had never seen one of the Paragons say anything that was not by the book before that night. I was more taken aback by that than I was by her warning about dropping character.


    My friends were just as amazed as I was.


    ¡°Can you tell us where our brother is?¡± Cassie asked. ¡°Or how to leave?¡±


    Constance looked at Cassie with an expression of genuine sympathy.


    ¡°I am sorry about your brother,¡± she answered. ¡°Right now my script suggests that I dy this conversation, that I let you believe your brother merely got caught up at the hospital and didn¡¯t manage to meet you. He was a doctor, right? But I won¡¯t deceive you. There¡¯s no point. I assume your teammates already told you. Your brother is no longer with us. He can be saved still. But he is dead.¡±


    Cassie didn¡¯t cry like she had before. Her face got even more somber, if that was possible. She must have beening to terms with things as best as she could under the circumstances.


    ¡°As for how you leave,¡± Constance said, ¡°Our scripts don¡¯t tell us that. I¡¯m afraid that Carousel left some surprises even for us. Now we really should get a move on. Our night is only beginning.¡±


    We continued up the dark path, guided by the shine of Constance¡¯s shlight.


    I was practically tripping over all the questions I had for her. We couldn¡¯t waste the opportunity we had with her.


    The others had questions too.


    ¡°What is the Throughline about?¡± Antoine asked.


    Constance clearly expected questions like that. ¡°My memory of the Throughline, like many of the other memories I have formed since arriving in Carousel, are sealed in my script and we are not yet to that page. For as much as Carousel likes watching you y through its assortment of horrors, it enjoys watching usnguish as well.¡±


    Of course, Carousel wouldn¡¯t let them just give away all of their secrets.


    ¡°How did you get here?¡± Dina asked, piping up for the first time. ¡°Was it like with Samantha, the Damsel chick?¡±


    Constance took a deep breath.


    ¡°Oh yes, poor Samantha..." She looked genuinely sad to hear her name. She took a deep breath and her face returned to its pleasant state. "I tranted a book I ought not to have, a book full of warnings that I did not heed. The rest is spoilers. Curiosity will take you ces, and one of the worst ces it can take you is Carousel.¡±

 Arc II, Chapter 12: Stranger Still

    Arc II, Chapter 12: Stranger Still


    She was the Researcher Paragon, a Schr who focused on study and learning. She had been that in real life once too, apparently, and paid the price.


    ¡°Who is the Insider,¡± Kimberly asked.


    As usual, when Constance answered, she took a moment. At first, I thought she was thinking, but that wasn¡¯t it. She was reading her script. Deciding what she could or should say.


    ¡°Someone who has gone through painstaking effort to ensure their identity never gets brought to light,¡± she answered. She checked her watch. ¡°We should arrive soon. We can speak again after for a time, assuming I survive, just remember that Paragons can only speak to you candidly when we are in a yer role.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± I said. ¡°Can¡¯t we just take a minute to debrief? I have so many questions.¡±


    ¡°And the pursuit of the answers to those questions will take you down the path you are meant to go. Carousel delights in your confusion but it also delights watching you solve its mysteries. Remember that this entity collected thousands of souls and enved them as actors to tell its story for whatever purpose. Every thread in Carousel¡¯s history isced with intrigue both real and manufactured. Don¡¯t shortchange it, Film Buff. It wants you to experience its story firsthand and it hasid all manner of traps for those unwilling to y along.¡±


    As she spoke, it was with an intensity far greater than the words themselves ryed. This was a deeply personal warning.


    ¡°Normally at this point,¡± she said as we turned onto a side street that ran up a hill, ¡°yers would have very little knowledge of what is in store. We would have spent this walk talking about the time capsule, or the events that happened thirty years ago, events that my script has strangely little information about. I also have scant information about the events that are about to transpire, which is not ordinary. Be prepared.¡±


    ¡°Why do you all keep talking like we are marching toward our deaths?¡± Isaac said. ¡°Is that what we¡¯re doing?¡±


    No one answered him because he was right.


    ¡°Already?¡± he asked. ¡°Wait. You¡¯re not serious, right? About what you said back at the B&B. We don¡¯t die. We have to¡­¡±


    He was panicking. We had been under the calming effects of some unnamed tropes while we were at the Celebration, but now they were wearing off. This was a potential issue. If he refused to enter the location of the uing storyline, that spelled disaster. New yers had to y through a storyline.


    None of my friends had any tropes that might calm him down.


    ¡°You can¡¯t really expect us to walk into a ce where we¡­ where we are going to die,¡± he said, pressing his temples like he was trying to force the red wallpaper out of his mind and make everything normal again.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Cassie said. ¡°Isaac. We will be okay. Please calm down. We only have each other. We have to do this to get Andrew back. We can get through this like everything else. Family.¡±


    ¡°Cassie,¡± he answered, ¡°They¡¯re talking about dying. I just can¡¯t¡­¡±


    Kimberly pulled my arm, and we left them and walked up the road to let Cassie try to calm Isaac down.


    ¡°Let her talk him down,¡± Kimberly said.


    I nodded. As inconvenient as his emotions were, I understood them. He was definitely going to die. We all were. Over and over.


    In the distance, I could see lights on arge building at the peak of the hill we were climbing. It was obscured by trees, but the glow of the lights showed through.


    Then I saw something.


    It wasn¡¯t with my eyes, it was on the red wallpaper. It was an Omen. I hadn¡¯t seen one since Carousel reset, but there it was.


    My I don¡¯t like it here¡­ trope didn¡¯t let me down. I saw a poster of an old board game sitting on a table. It was viewed from a low angle. In the distance, there was a window out of focus with something on the other side, something humanoid. The title was spread out over the top.


    <em>The Ten-Second Game</em>


    The poster was modern. My trope told me that the difficulty was ¡°This is scaring me.¡± That was one of the harder levels.


    ¡°Constance?¡± I asked, ¡°This part of the story is like the Tutorial, right? That¡¯s what the Vets called it. Does it rise to our level?¡±


    She nced in the direction I was, and then back at me, ¡°The entire Throughline, both canon and otherwise, is difficult. And on top of that¡­ Carousel may have taken your little maneuver as a challenge.¡±


    The high difficulty wasn¡¯t the only concerning part. The other thing I noticed was that the Omen trigger was, ¡°ying the Ten Second Game¡± but then it read, ¡°Overridden by yer Trope.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what that meant exactly, but I pieced it out as Cassie finally got Isaac to climb the hill with us and someone jumped out of the woods at us.


    I couldn¡¯t describe him, but I recognized him. It was the Stranger.


    Earlier, he had not shown up on the red wallpaper at all, but suddenly, there was something there. No yer poster or stat information. All I saw were two yer tropes.


    He was acting as a yer now too. Like Constance, he only had two tropes equipped.


    ??? is <em>The Stranger</em><blockquote>


    <strong>¡°An Early Warning¡±</strong> allows him to activate an Omen early from a distance by acting as the Omen himself. This guarantees that whatever events are required to trigger the Omen will transpire, but gives the yer and his allies more time to look around the setting before the storyline begins. This period is treated as the Party Phase.


    <strong>¡°A Dark Secret¡±</strong> gives him insight into the enemy, but also makes his character canonicallyplicit in some way. Upon revealing the secret, the yer¡¯s Plot Armor drops to zero until he and his allies have yed out the shock (at the dark secret) and reconciliation beats of his character arc and resolve to work against themon enemy.</blockquote>


    ¡°Don¡¯t go any further,¡± he said. ¡°This hotel, if you could call it a hotel¡­ it¡¯s a death trap.¡±


    ¡°A death trap?¡± Constance asked.


    He paused as if considering his next words.


    ¡°Oh yeah, I can¡¯t believe what they¡¯re charging. Most of the rooms are still torn up from the renovation. There¡¯s dust in the air. Could be asbestos or mold. You should just find somewhere else.¡±


    He spoke in a rushed, nervous voice. We weren¡¯t meant to take him at his word. He was hiding something.


    ¡°Move out of the way,¡± Constance said as if she were summoning bravery. ¡°This hotel has all of the permits and inspections or the City would not be sending visitors here attending the Centennial.¡±


    She then sidestepped him and continued moving along the road toward the hotel.


    As we passed him, I saw a look of deep concern on his face.


    He was acting as an Omen, using his <strong>An Early Warning </strong>trope to activate the Omen inside. Logistically, he was there to ensure our team triggered the Omen. This was supposed to give us some advantage.


    The needle on the Plot Cycle flicked from to Omen, then Choice, to Party. Then it turned gray. If I understood his trope right, it would start moving forward until someone activated the real Omen, which was guaranteed to happen now.


    We were On-Screen too.


    ¡°That was weird,¡± I said, trying to stay in character. ¡°Wonder what his problem was.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°There¡¯s dust everywhere.¡±


    I forced augh. I looked back to where Cassie and Isaac were. They were scared but kept quiet. I wondered if Cassie¡¯s <strong>We are not abandoned¡­ </strong>trope had yed a role in getting him to go along with things. Calling on the message of Family and sticking together might have worked for that trope.


    ¡°All I know is I want to shower and fall into bed,¡± Kimberly said. She sounded just like the carefree young woman she was pretending to be. Sheughed and pulled Antoine forward. It was almost like she didn¡¯t know her death was all but guaranteed in theing hours. If she could really get over her fears, she could be a real contender.


    The hotel had arge main building and lots of small individual buildings spread out around the property on the hillside. There were lit paths leading off every which way and trees separating the individual buildings.


    It was nice. It had ¡°Scandinavian Resort¡± vibes, somehow both minimalist and cozy. Many of the buildings were being renovated to get in line with the modern aesthetic.


    It was cold, much colder than it had been on the walk here. Colder than it should have been that time of year. This set was zoned for sweater weather, apparently.


    We found the main building and got inside quickly.


    ¡°Wee,¡± the woman at the front desk, called Mandy on the red wallpaper, said politely. ¡°What can we do for you? Oh, hey Constance! What are you doing up here?¡±


    There was arge sign behind her that said, ¡°Northern Haven Resort & Spa.¡± Carousel had more hotels per capita than any ce in the real world.


    ¡°Checking in some guests from out of town,¡± Constance said with a rosy smile. ¡°I¡¯m just the delivery woman. It¡¯s getting cold out there. Is there snow on the horizon?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Mandy said. ¡°Supposed to rain in a few days though.¡±


    She began clicking through things on herputer. A frown grew on her face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to say, we just got booked up. Just now. I guess there was a mimunication somewhere.¡±


    ¡°We walked all the way out here and you don¡¯t even have a room?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but that¡¯s the case,¡± the woman said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry babe,¡± Antoine said to Kimberly with augh, ¡°I can carry you. I run twice that distance on the football field and there I carried the whole team.¡±


    His Mettle and Hustle jumped a couple of points due to <strong>Gym Rat</strong>.


    ¡°Well try growing a human in your own body,¡± Kimberly responded, with her hands cradling her stomach. ¡°Then we canpare who¡¯s tougher.¡±


    Her Grit rose by one point. She didn¡¯t have a lot of time to set up <strong>Pregnancy Reveal</strong> when she used <strong>Looks Don¡¯t Last</strong> to guarantee her early death. She was getting a head start.


    ¡°Are you sure there isn¡¯t anywhere for us to stay?¡± Dina asked. I had half expected her to wander off already.


    ¡°I can ask the other clerk,¡± Mandy said, ¡°But I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    She got on the phone and pressed some buttons to turn on some kind of speakerphone. The phone began to ring.


    ¡°Umm¡­ Office, ¡°the voice on the other end said. I recognized the voice. It was Bobby. His <strong>Last-Minute Casting</strong> trope had assigned him a role as an employee of the hotel.


    ¡°Hey, Bobby,¡± Mandy said. ¡°I just wanted to know if all of the guests had checked in yet. Theputer¡¯s on the fritz.¡±


    ¡°Yep. All checked in,¡± Bobby responded.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± Mandy said. ¡°Looks like we overbooked. We have a group here without a ce to stay.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± Bobby said. ¡°That¡¯s a different question. All of our guests showed, that¡¯s what I thought you were asking, but one group did check out early. Barely even had time to touch the room. The old Geist Suite. Whatever the new owner is calling it now that it¡¯s renovated.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Mandy said. She looked at the board behind her, ¡°The keys are right here. Thank you, Bobby. Has housekeeping turned it out yet?¡±


    ¡°I think they¡¯re doing it soon,¡± Bobby answered. ¡°Lupita''s out, I¡¯ll do it myself. With Cindy. Cindy and I will do it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mandy said. ¡°I¡¯ll just go ahead and change the room on your reservation. You can head on out there.¡±


    She pulled out aminated map and showed us where our suite was. I could see that there were lots of rooms connected to it. It would have been expensive if we had to pay in money instead of blood.


    It was a distance away, on the far side of the hill away from the other rooms. It was also markedlyrger than the others.


    As we left, Constance handed Antoine a business card. ¡°My number is on the back. Call if you need anything at all. I¡¯m a bit of a night owl. I¡¯m going to head home, light my firece, and read a chapter before bed. I hope to see you at the Centennial tomorrow.¡±


    I thought about asking if she wanted someone to walk her home out of instinct, but I knew that wouldn¡¯t work out.


    She trudged back down the hill toward her house.


    Off-Screen.


    ¡°So what now?¡± Cassie asked.


    ¡°Party Phase. Or a modified version of it,¡± I said, thinking of how the Stranger¡¯s trope had extended that part of the story.


    It was time to figure out why we had been brought there.

 Arc II, Chapter 13: Reply the Departed, Updated

    Arc II, Chapter 13: Reply the Departed, Updated


    yer Stats:


    <strong>yer</strong>


    <strong>Plot Armor</strong>


    <strong>Mettle</strong>


    <strong>Moxie</strong>


    <strong>Hustle</strong>


    <strong>Savvy</strong>


    <strong>Grit</strong>


    Riley


    24/2


    3


    7


    4


    7


    3


    Antoine


    22


    6


    4


    5


    1


    6


    Kimberly


    19


    3


    6


    4


    1


    5


    Dina


    19


    2


    3


    4


    3


    7


    Bobby


    18


    3


    4


    4


    3


    4


    Isaac


    11


    1


    4


    3


    3


    0


    Cassie


    11


    0


    5


    3


    3


    0


    yer Tropes: <strong>(I would like to remind readers that this is a reference. I will describe tropes before theye up. You don¡¯t have to read this unless you want to)</strong>


    Riley Lawrence is <em>the Film Buff</em>.


    <strong>"Trope Master"</strong> grants him the ability to perceive enemy tropes, but at the cost of sacrificing half of his Plot Armor.


    <strong>"Cinema Seer"</strong> buffs the Savvy and Grit of his allies when they hear him predict cinematic and impactful plot elements.


    As an <strong>"Oblivious Bystander,"</strong> Riley remains untargeted by enemies as he convincingly acts oblivious to their presence.


    <strong>"Escape Artist"</strong> buffs his Hustle to help enact usible escape ns.


    <strong>"The Insert Shot"</strong> makes allies aware of an object the yer chooses. The object will be shown to the audience and its use will be buffed in the Finale.


    <strong>¡°Director¡¯s Monitor¡±</strong> allows him to watch the rest of the storyline after his demise via Deathwatch.


    <strong>¡°shback Revtion¡±</strong> allows him tomunicate with allies from Deathwatch through shbacks to his past dialogue.


    <strong>¡°Casting Director¡±</strong> gives him a summary of his team¡¯s roles in the storyline.


    <strong>"My Grandmother Had the Gift¡­" </strong>A background trope that gives Riley¡¯s character some ambiguous connection to ¡°The Gift¡± through his heritage.


    He did <em>not</em> equip <strong>¡°Coming To A Theater Near You,¡± "I Don''t Like It Here...,"</strong><strong>¡°Out Like a Light,¡± "Location Scout,"</strong><strong>¡°The Wrong Reel,¡± ¡°Raised by Television,¡±</strong> or <strong>"Dead Man Walking."</strong>


    Kimberly Madison is <em>the Eye Candy</em>.


    <strong>"Convenient Backstory"</strong> allows her to believably change her backstory to assist with the current task, buffing the relevant stat.


    <strong>"Social Awareness"</strong> allows her to see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs.


    <strong>"Get a Room!"</strong> boosts the odds of important discoveries when exploring with a love interest during the party.


    <strong>"A Hopeless Plea"</strong> forces the captor to explicitly deny her release when she asks to be released.


    <strong>"Pregnancy Reveal"</strong> buffs her Grit when she pretends that she is pregnant and buffs the father''s Mettle if she dies.


    <strong>"When in Rome"</strong> buffs her Grit until Rebirth if her performance matches the tone of the movie.


    <strong>¡°Does anyone have a scrunchy?¡±</strong> allows her to shift Moxie''s points into another stat by putting her hair up.


    She will be targeted for First Blood because <strong>"Looks Don''t Last," </strong>but the longer she survives, the weaker the enemies get.


    She did not equip <strong>¡°Carousel Academy Awards,¡± ¡°Breaking the Veil of Silence,¡± ¡°The Woman in Mourning,¡± or "That''s What I Said!"</strong>.


    Antoine Stone is <em>the Athlete</em>.


    His <strong>"You were having a nightmare¡­"</strong> trope allows him to repress or heal mental trauma (he is not strong enough to use its plot-resetting powers yet).


    <strong>"Gym Rat"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory.


    <strong>"It''s Part of the Uniform"</strong> gives him higher Mettle when attacking with sports equipment.


    <strong>"Just Walk It Off"</strong> heals the Hobbled status by walking.


    <strong>¡°Knight in Shining Armor¡± </strong>buffs his Mettle and Grit when defending a love interest.


    <strong>"Time Out!"</strong> allows him to go Off-Screen during a fight, reducing enemy aggression.


    Brandishing a weapon is <strong>¡°Like a Security nket,¡±</strong> buffing his Grit and soothing his and his allies¡¯ fear, whereas swinging a weapon will temporarily halt an enemy''s attack because of <strong>¡°Swing Away.¡±</strong>


    He did not equip <strong>¡°Everyone Loves a Winner,¡±</strong><strong>¡°The ybook¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Reload After Cut.¡± ¡°A Race Against Time,¡± ¡°Coyote in a Trap,¡± </strong>or <strong>"Bad Luck Ma."</strong>


    Dina Cano is <em>the Outsider</em>.


    <strong>"Guarded Personality"</strong> resists all insight abilities.


    <strong>"An Outsider''s Perspective"</strong> alerts her to new, out-of-ce, or unusual information.


    <strong>"Better Late Than Never"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle if she waits until the Finale to assist allies On-Screen against the enemy.


    <strong>"A Haunted Past"</strong> A background trope that gives her character some past trauma that haunts her and gives her ess to various tropes.


    <strong>"Encouragement from Beyond"</strong> soothes her when stressed, scared, or in pain and may provide useful information.


    <strong>"Outside Looking In"</strong> grants her the ability to discern ideal spots to linger and observe events without actively participating in the narrative.


    <strong>¡°They Fell Off¡±</strong> allows her to quickly get out of handcuffs and simr restraints.


    She can leave physical or mental messages in the story that her allies can detect when in the location she left them with <strong>¡°Pen Pal.¡±</strong>


    She did not equip ¡°You don¡¯t know me, but¡­¡±


    Bobby Gill is <em>The Wallflower.</em>


    <strong>¡°Background Noise¡±</strong> allows him to get background information from NPCs when Off-Screen.


    <strong>¡°The Good Samaritan¡± </strong>buffs his Mettle and Grit for helping allies in a crisis if they have not met On-Screen and are strangers.


    <strong>¡°The ¡°Wisdom¡± of Crowds¡±</strong> can source ns and information from a crowd of NPC privy to the situation at hand. The crowd will give him this information, but he will have to sort out the good from the bad.


    <strong>¡°Last-Minute Casting¡±</strong> recasts him as an NPC that is moderately involved in the plot. The selection is seemingly random. He will get some limited background information for the character and some ess to the NPC script.


    <strong>¡°From Humble Beginnings¡±</strong> debuffs the yer¡¯s stats 30% in the Party, then but buffs them 15% in Rebirth, the Finale, and the Final Battle resulting in a 15% buff by the end of the story.


    <strong>¡°Craft Services Are The Real Heroes¡±</strong> ensures that there is edible food and water on set somewhere during the storyline.


    <strong>¡°My Only Role is Exposition¡±</strong> gives him some useful information to be ryed On-Screen but takes it away if he starts to bore the audience.


    <strong>¡°And That¡¯s Lunch¡±</strong> extends the amount of time between scenes and give the yer a timer for when their next scene is.


    He did not equip <strong>¡°The Hidden Infection.¡±</strong>


    <strong></strong>


    Cassie Hughes is <em>The Psychic</em>.


    <strong>¡°The Anguish¡±</strong> lets her see her allies¡¯ health stats from anywhere and lets her take some of their pain by feeling it herself. This can reduce their overall injuries.


    <strong>¡°We are not abandoned¡­¡±</strong> can keep her allies¡¯ spirits high by weaving a narrative of some higher power in control. When done well, this trope can heal Incapacitation, certain forms of spiritual Infection, and even buff Grit.


    Isaac Hughes is <em>The Comedian</em>.


    <strong>¡°If he¡¯s still cracking jokes¡­¡±</strong> allows the yer to reduce or eliminate injuries by using humor the next time he is On-Screen before the audience know how injured he is. Works on allies situationally.


    <strong>¡°Weapons of Mass Absurdity¡±</strong> using humorous weapons Buffs his Mettle and Hustle. The buff extends to weapons that are used if the original weapon fails.


    ??? is <em>The Stranger</em>


    <strong>¡°An Early Warning¡±</strong> allows him to activate an Omen early from a distance by acting as the Omen himself. This guarantees that whatever events required to trigger the Omen will transpire, but gives the yer and his allies more time to look around the setting before the storyline begins. This period is treated as the Party Phase.


    <strong>¡°A Dark Secret¡±</strong> gives him insight into the enemy, but also makes his character canonicallyplicit in some way. Upon revealing the secret, the yer¡¯ Plot Armor drops to zero until he and his allies have yed out the shock (at the dark secret) and reconciliation beats of his character arc and resolve to work against themon enemy.


    Constance Barlow is <em>The Researcher </em>(Schr)


    <strong>¡°The 911 411¡±</strong> allows her to spend the majority of the storyline in a separate setting where she can do research for her allies. Her allies can call her for information she can look up, but she has a dy in how quickly she can provide the information. Her Plot Armor lowers for each piece of information she shares. Warning: if she is made aware of the reality of the danger and tries to help in any way other than providing research, the enemy will target her next her if possible.


    <strong>¡°Eureka¡±</strong> allows her to locate desired information within a body of text at an elerated rate.


    <strong>¡°Where did I see that?¡±</strong> allows her to use props, like books, newspapers, or even the inte, as a cover to receive information on a subject matter when she had no real sources. She must pretend to


    As soon as the story started, I was quick to check everyone¡¯s roles using <strong>Casting Director</strong>. What I found shook me to my core.<blockquote>


    Riley Lawrence, Kimberly Madison, and Antoine Stone: A dwindled trio haunted by the specters ofpanions lost, originally arrived to search for Antoine¡¯s brother Christian, but now they search for the searching.


    Isaac and Cassie Hughes: A pair bound by blood, their optimism dissolves into the night as they seek their missing brother Andrew, a quest marred by cruel machinations.


    Dina Cano: The forlorn mother roaming an endless maze, her soul aching for her bted son, a poignant portrait of hope against hope.


    Bobby Gill: The quintessential geek, now apparently a ditzy hotel employee, his role twisted by tragedy, ying the part of a man searching for his lost wife amid a sea of indifferent faces.


    Constance Barlow: The diligent custodian of the town''s forgotten lore, she is the historian and librarian, her mind a vault of eldritch knowledge. She is only a phone call away.


    The Stranger: An enigmatic figure draped in shadows, harboring a secret so vile it twists the very fabric of their being. Unlike the others, their search for a missing loved one is a path riddled with unspeakable truths, a journey that delves into the abyss and beyond.</blockquote>


    We weren¡¯t ying roles in this story. We were ying ourselves. I told the group as much but left out the colorfulnguage. They didn¡¯t need to be taunted.


    We made our way through the paths that would take us to the back of the hill. Once we got there, it was like we were in apletely different ce. The suite we had been assigned was farrger than we required. Though it had been renovated, its style only matched the other buildings of the resort superficially.


    This building was clearly older than the rest. I imagine that Carousel had done some mixing and matching to create this story. This building had many rooms ording to the map we had been shown. I could now see that each of those rooms had arge window. The lights inside the building were on and the blinds were open.


    The front door to the house was already open and I could see two people inside wearing uniforms and walking around.


    One of them was Bobby. He was carrying several trash bags that had been lightly used by thest guests. He was staring at something on a coffee table in the center of what I assumed was the living room, which was in the middle of the house along with the kitchen and dining. All of the other rooms branched out from there.


    As we got closer, I could tell what he was staring at--an open board game. It was arge board with a strange metal object in its center. It looked like one of those bells you might see on the desk of a hotel, but instead of the little button that you might press to get the staff¡¯s attention, is had a winding key that you might find on a wind-up toy.


    As we walked in, a woman¡¯s voice rang through the living room, ¡°Bobby, can you at least pretend to help? We have to get this room done before the guests arrive and you haven¡¯t done anything.¡±


    Bobby started to respond, but before he could, he saw us walking up the path.


    ¡°They¡¯re here?¡± he called out and started running around straightening things up.


    ¡°It¡¯s weird,¡± the woman, Cindy, said as she entered the room. ¡°Someone put sheets over the mirrors in the bathrooms. Oh, sorry,¡± she said as she saw us.


    ¡°We just about have things ready,¡± she said.


    ¡°Thank you so much!¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°We already brought your luggage up,¡± Bobby said, pointing next to the door in the hall.


    There was luggage, but it wasn¡¯t ours.


    ¡°We appreciate it,¡± Antoine said.


    The team filed into the room and started spreading out, taking the ce in. It looked less like a resort suite and more like someone¡¯s home. A clean home, but a home nheless.


    I walked to the game board that Bobby had been staring at and took a look. It was an antique, that was for sure. The game¡¯s box said it was called, ¡°Reply the Departed.¡± The game board was divided up into rooms with square tiles spread throughout, some of which were special.


    ¡°Neat,¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh yeah,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Real neat. Have you yed before?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I have.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a great game. It¡¯s a ghost-hunting game.¡±


    ¡°Bobby,¡± Cindy said, ¡°Let¡¯s leave these people alone.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°Tell me about it.¡±


    ¡°So, the way the game worked is that you would travel around the board if younded on a space that required you to draw a card you would draw it and the cards would tell everyone what to do based on where they were on the board and what objects they had found and also what archetype their character was¡­.¡± Bobby paused for a moment. It was as if he had been reading this off of his script and only suddenly realized what he had just said.


    He turned the board and found that there was a small rectangr legend titled Archetypes that listed seven different character types that yers could use in the game. Detective, Reporter, Adventurer, Schr, Psychic, Outsider, and Soldier.


    We looked at each other In a joint realization that this game was meant to introduce concepts to new yers simr to those that they would deal with every day in a carousel.


    But we couldn''t just focus on that. Bobby needed to continue with his spiel or else his trope might stop working.


    ¡°What was the goal of the game?¡± I asked, hoping to spur Bobby back into action.


    ¡°Oh, right. You go to the clock right here in the middle to change the date and then you travel to one of the rooms with a specific murder weapon in order to try to channel the spirit of one of the deceased. Then you wind up the timer and it ticks down for 10 seconds and at the end, it either rings or it doesn''t. It was a special timer designed just for that. If it rings it means that you''ve channeled the ghost and you get a point. If it doesn''t you have to try again on your next turn¡­¡±


    ¡°Sounds fun,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Bobby agreed. ¡°But this one has its pieces missing. No cards to draw, no character pieces. It¡¯s a shame. Of course, when I was a kid, we liked to try to use the bell tomunicate with real spirits. There was a whole urban legend abo¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ahem,¡± Bobby¡¯s coworker cleared her throat. ¡°I think we should leave these people alone, don¡¯t you think, Bobby?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Well... take care.¡±


    He got up slowly and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.


    Off-Screen.


    The rest of us continued to stare at the strange game board on the table.


    ¡°The walls,¡± Kimberly said, ¡°Look at them.¡±


    I stared down at the gameboard. Thought now faded, the walls of the house interior depicted on the game board were red. They had red wallpaper. Tiny paintings were hung in borate golden frames, just like those on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°So we¡¯re dealing with ghosts,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I can see the bell on the red wallpaper. ¡®The Ten Second Bell.¡¯ Does it have tropes?¡±


    I stared down at the board. As Antoine pointed out, while the game board itself was innocuous, if I stared at the bell timer itself in the center, it appeared on the red wallpaper. A single trope appeared along with it.


    <strong>Indestructible MacGuffin: </strong>This plot device cannot be destroyed.


    I had seen that trope before on an object¡ªthe Astralist¡¯s instant kill weapon. This bell didn¡¯t have any other tropes associated with it, but the fact that it had a trope tied to the antagonist made it intimidating.


    ¡°Looks that way,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s an indestructible plot device. It doesn¡¯t have other tropes that I can see, but we may be hitting the limits of what Trope Master can do. If it rtes to ghosts, though, we probably have to deal with things like possess¡ª¡±


    Before I could finish my sentence, there was a knock at the door. My friends and I looked at each other. Cassie and Isaac were glued to their ces on the couch.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get it,¡± I said.


    I sprang up off my knees and walked to the door. I peeked out the peephole. It was the cleaningdy, Cindy. Bobby was behind her. He looked worried.


    I opened the door.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I asked.


    Cindy held out a piece of paper that had been crumpled up. ¡°I found this in the trash we just emptied. It looks like whoever left that game had printed out some game instructions.¡±


    I took the paper and nced down at it.


    It was a printout of a post on a message board of some kind called ¡°Arterial Oasis.¡± The name sounded familiar but I couldn¡¯t ce it. The title of the post was, ¡°The REAL rules of Reply the Departed.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said cautiously. I looked past her and saw Bobby staring at me wide-eyed. He looked worried.


    I slowly closed the door and began reading the paper.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Kimberly asked.


    As I looked over it, I knew exactly what it was.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t instructions for the board game,¡± I said.


    It was a creepypasta, a type of scary story told on the inte, usually poorly. But I recoiled at the thought of saying that word out loud. Some inte lingo should stay on the inte.


    ¡°It¡¯s instructions,¡± I said. ¡°For a s¨¦ance or something. Like an urban legend, maybe.¡±


    What it said, was this:


    <strong>The REAL rules of Reply the Departed</strong>


    by k4r4s4il


    Does anyone remember that old board game called Reply the Departed? It was a game about contacting spirits or whatever. It had a strange bell on the board that would like, sometimes ring after you wound it, but sometimes not. Well, you can use that bell to talk to real ghosts. I didn¡¯t believe it until my cousin showed me. He told me that the game was based on a simr practice used by mediums for hundreds of years. That¡¯s where the game designers got the idea.


    He said it was called the Ten Second Game originally and he said it is dangerous. You should not y this game.


    Some people said the original game was boring and they wanted something new so I thought you might want an update.


    Here¡¯s what you need:<ul><li>The bell from the game</li><li>A house or building with a simryout to the one in the game. Lots of rooms with windows. There needs to be a main room in the middle that you can run back to. This is important. You need to be far away from other people. If you can see people outside your windows the game won¡¯t work.</li><li>Items belonging to the spirit you want to contact. Like in the board game, murder weapons or precious Keepsakes work best. If you have antiques in the house, that will probably be enough, but special belongings work better.</li><li>That¡¯s it! Simple, right?</li></ul>


    How to y:<ul><li>Seriously, don¡¯t do this. It is DANGEROUS.</li><li>Set out the game and get rid of the cards and character pieces to let the spirits know that you are not just ying the game.</li><li>Make sure the bell is visible. This is critical.</li><li>Cover all mirrors in the house. Keep them covered.</li><li>Open all the blinds and curtains so you can see the windows in every room.</li><li>Wind the timer and say aloud: ¡°I wish to receive a reply from the departed.¡± Or anything like that.</li><li>Then wait until 3 in the morning and turn out all the lights. Anyone in the house is now a part of the game. Any ghosts connected to the objects you collected will gather to speak to you. Remember, if they have gathered and you do not talk to them, they might get angry so don¡¯t chicken out.</li><li>To check, all you have to do is go into a room and stare out the window. Only do two people per room at most. Wind the timer and wait ten seconds. If the timer doesn¡¯t go off, there are no ghosts.</li><li>If it does you have to follow the rules! Do not turn around. Keep staring out the window! You will see faint figures outside as the ghosts try to get to the house. The figures you see will be ghosts. Do not turn around until they are gone or you will allow them into the house. You do not want that. My cousin did not tell me what would happen but he said it would be bad.</li><li>While the figures are at the window, you can ask them questions. Wind the bell. If it goes off, the answer is yes. If not, the answer it no.</li><li>Do not turn around until all the figures are gone.</li><li>If you see a blue light out the window, go back into the main room and cover your eyes.</li></ul>


    Seriously, this really works. Don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you. Be careful. There are more than just ghosts who want to talk to /post/3f0und/4-fr3shv11n-j4st4u-h0p3ul1k3h1m

 Arc II, Chapter 14: Exploring in the Dark

    Arc II, Chapter 14: Exploring in the Dark


    I passed around the rules for The Ten Second Game so that everyone could read them. As they did, they looked around and realized how this ce was perfect for the ritual. There were many windows and no signs of humanity on this side of the hill.


    ¡°That is so creepy,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I don¡¯t like this,¡± she pleaded to Antoine.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a dumb inte thing,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯m creeped out too.¡±


    If we yed up being upset by the game rules, we would have an excuse to try to prepare ourselves for what was toe. I was sure such things didn¡¯t matter for new yers, but with Carousel awake we needed to cover our bases.


    ¡°Well I¡¯m going to look around,¡± Dina said. And then she did.


    Over time, most of us peeled off from the big central living room to explore for one reason or another. It was the Party, after all.


    The more experienced of us spread out. Isaac and Cassie stayed in the living room with the collection of big overstuffed furniture to sink into. Despite the openness of that room, with its high ceilings and many pathways branching from it, it did feel the safest.


    Antoine and Kimberly went off together so that they could activate <strong>Get a Room! </strong>The trope was good for finding things while exploring. We still hadn¡¯t gotten many tropes like that and we needed to take advantage of it every chance we got. There was a chance they could find something really useful. They might not, of course.


    I walked around and surveyed the many trinkets and pictures throughout the suite. All of them featured a man with white, untamed hair. He stood on an old airne. He paddled a canoe. He cut a ribbon wrapped around the entrance of the library. Whoever this was, he was important, but I knew it wasn¡¯t Bartholomew Geist unless the depictions I had seen were wildly inurate. This man was tall and gangly, for one.


    I was On-Screen periodically as I went.


    After finding nothing of value, I happened upon the suitcases and luggage that had been dropped off for us that didn¡¯t actually belong to us. The bags all had stickers from Carousel¡¯s Airport that said, ¡°Misrouted Baggage.¡± There were clothes and toiletries, as I expected, but there was also a picture of four people inside one bag, all with deep red hair and identical noses. They looked like siblings. Two girls and two boys. The picture was taken on top of a mountain. Looked like a fun bunch.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Cassie asked from her seat in the living room.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s the baggage of the people that checked out early,¡± I said. ¡°Looks like you and Isaac are the only ones who actually got to keep their luggage in this town.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said. ¡°I¡­ hope it gets back to them.¡±


    Eventually, Antoine came back to the main room and reported that Kimberly was taking a shower.


    ¡°She¡¯s really freaked out right now,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Maybe we should get rid of that game.¡±


    ¡°In case someone identally winds the key, and a ghost rings it?¡± I asked trying to act like that was a ridiculous idea. I picked up the game board and stored it under the coffee table it had been ced on. There was a second shelf. It made sense for our characters to get it out of sight, but we needed to know where it was.


    After a few minutes, Kimberly marched back into the living room. She was shaken.


    ¡°Who keeps turning off the bathroom light?¡± she said angrily.


    ¡°What?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°While I was in the shower, someone kept flicking the light switch. It was right between the bathroom mirror and the door. Who was doing it?¡±


    ¡°None of us,¡± I said.


    The detail she threw in about the mirror was intentional, I thought.


    ¡°Did you cover the mirror?¡± I asked, trying to affect the personality of someone who would be mocking her. Isaac would be better for that, but he was wide-eyed and filled with dread.


    Kimberly didn¡¯t answer at first, but then, she nodded her head and quietly admitted, ¡°Yes. I¡¯m telling you that game thing freaked me out.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Antoine said. ¡°There is nothing to be ashamed of. I assure you none of us flicked the light switch.¡±


    Kimberly looked distrustful, but eventually softened.


    ¡°I mean¡­¡± she said, ¡°It wouldn¡¯t hurt to just leave the lights on, would it?¡±


    ¡°If you want, we can,¡± Antione said. ¡°Right guys? Nothing''s going to hurt us but there¡¯s no harm in making things a little less dark around here, right?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°And we can shut all these blinds too,¡± he added.


    ¡°We should cover all the mirrors,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°Oh yeah. That¡¯s part of the rules, right? Antoine said. He wrapped Kimberly in his arms and brought her over closer to himself on the couch. ¡°Everything is going to be okay.¡±


    Cassie watched them as they whispered sweet nothings to each other. She looked afraid. I could only imagine what she was thinking. Antoine and Kimberly were pretending to be characters. My friends and I had been introduced more gradually to the game. We broke character all the time back then. I didn¡¯t even look at the Off-Screen light once on my first storyline. The Vets knew that it was all too much to take in so they gave it to us slowly, one small lesson from Adeline at a time.


    Cassie was seeing us jump through hoops and pretend to be loving happy young people. She had just learned about the horror of this ce and now she watched us pretend it didn¡¯t exist. There was something unsettling about that itself, I imagined. We were puppets on strings, and she just saw it for the first time.


    And Cassie knew because we had covered this concept many times, that turning off the lights and covering the windows and mirrors would not save us. Carousel would have its story. It would watch us struggle. Theforting tones of Antoine¡¯s assurances meant nothing. We all knew it.


    Isaac was less observant. He paced in circles staring into the pictures on the walls and in frames on the tables and shelves around the room. He was trying and failing to act like it didn¡¯t bother him at all. For all his cockiness, I saw that he didn¡¯t stray too far from the group.


    Dina was in the wind. Who knew where she had gone? Her background trope, <strong>A Haunted Past</strong>, and the Psychic trope it allowed her to equip, <strong>Encouragement from Beyond </strong>were right at home in this storyline. She was probably off trying to talk to her son.


    After a while of Carousel getting shots here and there of us talking and lounging, we went Off-Screen.


    Finally able to speak freely, Kimberly whispered, ¡°When the lights turned off, I saw the towel I put over the mirror move. It happened twice. I turned it back on and it did it again.¡±


    I had suspected as much. The rules said things started at 3 am. They also said someone could initiate the ritual earlier and then leave. We were never going to get to sunlight safely.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get our minds right,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Kimberly and I found a receipt for three hand mirrors and three shlights from just over a week ago.¡±


    I had nothing to report other than the pictures and the luggage, but an awful feeling grew in the pit of my stomach.


    I had equipped my background trope as well, <strong>My Grandmother Had the Gift¡­ </strong>and it would probably kick in this storyline. Background tropes did not have predictable effects, but they did give Carousel something to work with when weaving the story. I dreaded to find out what.


    Bobby was the lucky one. He wasn¡¯t in the building that was soon to be the subject of a horror show. I was d to have him around, though, as he had a trope that ensured food could be found on set and I was getting hungry.


    As the othersid out in the living room for what little sleep they could get, I made my way to the refrigerator and found, to my dismay, there was no food in there. There was a sign on the counter that contained ate-night room service menu.


    There wasn''t really a good time to eat in Carousel. Even between storylines, it felt like there was a predator at the water hole.


    It was just past two in the morning and the Plot Cycle was still frozen. I was beginning to suspect that when it got to 3 am, we would still have some time in the Party before the dying started. It was difficult to understand how things would go because of the Stranger¡¯s trope. New yers probably couldn¡¯t even see the Plot Cycle at that point. They <em>would </em>have been able to understand the heavy-handed warning that the Stranger gave when he stopped us outside the hotel, though.


    I grabbed the phone off the counter and dialed room service.


    ¡°This is¡­ room service,¡± Bobby said on the other end. I recognized his voice immediately.


    ¡°Can I get a te of the chicken wings,¡± I asked.


    ¡°Riley? This is Bobby. They have me bouncing from job to job. That paper Cindy gave you was printed off of my site or made to look like it. Arterial Oasis, remember? I read the ritual. It sounds like someone could have already activated it before you guys even got there. At three, everything will probably get started. The Plot Cycle is frozen on my end. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on.¡±


    He had likely disappeared and been cast as an NPC before the Stranger showed up. I didn''t see it. He must have been Off-Screen on his end, which meant the audience could only hear me talking.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ Buffalo vor or any vor really. I¡¯d just like to eat real quick.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Bobby said. ¡°You''re On-Screen. Okay. I can¡¯t ess any more background information right now but I know there was more. My character is always having to run teenagers out of the ce you¡¯re in. Vandalism, theft, that kind of thing. Especially before the renovation. They also try to channel the ghost of the guy who lived there. Like a spooky legend kind of thing. He was one of the Geists.¡±


    So this ce had a history of people contacting the dead within it.


    ¡°My character is cousins with someone who works at the University. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s relevant to the storyline but isn¡¯t it weird how these stories have been connected like this?¡±


    ¡°How soon can you be here?¡± I asked.


    ¡°If I think of anything, do you want me to call the room ore down there myself?¡±


    ¡°See you soon.¡±


    ¡°Right, I¡¯lle down there myself.¡±


    He hung up. I wondered if he was even going to bring the food.


    He eventually brought it right to our door. He arrived right at 2:55 am.


    The doorbell ringing got everyone up and awake, though they were only pretending to sleep.


    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Room service,¡± I said.


    I opened the door and Bobby was standing there holding a tray with a dome cover on it. I reached out to take the food, but he pushed past me and brought the food in himself.


    ¡°Got your chicken tenders,¡± he said, lifting the dome and cing it on the kitchen counter.


    He had timed his delivery so he would be here when things started. He could have stayed out there away from the fray, but he didn¡¯t. Even though there might have been some utility in having a man on the outside, I couldn¡¯t deny I was d to have another teammate here as we awaited our fate.


    We didn¡¯t have to wait long.


    Before I could thank Bobby ande up with something for us to talk about as time ticked forward, the Plot Cycle turned back on and within seconds of that, the lights in the building flickered off with a ¡°clink¡± sound. The needle moved to about halfway through the Party.


    The inky darkness was overwhelming.


    ¡°The breaker just tripped,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°I know where that is,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I saw it earlier when we were looking around.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t the resort employee take care of it?¡±


    Bobby didn¡¯t respond for a moment.


    We were all thoroughly spooked. He was no exception. Whatever bravery had led him to charge into the room had left with the lights.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°I should call maintenance¡­ or you know what, he¡¯d probably just make me do it anyway. I¡¯ll go do it.¡± He thought for a moment, no doubt sifting through the collection of NPC memories he was given. ¡°I know where it is. Down the hall here. Just a moment.¡±


    He walked cautiously as his eyes adjusted to the moonlit room. Having drawn all the shade made things even darker, but I wasn¡¯t going to be the first to open them right then.


    ¡°There¡¯s a candle and some matches right over there,¡± Cassie said. She didn¡¯t get up from her overstuffed chair. A quiver in her voice told me she probably couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°On the mantle, right?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Y¡­yes,¡± she said.


    I made my way over to the mantle slowly as my eyes adjusted.


    I found the decorative candle and matchbox. There was a problem.


    ¡°It¡¯s empty,¡± I said, shaking the matchbox. I grabbed the candle anyway. If I could find a way to light it, it would be useful.


    Momentster, I heard a crash and a screaming from the direction Bobby had gone.


    ¡°Help!¡± Bobby screamed.


    Antoine was up off the couch at a moment''s notice, his baseball bat already in his hand. His <strong>Like a Security nket</strong> trope buffed his Grit and supposedly soothed his and his allies'' fears when he brandished a weapon. I didn¡¯t feel soothed, but that might have been a higher-level feature.


    Since no one wanted to be left behind, we all walked together down the hallway that Bobby had walked as we heard him asking for help.


    Once we got in there, Kimberly was quick to go flip over the breaker and we were once again bathed in light.


    What we saw in the middle of the room next to piles of old furniture, Bobby was on the ground, having fallen or tripped.


    Above him, attempting to shush him, was the Stranger.


    ¡°Just a moment,¡± the Stranger said, ¡°Don¡¯t be rmed. I can exin this.¡±


    ¡°Get the hell out of here,¡± Antoine yelled.


    ¡°I can exin. Hear me out, hear me out. Perhaps you should all go outside,¡± he said.


    Thoughts rose up in my mind like: ¡°In the middle of the night?¡± and ¡°It¡¯s cold out there, I¡¯m not going outside!¡±


    But I didn¡¯t say those things. Isaac did. Almost those exact words.


    That meant two things. One, the Stranger had more tropes equipped than those we had been allowed to see on the red wallpaper. And two, he was using that secret trope that made targets disagree with him.


    He was here, in part, to ensure new yers didn¡¯t just run away as things ramped up. He wasn''t just a fellow yer.


    ¡°So, exin then,¡± I said.


    The Stranger nodded and said.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to believe what I am about to tell you, but I promise I am telling the truth. I came here to look for my daughter and I fear I may have doomed us all.¡±


    As he said that, the lights flickered off again. This time, though, there was no breaker trip to me. They just went off.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want anyone else to be here!¡± he exined. ¡°I ran the others off and the woman at the front desk said no new guests had taken their ce. No one was supposed to be here except for me. Now it¡¯s toote.¡±

 Arc II, Chapter 15: I have no arm but I must wave...

    Arc II, Chapter 15: I have no arm but I must wave...


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t do more to scare you away,¡± the Stranger said, his shame evident by the light of the moon. ¡°I feared you would end up here. I was going to ramp up the crazy to prevent you from staying here. I was. Honest. Then I realized that if I rattled you too much you would tell the hotel staff and everything would be ruined. I barely managed to get the previous guests to leave. I thought the suite would be empty tonight.¡±


    ¡°Why did you need the room?¡± Dina asked. She could summon an intense curiosity when she wanted to. It was almost an excitement. I could tell she wasn¡¯t just ying her character. This game involved speaking to the dead, a preupation of hers.


    ¡°I assume you saw the board game on the coffee table,¡± he said.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Antoine said. ¡°And the instructions from the trash.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± The Stranger said. ¡°You saw those.¡± He paused, his eyes staring into the distance. ¡°So you know what I¡¯ve done then. I initiated the ritual. The Ten Second Game as the kids call it. I know how ridiculous it sounds. I would never have believed it myself if not for¡­ the proof.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying that you can talk to ghosts using a board game?¡± Antoine asked.


    The Stranger didn¡¯t answer at first.


    The tension in the room was high. We were all afraid. So often we had to hide our fears of what was toe because our characters should have been clueless. Not this time. Not this storyline. Our characters would be very afraid because our characters were all based on us.


    ¡°Not the board game, that¡¯s not what¡¯s important. The bell,¡± he said. ¡°That device calls to spirits. They are drawn to it because it gives them a way to interact with the living world. That¡¯s what my daughter told me. The spirits just wanted to talk. Now I¡¯m convinced it¡¯s something far more sinister than that. I believe they want to join us and some are willing to do so by any means necessary.¡±


    ¡°This is insane,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I¡¯m calling the cops.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t help,¡± The Stranger said. ¡°The call will go out, but they won¡¯t be able to help until the game is over. The first time I yed the game, my neighbor called the police in because of the screams. Cops said no one was home. But I was. I was ying the game.


    ¡°My daughter, Sidney¡­ she heard about the game and yed it with her friends. The first time you y it, you won¡¯t even know anything happened for sure. You¡¯ll stare out the window and wind the bell and you will think that there is something outside, but you won¡¯t be sure. But they are there. The more you do it in one ce, the surer you¡¯ll be.¡±


    ¡°How many times have you done it?¡± Kimberly asked, clinging to Antoine¡¯s side.


    ¡°Five times,¡± he answered, ¡°Three of them here. Last night I managed to get rid of the guests--sent them to another hotel. The nights before there were no guests here so I booked the suite and had the ce to myself. But this ce has been the host to the Ten Second Game many times before I got here. Last week, my daughter and her friends came here. They wanted to try to contact Jedediah Geist. This used to be his ce. It''s a Carousel tradition. Low square footage for a Geist residence, sure, but he was always the ck sheep in that family.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s your daughter now?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly,¡± he said, ¡°But she called me. Left me a strange voicemail. I could barely make it out, but she said the ritual was real. When she didn¡¯te home, I tried it myself. The hotel said she and her friends skipped out on paying the bill, but I¡¯m not sure they ever left.¡±


    ¡°We need to leave,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We¡¯ll go, okay? I don¡¯t want any part of this.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s toote.¡±


    Antoine looked at him incredulously. He slowly left the storage room and went to the living room, pulling Kimberly behind him.


    The rest of us followed, the Stranger included.


    ¡°Don¡¯t open that door. You need to have a barrier between our world and the spirit world. They can pass right through open doors and mirrors,¡± the Stranger said.


    Antione defied his warning and walked right toward the door, cing his hand on the doorknob.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do this,¡± the Stranger said. ¡°Please.¡± He threw himself at the door and begged, ¡°Let me prove it to you first. Just let me show you.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Dina asked with intense interest.


    ¡°By ying the game. We have no choice, really, I invited the spirits. If we do not speak to them, they will get angry. We don¡¯t want that to happen. The spirits are half asleep, unsure of their state in existence. When we anger them, that will change. I just need to find out what happened to my daughter. Thest couple of nights I think I got somewhere. I¡¯m almost there. Please.¡±


    ¡°What were the rules again?¡± Dina asked. She seemed eager to y.


    ¡°Only two people at a time. We go into one of the rooms and stare out the window,¡± The Stranger said. ¡°Figures will appear. They will answer our questions using the bell. Do not look away until they have gone. They always forget what they are doing and wander off.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go first,¡± Dina volunteered.


    I went to the bottom shelf of the coffee table in the living room and grabbed the game board and bell from where I had stowed it. I walked it over to Dina. She reached out for it but I didn''t let go. I stared her in the eye.


    ¡°You''re hoping he¡¯ll be there?¡± I asked.


    Dina¡¯s expression changed. She blinked away a tear. ¡°I have to try,¡± she said.


    We were talking about her son. It was clear Carousel was going to bring him in. I thought I would help spur that along. Dina¡¯s <strong>Encouragement from Beyond </strong>trope could be very useful in this story. Giving it a little bit more narrative foundation was the right move. That trope could give us an edge.


    I let go of the board.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Dina said.


    The Stranger nodded his head.


    They left and went to one of the bedrooms alone.


    I never went Off-Screen. Carousel wasn¡¯t showing the audience what was happening in the room with Dina and the Stranger. It was showing me and my friends'' reactions to it.


    Our reaction to the ticking.


    It wasn¡¯t long before one of them gave a twist to the bell. Then it ticked down for ten seconds. We had no idea if it would ring or not.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Nothing.


    I stood and watched the others'' faces. Cassie was terror-stricken. Isaac was lost in his head avoiding reality. Kimberly was wrapped up in Antoine¡¯s arms. Bobby was petrified. He had been the closest to the room they went to. He slowly stepped toward me.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Nothing.


    The dread was palpable. Ten seconds. That was long enough for my blood to chill. It felt like an eternity, but it also ended too soon.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Nothing.


    I noticed I had started holding my breath as I waited for the timer to tick down. The little bell was loud and it echoed throughout the dark suite. I started to see shadows dancing in the moonlight.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Briiinnnggg!


    My skin squirmed at the sound. My heart felt like it was going to explode. There wasn¡¯t any more ticking after that. Only silence and breathing. I didn''t even hear what question they asked.


    Dina and the Stranger walked silently out of the room.


    Dina was aghast.


    ¡°Did you see anything?¡± Antoine asked through a lump in his throat.


    Dina looked at him and nodded, unable to form words.


    ¡°We have to keep doing it until morning,¡± the Stranger said. ¡°I propose we do it in shifts if you like. Otherwise, I can take care of it myself, but I am not certain the spirits will like being ignored. They may not havee here to speak to just me.¡±


    No one volunteered.


    ¡°My grandmother always said spirits existed,¡± I said. ¡°Said she could sense them. Guess what I¡¯m saying is¡­ I¡¯ll go next. I have to see it for myself.¡±


    I also knew that it was too early in the Party for anything bad to happen. If I was going to be alone in a room with a ghost, I would want it to be then.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with you,¡± Bobby said.


    Apparently, I wouldn¡¯t be alone. My new friend, Bobby the hotel employee would be with me.


    ¡°The hotel is haunted but the customer service is out of this world,¡± Isaac said, finally snapping out of his silence. His urge to make a joke cracked through his mask of fear.


    I had no idea how actual new yers should have been reacting. Perhaps this version of the story was never designed for new yers. Or maybe the Stranger would use tropes to force them to y without their knowledge. I couldn¡¯t say.


    What was certain was that as Bobby and I walked into the room we had chosen to y the Ten Second Game in, I was shaking all over. So was he.


    ¡°You think this is real?¡± I asked Bobby.


    ¡°I hope so,¡± he said.


    Great, now he got to look like the brave nerd. That was my job.


    The room we chose still had its curtains drawn from when we had tried in vain to prevent the game from being yed.


    I really didn¡¯t want to open the curtains. I was afraid something would be standing on the other side.


    ¡°We need to get the curtains,¡± I said, trying to talk myself into opening them. The audience was watching, after all.


    I grabbed ahold of one side and opened it quickly like ripping off a Band-Aid. Then I opened the other side.


    No terrifying creepy crawly stood there to greet me.


    I back away from the window. The moonlight flooded into the room. I noticed that a vanity against the wall had been broken. It wasn¡¯t obvious at first nce, but with the moonlighting in at just the right angle, I could see that the vanity was supposed to have arge mirror screwed in the back. It had been broken off. I could tell because the light revealed a spot against the wall that had less dust than the rest. The mirror had been removed recently. I could see it had been ripped off.


    ¡°See anything?¡± Bobby asked.


    ¡°Nope,¡± I answered. I didn¡¯t want to.


    I had this nagging thought in the back of my head. There was a message Carousel had sent us not so subtly. On the page with the ritual instructions, the URL for the site had the phrase ¡°Found a fresh viin for you. Hope you like him.¡±


    That made me nervous. I didn¡¯t know what fresh viin it was talking about and I was afraid to find out. If ghosts were revealed in the Party¡­ that meant that things could only escte from there.


    Needless to say, I really didn¡¯t want to see a ghost. Not yet.


    But I didn¡¯t get my wish.


    ¡°Is that...?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± Bobby answered.


    I suddenly understood how someone could y this game and still be unsure if they saw anything at all.


    Outside, I saw trees and bushes and grass.


    There was also a figure in the distance. My brain picked him out but I still couldn¡¯t really make out what I was seeing. Human brains are wired to see human shapes. This could have been a trick of the light. It could have been a strange-shaped bush. It could also have been a lost hiker for all I knew.


    But I knew it wasn¡¯t any of those things. My mind, an ancient primordial part of it, knew exactly what I was looking at.


    ¡°He¡¯s missing an arm,¡± Bobby said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look back,¡± I said, reminding him.


    Bobby quickly wound up the bell and said, ¡°If you are really there, ring the bell.¡± He released the key and the bell started ticking.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Briiinggg!


    ¡°Oh shoot,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Oh shoot. You ask something.¡±


    ¡°Can you wave at us?¡± I asked. I wound the bell.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Briiinggg!


    Sure enough, the figure, which may or may not have really been there, started to wave subtly. It was even more evident that he was missing an arm once he started moving.


    ¡°Do you know what happened to the girl that was herest week?¡± I asked.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    There was silence. The figure in the distance disappeared.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Bobby said. ¡°I¡¯d say that¡¯s enough for now.¡±


    ¡°Make sure there are no figures in the distance before we turn around,¡± I said.


    ¡°Right,¡± Bobby said.


    We scanned the window and saw nothing. Just to be safe, I backed out the doorway and into the main living area. Bobby copied me.


    We turned and rejoined the others.


    ¡°Did you see something?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°I think so,¡± I said.


    I was certain, but the audience might not have been shown what we saw. Even if they were, it wasn¡¯t exactly perfect evidence of life after death. Even if we had a picture, it would be discredited immediately by skeptics on the inte.


    ¡°It was a man,¡± Bobby said. ¡° A man missing one of his arms. I swea¡ª¡±


    Briiinggg!


    The bell went off in Bobby¡¯s hands. He nearly dropped it.


    The Stranger sprang to action. ¡°What did you askst? What was the question?¡±


    ¡°I asked if he knew what happened to your daughter,¡± I said.


    The Stranger grabbed the bell from Bobby and marched into the room we hade from.


    Off-Screen.


    He walked back into the living room frustrated.


    ¡°I guess it¡¯s too early to get answers,¡± he said. He sat the bell down on the coffee table.


    I had almost forgotten that he, too, was acting as a yer and was perfectly capable of breaking character Off-Screen.


    ¡°I need one of you to ask me about my voicemail from my daughter. You should have done it the moment I mentioned it,¡± he said, angrily, ¡°As a yer, I¡¯m not even sure what¡¯s on that voicemail unless it gets yed. I can¡¯t y it unless you ask me about it. That¡¯s how these things work. Plot elements can only be significant if you put them on the screen. I only have ess to the script provided by my Dark Secret trope but I can¡¯t see some of it unless you investigate. That¡¯s the nature of the trope. Understand? Remember, we have to tell a story here together. I understand you are afraid. As it happens, I¡¯ve never run this version before¡­ Just remember, we have to cover our bases.¡±


    Even with the tropes that made him hard to read, I could see something in his eye that was disheartening, hidden underneath all theyers of intrigue and mystery. Under his gruff exterior and shadowy confidence even I could see it.


    He was afraid.

 Arc II, Chapter 16: Connection Terminated

    Arc II, Chapter 16: Connection Terminated


    We didn''t have that long Off-Screen, but it still felt like an eternity. I would have loved to take the opportunity to ask the Stranger questions but surviving the story was more pressing.


    I saw Cassie and Isaac sitting deathly still on the couch. I needed to say something to help them. I wished that Anna was there. She might not know the perfect thing to say, but she would at least get in the ballpark. I would do my best.


    "You ready?" I asked. I tried to mask my own fear.


    ¡°Am I going to die?¡± Cassie asked.


    She got straight to it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I answered honestly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do the Ten Second Game,¡± she said. "I''ll look away the moment I see something scary. I know it."


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to,¡± I said. "I don''t me you for wanting to opt out."


    ¡°You did it,¡± she replied. ¡°You acted like you wanted to.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°I get the feeling nobody would put up with me if I didn¡¯t do stuff like that.¡±


    She paused. She seemed to think over the situation again.


    ¡°But how do you just get over it? The fear?¡± Cassie asked. ¡°Were you afraid on your first storyline?¡±


    ¡°Of course I was afraid. It¡¯s just not a useful thing to think about,¡± I said.


    In <em>The Final Straw II</em>, it didn¡¯t matter how afraid I was. All I could do was run through the maze either way. In <em>The Astralist</em>, I knew I was going to get got and did my best to dy it. Didn¡¯t do much good there.


    ¡°You just don¡¯t think about it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I do but anytime I start to see it affecting me, I just lock it down. It helps that I can¡¯t stand the idea of people seeing me get emotional,¡± I said. I briefly thought back to when I was a kid and my Grandparents wouldn¡¯t let me leave my parents¡¯ funeral early. I was forced to lose control in front of everyone. I still got itchy thinking about it.


    ¡°That¡¯s not a good thing,¡± she said.


    ¡°It is here,¡± I said. Then, back to the task at hand, I added, ¡°You¡¯re a Psychic, anyway. Just act like you¡¯re afraid because you¡¯re sensing something dark or something. Psychics and stuff are Moxie-based. So it¡¯s all in the performance. You want your tropes to be strong and useful, y into them.¡±


    I hoped that if I could give her something to focus on other than her fate, it might be enough to calm her. Focus on the task at hand.


    ¡°Just keep making remarks,¡± I said to Isaac, who was never far from Cassie. ¡°And look around for a weapon you might use that¡¯s funny. Always be looking for ways to trigger your tropes.¡±


    I thought that was good advice even if I didn¡¯t always follow it as well as I would like.


    Isaac nodded. ¡°You said it¡¯s the Tutorial. Doesn¡¯t that mean no one has to die? I mean Tutorials are supposed to be easy.¡±


    Truthfully, I didn¡¯t know. I wasn¡¯t even confident that Carousel even called it a Tutorial. The yers definitely did, but that didn¡¯t mean Carousel was bound by that logic. Besides, death wasn¡¯t a failure in the Game at Carousel, it was a strategic decision.


    The Stranger caught wind of our conversation and added in his own line while eating my chicken tenders. ¡°Nothing is supposed to be easy here, kids. In Carousel, your limits are just the starting point. This story is not the one I¡¯ve run before. Carousel has been busy. Don¡¯t ck, my friends, don¡¯t ck.¡±


    ¡°Where is the camera?¡± Dina asked. ¡°We aren¡¯t between scenes. What is the audience seeing?¡±


    Dina was right. Being between scenes wasn¡¯t indicated on the red wallpaper, but it felt different than simply being Off-Screen. I couldn¡¯t describe it.


    ¡°Camera¡¯s showing the audience the threat, in some fashion, I imagine,¡± The Stranger said. ¡°First Blood is on its way. The audience might already know what¡¯s out there.¡±


    ¡°Could be on Constance,¡± Kimberly suggested.


    Constance was safely away at home, waiting for us to wake her up with a phone call.


    ¡°Might be, sure,¡± he said, but I didn¡¯t think he bought it.


    I didn¡¯t either. Carousel didn¡¯t even know if we would call Constance. I had watched the storylines we had been through a dozen times each using my <strong>Director''s Monitor</strong> trope. I had developed some sense of how the final movie would y out. Carousel didn¡¯t make up for our mistakes. I figured that if we didn¡¯t tell the audience something, it wouldn¡¯t remind them. Part of making a perfect performance was remembering to give Carousel lines it could use in its final edit. That didn¡¯t exactly seem like a priority right then though.


    While Off-Screen, I decided to make my way around the suite to familiarize myself with the set. I had done this already, but I had to channel my nervous energy into something. I was trying to find an object to use my <strong>The Insert Shot </strong>ability on. Being able to buff a weapon or otherwise useful object gave me a sense of purpose, but so far I had no idea what woulde in handy.


    I circled around, sticking my head in every door. I grew increasingly conscious of how close we were to First Blood.


    That¡¯s when I saw the mirror in the bathroom Kimberly had showered in. Like all of the other mirrors in the ce, it had a cover over it, but unlike all of those, which had been covered with a thick white sheet, this one was only covered with a towel. Not one of those oversized hotel towels either. This one was barely covered with one of the towels meant to twist up in long hair. It was barely covering the mirror.


    And it was moving.


    Nothing was visiblying out from behind it, but it was clearly being jostled by the air. The wind was blowing it. There were no open windows so that didn¡¯t seem possible.


    I needed to take the opportunity of our minutes Off-Screen to ask The Stranger about it. I walked quickly back to the living room where everyone else waited.


    ¡°Is there something special about the mirrors?¡± I asked. ¡°I know you said the ghosts could cross through them, but why is the one in the bathroom back there blowing in the wind?¡±


    The Stranger went to check what I was talking about.


    He had a theory.


    ¡°It¡¯s a trap in a manner of speaking,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s billowing Off-Screen in there. That can only mean that Carousel would go On-Screen the moment one of us tried to fix it. That was a nice catch. Didn¡¯t the blonde one say that she saw something flip the light switch in there earlier?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kimberly answered. ¡°While I was showering.¡±


    The Stranger nodded. ¡°Carousel has that thing prepped and ready to go. The audience is aware, and the characters¡ªthat¡¯s us¡ªwere made aware. It might do something with itter.¡±


    I thought back to the Subject of Inquiry storyline where Carousel had appeared to be nning to set the poltergeist on Antoine for First Blood, but I prevented it. That part had barely made it into the final movie. Instead, First Blood had been the massacre of most of the NPCs in the building. I wasn¡¯t sure if that was an easier or harder version.


    ¡°So should we trigger it?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Normally,¡± The Stranger said, ¡°I¡¯d say yes. Carousel would be pleased. This storyline used to be mostly jump scares, some minor fate-worse-than-death if you really messed up. This time, I don¡¯t know.¡±


    I thought for a moment. I tried to put myself in the shoes of a new yer. What would someone new to Carousel do right now?


    ¡°We¡¯re new yers, just now starting to see the red wallpaper but we think we¡¯re going crazy. We¡¯re super creeped out by this strange man, no offense. Do we investigate the moving towel over the mirror?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Definitely not,¡± Antoine answered.


    I agreed. It probably didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°ssic Carousel choice. Both choices are the wrong decision,¡± I said.


    No one argued. Either we triggered the billowing towel right then or Carousel would do something else. Best not to do it so near First Blood if we could avoid it.


    So we waited until eventually¡­


    On-Screen.


    ¡°We can¡¯t wait any longer,¡± The Stranger said impatiently. ¡°We need someone to go speak to the spirits that have gathered. Everyone has to do it. Everyone.¡± He looked to Cassie.


    Cassie looked horrified, but, to her credit, she did say, ¡°Something is happening. I can feel it. There is something wrong. We shouldn¡¯t be ying this game.¡±


    ¡°Whatever,¡± The Stranger said. ¡°I¡¯ll go. Can someone please join me?¡±


    He looked over at me, but I didn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± Bobby volunteered.


    The Stranger nodded and the two of them went off to yet another of the rooms with the bell.


    When they left, we stayed On-Screen. Did Carousel know that I had something to say?


    ¡°He¡¯s still hiding something,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what, but he knows more than he is saying.¡±


    The others looked back in the direction that the two of them had run off to.


    After a few excruciating sessions of twenty questions with a ghost, The Stranger and Bobby returned. The Stranger didn¡¯t look happy. Bobby looked confused. They had nothing to report.


    ¡°You said your daughter left you a voicemail,¡± I said. ¡°Mind if we listen to it?¡±


    The Stranger froze. ¡°I don¡¯t have it with me. It was on my home machine. Don''t have a cell.¡±


    I gave him a distrustful look. He had asked us to bring up the voicemail. If he wasn¡¯t talking about it, that meant there was something incriminating about it that he couldn¡¯t reveal yet. The Stranger as a yer would have just found that out most likely.


    ¡°That¡¯s too bad,¡± I said.


    ¡°Next,¡± The Stranger said.


    We needed another group to y The Ten Second Game.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I used to y Bloody Mary at sleepovers when I was a kid. I was the only one who actually did it. This can¡¯t be that different.¡±


    Her Grit jumped a point. I suppose she was trying to trigger her <strong>Convenient Backstory</strong> ability to boost a stat. This had not been her most sessful attempt. If I had been thinking about it, we might havee up with a better use, but a point of Grit for bravery (I suppose) was better than nothing.


    Antoine gave her a look that I recognized as ¡°Are you crazy?¡±


    Nheless, he went with her. His baseball bat was at the ready. It wasn¡¯t a great weapon against ghosts, but it activated his <strong>Like a Security nket</strong> and <strong>Swing Away</strong> tropes.


    With the Plot Cycle moving toward First Blood, we all knew what was toe. If Kimberly had stayed in the living room with the rest of us, it might have brought trouble to us.


    With any luck, First Blood wouldn¡¯t even be lethal. It could be an injury or even just a huge scare if it fit the story. I wasn¡¯t sure though.


    Within moments, the twisting of the bell and ticking of the mechanism had started.


    In the living room, we were Off-Screen. All eyes were on Kimberly and Antoine.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Nothing.


    The belle was rewound. Kimberly asked another question. We hadn¡¯t agreed on what to ask. We didn¡¯t even really know what the spirits could tell us. That was another thing I had forgotten to n around. I made a mental note for all of us to get on the same page about that as soon as possible.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Briinggg!


    That was a yes to whatever they asked. They rewound the bell.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Kimberly screamed. There was a crashing sound like ss breaking and then something hit the wall.


    On-Screen.


    Everyone in the living room jumped to life. We raced to the room with Kimberly and Antoine, but as we got there, the door mmed.


    I got there first and pulled against it with all my might. Bobby and The Stranger helped. As hard as we pulled, nothing budged.


    ¡°Antoine! Kimberly!¡± I screamed.


    No answer. In fact, though I could hear movement in the distance when I first arrived. I couldn¡¯t hear anything in the room.


    ¡°¡­ got her!¡± I heard Antoine scream eventually, but the sound wasn¡¯ting from in the room. It wasing from outside. ¡°It has her!¡±


    And then nothing.


    ¡°She¡¯s hurt!¡± Cassie screamed. Her <strong>The Anguish</strong> ability came with a useful perk of being able to see the health stats of her teammates. ¡°She¡¯s getting worse! We need to do something!¡±


    She must have seen the stats on Kimberly¡¯s status bar move as, first, <em>Unscathed </em>dimmed with the first injury. Then somebination of <em>Incapacitated</em>, <em>Mutted</em>, <em>Hobbled</em>, <em>Unconscious</em>, or even <em>Dead </em>would start to light up. They would blink at first, but then stay lit when things were finished.


    ¡°She¡¯s going unconscious,¡± Cassie screamed, staring into the red wallpaper, ¡°I think it¡¯s choking h¡ª"


    The words caught in her throat.


    Cassie couldn¡¯t speak anymore.


    She started to gag. Then, a force threw her hard against the wall behind her. She started getting dragged across the wall by her throat.


    We ran to her.


    She was terrified, unable to speak, barely able to breathe.


    ¡°Fight it!¡± I screamed.


    This was <strong>The Anguish</strong> ability. She could ¡°empathetically¡± share the damage of allies to lighten their injuries. I had not anticipated it being this effective while she was so low-leveled, but then I realized, as a Psychic, her Moxie was high for her level and her Grit was zero. That stat configuration would maximize this trope''s capabilities.


    That wasn¡¯t to mention that this storyline was the exact type that trope was designed for. Psychics, ghosts, the confirmed paranormal. It was a perfect storm.


    ¡°You have to fight it!¡± I screamed. I had done little to reinforce my own inherited Psychic abilities that my ¡°Grandmother¡± was implied to have passed on to me because of my background trope. I would be almost useless here but I had to try.


    ¡°Isaac!¡± I screamed. ¡°Encourage her! She needs you now!¡±


    Isaac obeyed and promptly knelt down beside his sister and started encouraging her to fight. Tears filled his eyes. He was helpless.


    I didn¡¯t know if bringing in the power of family would work here. It was too early. The theme hadn¡¯t been established. But I was throwing everything at the wall.


    We were firmly in First Blood now


    Cassie started to lift up by her throat, up, up. She was floating.


    Whatever it was that was attacking Kimberly was powerful, but she was surviving. They both were.


    I grabbed the couch and pulled it under where Cassie was floating.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Bobby screamed to The Stranger.


    The Stranger looked as confused and afraid as we did. ¡°This has never happened before. I know some people are more sensitive to spirits¡­ How was I supposed to know?¡±


    I jumped up on the couch and reached up toward Cassie. She was turning blue, but I could see on the red wallpaper she was still alive.


    The fact that Rebirth hadn¡¯te yet meant that Kimberly was too.


    I tried to lift her up, to secure her so that she wasn¡¯t hanging from her neck. Miraculously, It was working.


    She and Kimberly were connected.


    Cassie was extending Kimberly¡¯s survival. Every minute Kimberly lived, the weaker the big bad got. We needed to do whatever it took to help her survive longer.


    Eventually, she lowered to the ground quickly as if mmed, but the couch took much of the blow. I could see deep purple bruises forming around Cassie¡¯s neck. They were in the shape of a hand.


    We continued on for what seemed like an eternity that way.


    Eventually, whatever force was dragging Cassie around by her throat relented. The needle on the Plot Cycle jumped to Rebirth. Kimberly was dead.


    Cassie was barely alive, just hanging on.


    ¡°She¡¯s trying to say something,¡± Dina said.


    Cassie was moving her lips. She couldn¡¯t talk. Her throat was crushed. Her Dead status was blinking and staying on longer and longer each time it blinked.


    Isaac held Cassie in his arms and cried.


    No matter how much we warned them, he was never going to be prepared for this.


    Cassie died on the couch. She had held on for nearly ten minutes of choking torture, barely able to breathe. In the end, she lost the fight. But she had helped Kimberly and the team. I hoped that would be enough.


    Isaac tried to wake her.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we do something?¡± he asked. Then he repeated himself in a scream.


    After Cassie was gone and a beat had passed, my attention returned to the room Kimberly and Antoine had been in. I tried the doorknob and it opened easily.


    There was ss on the floor. I could see that. There was also a dent in the drywall opposite the window. Beneath it, a broken metal shlight hadnded.


    Bobby, Dina, and The Stranger were there with me.


    ¡°Someone threw the shlight through the window,¡± I said.


    ¡°With a broken window,¡± The Stranger added, ¡°It could have just walked right in. We need to get this covered up.¡±


    He moved to flip the mattress up against the broken window.


    ¡°Damn,¡± he said as he realized that wouldn¡¯t work. It was too short to cover the whole thing. ¡°There¡¯s cardboard in the storage room,¡± he said to Bobby.


    Bobby ran to fetch it.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing that we can¡¯t just close the door,¡± I said.


    ¡°You guess right.¡±


    I stared out into the darkness through the window. No spirits arrived in the distance.


    It just looked like I was staring out the window. Nothing special. I knew that wasn¡¯t true. Even though it looked like a forested hillside, thend outside that window belonged to the dead.


    ¡°She was saying ¡®Antoine alive¡¯,¡± Dina said. ¡°When she was dying. I think that¡¯s what she was trying to say.¡±


    Antoine alive.


    Out there lost in the woods, the ghosts his onlypany. That wasn¡¯t good.


    Just as Bobby arrived back with the cardboard, I heard the tinkle of ss and a young man stepped through the window. I hadn''t seen him in the distance.


    He held his hands up in front of him as if to surrender.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to hurt you,¡± he said. ¡°I barely got away alive. My friends. They¡¯re still back there. I left them. I was afraid.¡±


    He said this mournfully, unprompted. He worked himself nearly into tears, but the tears never came.


    I was distracted by the way his head tilted unnaturally to the left. By the bony protrusion pressing out against his skin from below his ear from where his neck had snapped.


    J.T. Guzman (Wandering Spirit)


    Plot Armor: 3


    __________


    Tropes


    Death Delusion


    This entity is not aware it is dead.


    Don¡¯t Wake the Beast


    This entity is asleep or in a simr condition. They will not stir without outside intervention. Waking them will transform them into a more dangerous form that ys by different tropes.


    Walking Crime Scene


    This entity¡¯s ghostly form reveals clues as to the nature of its demise.

 Arc II, Chapter 17: Ghost Story

    Arc II, Chapter 17: Ghost Story


    If I wasn¡¯t standing four feet away from him, I would have been really jazzed to see the ghost of J.T. Guzman. This was my favorite type of ghost to see in horror movies. He didn¡¯t look faded or transparent. In fact, he looked solid, though I wasn¡¯t going to test if he was.


    He had died of a broken neck and his spirit forever reflected that. Every time a ghost like that popped up in cinema I would smile and hope to guess the cause of death of each ghost. My favorite movie with spirits of this kind was <em>Thirteen Ghosts,</em> but there were plenty of good ones.


    Seeing him in person wasn¡¯t as fun. His spine stuck so far out of ce I could practically see it through his skin, his fingers were broken and his nails busted. It looked like he had been dragged and had grabbed onto the ground for dear life, but that was all of what I could see by the moonlight.


    ¡°We need to get this closed up,¡± The Stranger said, grabbing the cardboard from Bobby¡¯s frozen hands and walking to the window.


    ¡°I found tape,¡± Bobby said, unable to take his eyes off the ghost. He held out a roll of duct tape.


    I grabbed it and helped patch up the broken window.


    ¡°Cardboard will keep ghosts out?¡± Dina asked.


    ¡°Funny how that works, isn¡¯t it?¡± The Stranger said. ¡°Couldn¡¯t say why.¡±


    ¡°When you¡¯re out there, everything is so far away¡­¡± J.T. said. ¡°When I saw the broken window¡­ it was like suddenly the house was closer. Suddenly, I could get to it. I wasn¡¯t just walking in ce.¡±


    J.T. always seemed to think we were talking to him. I didn''t know if that was a ghost thing or just his personality.


    I knew that soon; we would have to make a n. Having a very fragile specter in the house wouldplicate things.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I said. I squeezed my way past the ghost and into the hallway. ¡°I¡¯m going to go check on Isaac.


    I wondered if Dina, Bobby, and The Stranger would know not to tell the ghost he was dead.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go tell him there was a survivor,¡± I said. ¡°Not that that will cheer him up.¡±


    I had to weigh the risks. At that moment, I knew that if Isaac came around the corner and saw the man with the crooked neck, he was liable to freak out. The others had experience. They might keep their cool.


    Off-Screen.


    Isaac was still sitting on the couch next to his sister. He had covered her with a nket. No amount of logic would break through to him until he was ready. I couldn¡¯t expect him to deal with his sister¡¯s death in a way that was convenient.


    ¡°Hey, Isaac,¡± I whispered in his ear. ¡°You need to know that one of the spirits is in the house. He doesn¡¯t know he¡¯s dead and we need to keep it that way. No screaming or freaking out. Got it?¡±


    I felt like a jerk ordering him around as he mourned his dead sister.


    He didn¡¯t answer, but he nodded. Fat, round tears rolled down his cheeks, glistening in the moonlight.


    I thought about how I had felt when Camden had died the first time when stabbed by Ranger Danger. I had cried then, but it wasn¡¯t too long before my mind shifted to beating the storyline.


    I wondered how long it would take Isaac to do the same. He was the next target.


    Or was he?


    The Stranger¡¯s <strong>Dark Secret</strong> trope was supposed to drop his Plot Armor to zero when he revealed his titr dark secret, but I couldn¡¯t actually see his Plot Armor. It was hidden. All I could see were his two visible yer tropes. I couldn¡¯t even see his poster.


    I had originally assumed that The Stranger¡¯s Dark Secret was that he had initiated The Ten Second Game, but then there was the whole thing where he got dodgy about the voicemail his daughter sent him. That told me he still had a secret. Reading over the text of the trope, I began to realize that he wasn¡¯t allowed to just tell us his Dark Secret Off-Screen. Even though as a yer he would like for us to. We had to figure it out.


    Luckily, I had already set up <strong>Cinema Seer</strong> with that prediction. If I was right, everyone but Bobby would get a buff to Grit and Savvy.


    I was certain that there was something more toe. It had to be something that would make my character hesitant to work with him, even to survive.


    I walked back into the room where the ghost was being interrogated by the others. They had not made much headway.


    ¡°I was so scared,¡± he said. ¡°You have no idea¡­¡±


    It was like he was floating in the sea during a storm. He could talk to us and answer our questions. He even showed some personality. But then a ¡°wave¡± woulde and he would go back underwater. He would emerge suddenly very scared and mournful. Ghosts worked in cycles like that, apparently.


    ¡°How did you get stuck out there?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Girl I¡¯m talking to right now. She¡¯s a freak. 100% my type. Craziest girl I¡¯ve ever tried to get with though. She¡¯s into ghosts and witches and all kinds of weird shit. I¡¯m notining. She¡¯s hot. She wanted me toe here and help her talk to some famous ghost. I couldn¡¯t chicken out, not when I got her on the line.¡±


    His head wasn¡¯t on straight, but still, he smiled and licked his lips every time he paused his sentence. When heughed, his head bounced slightly.


    ¡°All I got to do is y this weird game she found on the inte. Spooky sure. I figure when it doesn¡¯t work she''ll be disappointed but, you know, we got all these rooms¡­. Things could really work out well for me. But the game worked. There were things out there. Something I couldn¡¯t understand. She¡¯s writing down their answers. Ring the bell. Don¡¯t ring the bell, you know.¡±


    I nodded. I understood why The Ten Second Game used a bell tomunicate yes or no answers. Ghosts were oversharers.


    ¡°Then things started getting freaky. Not in the way I wanted. Started thinking, woah, is this girl worth it? My ex wasn¡¯t this much trouble and she had two kids from different baby daddies¡­ I wonder how they are. I kind of miss them not gonna lie. I couldn¡¯t make things work with my ex she was way older than me¡­ like thirty, but those kids were great. I always wonder if I should have stuck around just for them. The little one, Justin, he asked if he could call me dad and I said no. He was my little buddy. Why did I say no? Fuck. Why did I say no? I could have been a good dad¡­¡±


    He paused for a moment and then started back in. ¡°I was so scared. You wouldn¡¯t me me if you knew. I had to run. That thing¡­ it isn¡¯t like anything I¡­ I had to run.¡±


    He was having difficulty keeping on topic.


    ¡°You said that something freaky started to happen when ying the game?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It was out there. Took Sid so long to figure out. We thought we were talking to a dozen different ghosts, but it was that¡­ whatever it was the entire time. I couldn¡¯t even understand what I was looking at. We saw one ghost get really close. And we talked to it. And it got closer and closer. We asked it questions. It was somedy that drowned. Her face was all messed up from something. Then she got closer and we could see something in the darkness standing right behind her. So close behind her we almost couldn¡¯t see it. Like it was hiding behind her. And then she got closer and Sid was asking her about her life and whether she knew this famous guy. And then she got closer¡­ and I heard it. It wasughing. ck like a shadow in an old photo. So close to her, I couldn¡¯t make it out. And then I saw the stitches like the body of this dripping wet woman was sewn right to him. And he wasughing because he tricked us! He tricked us into letting him get close!¡±


    J.T. was breathing faster and faster. He was terrified of whatever it was he was picturing in his mind.


    ¡°And then he got close enough to where I could see that behind him, somehow, I couldn¡¯t understand, there were more dead people sewn to him. The drowned woman disappeared and then some prospector dude who had been crushed in a cave-in or something, he came out, sewn on like the others. He was trying to talk, to yell at us, but his jaw and teeth were ruined. The dead people sewn to that thing were all wiggling and scared and he could make them move and talk¡­. I ran. I turned and ran. A dead biker was standing right behind me, face and shoulder ground down to nothing but hamburger meat. The thing was right behind him. So close I couldn¡¯t see it except at the very edge. I strained to get a look but I couldn''t. It was so close behind him and hiding. We had nowhere to go but out. So Sid opened the window and we ran.¡±


    He was paralyzed with fear.


    ¡°The dead all showed how they died. You could see it. I don¡¯t want to end up like that. Is that what happens to the people we love? They end up walking out there dead, body parts cut up and gross.¡±


    He paused. A sudden realization dawned on his crooked face. He started to slowly reach up his right hand. He was going to feel his neck. We had let him go too far. Soon, he would realize he was dead and we would be in trouble.


    ¡°Was Sid the hot chick?¡± Bobby asked.


    J.T. looked at him. There was a sudden shift.


    ¡°You have no idea. I don¡¯t usually go for quiet chicks, but damn. She was like half goth ¡®cause her mom died. I really dug it. The goth thing, not¡­ you know. She wore sweaters and jeans a lot, but you could tell she had a body¡­ damn¡­ I hope it didn¡¯t get her.¡±


    ¡°So you were one of Sidney¡¯s friends,¡± The Stranger said.


    The ghost turned to look at him. ¡°Yeah, Sidney.¡±


    The Stranger looked at me and then at the others. We knew that his daughter¡¯s name was Sidney.


    Off-Screen.


    The ghost abruptly walked into the hallway. He wasn¡¯t going anywhere in particr as far as I could tell. He just wandered from room to room like he was looking for something.


    The rest of us went back into the living room with Isaac. He was standing over Cassie''s body.


    ¡°We need to put her somewhere where she won¡¯t be on camera. Maybe the storage room. I need help moving her,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I don¡¯t want it using her like a prop.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll help,¡± Bobby offered.


    But Isaac couldn¡¯t bring himself to touch her corpse.


    ¡°Here,¡± Dina said. She waved him aside. Then she and Bobby carried Cassie¡¯s body down the hall.


    ~-~


    ¡°You can¡¯t tell us anything about your Dark Secret, can you?¡± I asked.


    The Stranger shook his head.


    I was going to have to keep working at it On-Screen. I had a theory. Assuming his secret was not yet revealed, the best time to do so would be in the middle of Rebirth. That¡¯s what was supposed to happen at the midpoint ording to the Plot Cycle. New information that reframes the narrative in some way.


    Most of the time, we just watched the midpoint fly by. We never focused on making sure the midpoint revtion was meaningful. This trope might have been designed for just that. One big reveal.


    Dina and Bobby returned and we discussed battle ns. It looked like we might be headed outside into the parallel world of the dead.


    ¡°Can we get more information out of J.T.?¡± Bobby asked. ¡°I feel he knows more.¡±


    ¡°He does know more. He might know where my character¡¯s daughter is or how to beat that thing,¡± The Stranger said.


    ¡°You guys might be right, but I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll get the opportunity. Carousel isn¡¯t going to let us have another scene with him unless it''s interesting. It might get repetitive,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going to give Constance a call. Her research trope takes time to kick in. We need to figure out what can be used to defeat ghosts and that thing. Let¡¯s not forget that Antoine¡¯s still out there. Our characters will probably think Kimberly is too.¡±


    ¡°How do we know Antoine isn¡¯t dead?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°Carousel targets the person with the lowest Plot Armor unless a trope intervenes or even if¡ª¡±


    ¡°Me,¡± he said.


    He had 11 Plot Armor. Even lower than mine.


    I nodded. ¡°Unless he starts a fight with a ghost, he¡¯s not going to be targeted. We¡¯re Off-Screen. For all we know Antoine is On-Screen right now fighting for his life.¡±


    ¡°With a baseball bat,¡± Dina said. "Against ghosts."


    ¡°He¡¯s fast,¡± Bobby said. ¡°With his Hustle, he can outrun anything out there.¡±


    I agreed. What we didn¡¯t say was that Antoine was very messed up from spending unimaginable amounts of time trapped in the Straggler Forest. His trope, <strong>You were having a nightmare¡­</strong> could help fight the trauma from that. In fact, it had already cured his catatonia. His trauma though wasn¡¯t gone. It just looked for an opportunity to reemerge. Right that moment, Antoine was walking through thend of the dead, a ce we had just been told had mystical geography. I just hoped he could hold on.


    ~-~


    The moment we were back On-Screen, I was dialing Constance Barlow¡¯s number. She had handed us her business card for emergencies. There could be no better emergency.


    ¡°Hello?¡± she asked groggily. ¡°Who is this? Do you have any idea what time it is?¡±


    ¡°Constance¡­. Ms. Barlow, this is Riley. You just dropped me and my friends off at the resort on the hill.¡±


    ¡°I remember. Is there something wrong?¡± she asked.


    I wasn¡¯t supposed to tell her the truth. Doing so would damn her. I had to make an excuse to get her to research the monster that J.T. Guzman had described.


    ¡°We were assigned a suite at the hotel that is supposed to be haunted. We knew that Carousel was big on spooky stuff¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, our founder, Bartholomew Geist was a noted horror film producer, amateur ultist, and abysmal alchemist. We celebrate our unusual roots. Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°Well, the hotel employee here has been going on about how haunted this ce is, telling us about ghosts, and some strange monster that lives here. My friend Dina is really superstitious and maybe you could give her some closure. You have to understand. She lost her son years back. The idea that he might still be with us in some way¡­ It would really put her mind at ease if you could give us some info about it all.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    I couldn¡¯t tell whether she liked my clumsy excuse.


    ¡°You see this creature is supposed to hurt ghosts or something. Sew them to its body. She believes her son is still with her like a guardian angel. The idea of this thing¡­ it¡¯s really upsetting her. If you could just tell us about the legend and how to beat it, that would put her mind at ease.¡±


    Constance breathed deeply.


    ¡°This is why entertaining all of this ghosts and goblins nonsense is hical and unwise¡­ oh¡­ alright,¡± She said. ¡°Tell me about this creature so I can research it. I am fairly well-read on local legends and such.¡±


    I described the creature J.T. had told us about. How it sewed ghosts onto itself, seeming to hide behind them as a trick. How there was something confusing about how it looked, how it could have so many ghosts attached to its body and still hide behind one woman almostpletely.


    ¡°You said itughs?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°The hotel guy was very specific about that. Itughs because it tricked you.¡±


    ¡°It just so happens that I read something simr to that years ago. I just need to find the book¡­ I need to get dressed and get to my study. I¡¯ll look into this and call you back on this number. Is that okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°Oh, before I forget. How do you defend yourself against a ghost? Assuming one attacked you?¡±


    ¡°Assuming disbelief isn''t effective, I haven¡¯t the faintest idea. I¡¯ll have to look into that as well.¡±


    ¡°Ok,¡± I said. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    I hung up the phone.


    I needed to make a n and I felt like I had a fraction of the information I needed to do that. We had to go find Antoine. That was the way forward. We had no choice. It wasn¡¯t because that was the smart y. Staying in the house was the smart y. Except for one little problem.


    If we stayed in the house, spirits would want toe speak with us. We couldn¡¯t do that because we had searched the room after Kimberly and Antoine had disappeared.


    The bell we needed to speak to the spirits was missing.


    I needed Constance to call back. I needed to form a n.


    I needed more time.

 Arc II, Chapter 18: Lets Split Up, Gang

    Arc II, Chapter 18: Let''s Split Up, Gang


    It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out a solution to our problem. We had to leave the hotel suite and venture out into thend of ghosts, but I also had to be avable for a call from Constance, who was researching the lore of the creature described by our deceased friend.


    The solution was the cell phone in my pocket.


    This storyline, unlike those I had previously run, was set in an age where cell phones were ubiquitous. Modern movies had toe up with reasons to take cell phones out of the picture because they were just too useful for resolving horror scenarios.


    In Carousel, they were unusable without a trope that allowed you to use the phone, a trope like the one Constance had.


    The very moment I was On-Screen next, I pulled out my phone and noticed that it had full bars for the first time since I arrived in Carousel. I dialed Antoine¡¯s phone number. I had to hope that Antoine had kept his phone on his person.


    There was no such luck. As soon as I dialed his number, I heard his phone ringing in his duffel. Anyone watching would think it was ridiculous for a young guy like him to keep his phone in his bag instead of his pocket, but modern horror movies used this very trick to disarm victims.


    ¡°Dammit,¡± I said.


    ¡°Try Kimberly,¡± Dina said hopefully.


    We knew it wouldn¡¯t work. We didn¡¯t have a trope for contacting our friends, even when they were in good health. That wasn¡¯t the point. All we needed was to establish to the audience that we did have cell phones and hopefully establish that they worked in this storyline.


    Carousel did not disappoint.


    Kimberly had her phone on her at the time of her disappearance because it was in the cloth bag she was using as a purse. She had practically kept it strapped to her chest.


    ¡°It¡¯s ringing,¡± I said. ¡°She¡¯s not picking up.¡±


    Our characters wouldn¡¯t know she was dead so we had to act in false hope of contacting her. I hoped that by establishing on camera that her phone was ringing even though she was out in the ghost realm, it would be enough to show cell phones would work and that Constance would be able to call me on my phone.


    Kimberly¡¯s phone rang and rang.


    And then someone answered.


    ¡°Hello?¡± a man¡¯s voice said desperately. ¡°Please. You have to help me.¡±


    I put the phone on speaker and said, ¡°Who is this?¡±


    ¡°My name is Jon,¡± the man on the other end said. ¡°I¡¯m lost. I don¡¯t know where I am. You have to help me!¡±


    ¡°Ok Jon,¡± I said. I looked around at Bobby, Dina, The Stranger, and Isaac like I didn¡¯t know what to do, but then I continued. ¡°I called my friend. Is she there with you?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a girl here,¡± Jon said. ¡°Oh my god, she¡¯s¡­ I think she¡¯s dead.¡±


    We all gave our appropriate reactions, except for Isaac, who was not ready for it right then.


    ¡°Where did you say you were?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Jon said, ¡°I¡¯ve been walking for so long.¡±


    ¡°Do you see arge building with a bunch of windows on a hillside?¡± The Stranger asked.


    There was no answer.


    Then, there was a chillingugh. Not an evilugh, augh like someone thought something was so hrious that they couldn¡¯t hold it in any longer. A deep-throated joyousugh.


    Click.


    The phone call ended.


    Carousel had taken my idea and ran with it. We had established that cell phones worked in thend of ghosts and the monster of the week had gotten to give us an interaction. Everybody got something.


    I stared down at my cell phone as the screen went dark after the call ended.


    ¡°The gho¡ªthe guy in there said that the creatureughed,¡± Bobby said.


    I nodded slowly. What came next would be the debate about whether to leave the apparent safety of the suite and venture out into the dark. I didn¡¯t want to y the hesitant one. I didn¡¯t want to do that song and dance. Maybe for this film, we would all be brave and reckless heroes.


    I wanted to take the offense, in a narrative sense.


    ¡°I¡¯m going out there,¡± I said. ¡°Kimberly and Antoine are still out there.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t he say your friend was dead?¡± Bobby asked.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve got this sense that if we stay here, we die. My grandmother always taught me to trust my intuition. That¡¯s what I¡¯m doing. Here, we¡¯re sitting targets. Not just for that thing, for all ghosts. When they arrive and we don¡¯t have the bell to be able tomunicate with them¡­ we¡¯ll be trapped.¡±


    There was a pause as everyone started to consider what I had said.


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± The Stranger said. ¡°I¡¯ve spent too much time asking yes or no questions to random spirits. Now that I know Sidney is out there, that¡¯s where I¡¯m going.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going too,¡± Dina said. She could have at least tried to act afraid.


    ¡°But J.T. said that he left your daughter behind,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that mean it¡¯s toote?¡±


    ¡°He also said that he barely got away and we know that isn¡¯t true,¡± The Stranger said.


    ¡°Should someone stay here just in case?¡± Bobby asked nervously. Good. We needed someone to act reluctant.


    ¡°It¡¯s like the guy said,¡± The Stranger said, nodding his head in my direction. ¡°You stick around here, you¡¯ll be ticking off the spirits. All I know is you don¡¯t want that to happen.¡±


    ¡°They can¡¯t get angry if no one is in the house,¡± Dina said.


    I could see that Isaac was trying to think of something to say. He started to speak several times but then hesitated.


    ¡°I¡¯ll call and give the librarian my cell so she can reach us out there,¡± I said. I moved away from the group to take the call.


    Apparently, that wasn¡¯t interesting to Carousel because we immediately went Off-Screen.


    I dialed the number on Constance¡¯s card.


    ¡°This trope takes time,¡± Constance said immediately. She must have been Off-Screen too. As near as I could tell, that was how Carousel treated phones.


    If the audience can hear you, you are On-Screen. If they can¡¯t, you¡¯re Off-Screen. I had been curious about that.


    ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°Dial this number when you have the information. We might not be around the hotel phone for a while.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± she said. ¡°Riley¡­¡± she paused for a moment, ¡°This request you made for the monster¡¯s weakness is taking far longer than it should. I¡¯ve barely got anything. That isn¡¯t normal. By now I should know something about it, even if it isn¡¯t useful. I haven¡¯t learned anything.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s a tough enemy?¡±


    ¡°That would be my conclusion, yes.¡±


    ¡°So the goal is to avoid it, not kill it,¡± I said.


    One thing that had been impressed on me by the Vets was that enemies with levels far too high for their storylines were usually not meant to be killed or else they are meant to be killed in a very specific way, as a werewolf might be killed by a silver bullet. If she was having difficulty finding its weakness, that implied it was a strong enemy.


    ¡°That would be ideal,¡± Constance said. Her tone carried something unspoken.


    ¡°Or are you suggesting that we can¡¯t beat it?¡±


    She thought for a moment before she spoke, as she had before when reading her script.


    ¡°This is untrodden territory,¡± she said, finally. ¡°One can¡¯t really presume to know Carousel¡¯s intentions.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Call me if you get something.¡±


    I hung up the phone. Was the implication that Carousel did not intend for us to survive?


    ¡°What do we do if we find a ghost?¡± Isaac asked before we left while we were still Off-Screen.


    I shrugged. ¡°We don¡¯t let it know it¡¯s dead.¡±


    ¡°And if we find the other thing?¡±


    ¡°Run,¡± I said. ¡°Or hit them with the rake.¡±


    He had settled on bringing a wooden-handled rake as a weapon. It had been in the storage room. There had also been a broom and mop, but he felt the rake might be funnier because of the springy sound it made when it hit something. I thought the mop was the funniest, but I wasn¡¯t going to argue with him on his first day out.


    ¡°Remember the n,¡± I said. I had given everyone specific instructions on how I wanted our search to go. Hundreds of hours of movies had gone into my ns. They were meant to give us the best chance possible. Like most horror movies, the hard part is finding all the reasons for people to make the stupid decisions that would move the plot forward.


    I just hoped our choreography was on point.


    I tried to think through anything else to say. I exined to him how to use his healing trope, though I had little hope that <strong>If he¡¯s still cracking jokes¡­ </strong>woulde into y with this specific enemy.


    ¡°It¡¯s convenient that everyone has cellr phones these days, isn¡¯t it?¡± The Stranger asked me.


    ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m working on it.¡±


    He was hinting that we should be working on getting the voicemail yed. His trope clearly prevented him from just telling me what his <strong>Dark Secret</strong> was. I had to investigate it. I still had time.


    My own tropes were not optimized for going into a fight. I had hoped that The Insert Shot would havee into y better, but the only object I had found in the Party Phase that applied to it was the bathroom mirror that had not been coveredpletely. I had no clue if marking it was a good idea or not so I hadn¡¯t yet.


    All I could think about were the things I wished I had done better. I wished that I was not the only high-savvy yer on our team anymore. Having Camden around to talk things through with had made me so much less stressed, even though neither of us knew what we were talking about.


    Now I was alone. Whether I liked it or not, they acted like I was the man with the n and I just felt like the man trying not to screw up. I hoped desperately that I would not mess everything up on the very first storyline of the Throughline.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°We leave the window open,¡± I said. ¡°This is our way back from the outside. We find them and thene right back here,¡± I said.


    We were fortunate that the house was at the top of arge hill. If the spirit realm was a reflection of our world, then we should be able to find our way back.


    But if that was true, why hadn¡¯t Antoine returned? Why didn¡¯t the Stranger¡¯s daughter return? For plot reasons. That¡¯s what I told myself. They could have returned but they didn¡¯t strictly for plot reasons. That was always the answer when characters didn¡¯t do something obvious.


    ¡°Everyone ready?¡± I asked.


    As if to answer, the Stranger climbed right out the window. He was the only person with a shlight so I had no choice but to follow. Though I had my smartphone for the first time that I could use as a light, I didn¡¯t want to waste the battery. That would be too tempting for Carousel to pass up.


    I asked myself if we should have waited a minute and fashioned torches or something?


    No. Torches in movies were only useful because of movie magic. In real life, they would be hard to make and go out too often. Without a trope that would make themst long enough to be useful, it was a bad idea, even with my high Savvy.


    I was overthinking things. I felt like we had been given exceedingly little information to aplish this task, but then, I always did.


    Luckily, not every effort had gone to waste.


    As soon as we had climbed out the window, Dina said, ¡°I hear him. I hear my son.¡±


    She started moving quickly toward the tree line. Even the Stranger changed course to follow.


    Unlike me, Dina had no qualms about using her phone for a light, though she only had a small flip phone with no dedicated shlight on it.


    She led us through the underbrush and down the hill.


    With one look back toward the suite, I noticed that J.T., the talkative ghost, was standing in the room watching us go. If he shut that window, he was a dead man.


    The Stranger had thrown caution to the wind and had begun calling his daughter¡¯s name. He seemed certain that she was nearby.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that Sidney would have gone this far,¡± he said eventually.


    We all assumed that he knew what he was talking about.


    ¡°He may be right,¡± I said. ¡°Surely Antoine and Kimberly would have tried to stay close too.¡±


    ¡°Do you still hear your son?¡± Bobby asked Dina.


    ¡°He saide this way,¡± she answered. ¡°Can¡¯t you hear him?¡±


    We all paused and listened. I heard a faint howl of the wind, which blew like a storm in the ghost realm.


    In fact, no one else heard him.


    ¡°I swear he¡¯s here,¡± she said. ¡°He said I need to follow him this way. If there¡¯s even a chance of seeing him again. You have to understand.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re looking for living people!¡± The Stranger said. ¡°We have to prioritize that. Haven¡¯t you considered that the voice you hear is a trap? That thing seems to like tricking people.¡±


    I knew he was wrong and so did he. Dina¡¯s trope was pretty clear that her son¡¯s presence was a positive thing, but our characters absolutely would not see it that way.


    ¡°I¡¯m going!¡± Dina said. She marched off in the direction.


    ¡°No!¡± I whisper-screamed. ¡°Dina get back here!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going back toward the top of the hill,¡± The Stranger said. ¡°I¡¯m telling you they wouldn¡¯t have gone this far.¡±


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Isaac asked nervously, his rake shaking in his hands.


    ¡°Make for the suite,¡± I said, pointing uphill in the direction the Stranger had gone.


    Isaac and Bobby did as they were told.


    I looked back over my shoulder toward the direction Dina had gone and paused. I walked that way and considered following her. Then I changed my mind, but as soon as I turned around, I noticed that the others had gone too far ahead of me.


    We were all separate.


    Just like I nned.


    Not only did I do better on my own, but I had shared a theory with the others that we had to be on our own. As we walked together, we watched the Plot Cycle. It didn¡¯t move an inch. That meant the story was not moving forward. That was Carousel¡¯s subtle hint that something had to change.


    So, we split up. We tried to make it convincing.


    Carousel wasn¡¯t going to let the next part of the story happen when we were all together. That would be too easy.


    I was right. As soon as we split up, the Plot Cycle started moving forward again. I heard something in the distance. It wasn¡¯t one of those in the group. It wasn¡¯t Dina¡¯s son.


    It was Antoine. He was yelling. I couldn¡¯t hear what he was saying, but I did know where the screams wereing from.


    I ran further downhill to the right of where Dina had gone. I ran until I hit the river bank. The river was the same one that we had such a hard time crossing after the Apocalypse.


    I could see Antoine on the ground next to the bank. He was injured. Specifically, he was Hobbled and Incapacitated.


    He screamed for help.


    It was a trap. It was clearly a trap, in fact. Antoine¡¯s status had him listed as Captured.


    Normally, going after him would be an obvious blunder. yers would need a good excuse not to immediately help their friend. New yers would fall for the trap out of concern for their teammates.


    I didn¡¯t need an excuse to stay away. I just needed to be oblivious.


    I just had to hope that Antoine would have the presence of mind to know what to do next.


    I ran down toward him, squinting as if I could barely see my hand in front of my face. It was dark outside. Not that dark, but dark enough that my character might have trouble seeing danger.


    I approached him quickly pretending not to see my surroundings. Antoineid back and closed his eyes.


    ¡°Riley¡­¡± he was too weak to speak, or at least he pretended to be. We had gone over this scenario before, more or less.


    ¡°I got you,¡± I said. ¡°I got you.¡±


    Nothing had appeared to try and attack me yet. I needed to get Antoine up and headed back uphill before it did. I could feel Oblivious Bystander activating. The hidden monster would be posing for the camera soon. The audience would see how much danger lurked right behind me. The was no telling how long it wouldst. This was not an ideal setup.


    ¡°You just take it easy,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll get you back to the suite.¡±


    I hoisted him up and in the rush of things, I "identally" dropped my tape yer out of my pocket. I grabbed it with my one free hand and pushed y, again on ident, as I shoved it back in my pocket.


    "Dammit," I said. I shoved Antoine''s arm further up onto my shoulder. Antoine did his best to look out of it. One leg was injured but the other was good enough. The bump on his head gave us good cover. I let the music y the 90s grunge that was on the tape.


    Something had juste out from hiding behind us.


    I didn''t even try to look at its tropes yet. I had to keep my eyes ahead. Antoine had casually bumped my hood up with his arm around my shoulders until it was blocking my vision of whatever was behind me.


    "You just focus on walking," I said. "I''ll guide us. We''ve got a big step here."


    This wasn''t going tost forever. Oblivious Bystander was not designed for situations where the danger was known. It just wasn''t believable that someone would be, well, oblivious in that situation.


    But maybe, if someone was so focused on getting their friend to safety that they didn''t notice the growing threat behind them.


    Maybe if they identally yed music to cover the soft sounds of the thing following, the sounds ofughter.


    Maybe then, they could get up the hill without noticing the figure behind them.


    Maybe the figure would get bored and go after some other yer with lower Plot Armor.


    Just maybe.

 Arc II, Chapter 19: The Ghost Collector

    Arc II, Chapter 19: The Ghost Collector


    My <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong> strategy was running thin. Even with the darkness that could conceal the enemy from my gaze and all of my efforts to provide cover, we were in danger. Our strongest hope was that Carousel had other ns for us.


    I had watched my other uses of <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong> on the red wallpaper before using <strong>Director¡¯s Monitor</strong>. Usually, Carousel used ten or so seconds of the footage it shot. Just enough to show me at risk and then it would cut to something else. By the time the camera came back to me, the threat was practically gone.


    The exception was the time I used eating cereal as cover against Ranger Danger. Carousel showed almost that whole scenebined with the murder I was ignoring. I looked like a lucky idiot.


    The question was, when would we go Off-Screen? When would our pursuer lose interest?


    I pictured the scene in my mind, trying to will it into reality. <em>I rush to check on Antoine, the monster watches from afar, and CUT. The camera goes back to Isaac or Bobby or Dina¡­</em>


    But there was no cut.


    It was only then that I remembered that I was in a storyline with Outsiders and a Wallflower. They were not really scene stealers. Dina was probably using her trope to stay Off-Screen. I doubted Isaac was doing anything too interesting as a Comedian and Constance was just researching.


    Antoine and I were probably the most interesting characters at that moment. The plot was not moving forward anywhere else.


    The monster was behind us by twenty yards or so. Surely that meant it wasn¡¯t about to go in for an attack? We weren¡¯t even next on the priority list.


    Why continue to watch us if it wasn¡¯t going to attack?


    As I pondered all of this, my heart nearly beating out of my chest, my muscles sore from carrying much of Antoine¡¯s weight, something changed.


    A message appeared on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°Straight downhill past this tree. Bunch of dead people. Actual bodies, not ghosts. Off-Screen the whole time. Watching from the shadows. Son is scared. -Dina¡±


    Dina had the ability to post messages for her allies on the red wallpaper with her <strong>Pen Pal</strong> trope. The only catch was that the messages were tied to a specific location. This was the first time she had used it to my knowledge.


    I recognized this location as the ce we had split up. It made sense she had chosen that spot.


    I couldn¡¯t go check out the bodies she was talking about. It would be hard to justify that change in direction. Plus, that was a hard right turn that would inevitably lead to me seeing the monster in the darkness behind us.


    We had to keep going uphill.


    Off-Screen. Finally.


    As we continued walking, I could still catch glimpses of something behind us in the corner of my eye. I still heard the asionalugh over my music.


    Was it just going to stick around even without the camera? The Chase Scene status wasn¡¯t even lit because <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong> prevented that.


    Was this thing just watching us out of curiosity?


    For five minutes it kept watching us as we climbed upward.


    We kept up the ruse of me helping Antoine the whole time just in case, but I got this feeling that <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong> had deactivated long ago. We should have been safe.


    And then the creature quickened its pace. It was running behind us. With Antoine Hobbled and me carrying him, we weren¡¯t going to be able to outrun it.


    That didn¡¯t actually matter.


    It ran past us. Right past us, practically nudging me out of the way as it went.


    What I saw was difficult to describe. It was the type of thing only possible in dreams. It was a man¡ªa ghost to be more precise. He was dressed in a blue button-up shirt and a yellow neon vest. He wore a tool belt. He was probably in his early thirties, slightly overweight, dark hair, unshaven. He was an electrician to be more exact if the lightning-shaped burns on his face, neck, and shirt meant what I thought they meant.


    He turned his head to me as he passed. The man himself looked confused, lost. It almost looked like he wanted to ask me a question.


    I felt an aura as he passed that chilled my blood.


    ck thread wound around and through the man¡¯s skin all over. It looked like he had been in some sort of industrial sewing machine ident.


    Behind him, there was something. I couldn¡¯t describe it any better than that. There was a dark, blurry figure. I felt like I could see more if I just craned my neck, but it was impossible. This guy passed me and the figure still looked like he was standing behind the electrician. The logic made no sense.


    A woman¡¯s hand stuck out from behind the man as he passed me and waved. Then another arm shot out, again, waving. The arms were dead. That was scary enough, even in the moonlight they looked pale.


    That wasn¡¯t the thing that scared me though.


    I hadn¡¯t been able to see the poster for the ghost who had waved at me when I yed the Ten Second Game. I didn¡¯t know if that was a trope effect or if I just didn¡¯t see them clearly enough.


    I saw these three on the red wallpaper though.


    The electrician was a Wandering Spirit like J.T. Guzman had been. Same tropes. I didn¡¯t catch his name because I was distracted.


    The first arm was from a woman named Ma. She was called a ¡°Presence¡± on the red wallpaper.


    Ma Keen (Presence)


    Plot Armor: 7


    __________


    Tropes


    Unfinished Business


    This entity didn¡¯t manage to aplish something in life and now lingers.


    Ambient Energy


    This entity serves as a spiritual battery for other entities.


    Peer Pressure


    This entity may not be aggressive, but will join with other entities as part of a collective.


    Her tropes were not even close to being the worst part. One detail I often skimmed over when analyzing enemies was the poster itself. I mostly focused on the namete underneath which often contained a description of what the enemy was.


    The poster itself was usually not that informative because most of its text was usually something like ¡°So and So is <em>The Bad Guy</em> in <em>The Horror Movie Title.¡±</em>


    It just wasn''t the information I usually needed because the namete had all the important stuff like Plot Armor. Plus, the smaller trope posters usually took most of my attention.


    Whatever the case: the poster was usually not that important other than for getting a better look at the enemy.


    Ma¡¯s poster showed her floating in the shadows behind a door in an old house at night. Spooky. Not important.


    But the text itself was important.


    ¡°Ma Keen is a<em> Presence</em> in <em>The Fixer Upper</em>.¡±


    I stopped and reread it. <em>The Fixer Upper?</em>


    The other arm didn¡¯t belong to Ma. It belonged to someone called Newscaster (Dusty). I didn¡¯t see his tropes. I wasn¡¯t looking at them. I saw an image of him on fire.


    ¡°Newscaster (Dusty) is a <em>Haunting Vision</em> in <em>They Never Sleep¡­</em>¡±


    Antoine and I stopped in our tracks and watched as the electrician and the many entities behind him continued up the path.


    I never saw the shadowy figure on the red wallpaper. It was shielded somehow. Perhaps that was why it hid behind things.


    When it was out of view, I asked Antoine, ¡°Did you see that?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing that killed Kimberly,¡± he said. ¡°It had a hundred arms.¡±


    ¡°Killed Cassie too. Remotely,¡± I said.


    Antoine drew a deep breath. ¡°It could have killed me. It didn¡¯t. Maybe because of Plot Armor, I don¡¯t know. It just yed with me. It broke my leg. Snapped it in half On-Screen and one of the ghosts told me I wasn¡¯t ¡®going to walk that off.¡¯¡±


    That was worrying. Antoine¡¯s <strong>Walk It Off</strong> trope would allow him to recover from his Hobbled status, but that wasn¡¯t going to work if the audience saw it get visibly shattered.


    ¡°It can see our tropes,¡± I said.


    Antoine nodded. ¡°That¡¯s what I figure.¡±


    ¡°Did you look at the ghosts on the red wallpaper?¡± I asked.


    He shrugged. ¡°Yeah, why?¡±


    Antoine didn¡¯t have an Insight trope that would make examining enemies on the red wallpaper a priority. He hadn¡¯t noticed what I did.


    ¡°Not all of the ghosts are from this movie,¡± I said.


    ¡°They¡¯re from different storylines?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Different tropes and everything. Different types of movie ghosts altogether.¡±


    That was a big deal. I had never seen an enemy in the wrong storyline. Even the Avenging Dead had said they were from <em>Permanent Vacancy</em> even though they were clearly not a part of the original storyline.


    ¡°What does that tell us?¡± he asked.


    ¡°All I have are theories,¡± I said.


    He digested what we had just discussed.


    ¡°You saw Dina¡¯s note?¡± he asked.


    I nodded.


    "There''s a lot going on here," he said.


    We started making our way further uphill in the direction the monster had gone. Our characters wouldn¡¯t know it had gone that way or even that it had been following us. We had no choice but to pretend.


    One benefit of being Off-Screen was that we didn¡¯t have to be so careful. Antoine was holding back before. Without having to keep Oblivious Bystander active we made our way up the hill much faster.


    ¡°I¡¯m d to have Grit,¡± he said. ¡°I barely feel my leg right now.¡±


    Grit could help you not feel pain. Antoine also had a tendency to lie about his pain.


    ¡°Maybe I should get some,¡± I said. I had plenty of experience with getting hurt.


    After we had been going for a while, he said, ¡°Thanks for rescuing me.¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± I said.


    I was barely able to restrain myself from saying I told you so. I had listed the virtues of the strategy numerous times. I was just d Antoine knew what to do when I showed up.


    ¡°This is not designed for new yers,¡± he said.


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    We moved forward as fast as possible until eventually, I heard a scream ahead. We were still Off-Screen.


    We sped up as much as possible. Antoine had lost his bat. There wasn¡¯t much we could do to help if we got there, but still, we had to hurry.


    ¡°That sounded like Isaac,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°The newbies are not off to a fun start, are they?¡±


    We ran forward until we burst forth from the tree line at the top of the hill. I could see the hotel suite again.


    We were toote.


    The ghost of Cassie stood near the open window of the house. She was crying for her brother, begging for help from the rest of us. She was a yer still and had both of her yer tropes, but she was Dead and Infected on the red wallpaper. She had additional enemy tropes, the same ones that J.T. Guzman had.


    She didn¡¯t know she was dead.


    I couldn¡¯t see the ck threads from where I was, but I expected that she was not moving of her own ord. The shadowy figure had her. I was sure of it even if I couldn¡¯t see him.


    Isaacy on his back, Bobby standing over him. Isaac appeared to have been grabbed by his shaggy hair and yanked so hard that his scalp ripped, revealing part of his skull. Blood poured down his face profusely, but he was alive. It wasn¡¯t Second Blood yet. He didn¡¯t <em>have </em>to die. It wasn''t clear why the figure had not just killed him though.


    ¡°Settle down,¡± Bobby said nervously as he yanked off his hotel employee shirt and held it against the wound on Isaac¡¯s head. ¡°You¡¯ll be okay. I gotcha.¡±


    Isaac had a trope that might have been able to heal his injury depending on how much the audience saw, but he was not thinking straight enough to activate it.


    He was dry-heaving while Bobby tried to staunch the flow.


    The Stranger was with them. He stood over and rambled through a few choice phrases like ¡°Why would it just do that?¡± and ¡°I thought it wanted¡­¡± and ¡°Why didn¡¯t it kill him?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure what expression was on his face. Shock? Guilt? I wasn¡¯t sure what he was trying to convey.


    ¡°You thought it wanted what?¡± I asked.


    He looked up at me like a deer in the headlights. He had been so distracted he hadn¡¯t seen me arrive.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said.


    ¡°You know something you aren¡¯t telling us!¡± I screamed.


    In the distance, Cassie¡¯s ghost turned and suddenly someone else was standing in her ce. A young red-haired woman who was just as scared and afraid as Cassie had been. I recognized her well enough to know who she was without even looking at the red wallpaper.


    The red hair was a dead giveaway.


    ¡°That¡¯s,¡± I said¡­ ¡°That¡¯s one of the guests whose luggage was delivered to our room.¡±


    They were four siblings. Their things had gotten lost by the airline and were delivered to their hotel long after they arrived. I had seen their picture.


    ¡°You said you scared them away!¡± I yelled.


    ¡°No, no,¡± The Stranger said. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. You can¡¯t imagine.¡±


    ¡°What did you do?¡± Antoine screamed, acting as if he would lunge at the man if he were able.


    I heardughtering from the direction of the hotel room. The ghost amalgam had climbed in the window. It closed the window and sat on the bed in the room, staring back at us.


    Suddenly, the hotel seemed further away than it had. I could see it in the distance. I could even see the ghost of J.T. Guzman running around upstairs as if looking for a ce to hide.


    ¡°It said it would give me my daughter back,¡± The Stranger confessed. ¡°I just had to find new yers. That¡¯s all. It wanted to talk to the living. I didn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°You served those people up to it!¡± I said. ¡°Shit, is that what we were?¡±


    A man just got scalped, I figured curse words were okay.


    ¡°No!¡± The Stranger said. ¡°Honest. I really did want you to stay away. I was going to y the game by myself.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Antoine said, ¡°How did you know that it wanted new yers? When did you talk to it? When you yed the Ten Second Game or¡­?¡±


    Antoine let the question hand in the air.


    ¡°The voicemail,¡± I said. ¡°You talked to it.¡±


    The Stranger looked away in shame.


    ¡°y it,¡± I said. ¡°I want to hear it.¡±


    The Stranger pulled a phone out of his pocket. He stared at it for a moment and even pressed some of the buttons on the side. I got the sense that he didn¡¯t have much experience with them. Then he tossed it to me.


    It was a normal smartphone of a generic movie brand.


    ¡°What¡¯s the password?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Sidney.¡±


    I typed in 743639. It unlocked. I went to the big icon that said voicemail and put it on speakerphone.


    ¡°¡­You have three saved messages. <em>First saved message</em>: ¡®Dad, I need you toe pick me up. Tonya¡¯s friend J.T. is too afraid to contact the dead with us and he¡¯s being a creeper. It¡¯s really bringing the vibe down. We haven¡¯t even seen the scary blue light yet. If youe, can you bang on our room¡¯s door? He¡¯s really jumpy. I just want to see him squirm. Love you!¡¯ <em>Second saved message</em>: ¡®You said you wereing an hour ago. Where are you? Why are you not picking up? Something strange is happening. I feel like it¡¯s working, but I¡¯m getting a funny feeling. Please hurry.¡¯ <em>Third saved message</em>.¡± A different voice came on, a man¡¯s voice. ¡°¡¯Hey, Dad, Sidney can¡¯te to the phone right now. I see you banging on the doors out there. Unfortunately, you¡¯re toote for tonight¡¯s game, but you can start another really soon. This silly ritual is really growing on me. I think I¡¯d like some more yers so I can get some practice. Gather some for me and I¡¯ll think about letting poor Sidney back in from the cold. Can¡¯t wait to see you. Better not y any tricks either. I would get mad if you did that.¡¯ End of messages.¡±

 Arc II, Chapter 20: Ready Player Ten

    Arc II, Chapter 20: Ready yer Ten


    ¡°You killed them?¡± Antoine screamed. He feigned an attempt to stand but was unable.


    Bobby, having gotten Isaac straightened out, started working on Antoine¡¯s leg. He gathered a broken branch from nearby and started constructing a splint. I couldn¡¯t tell if he was doing it properly because I didn¡¯t know how it was done. Still, he did his best to look like he was confident as he wrapped his belt around Antoine¡¯s leg.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t kill them!¡± The Stranger said. ¡°They yed the game. I swear. They knew the rules. I thought... I thought¡­¡±


    ¡°The rules didn¡¯t say anything about that thing,¡± Antoine said, gesturing up toward the figure in the window staring at us. ¡°You killed those people and now you killed Kimberly! She¡¯s gone. That thing killed her. She was the love of my life¡­. You¡ª"


    The Stranger nodded in defeat. ¡°I¡¯m not going to argue. True be told. I didn¡¯t care what happened to them. I promise though, I did not want it to happen to you or your girlfriend. You weren¡¯t supposed to be here. If I knew some way to run you off without getting run off myself, I would have done it!¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t do anything at all!¡± Antoine yelled back.


    ¡°Hold still,¡± Bobby said as he worked on Antoine¡¯s leg.


    ¡°When this is over, you can get your revenge on me,¡± The Stranger said. ¡°Kill me. Torture, I don¡¯t care. All that matters is that I find my daughter. That¡¯s it. I would do anything for her.¡±


    Off-Screen.


    That seemed short. Carousel must have gotten what it needed. Perhaps Antoine lying down on the ground and yelling at the Stranger wasn¡¯t aspelling as I had assumed.


    ¡°You think that¡¯s going to work?¡± Antoine asked, turning his attention to Bobby.


    ¡°Travis used to say that acting could do a lot of what tropes could do, it just wasn¡¯t guaranteed to work,¡± Bobby said. ¡°He never really borated on that or gave an example or demonstrated it¡­ It was just something he would say when I messed up or I was afraid to do something. I think this will work.¡±


    The logic was sound. Bobby ¡°setting¡± Antoine¡¯s broken bone On-Screenbined with Antoine¡¯s high Grit and <strong>Walk It Off</strong> trope might have been enough to swing some healing. Nothing was guaranteed.


    ¡°You might be able to use this as a walking stick,¡± someone behind us said. It was Dina. She had been watching from the shadows, waiting for us to go Off-Screen. She held out Antoine¡¯s baseball bat. ¡°Found it at the bottom of the hill. Along with a bunch of dead bodies. Did you get my note?¡±


    ¡°We got it,¡± Antoine said. He grabbed his bat and gripped it tight. He was ready for a fight. He was also at the end of his rope. He had been through a lot. Eventually, it would be too much and something would snap.


    ¡°Actually, you might give that back to her for a bit,¡± I said. ¡°We need to exin how you got it back to the audience. But great idea.¡±


    Antoine started tough. ¡°I am so tired of having to y these stupid games.¡±


    We could all agree with that.


    ¡°Isaac, you hanging in there?¡± I asked.


    He gave me a look that might have been ¡°Have you seen my head?¡±


    Instead, he said, ¡°When does the pain go away?¡±


    ¡°When we get to The End,¡± I said.


    I wish I could have the right words to say. I didn¡¯t. All I could give him were concrete goals to fixate on. That worked for me.


    I turned to The Stranger. ¡°So, you set some people up to die?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°It¡¯s looking that way. My Plot Armor is at zero. I know you all can¡¯t see it. Next, we make the trek down the hill?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Dina needs toe out of the woods and tell us about the bodies. Maybe throw in something about your son¡¯s ghost if you have it in the barrel. The Stranger will say he needs to go look for his daughter¡¯s body. We follow. Wait¡­ we already know Kimberly is dead because Antoine said so,¡± I paused to think up a good reason for us to climb back down the hill when the exit was in the other direction. The shadowy figure was in the house, true. It didn¡¯t matter. ¡°We¡¯ll just follow. We don¡¯t need a reason other than that¡¯s where the plot is going. This is a storyline based on a corny inte ritual. No one is expecting us to have logical motivations.¡±


    ¡°Going to see a body is a good enough reason, right?¡± Isaac asked. It was good to see him engaging even if it was with blood covering his face.


    ¡°Going to see a body is an excellent reason,¡± I said. In horror movies, anytime someone reports a body, the next shot had all of the important characters near the dead body makingmentary on it. No one questioned that sort of logic. In a horror movie, you hear about a murder, and you run, don¡¯t walk, to the scene of the crime.


    The way the scene yed out, my money said that the camera left us to go watch The Stranger¡¯s daughter somewhere. It could also have gone to Constance, but I leaned toward the first.


    We took our positions and waited.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°That should hold for a while,¡± Bobby said to Antoine. ¡°I did my best with what I had.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Antoine said.


    I watched the figure as it sat on a bed inside the hotel. The building felt so far away. I had no idea how we would get back there.


    Dina came running out of the forest. ¡°You have toe look,¡± she said, out of breath as if she had run all the way here. ¡°There¡¯s bodies. A dozen of them were at the bottom of the hill. I don¡¯t even know where they came from. My son says an evil man did it. He stacked them there like trophies. My son is terrified to go anywhere near it. Oh my god! The window is shut.¡±


    ¡°Bodies?¡± The Stranger asked. ¡°I need to go there now. If my daughter is there¡­ I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do¡­¡±


    He headed off in that direction. We were set to follow.


    ¡°Here,¡± Dina said, handing Antoine his bat. ¡°I found this with¡­ Kimberly. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Antoine grabbed the bat and used it as a walking stick to pull himself up to a standing position. He could move. His Hobble status was no longer solidly lit. It was flickering. That was an improvement.


    Before we could leave, I heard a loud winding sound.


    Then, a voice.


    ¡°Do you like it here?¡± the voice asked. It was loud and echoed over the area. ¡°Do you like this world?¡±


    A chill went down my spine.


    I turned to see the shadowy figure or at least the ghost of a burned man whose form he hid behind. He was holding the bell from Reply the Departed. He was going to ask us questions.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    ¡°No,¡± I said, but the words didn¡¯te out of my mouth. It was like the vibrated through the air but never made a sound.


    There was a winding sound.


    ¡°I do. I like it a lot. Strange ce, wouldn¡¯t you say? Folded and twisted. Put together like puzzle pieces from a thousand boxes. One wonders why¡­ Will you try to escape?¡±


    He was almost breaking character there. What kind of enemy would risk that?


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Antoine answered. I couldn¡¯t hear what he said. The words were pulled from his mouth like mine had been.


    Brriiinnnngggg!


    The bell sounded in the distance. Antoine¡¯s answer had been reduced to a simple ringing of the bell for yes.


    ¡°The game should go on, I suppose,¡± the figure said. The burned man he was hiding behind stood up and walked out of the room and into the living room.


    None of us could speak. We just looked at each other.


    My phone started to ring. It sounded so close to the bell ringing that I almost jumped into the air.


    I picked it up and answered it.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I said. ¡°Riley¡¯s phone. This is Riley speaking.¡±


    Just in case the audience hadn¡¯t heard my name yet. My name often didn¡¯t get said untilte in movies.


    ¡°Evening. Or morning, I might say,¡± Constance said. ¡°I¡¯ve called with the information you requested.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. Lay it on me.¡±


    ¡°To deal with ghosts, simply avoid angering them. Lost spirits, if you believe in such things, are quite docile as long as they are left to their own devices. Certainly don¡¯t give them any information that might upset them. There is a hrious anecdote here from a very popr chatan who tells a story about having a high school crush follow her until she went to his grave one day. Upon seeing his own gravestone, he went into such a rage that his, and I quote, ¡®spiritual energy was converted all at once into psychic energy and it blew up her father¡¯s van¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± I said. ¡°How about the other thing?¡±


    ¡°Yes... the creature you described does not seem to exist. I am pleased to inform you that it is such a novelty that not even the inte ghost columnists have heard of it. I can¡¯t find a scrap of information on it. Your friend can rest easy.¡±


    No information at all about the shadowy figure? How were we supposed to beat it? I couldn¡¯t even see its tropes for whatever reason. We were in big trouble.


    I hung up the call.


    ¡°What did she say?¡± Antoine asked.


    I had forgotten to put it on speaker.


    ¡°She said she can¡¯t find anything about it.¡±


    Off-Screen.


    We were between scenes. Bobby told us so. The Plot Cycle froze. It was nearing Second Blood. The second half of the stories went by faster than the first. That was just the nature of the game. Much of the Party would be edited out. That wasn¡¯t the same for what came after.


    ¡°Twenty minutes,¡± Bobby said. ¡°The next scene is at the bottom of the hill with the bodies. I don¡¯t have any lines. I think my character wasn¡¯t supposed to be around so much. Oh well.¡±


    And so we went downhill. Instead of turning off to the right where I had found Antoine, we went straight to a different part of the river near where we had seen a giant snake lying dead weeks earlier.


    On our side of the river, a pile of bodies had been stacked up. Kimberly¡¯s was on top.


    There were at least a dozen bodies there. I couldn¡¯t say where from.


    Three of the four red-haired siblings were there. One of the guys was missing. It was awful to look at. They had all died in simr ways. J.T. Guzman was there, or at least his body was. Snapped neck and all.


    I stared at the bodies for so long that I almost didn¡¯t notice that we weren¡¯t alone.


    On the other side of the river, a young woman stood next to the surviving red-haired sibling. He was an ordinary NPC so he was staying in character, but in the weird way that NPCs did between scenes where they were in a weird state of perpetual professionalism waiting for the next scene. He stood there with his head bobbing staring at his siblings¡¯ corpses.


    ¡°Nice to see a fresh face!¡± the young woman screamed.


    She was a special NPC. Normally, I suspected, her Plot Armor would be 50. Right then it was 24. I surveyed all of the information I could from the red wallpaper.


    Sidney Martin is <em>The Scream Queen</em>.


    She was one of the Final Girl Paragons. Specifically, the Scream Queen Paragon.


    She was a Paragon. She was acting as a yer.


    My Casting Director trope told me:<blockquote><strong>Sidney Martin</strong>: The unlucky object of so much obsession, people around town are always gossiping about how she ends up involved in so many unlikely tragedies. It must be her fault, right? Having found herself trapped in the parallel world of the dead, she must find a way to survive as she waits for her father to save her. Whether she likes it or not, she¡¯s going to be the center of everyone¡¯s attention.</blockquote>


    Tropes:<blockquote><strong>Off-Screen Survival</strong>: allows her to make unlikely strides in her efforts to survive mounting odds when Off-Screen, including finding weapons, allies, or information. However, every stroke of luck wille at the cost of some terrifying thrill or cost. Explore thoughtfully.</blockquote><blockquote><strong>We can¡¯t stay here¡­</strong>: Allows her to go On-Screen to foreshadow an imminent skirmish. Guarantees the fight or chase scene will happen On-Screen, but also buffs her nearby party¡¯s Hustle and Grit.</blockquote>


    Sidney was pretty, but weathered by stress and fatigue. She was no-nonsense to her core.


    ¡°<em>The Ten Second Game</em>?¡± she screamed. ¡°What happened to <em>Reply the Departed</em>?¡±


    The Stranger answered her. ¡°This <em>is</em> Reply the Departed. Carousel messed with things.¡±


    She took a deep breath. ¡°Figures¡­We¡¯re being chased. They shoulde out of the woods behind us soon. Come out and help me cross if I can¡¯t. NPC¡¯s a goner.¡±


    ¡°How long do we have, Bobby?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Two minutes,¡± he answered.


    ¡°Two minutes,¡± The Stranger screamed over the river.


    Sidney nodded and walked back into the tree line until I couldn¡¯t see her. The NPC followed.


    We did the same, backing up a distance so we could get a shot of us approaching. When the scene started, we would rush to see the scene.


    On-Screen.


    We raced toward the river. We all did our appropriate reactions. Antoine did his best to move ahead with his busted leg, crying out for Kimberly.


    He grabbed her body from the pile and wept. Those were real tears.


    The Stranger tore the pile down looking for his daughter¡¯s corpse. He didn¡¯t find it. He was panicked, but also overjoyed at not finding her body.


    In the distance, I heard someone yelling.


    ¡°Dad!¡± Sidney screamed. She carried something in her hands. At first, I couldn¡¯t make it out, but soon I got an idea. It was the mirror from the vanity that had been broken off. I was wondering where that had gone.


    She and the red-haired NPC ran closer, but he wasn¡¯t fast enough. He was falling behind.


    Sidney hit the river with a powerful ssh, still holding onto therge mirror by its wooden legs. She sshed across.


    The Stranger rushed out to grab her and haul her ashore.


    The NPC wasn¡¯t as lucky. They were being chased by an army of ghosts. Each of them had died from various causes, but there was something different about them. They were gaunter, thinner than J.T. or Cassie had been.


    They were ravenous.

 Arc II, Chapter 21: Strander Blake

    Arc II, Chapter 21: Strander ke


    The ghosts on the far side of the river were difficult to make out. Like the armless ghost that I had seen while ying the Ten Second Game, they almost looked like they were ced in the scene so that they would be hard to see at first nce. It was like the world¡¯s creepiest game of I Spy.


    I spy a legless Civil War-era soldier crawling behind a bush. I spy a woman staring at us from behind a dead tree. I spy a man holding his own head in the shadows.


    The only way I could really make them out properly was on the red wallpaper, which showed them inly in their broken forms. I had expected them to be like J.T. Guzman, but it appeared they were a different ¡°type¡± of ghost in the context of this story.


    Flood of Spirits


    Plot Armor: 40


    __________


    Tropes


    Fungible Enemy


    This enemy isposed of countlessrgely interchangeable units whose numbers will not diminish until the scene is concluded. There always seems to be more toe.


    Strength In Numbers


    The enemy is at its strongest in groups. Singling its members out will weaken them substantially.


    Be Our Guest


    This entity¡¯s purpose is to guide characters toward the next scene or keep them from leaving the setting when they wonder too far.


    Hive Mind


    This creature''s mind is linked to that of simr creatures.


    Walking Crime Scene


    This entity¡¯s ghostly form reveals clues as to the nature of its demise.


    Their <strong>Be Our Guest</strong> trope spelled out that they were border enemies meant to keep us from wandering off. They were not the primary antagonist.


    That was littlefort as the ghosts seemed to flood in from across the river.


    The NPC that had been with Sidney was dragged back into the forest in the distance. He screamed the entire time. I couldn¡¯t make out which entity was doing it. Perhaps they all were. They were acting as one unit, stopping us from venturing too far.


    Sidney and The Stranger made it to shore and embraced each other. Their reunion was cut short as the ghosts kepting.


    Bobby was already dragging Antoine away from Kimberly¡¯s broken body while he protested. ¡°I¡¯ve got to bring her body back!¡±


    Isaac was tearfully leading the pack. I joined the caravan as we moved further up the mountain. Dina was already out of sight.


    The ghosts gave chase, but never abandoned their game of hide and seek. I never saw one break into a sprint or actually move. I just saw the group "flood" forward as new ghosts came into view in the scenery. It was more of a hike through a haunted forest than a proper Chase Scene, though that status was lit.


    Sidney held The Stranger¡¯s hand and pulled him up the mountain behind her. In her other hand, she still carried the vanity mirror by its wooden leg.


    "I knew you were alive," he said tearfully.


    "Dad... Everyone else is dead. I didn''t mean for any of this."


    "I know you didn''t. Neither did I. We just have to make it back to the suite. Everything will be okay."


    I didn''t hear the whole conversation. They did a lot of back and forth, giving Carousel all of the stuff it needed to stitch together its reunion scene.


    Antoine eventually interrupted.


    ¡°What¡¯s the mirror for?¡± he asked, his voice cracking from either physical or emotional pain. One of us had to.


    Sidney looked down at the object in her hand. ¡°It confuses them,¡± she said. ¡°They don¡¯t like seeing it.¡±


    I had other questions. Too many questions.


    ¡°Why did we have to cover the mirrors?¡± I asked. ¡°The rules for the Ten Second Game said we had to.¡±


    Sidney shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I assumed it was because they were like windows, that spirits could pass through them. We had no idea what we were getting into.¡±


    Mirrors had to have something to do with the whole ordeal. Kimberly¡¯s strange encounter in the bathroom had established that. Of course, we may have simply avoided that whole storyline by not following it up. That didn¡¯t bother me any, but it did leave unanswered questions.


    The ghosts stopped following us as we arrived yet again back at the field downhill from the suite.


    The window was open again.


    ¡°Careful,¡± I said. ¡°It could be a trap.¡±


    The dark figure was nowhere to be found. That was worrying.


    ¡°Even then,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I¡¯d rather be trapped in the house than free out here.¡±


    That was something to consider.


    We waited for a beat. I was right to suspect the worst.


    J.T. Guzman, our dead spectral friend, stepped out from beside the window. He wasn¡¯t quite himself. Thin ck threads impaled his pale skin. I could barely make it out. Even at this distance, I could see his fear.


    He stepped out of the window and began walking toward us.


    ¡°Help!¡± he screamed. ¡°It¡¯s after me.¡±


    We huddled together. We weren¡¯t going to outrun him. Even if we did, the story wasn¡¯t going to move forward that way. We had just been corralled up in this direction.


    Antoine, despite his injury, took the lead. He supported himself on his bat, but he was ready to wield it at a moment¡¯s notice. Whatever good that would do.


    ¡°Just let us go!¡± he screamed. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Suddenly, J.T. stopped screaming. It was like something took control. He went from a yelling spirit caught in a trap to a puppet.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t fall for it, huh?¡± J.T. said. They weren¡¯t his words though. It wasn¡¯t even like he was possessed. It was more like he was being held at gunpoint and forced to say the line.


    J.T. stopped talking. He moved his mouth, but the entity controlling him was speaking from behind him.


    ¡°I just wanted to y,¡± he said. ¡°I saw some kids talking to ghosts and thought that looked like fun. I have an interest in the subject. I think you can tell. I always liked ghost stories. This one is a bit clich¨¦, though, right? I practically know the script by heart.¡±


    Heughed. He was going full meta in the way that a Film Buff was supposed to. I hadn¡¯t done it often because I was afraid of breaking the fourth wall too hard. This person didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°Some kids find a game that lets them talk to the dead. Spooky stuff. A jump scare or two, sure. But you better run from the blue light. Remember that part of the rules? Who knows what that¡¯ll do? Best not ever test it. I could have waited for you to find your way back in the house, but I decided against it.¡±


    Heughed again. As he did, a withered arm slowly reached out from behind him. It was holding an ornate bluentern. The arm was pale and atrophied.


    J.T. turned. As he did, the owner of the arm came into view and J.T. disappeared.


    The figure before us might have been a man once, but now, it was a disfigured wraith beyond recognition. He wore loose clothing and a hood. His feet were bloody stumps. The figure was twisted and ancient as if it were arthritis incarnate. Groans came from the man¡¯s mouth. It was like he was trying to talk but was unable.


    Lantern Bearer (Wraith)


    Plot Armor: 55


    __________


    Tropes


    Fate Worse Than Death


    This entity does not want to kill its victims, though, in the end, they will wish it had. Victims are Written-Off instead of killed.


    Don¡¯t Show the Monster


    This entity is not scripted to appear On-Screen. Only the effects of its existence are detectable.


    Interests Align


    This entity does not need the yers to lose in order to achieve its goals.


    6 Additional Tropes not Perceptible


    He tried to speak. All I heard were groans.


    The voice from the shadowy figure returned.


    ¡°Poor fellow can¡¯t even move his jaw it¡¯s been so long. More ghost than man now. Oh, wait. You weren¡¯t supposed to see him at all were you? It''s scarier when he''s just a distant blue light.¡±


    Heughed.


    ¡°Want to know what would happen if you saw the man with the bluentern? In the little game you were ying?¡±


    He paused.


    He turned the man¡¯s head toward Antoine. I didn¡¯t see what happened, but I figured it out soon enough.


    Antoine¡¯s Infection status lit up.


    That was the gimmick of the wraith. Possession of some kind.


    The man under the control of the shadowy figure started to groan. He tried to move, but his old bones were no match for the figure that bound him.


    Antoine lifted up his bat. ¡°I only hoped that someone would take my burden,¡± he said, tearfully.


    Then, as if he had no injury at all, he stood up. He brought his bat down hard on The Stranger¡¯s head with a sickening crack.


    Over and over again. It was such a surprise no one had time to react at first.


    When Sidney tried to stop him, he threw her to the side. Her mirror shattered as she hit the ground.


    ¡°Antoine fight it!¡± I screamed because I needed to do something.


    ¡°Antoine¡¯s over here,¡± the dark figure said from behind the pale wraith.


    I looked at the man. I saw in his cataract-covered eyes that it was true. Antoine¡¯s soul was in the decrepit old wraith.


    Antoine¡¯s body stopped beating The Stranger just as Second Blood passed and we entered the Finale.


    ¡°This is not what I wanted,¡± Antoine¡¯s mouth said.


    There was a moment of silence as the rest of us contemted what to do.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± the dark figure said.


    Something happened. Suddenly Antoine started crying out. His Infected status switched to off.


    The pale man stopped making noise. The whole time, he never let go of thentern. It was like his fingers were welded closed over its handle.


    I caught myself staring at thentern. Strange. I really wanted to take it from the man.


    But that passed as Antione fell to the ground in pain.


    ¡°In the ghost story, the teens survive the night after their harrowing experiences,¡± the dark figure said. ¡°It looks like all is well, but just as they''re leaving the haunted house, one of the teens looks in the mirror and instead of his own reflection, it¡¯s the old man! That¡¯s how it ends, right? Possession is fun, but body swapping is a whole other thing. I like to remain in control myself.¡±


    Antoine recovered from his temporary possession. He took his now bloody bat and used it to push himself to his feet.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask again,¡± Antoine screamed. ¡°What do you want? Why are you doing this?¡±


    ¡°It''s like I said; I just wanted to y the game. See you in the finale.¡±


    Off-Screen.


    The old man with thentern turned. He disappeared and was reced by a woman who dressed like a drenched Lucille Ball, makeup running everywhere. Water ran down from the top of her head to the ground in a light pitter-patter.


    ¡°Whoever said brains over brawn never got hit in the head with a baseball, huh,¡± the woman said, looking over at The Stranger¡¯s dead body. She didn¡¯t fight for control as much as J.T. did. From the look of her, she had been dead quite a while. I could tell it was the figure speaking through her though. She looked from Antoine to me. ¡°I have to go put thisntern guy back before I get in trouble. Between you and me, I don¡¯t think I was supposed to collect him.¡±


    The figureughed from behind her.


    We watched as the dark figure walked his host¡¯s dripping body into the distance, leaving a trail of water in his wake.


    We looked around at each other in shock. I didn¡¯t know what to think about this enemy.


    ¡°Dammit,¡± Sidney said, examining her shattered mirror.


    She walked up to The Stranger¡¯s body and nudged it with her foot.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Sometimes he fakes it,¡± she answered.


    I didn¡¯t think he was faking it. His head wasn¡¯t exactly shattered, but still, the sound of Antoine¡¯s bat hitting his skull had been pretty definitive.


    Antoine was taking in deep breaths to calm himself. He looked shaken.


    I approached him cautiously. ¡°You okay?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer for a moment. ¡°Yep.¡±


    His body shook against his will. He was not okay.


    We made our way to the suite.


    ¡°What¡¯s the story here?¡± I asked Sidney. ¡°The bad guy just lets us go to the suite for no reason?¡±


    ¡°That guy went way off script,¡± Sidney said.


    ¡°The enemy did?¡± Dina asked, having reappeared. ¡°They can do that?¡±


    ¡°Apparently. Most enemies don¡¯t know they¡¯re in Carousel, how could they? They would screw everything up. Some though, some know everything. They like it here. Still, I don¡¯t know what that guy¡¯s deal is.¡±


    I climbed in the window first and helped the others through.


    ¡°He left us a gift,¡± Dina said, pointing to the bed where the Ten Second Bell sat. That was good in the sense that it meant we could ward off ghosts, but it would be hard to exin why we suddenly had it back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t use that one,¡± Sidney said. ¡°It makes no sense for him to leave that for us. She pulled something out of her pocket. It was a stic version of the bell that must have been manufactured for a more modern version of the Reply the Departed board game. ¡°We can just use mine.¡±


    We walked into the living room.


    ¡°That scene didn¡¯t go like it was supposed to. How are we supposed to know what¡¯s next?¡± Dina asked.


    Bobby spoke up. ¡°While Strander ke rips the soul from his Second Blood victim, the remaining yers run for the safety of the suite where they will prepare for the Final Bat¡ª Oops. It disappeared."


    He was reading off his limited script. It really paid to have an honorary NPC in the party.


    ¡°Strander ke?¡± I asked. ¡°I couldn¡¯t even see him on the red wallpaper.¡±


    It sounded like he was supposed to kill The Stranger differently than he did.


    ¡°Well maybe he¡¯s shy,¡± Sidney said casually like this was just another day at work. ¡°We need to get ready. Don¡¯t forget. We still have to y the game as soon as we¡¯re On-Screen again. Where''s the rule sheet?¡±


    I was just d to be back in the suite instead of out there in the dead world.


    If I never spoke to another ghost it would be too soon.

 Arc II, Chapter 22: The Weakness

    Arc II, Chapter 22: The Weakness


    "The Stanger said this isn''t how this storyline is supposed to go," I said to Sidney as we walked into the living room. "You seemed surprised with the change."


    ¡°I¡¯ve only yed it once when I was brought in through a ticket,¡± she said as she grabbed one of the remaining chicken tenders from the te on the counter. ¡°This is the kiddie ride. You watch the ghosts get closer and closer until eventually, you can see the red wallpaper for the first time. No one has to die. No one can leave." She hungrily devoured the chicken. "Mmm. These aren¡¯t bad.¡±


    ¡°I just followed the instructions on the bag,¡± Bobby admitted, almost blushing.


    ¡°Why is this version different?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°Why change so many things? Couldn¡¯t the storyline have just scaled to our level? That¡¯s what the As seemed to imply.¡±


    Sidney shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Carousel had a different n. It couldn¡¯t change the storypletely. This storyline is pretty important for the Throughline in an indirect sort of way. It just took the training wheels off because you didn¡¯t need them.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said, ¡°Took the training wheels off, shed the tires, and set the whole thing on fire.¡±


    Sidney nodded in agreement. She was projecting strength, as if all of this didn¡¯t bother her. I didn¡¯t know if I bought it.


    ¡°The question remains,¡± Antoine said, ¡°How are we supposed to beat an enemy who won¡¯t y by the rules?¡±


    ¡°Maybe we don¡¯t,¡± Sidney answered. She undid her ponytail and redid it, this time tighter. ¡°Maybe Carousel isn¡¯t just ying hardball. Maybe, it actually wants to kill you all.¡±


    She said it so matter-of-factly.


    Her statement hit the others like a punch to the gut. I couldn¡¯t afford to think about that possibility.


    ¡°Let¡¯s figure out what we know for sure,¡± I said, ¡°There had to be some way to beat Strander ke originally before he started going off script. Antoine, what happened with you and Kimberly in the room?¡±


    Antoine thought for a moment. I could see it was painful for him to dredge up the memory. He spent so long pretending not to remember anything that recounting a tragic event was difficult.


    ¡°We talked to a spirit who was missing an arm. That spirit left quickly. Didn¡¯t say much. Talked to another spirit. The drowned woman. They kept getting closer and closer until we started hearingughter. Then an arm stuck out from behind her and threw a shlight through the window. The next thing I knew there was a struggle and it grabbed Kimberly. I chased after it trying to keep her alive. It went on like that for a while until she¡­ stopped moving and I was all alone.¡±


    Throwing something through the window couldn¡¯t have been in the original storyline, but it might have been in this version.


    ¡°That part had to have been scripted,¡± I said. ¡°Clearly the story was supposed to move outside at First Blood and then back inside at Second Blood. I have no idea how the bluentern ghost was supposed to fit in.¡±


    ¡°Strander said he wasn¡¯t supposed to grab that one,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Maybe that guy wasn¡¯t supposed to be part of the story.¡±


    That wasn''t likely. The blue light was mentioned in the rules for the Ten Second Game.


    ¡°Not the first time you y, no,¡± Sidney said. ¡°But eventually he shows up to discourage you from running the storyline too often. Can¡¯t really expand on that, but you¡¯ll understand soon anyway.¡±


    We were supposed to run this storyline multiple times¡­ No doubt to talk to a specific ghost or Geist, rather.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have much experience rerunning stories,¡± Dina said. ¡°Is there something we need to know?¡±


    ¡°The more you rerun the story, the more you learn about it and its different possibilities,¡± Sidney answered as she plopped down on the couch. ¡°Sometimes there isn¡¯t much to learn, but often there is, even if it¡¯s just a unique version that gets you more experience. Other times, you can find something that¡¯s important, but, again, you''ll figure that out when you get to the next part.¡±


    We asked her more questions about rescues and finding bases and she answered as much as her script allowed her to. While she could talk freely most of the time as a ¡°yer¡± there were clearly some topics Carousel restricted. Namely, questions about Carousel and the script itself.


    ¡°Carousel isplicated,¡± she eventually managed to say. ¡°I wasn¡¯t here for the beginning. Some Paragons take the mantle early in the timeline they might know more. My Dad and I only move to town in 1997 when I be the Scream Queen Paragon. Of course, you weren¡¯t around for that. You all came in 2022, right?¡±


    What a peculiar way to phrase that.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been here for twenty-five years?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say <em>that</em>,¡± she answered, looking down at the coffee table contemtively. ¡°Look, I am not used to being around new yers. Maybe you should talk to Constance about the timelines after we win. Right now, we have a big battleing up and no ns to win. Our muscle is Hobbled and all of our cute, audience-friendly characters died at the end of the first Act. I don¡¯t even have a yer trope that will be useful in this part of the story.¡±


    ¡°We know who¡¯s next,¡± Bobby said.


    That was true. Isaac was next in the targeting priority assuming that none of us fell for any traps or did something incredibly stupid. Isaac was very aware of his impending doom and sat wide-eyed. His head was still bleeding, likely from a spike in blood pressure. His Incapacitated status was flickering every so often, but it was nothing to worry about.


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth,¡± I said, ¡°I do have a n. We¡¯re going to have to be careful though. Once he¡¯s onto us it¡¯ll be pretty easy for him to stop us. I think I know exactly how we¡¯re supposed to beat this guy. We have to move Cassie¡¯s body.¡±


    I told them my n. If I followed the clues properly, then we had a chance.


    On-Screen.


    As soon as the camera came on, we got into character. Luckily, being in character meant acting scared, confused, and worn out. We didn¡¯t have to dig too deep to y that part.


    ¡°I¡¯ll y,¡± Antoine said after we sat, staring at the stic bell on the coffee table. It worked the same as the metal one, it just sounded more like a loud rattlesnake rattle than an actual bell. I was happy not to hear the high-pitched ¡°Briiingg¡± again.


    ¡°You¡¯re hurt,¡± Dina said. ¡°I should do it.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll both go,¡± Antoine said, looking very nervous. He was barely holding it in.


    Dina snatched the stic pper off the table and walked with Antoine to the room we had decided would be next on our list. Antoine limped behind with his bat as a cane. Bobby¡¯s splint had stayed on pretty well, but it wasn¡¯t going to support any weight. Antoine¡¯s recovery was all Grit, determination, and movie magic.


    As soon as they left, we were Off-Screen for a moment.


    ¡°You sure the audience knows about your bell, right?¡± I asked Sidney.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure. I had to y those scenes out.¡±


    Sometimes Carousel made yers y through scenes that urred before the film and sometimes it didn¡¯t. The Stranger hadn¡¯t yed through his scenes, but that was likely because the audience wouldn¡¯t see those.


    We waited as the silence turned into the sound of ticking. The stic bell Sidney had brought wasn¡¯t as loud as the metal one, but it still echoed through the house.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Rattle.


    The sound of it sent a shiver up my spine.


    This went on three more times. They got three yeses and one no by my count. We still didn¡¯t know what questions we were supposed to ask, so we asked about Jedediah Geist, just as Sidney and her friends had originally.


    It annoyed me that there might not be any payoff to that plotline. Who was this guy and why was he important? Perhaps that was the reason we were supposed to rerun this storyline. We needed to figure out more about him.


    Finally, after ten or so minutes, Antoine and Dina returned.


    On-Screen.


    We took turns going into the room and ying the game, all except Isaac. It would have been better if he could stay in the living room, but, as I suspected, the storyline wouldn¡¯t move forward that way. He was next in line to be targeted so he had to go into the room and y the Ten Second Game. Otherwise, the Plot Cycle wouldn¡¯t move an inch.


    After Sidney and I got back, we all looked at each other. We knew what we had to do.


    ¡°So far so good,¡± I said, acting relieved that the mysterious Strander ke had not made an appearance.


    ¡°Guess I¡¯m next,¡± Bobby said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go too,¡± Isaac said. He was shivering with every word. His head was in bad shape, but he knew what he had to do. Our efforts to do it differently were in vain. We couldn¡¯t avoid putting him in the line of fire forever.


    Dina handed the bell to Bobby. Isaac was pale and Bobby basically had to drag him. He kept staring at the couch in the middle of the room where Cassie¡¯s body had been. He was doing far better than any of us would have been on our first storyline.


    Bobby led Isaac into the bedroom, but the camera stayed in the living room with the rest of us. That meant the focus was on our reactions to whatever we heard in that room.


    I kept telling myself that no one needed to die. Technically, we could get through the story without another person getting killed. That didn¡¯t seem likely though.


    We waited quietly for the game to begin. It didn¡¯t take long.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Rattle. That meant yes.


    The process continued.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Rattle.


    And again.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    Tick.


    There was silence for a while.


    ¡°Cassie?¡± Isaac muttered quietly. My n had worked.


    A chilling sound ofughter followed.


    It was showtime.


    Isaac and Bobby backed up toward the door, still making eye contact with whatever entity had arrived to greet them. Once they got out of the room, we could see them from down the hallway. Those of us in the living room stood up, ready for what came next.


    Isaac and Bobby turned around, breaking one of the fundamental rules of the Ten Second Game.


    Suddenly, as they turned, a figure appeared in the hall. It was Cassie, or at least her spirit. She had a hand-shaped bruise around her neck and bloodshot eyes. The ck thread ran through her skin, binding her to the dark figure behind her, Strander ke.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said, though her voice was scratchy and harsh from her death wound. ¡°I was lost in the woods. I can¡¯t believe I finally found my way back.¡±


    Like most of the ghosts from this storyline, she didn¡¯t know she was dead. She had the same enemy tropes as J.T. Guzman and the rest.


    Bobby practically dragged Isaac out of the doorway and passed Cassie¡¯s ghost and into the living room with the rest of us.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Cassie asked harshly. ¡°Haven¡¯t you wondered where I was?¡±


    Isaac looked at her in horror.


    ¡°No, Cass, I¡¯ve known where you were this whole time.¡±


    He looked back toward the couch. So did Cassie.


    Right on cue, Antione and I reached down and flipped over the couch to reveal what we had put underneath it.


    Cassie¡¯s body.


    We had moved it for just this reason.


    ¡°You¡¯re dead, Cassie,¡± Isaac said. ¡°That thing killed you!¡±


    Cassie¡¯s spirit looked at her body with a gaze of abject horror. She put her hands to her throat. Suddenly, she started making a gurgling sound like the one she had made when dying.


    The gurgling transitioned to a ghastly shriek.


    She stared down at the ck threads in her arms and raged, pulling against them with all her might.


    ¡°No!¡± Strander ke screamed from behind her. He was losing control.


    The clue we had been given about how to defeat him had been the fact that there was no lore about him at all. Every single bit of lore was about the ghosts that this storyline produced. Constance had ryed a story about how they lost control and got violent upon learning of their demise. That had to be significant.


    It just so happened that this new enemy had a strange habit of strapping ghosts to his body. Sure, with most ghosts, that probably made him more powerful, but the ghosts from this storyline were more of a liability.


    Cassie transformed from the perfect image of her dead body to a spirit of pure terror. Her features darkened, her arms lengthened. She pulled at the ck threads until they started snapping.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± Strander screamed angrily. He must not have been able to see the ghosts'' tropes. He could see their powers, as he had with the bluentern ghost, but that was the crucial difference between abilities in lore and tropes in the meta.


    Cassie became more demon than ghost as she tore chunks of ck sinew from Strander as he screamed.


    He tried desperately to fight her, to bring out one of his other ghosts, but he was tied to her. The house started to shake as Strander fought for control. I never got a good look at him, but I could tell he was struggling.


    The Plot Cycle was well into the Final Battle, but we weren¡¯t quite finished yet.


    The struggle continued as Cassie¡¯s enraged spirit damaged the walls and floor, anything in reach.


    Then Cassie screamed so loud I could feel the sound in my teeth as I hid around the corner. What happened next sounded like an explosion of anguish as Cassie¡¯s spirit dissipated rapidly, causing chunks of wood and wallpaper to fly around the room.


    I looked out to survey the damage. Cassie was gone.


    Laying on the ground where she had been, was the drowned ghost of a woman that Strander had used before.


    ¡°You tricked me,¡± she said, but even as her spirit spoke, Strander spoke too, blending to create a terrifying conjoined voice. To the audience, it would sound like Strander was talking to us, but I got the distinct impression that he was talking to Carousel itself. ¡°You tricked me. This wasn¡¯t the¡­¡­¡± He found himself unable to speak.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill all of them!¡± he screamed in rage.


    Then he looked at us in fury.


    The Final Battle wasn¡¯t yet over.


    What now?

 Arc II, Chapter 23: The Off-Screen Death

    Arc II, Chapter 23: The Off-Screen Death


    Strander ke, as the script apparently called him, stood directly behind the spirit of a drowned woman. I couldn¡¯t see him, but I could almost feel the rageing off of him.


    It wasn¡¯t just rage though. There was fear there too.


    Dozens of ghostly arms appeared from behind the drowned woman. They belonged to different spirits that Strander had collected. They were all sewn to him. My brain could barelyprehend what I was seeing. It was almost an optical illusion as if the owners of those arms must have been somewhere, but they weren¡¯t


    We knew what came next. He would go after Isaac, the character with the lowest plot armor in the scene. That was how the game worked.


    But Strander ke didn¡¯t seem to care at all.


    The dripping woman walked forward quickly and one of his arms reached out and struck at Dina, who was closest to him. Dina tried to dodge, but it was pointless. The owner of that arm leaped out and struck her. She flew across the room.


    I still couldn¡¯t properly see him, couldn¡¯t read his tropes. Perhaps he had a trope that allowed him to attack whoever he wanted. That certainly threw a hitch in my ns, but even as that thought went through my head, I realized I was wrong.


    Strander ke was reeling in pain. It was as if attacking Dina had physically hurt him if such a thing were possible.


    He screamed in pain.


    He was fighting for control.


    I could see the dripping woman eyeing Isaac as Strander¡¯s next target, but he screamed again and forced her to look at me. I could see the strands of ck thread pulling against her. He was trying to resist the rules.


    ¡°I pick him,¡± he screamed. ¡°You were mine. Your little tricks. I could watch but not touch. You were marked for death and now I¡¯ll finish it!¡±


    Was he mad about Oblivious Bystander? I let the steam out of his little trap and he hadn¡¯t gotten over it.


    I jumped back, but it was a pathetic attempt. He was so fast.


    He screamed as heunched himself across the room at me. I backed up toward the first room I had yed the Ten Second Game in and Strander tackled me into the darkness. He mmed the door behind us.


    Off-Screen. We were Off-Screen just me and him.


    He threw me against a wall hard.


    He wanted to kill me, but he couldn¡¯t. His threads tightened, threatening to rip from the ghastly flesh of his host, but she wouldn¡¯t budge, couldn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t what I was promised,¡± he said. ¡°I was tricked.¡±


    I was terrified and my brain was in fight or flight mode, but I was all out of fight. Just being thrown against the wall had Incapacitated me and Hobbled me. I couldn¡¯t even tell what my injuries were. I hurt all over.


    But curiosity was strong enough to fight through the pain.


    ¡°Who tricked you?¡± I asked.


    He hesitated from answering, he must not have been sure.


    ¡°Ss Dyrkon,¡± he eventually answered. He was enraged and frustrated. ¡°Said he had a yer problem and I was just the one to fix it. He described his world as one of death and horror. How could I resist? I didn¡¯t know he would do this to me. He lied. He said nothing of these¡­. Chains. How could he humiliate me like this? The Strand o¡¯ c? Living Hell itself.¡±


    He was new. Carousel had brought him here under false pretenses too.


    ¡°This is a circus. Everyone wears chains here,¡± I said. My heart was beating so fast I couldn¡¯t even hear what I was saying.


    ¡°Not the guests,¡± Strander said. ¡°Not yet.¡±


    I could hear the others pounding on the door. Strander ke still pulled against whatever ¡°chains¡± he said were binding him, but he couldn¡¯t kill me. I wasn¡¯t next. We were Off-Screen. It might have been possible under some circumstances. If I were less prominent in this storyline, if he had the right tropes if he hadn¡¯t disobeyed, but Carousel seemed to be making a point.


    Eventually, he relented.


    ¡°I¡¯ll finish the other,¡± he said. ¡°Then I¡¯lle back for you.¡±


    He stood and walked back toward the door. As he did, my eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room finally and I saw the vanity in the corner.


    It was the same one that Sidney had broken to obtain the mirror she wielded on the outside. Sidney knew the ghosts avoided mirrors. On a hunch, I did the only thing I could.


    <strong>The Insert Shot</strong> ability allowed me to draw my allies¡¯ attention to an important object from those objects discovered in the Party Phase. I had found one: the mirror in the bathroom where Kimberly had taken a shower earlier.


    The mirror was poorly covered. Whatever reason it had been there originally (an unused subplot), it was still a mirror.


    I activated my ability and sent out the information to my teammates.


    Suddenly, right before Strander got to the door, they stopped banging on it. I heard them talking.


    Before he opened the door, he tried in vain to do something I couldn¡¯t quite perceive. At first, it was like he was trying to twist the drowned woman¡¯s body and change the ghost he was presenting, but he didn¡¯t seem able to.


    It dawned on me what he was trying to do.


    ¡°You can¡¯t use a spirit that isn¡¯t a part of this storyline,¡± I said.


    I could tell he was annoyed still.


    He turned to look at me. As he did, the drowned woman disappeared and Kimberly emerged. ¡°The script tells me to use this one,¡± he said. ¡°Friend of yours?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Riley,¡± Kimberly cried. Her throat was crushed, but she didn¡¯t seem aware. ¡°What¡¯s going on? I was lost in the dark for so long. I don¡¯t know how I got back here. What do we do? How do we win?¡±


    It was actually Kimberly. She didn¡¯t know she was bound to Strander ke. She was afraid.


    ¡°Antoine needs you,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s hiding in the bathroom across the building. You know the one. Go to him.¡±


    She nodded.


    She reached down and grabbed the door with her ghostly arm and walked out of the room. One of Strander¡¯s many hands waved at me as she went.


    On the red wallpaper, my Written-Off status was lit. I couldn¡¯t help my friends this way. I had to trust that they could figure it out themselves.


    The strangest thing happened as I stood there. I realized that the screen I usually use to rewatch old storylines was on the red wallpaper.


    It was my <strong>Director¡¯s Monitor</strong> trope. My Deathwatch ability had activated. At first, I feared I had been killed and just didn¡¯t realize it, but as I checked and rechecked my trope, I noticed that Deathwatch didn¡¯t activate when my Dead status lit up. It activated at my ¡°demise¡±. That meant it still worked if I was ¡°dead¡± because I was Written Off, not just when I was physically killed.


    That was interesting.


    I kept one eye on the screen, watching as Strander crept across the living room. Sometimes the footage was polished and perfect, other times it was rough, as if it had been cut from the final film. I was watching the movie in real-time.


    That wasn¡¯t how it normally worked. I usually only saw the finished product.


    I worked my hardest to stand. I found out why my Hobbled status had lit up. My hip had been broken. Still, I crawled to the door and looked down the hallway.


    I could see Kimberly/Strander ke cautiously moving across the floor both in my head and with my eyes. I got the sense that Strander didn¡¯t exactly get much say in the matter.


    ¡°Freaky,¡± I said under my breath.


    I couldn¡¯t bear to go any further with my hip¡¯s condition. The movie continued to y on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°Antoine,¡± Kimberly said softly. She started to cry. ¡°Antoine, where are you?¡±


    She kept walking toward the bathroom until she got to the door.


    She walked through and I lost sight of her, but I could still see the footage in my mind.


    Antoine was in the bathroom with Isaac and Sidney. Bobby and Dina were in the wind, likely Off-Screen as backup.


    ¡°Kimberly?¡± Antoine asked. He was crying.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you,¡± she said softly.


    Antoine walked close to her and looked down into her eyes. ¡°We¡¯re going to be okay,¡± he said, fighting through the tears.


    ¡°We need to leave,¡± she said. ¡°We need to¡­ go somewhere safe.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re always safe with me,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We¡¯re going to be a family.¡±


    Kimberly pulled against the threads in her arms and embraced Antoine. Antoine hugged her back, though he eyed the covered mirror.


    Dina¡¯s slender arm reached through the doorway and grabbed the towel off of the mirror.


    What I saw there was terrifying.


    I saw a dozen faces all staring at the mirror from behind Kimberly. Each was a terrifying visage of death. They saw themselves in the mirror too.


    ¡°Kimberly,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t protect you or the baby.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Antoine pointed over toward the mirror.


    Kimberly followed his gaze and stared at herself, her features reflecting in the moonlit room.


    ¡°It got you, Kimberly,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I couldn¡¯t stop it.¡±


    Kimberly looked down at her nails, broken and bloody. She started to choke. Much as we had seen with Cassie, she became enraged, but more than that, the other spirits that had seen themselves started to reach out, to fight against Strander.


    He started to scream, a half of a dozen ghosts ripped and tore away from him, snapping ck threads and destroying whatever it was that he was made of. He cried out in genuine pain and anger.


    This went on until Strander took the form of the drowned woman again and ran for the window of the nearest room. He opened it and practically fell outside.


    Kimberly¡¯s ghost stayed around long enough for a shot of her disintegrating right next to Antoine, but she didn¡¯t hurt him.


    There was a long moment of silence as things wound down. Sidney grabbed her little stic clicker and went into one of the rooms.


    When Antoine asked where she was going, she answered, ¡°We have to keep ying the game.¡±


    After a few more moments, Carousel had gotten its closing footage.


    The End.


    We had done it.


    The lights came back on. Suddenly, my hip didn¡¯t hurt.


    I stood back up and walked into the living room. I was so tired I was willing to sleep even in the haunted house. That was even after Carousel reset us. Discovering a new use case for the Deathwatch ability was fascinating, but I was emotionally spent. I just wanted to next part to go by quickly.


    Antoine approached me as soon as I was back in the living room.


    His injury was gone, but the gaunt look on his face was still there. The light behind his eyes was out.


    I knew what he wanted. I handed him my Out Like a Light trope. He took it and didn¡¯t say a thing.


    Isaac came out of the bathroom. He looked back and forth for his sister.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be back soon,¡± I promised.


    He sat down on one of the chairs.


    ¡°It¡¯s kind of freaky, isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked as Isaac ran his fingers through his hair, amazed at the absence of blood or injury.


    He almost started to smile. ¡°It¡¯s amazing,¡± he said.


    So often we were distracted by the abject horror of Carousel that we failed to recognize how awe-inspiring some of its abilities actually were. If it wasn¡¯t dead set on torturing us, this ce could have been wonderful.


    ¡°Just remember,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s easy to shake off injuries. I guess the adrenaline never really dies long enough for you to stop being in shock. Death take takes a toll. Psychological horror. That takes a toll.¡±


    Isaac looked around.


    ¡°Cassie¡¯s going to be messed up?¡±


    I nodded.


    His eyes shifted to the couch where Antoine hadid down. He had already used my sleep trope. He equipped his <strong>You were having a nightmare¡­</strong> trope. When Kimberly got back she would activate that trope and help alleviate whatever trauma he tried so hard to keep hidden.


    Sidney had struck up a conversation with Dina while Bobby went around asking if anyone wanted food from the kitchens.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the crunch of broken ss to announce the return of both Kimberly and Cassie. They could have used the front door, but the window was closer.


    Kimberly looked shaken but held Cassie¡¯s hand. Cassie was crying. I couldn¡¯t me her. The first death of her career at Carousel was worse in some ways than any of mine.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she cried out.


    Isaac ran to hug her. He sat her down and they began whispering to each other. Isaac didn¡¯t seem to know what to say or how to act so he just sat as his sister cried into his shoulder. I couldn¡¯t hear everything she said, but I could tell that she was reassuring him and not the other way around. That was just her nature.


    Kimberly saw Antoine sleeping and immediately sat down next to him and reached out her hand to stroke his head. She leaned in and whispered those magic words, ¡°Wake up, my love, you were having a nightmare¡­¡±


    There was a knock at the door.


    The room went silent. Antoine opened his eyes and was immediately alert. He was up and off the couch in an instant. Bat in hand, he walked to answer the door.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± he cried out.


    ¡°You have a library book overdue.¡±


    Recognizing her voice, Antoine answered the door. Constance Barlow entered without any fanfare.


    ¡°Sidney?¡± she asked immediately, surprised to see ourte arrival.


    Sidney broke away from her conversation with Dina to greet Constance. They looked happy to see each other. Constance was the cheery version of herself I had met at the library.


    The Paragons must have known each other very well.


    Constance turned her attention to me. I sat, slumped in my chair, and waved.


    She walked across the room and took a seat next to me. ¡°I see you decided not to use me as a distraction for the monster you described.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I tossed the idea around, but I had a better idea.¡±


    I exined how we ended up defeating Strander ke.


    ¡°Angry ghosts. At least my research didn¡¯t go to waste,¡± she said.


    ¡°Nope,¡± I said.


    I had more questions to ask her, but before I could, a new appearance lit up the room.


    ¡°Congrattions,¡± Ss the Showman announced, ¡°You won a ticket!¡±


    Isaac looked like he had seen a ghost. Well¡­ perhaps that expression wasn¡¯t as useful anymore. He turned in his seat to get a better look. We had told him about Ss, but seeing a fortune-telling machine appear out of nowhere was not something you could prepare for, especially one as mboyant as Ss.


    As usual, Antoine was the first to get his tickets. We all got in line, including Constance and Sidney, which I found strange.


    Before I could inquire, the line moved forward. Antoine was shuffling through his tickets and found something that appeared to have stumped him. He read through it before I had even gotten my tickets.


    His eyes went straight to me after he was finished.


    ¡°Riley,¡± he said. ¡°Take a look at this.¡±


    It was arge, rectangr slip ofminated paper with lots of tiny words on them. I grabbed it and read it over.


    <strong>License Number:</strong> [E-2455b-0465]


    <strong>Issued to:</strong> [Antoine Stone]


    <strong>ABILITY GRANTED:</strong> The holder of this license is granted the ability to invoke specific powers or wield certain objects from a horror movie realm without the need of a trope. This license authorizes the use of ["The Ten Second Bell"] from the movie(s) [<em>The Ten Second Game, Reply the Departed</em>].


    Usage Permitted in: The Throughline [X], All Storylines [ ].


    <strong>USAGE TERMS:</strong><ol><li><strong>Lore Constraints:</strong> The holder may use the selected ability within the lore constraints without the need to activate the associated storyline.</li><li><strong>Protection:</strong> The yer is shielded from inadvertently triggering the original storyline or any mobile storyline that might migrate into that location.</li><li><strong>Rule Compliance:</strong> The rules of use, as described in the storyline, must be strictly adhered to in addition to any listed conditions.</li><li><strong>Consequence Awareness:</strong> The user is not immune to the consequences stemming from improper or natural use of the ability. This License does not prevent unrted storylines from being triggered.</li><li><strong>Rescue use:</strong> Death as a result of using this ability subjects the yer to rescue from the respective movie''s storyline.</li></ol>


    <strong>CONDITIONS FOR USE:</strong><ol><li><strong>Keepsake Requirement:</strong> The yer must possess a Keepsake of the targeted spirit or the applicable murder weapon.</li><li><strong>Location Specificity:</strong> Usage must ur at the site of the spirit''s death.</li><li><strong>Significant Date:</strong> Contact with the spirit should be made on a date meaningful to the spirit, with the date of death being highly effective.</li></ol>


    <strong>NOTES:</strong><ol><li>Strander ke will be kept at bay. Sincerest apologies from the City Council and the Mayor.</li></ol>


    <strong>MISUSE AND REVOCATION:</strong> Improper use of this license or the granted ability or object may result in immediate revocation and additional penalties as per the governingws.

 Arc II, Chapter 23.5: The Late Check Out

    Arc II, Chapter 23.5: The Late Check Out


    I examined the License until it was time for me to get my tickets. Thisminated slip of paper allowed us to contact ghosts rted to the Throughline. That would exin some things. Why had this story, which did not appear to be rted to the plot of the Throughline,e first in the Throughline.


    ¡°You think maybe this is the whole reason we were sent here?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a guess better than that,¡± Antoine said. He seemed distracted.


    I handed the ticket back to him. While I had been reading the License, he had been reading one of his tropes. It wasn¡¯t equipped so I couldn¡¯t see it on the red wallpaper. I couldn¡¯t say what upset him about it. Carousel was known to reward mocking tickets to those who performed poorly. Perhaps he had gotten one.


    I decided not to press the issue.


    When it was my turn to press the button, I did so and received one stat ticket, one License identical to Antoine¡¯s, and two tropes.


    Cutaway Death


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Filmmaker


    Stat Used: --


    The enemy is ready to pounce, their weapon at the ready. Their victim is helpless. Everyone knows what¡¯s about to happen. Right as the death blow is about to be struck, the screen cuts away. The enemy¡¯s true savagery will be shownter, it seems.


    <strong>Off-Screen Death</strong>: The yer¡¯s death can now ur Off-Screen.


    When equipped, the scene will cut to Off-Screen in the moments leading up to a character¡¯s apparent death. The enemy will still try to kill the yer, however, Off-Screen. If the yer survives, their status will be Written-Off instead of Dead.


    Be warned: unless you have a trope or powerful narrative support for your miraculous recovery, you might want to avoid being caught On-Screen during a final take.


    Many a bit actor survived because their character¡¯s death ended up on the cutting room floor.


    What Doesn¡¯t Kill Them Makes Them Angry


    Type: Debuff


    Archetype: Any


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Savvy


    If you take a swing at a monster, you better kill it because some injuries just make a monster more dangerous. Maybe you can use that to your advantage.


    When equipped, this trope increases the likelihood for sess of ns of attack that antagonize the enemy, even if they are not enough for the kill. Upon sessful activation, the enemy will predictably be enraged andsh out, but their Savvy will be debuffed proportionately.


    If used by a Strategist-Schr, the enemy will reliably be drawn into a prenned Chase Scene if usible.


    You think you¡¯re smart, huh? Well you had better be right.


    Kimberly was drained from getting killed for the second time. Even though her body was healed, she still moved her hand to her throat as if subconsciously assuring herself that a ghostly hand wasn¡¯t grasping it.


    When we all circled around and showed off our new tickets, Kimberly had two stat tickets, two tropes, and the same License as the rest of us. She did well with the limited amount of time she had before dying.


    Typecast


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Aspect: Celebrity


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Some actors y the same character over and over again so often that the fans wille just to see them y that same character in a new way. The creepy neighbor, the desperate lover, the guy down on his luck, all of these and more can be expected, nay, demanded when certain actors are cast in a movie.


    When using this trope, the yer will be able to get away with certain actions or situations with less set-up than they normally require because the audience hase to expect the performance. Buffs set-ups that the yer has a pattern of doing from storyline to storyline.


    Better hope you aren¡¯t typecast for dying.


    This was a potentially game saving trope. For storylines like the one we had justpleted where there wasn¡¯t much time for organic set-up, it would be useful to use the audience¡¯s expectations to help us. Kimberly yed the in lover. I had a feeling that the audience would see that a lot.


    A Lip Cease


    Type: Perk/Action


    Archetype: Any


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: --


    In many movies and television shows, characters will have a conversation that only includes a few lines of dialogue, but it appears they are pausing in between those lines to get to a new location before continuing.


    When this trope is equipped, the yer will be able to send the entire film Off-Screen during the Party Phase and temporarily prevent continuity from moving forward by simply stopping an expositional conversation and not continuing it until in a different setting. This can create time for coboration, nning, or rest.


    Be warned: yers ought not move the story forward or do non-incidental exploration while Off-Screen or the story will start back up.


    Remember, we won¡¯t finish this conversation until we get to school.


    This could help stretch the Party Phase out a bit and give us some breathing room. I liked it.


    Dina got one stat ticket, but three tropes. Her performance was likelycking, given that the subplot with her son was just dropped. She also got the License.


    They ruined in the shot¡­


    Type: Rule/Perk


    Archetype: Outsider


    Aspect: Stranger


    Stat Used: Hustle


    It can be difficult to stay out of view of the camera. Sometimes, an entire shot gets ruined because someone who wasn¡¯t supposed to be in frame identally was.


    When this trope is equipped, if the yer is visible in shot when they are attempting to hide Off-Screen, they will get a notification on the red wallpaper. Once they are out of frame, the original scene will be reshot.


    While characters in the scene will not realize they are repeating the scene, those outside of it will.


    The content of the scene cannot be changed, however, those outside of it can act differently than they originally did.


    Carousel gets a better shot, you get a Mulligan. Everyone wins. Just don¡¯t take advantage, Okay?


    When Dina showed us this trope, I could see a sh of embarrassment on her face. She had identally slipped up and found herself in a shot. She didn¡¯t say much about it, butter as I watch the storyline over again on the red wallpaper, I noticed that in the scene where Isaac was getting his scalp almost ripped off, Dina was casually leaning against a tree in the background watching.


    Her ¡°character¡± was supposed to have been lost in the woods at that moment.


    Dark Secret


    Type: Rule/Insight


    Archetype: Outsider


    Aspect: Stranger


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Some characters have a connection to the story that isn¡¯t clear at first. As the story unfolds, the sinister nature of that connection wille back to bite them.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will be given a backstory that ties them into the conflict of the storyline, often having a pivotal role in the evil or having unspoken incentives. The yer will get a very limited peak at their character¡¯s involvement on the script, but they must discover along with the audience exactly how dark their involvement is.


    Once the secret is revealed, the yer¡¯s Plot Armor drops to zero until the protagonists have yed out the shock and reconciliation beats of their arcs and resolve to work together.


    The odds on reconciliation happening before the yer is pushing up daisies are not high.


    This was the same trope the Stranger had equipped. It was useful, but repetitive. It would also involve Dina taking a more hands-on role. We would have to experiment with it.


    Light Fingers


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Outsider


    Aspect: Criminal


    Stat Used: Hustle


    Some characters have a light touch that enables them to take things that don¡¯t belong to them without getting caught. With hands aided in speed by movie magic, the character can take just about anything into their possession if it¡¯s justying there for the taking.


    When equipped, this trope Buffs the yer¡¯s attempts to steal objects On-Screen without even the audience noticing. Better reconsider doing this too often.


    For when you just can¡¯t wait until the storyline is over to pilfer from the set.


    P.S. Have fun listening to the tape.


    Dina passed around this ticket and watched as we got to thatst line. I spent the whole time wondering what it was that Dina had stolen. What tape had she taken?


    And it hit me right as she pulled it out of her purse.


    It was the tape from the cassette yer in the ck carriage that brought us to town. I had noticed the tape was missing, but this was Carousel. For all I knew, there was no tape to begin with. No. There was a tape. Dina had taken it without anyone but Carousel itself noticing.


    She held it out to us. ¡°I thought it was worth a shot,¡± she said sheepishly.


    I reached into my hoodie pocket and retrieved my tape yer.


    Constance startedughing when she saw what was going on.


    ¡°I don¡¯t recall seeing a yer do that,¡± she said.


    ¡°Will it work?¡± Dina asked.


    Constance shrugged. ¡°It just might,¡± she said.


    Dina was living up to her Outsider Archetype. Now she could break out of handcuffs and steal things for us.


    We continued showing off our new tropes.


    Bobby had been to the resort kitchens again and raided them. We were all equal parts tired and hungry. We devoured the entire room service menu, most of which was deep fried or microwaved, but it didn¡¯t bother us.


    ¡°The cooks are already here to start breakfast,¡± Bobby said. ¡°If you want something made by actual¡­ cooks.¡±


    He showed us his winnings. Three tropes and two stat tickets. He did far more than he was required to.


    Actually, I''m a Veterinarian


    Type: Background


    Archetype: --


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: --


    The yer has a collection of skills gathered from their training as an animal doctor. In a medical emergency, you could do far worse.


    The yer may equip the following tropes:


    ¡¤ Fluent in Medical Jargon (Doctor)


    ¡¤ Animal Whisperer (Adventurer)


    ¡¤ If you can''t see it, it Won''t Bleed (Soldier)


    ¡¤ This is for the Pain... (Doctor)


    ¡¤ Always the Right Dose (Doctor)


    This was the same background trope that Valorie had on The Grotesque storyline. It was pretty good stuff if you needed a healer.


    Bobby was interested in a different aspect though. He immediately realized that this background might allow him to one day get his dogs from back at the Bed and Breakfast. If he incorporated his animal background into stories, he might be able to get whatever tickets it was that allowed animalpanions (assuming, as he did, that such things exist).


    It was nice to see him excited about something. It was nice to see him distracted.


    If you Can''t see it, it Won''t Bleed


    Type: Healing


    Archetype: Soldier


    Aspect: GI


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Battle triage in movies is an inexact science. Just wrap the wound like you know what you¡¯re doing and carry on. Does anyone have a sulfur pack?


    When equipped, the yer will be able to temporarily ease the debilitation of an injury by dressing the wound and covering the audience¡¯s view of it. The injury will resurface constantly until real medical care is given. At some point, the injured get left behind.


    Temporarily treats the Hobbled, Mutted, and Incapacitated statuses. Does not work if the audience has seen the extent of the injuries.


    Counter-intuitively, wounds often bleeds so badly it¡¯s hard to tell how severe they are.


    This trope was useful as I recalled, but it wasrgely supported by the other tropes Valorie had. Those pain-relieving M&Ms were a lifesaver. I wondered what this trope was like when your pain wasn¡¯t blocked.


    Remember Me!


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Recast


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Even bit characters can inject themselves into a narrative and make a memorable interaction if they can establish a shared history with the main character.


    With this trope equipped, the yer can promote themselves from a nameless background character to a proper part of the main cast before Second Blood. If sessful, the yer can be treated as more significant by the story even if they have been recast into a less significant role.


    Be warned, this will inhibit many useful Wallflower tropes that rely on being ignored by the narrative in exchange for greater agency within the plot.


    Remember me?


    ¡­


    From Carousel High? We sat next to each other in biology ss?


    ¡­


    In case we needed Bobby to be more than some guy who happens to show up, he could now be a full yer even when cast as a background character. I needed to read up on what the nuances were of how different character ssifications were treated in the story.


    Isaac was hesitant to press the big red button. He probably regretted pushing it the first time, as we all did.


    When he pressed it, he got two stat tickets, two tropes, and, of course, the License. His first storyline was way over leveled for him. He didn¡¯t do much but get injured and dragged to the world of the dead, but his contribution was enough.


    Blood Loss Delirium


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: Comedian


    Aspect: Stooge


    Stat Used: Moxie


    It can be hard to lighten the mood when people start dying. You just can¡¯t make jokes when people are dying¡­ But maybe if the character is a little woozy, a little lightheaded from blood loss, that could give them the cover they need to cut through the tension.


    When this trope is equipped, the yer will feel the positive effects of blood loss (the drunken-like stupor and lightheadedness) instead of pain. This trope also provides cover to allow jokes in scenes that might otherwise not allow them because of the seriousness of the situation.


    The symptoms will get more severe the closer the yer is to death.


    ¡°Oh god, he¡¯s lost a lot of blood.¡±


    ¡°No¡­ he¡¯s always like this.¡±


    He sure earned this one.


    Gallows Humor


    Type: Perk/Healing


    Archetype: Comedian


    Aspect: Cynic


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Sometimes it is difficult to deal with dark subjects. Making light of it may be the only way through.


    When equipped, the yer can make dark jokes to ease their own mental pain after a terrible event and clear their head so they can think. If done well, they can ease the mental pain of present allies as well. This trope can also temporarily ease physical pain or even heal unseen injuries, but effects will vary. The cleverness of the joke will determine effectiveness.


    They sayughter is the best medicine. How good of medicine is an inappropriate chuckle?


    If we could get himfortable doing his job as Comedian, he might do us a lot of good.


    Cassie was in bad shape from her first death, but with encouragement from Isaac, she pushed the button and reaped her rewards. She got three stat tickets and two tropes. Not bad at all. Helping Kimberly debuff Strander ke was no small feat.


    Reflective Jump Scare


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Psychic


    Aspect: Seer


    Stat Used: Moxie


    The character walks into the bathroom and nces up at the mirror. Ah! Someone is in the reflection, but when they turn to look, no one is there. Spooky!


    With this trope equipped, the yer will be able to get a quick glimpse of the enemy when they nce into a mirror or other reflective surface. They will not have identities revealed but can still see important information. Be prepared because it will be gone in a sh. In non-supernatural stories, this ability might manifest in less useful ways.


    He¡¯s standing right behind you.


    Useful. I hoped Cassie was okay with jump scares.


    Foreboding Signs


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Psychic


    Aspect: ultist


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Death leaves its fingerprints that can only be seen by characters who look closely.


    The yer will be alerted to supernatural signs of who is going to die next. Drawing attention to these signs On-Screen will seal the target¡¯s fate in a supernatural storyline. Pointing these signs out can create great narrative footing for character arcs for highly skilled characters.


    ¡°You¡¯re just superstitious, reading into things.¡±


    Psychics really did bring the hits.


    Finally, it was Antoine¡¯s turn to show us what he had earned. One stat ticket, the License, and two tropes.


    He held one trope in his hand for a moment before Kimberly took it from him and read it to herself. She handed it back to him and said, ¡°It¡¯s a trope to help him suppress his fear and stress.¡±


    She handed it back to him. He quickly pocketed it.


    His other trope wasn¡¯t as controversial.


    Off the Bench


    Type: Perk/Buff


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Sport


    Stat Used: Grit


    When a character has missed scenes that involved trauma or injury, they can enter future scenes untarnished by what came before.


    When equipped, the yer will feel rested for every consecutive scene that they are not in. If they are Off-Screen long enough while the film continues elsewhere, they can even get Buffed in Hustle and Moxie.


    The enemy just chewed through the other characters. Now it¡¯s your turn.


    It looked like Antoine was getting lots of perks.


    And what else?

 Chapter One: Silas the Mechanical Showman

    Chapter One: Ss the Mechanical Showman


    My friends and I are going to die here, but I¡¯ll die more times than them, I think.


    This trip was supposed to be a chance for me to turn over a new leaf. My first real road trip after three years in college.


    The car ride here seemed normal enough at first. I was in the back with the luggage on one of those tiny extra seats thatrge SUVs sometimes have. There was no legroom, but I couldn¡¯tin. I never got invited to things like this. I was happy to tag along. They could have strapped me to the roof for all I cared.


    Antoine sat quietly in the driver¡¯s seat, his shoulders tense, his eyes hyper-focused on the road. He was usually talkative, always ready to provide his opinion on any given topic, but as we neared our destination, he had gone silent. I hadn¡¯t known him for very long, but I could still tell he was uncharacteristically nervous.


    In the front passenger seat, his girlfriend Kimberly reached a hand over to him and gently grasped the crook of his elbow. ¡°Everything will be okay,¡± she said softly. ¡°We¡¯re here for you. You know that right?¡± Most guys in our graduating ss had a crush on Kimberly. She had long blonde hair and natural poise.


    Antoine shrugged his broad shoulders and nodded his head. ¡°I know,¡± he said with practiced confidence. ¡°I¡¯m just excited. That¡¯s all. That¡¯s to be expected.¡±


    Kimberly ran her hand up his bicep and onto his shoulder affectionately.


    Antoine looked worried to me, but none of us really knew what Antoine was feeling. How could we?


    Eight years earlier, his older brother Christian had decided to start over. He left behind his family, his college education, and an all-but-guaranteed career in professional football after graduation. No one knew why he had done it, and what sparsemunication he had made with his family afterward had left more questions than it had answers.


    My first thought was that Chris had joined a cult, but even I knew not to suggest that to Antoine.


    Chris had gotten back in touch with Antoine a few months earlier. Antoine said it was like answering a phone call from a ghost. Eight years with no contact, and then suddenly he was Facetiming with his brother every night.


    That phone call was what led to the road trip.


    We were on our way out to Chris¡¯ske house in some exclusive resort town in the Ozark Mountains.


    When I was invited on the trip, I took the chance to look up Christian Stone. When he took off, he was being talked about on SportsCenter and in blogs on college football. From the sound of it, the guy would have been a millionaire if he had kept at it. He had huge prospects. I couldn¡¯t imagine why he had left it all behind. Then again, if he had ake house, he couldn¡¯t have been doing too poorly.


    The radio went out about twenty minutes before we got to our destination. Antoine flicked the scan button on the steering wheel to try to find a station. The radio searched and searched for a broadcast but only found one.


    ¡°It¡¯s RUN 41.1 Carousel Public Radio. We¡¯ve had a beautiful day here in Carousel. The city council has begun setting up for the Centennial Celebration, so stay away from town square unless you like traffic. Our correspondent, Jeffrey Tethers, is at Lake Dyer with the fishing report, and we have Coach Boom in the studio to talk about Friday night¡¯s game. All after thismerc¡ª¡±


    Antoine clicked the radio off. ¡°I¡¯m going to pass them on the next straightaway,¡± he said. He had been growing frustrated at the small car in front of us. They were creeping along the road at a measly thirty miles an hour. We had been behind them for twenty minutes, but with the winding, heavily forested roads, there was no safe ce to get around them.


    ¡°Just be patient,¡± Anna said from the backseat. ¡°We can¡¯t be too far off.¡±


    As she spoke, a green VW van approached us from behind. It had to slow down considerably upon reaching us. Its horn began honking almost immediately.


    ¡°Great, now we have a car behind us,¡± Antoine said.


    As if to change the subject, Kimberly interjected, ¡°I have no signal. Does anyone have a signal?¡± She raised her phone up toward the sunroof to no avail.


    I checked my phone. I had no signal either. I had one new message.


    Camden, my oldest friend, had just sent a picture of a sign advertising a bed and breakfast that had the phrase ¡°closed fur renovations.¡± He had taken the picture some miles back when we stopped for gas. I chuckled at the typo. We must have lost signal right after that.


    It had been a long time since I had been a part of a group chat with Camden. Not since sophomore year in high school. Camden and I had been best friends in middle school, but not as much afterward. He had somehow managed to thread the needle of being smart <em>and</em> popr. I barely managed to aplish the first part.


    At some point in time, the geeks and the nerds go their separate ways. There was no animosity between us. It was just hard talking about the good old days when the good old days were from before you finished puberty. We had grown up so much since then. I spent my time watching scary movies and puttering about online between sses. He spent his time withpetitive internships and schsticpetitions.


    Honestly, when I got the invite to theke house, I was surprised. I hadn¡¯t heard from him in over a year.


    As we crept around another corner, the VW van gunned its engine and quickly passed by Antoine¡¯s SUV and the little car in front of us. That must have emboldened Antoine because he followed suit and left the slow car in the dust.


    Ten minutester, after zooming around tight, forested corners, the small backwoods road gave way to arge parking lot. It was so big I thought we must have been near an airport or a sports arena. There was no airport though. No football stadium either, nothing to justify the huge empty lot.


    There were maybe a few dozen vehicles scattered about, but they were few and far between. What¡¯s more, there were no people anywhere. It waspletely abandoned. Except for us and the VW van, which had been parked in the shade. The driver, a dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties, carried arge, overstuffed backpack along with a sports duffel. She wore a brown leather jacket and distressed blue jeans.


    Antoine parked next to her van in the shade.


    ¡°Carousel,¡± I read aloud off of arge sign at the front of the parking lot.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Antoine said as he opened the back of his SUV. ¡°Paradise, USA.¡±


    There was only one road leading from the parking lot to Carousel, and it had been blocked off. It had those removable metal poles that you might see on a college campus designed to keep cars from driving down the wrong street. They were locked into ce with padlocks. We would have to go the rest of the way on foot.


    When we were invited, Antoine¡¯s brother Chris had warned us of this. It was because of the Centennial Celebration Carousel was having. No traffic allowed in. It made enough sense to me. It didn¡¯t matter; we were there to bask in the sun at his brother¡¯ske house. We would stay out of town for the most part.


    I had the least luggage of anyone in the group, just one duffel. As they were retrieving their things from the car, I went ahead toward the road leading to Carousel. The path was decorated on both sides with advertisements for the Centennial Celebration¡ªapparently, this was a big deal for the town.


    The woman in the brown leather jacket had slowed her pace and was taking in her surroundings. We weren¡¯t in town yet. There were no street signs here, no people. Just off the road was a single wooden building that had little signage except for a door that read ¡°EMPLOYEES ONLY.¡± It also had a covered porch on the front and what looked to be a town map hanging against the side of the building.


    I debated whether I should try to speak to the woman. She didn¡¯t look like she wanted to talk to me or anyone else. She was all business. The way that she scanned the building led me to believe that she hadn¡¯t been here before either.


    I turned and waited for my friends to catch up. Antoine and Kimberly quickly joined me, but Anna and Camden weregging behind staring at the cars in the parking lot. I walked down to them to see what they were so interested in.


    ¡°These cars have been here a long time,¡± Camden said. ¡°The tires have dry-rotted.¡±


    He was right. Every vehicle in the parking lot but ours had t tires. Their windshields were covered in dust. Their paint jobs were faded. I didn¡¯t know what to think of it.


    ¡°That¡¯s strange, right?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Camden said. ¡°Maybe this is long-term parking, and the other cars were moved for the Centennial.¡±


    ¡°That makes sense, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± Anna said, ¡°we¡¯re here to support Antoine. Worst case scenario, we¡¯ll just get the hell out of dodge. Don¡¯t go acting weird. He has enough to worry about.¡±


    Just as we turned to walk up the road, the littlepact car that we had passed on the way here finally pulled into the huge parking lot. We watched as it slowly drove its way to the front of the lot and parked beside Antoine¡¯s SUV. Two people exited the vehicle along with luggage. They were arguing.


    Well, the woman was arguing. The man was just kind of taking it.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand why they would hold an event all the way out here in the middle of nowhere. Don¡¯t they know it¡¯s more sensible to hold it in a bigger city?¡± The woman spoke with a waver and a voice like a mouse whose tail had been stepped on.


    I wouldn¡¯t say they became part of our group, but they definitely started moving with us as if they thought we were all supposed to be grouped together.


    ¡°You all here for the convention?¡± the man said. ¡°Name¡¯s Bobby Gill.¡±


    He held out his hand. I extended mine for a handshake. ¡°Riley Lawrence,¡± I said.


    ¡°They don¡¯t need to know your name,¡± the woman said to Bobby Gill. ¡°This ce gives me the creeps. Let¡¯s just go.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just polite, J,¡± Bobby Gill said. He looked over at us expectantly. ¡°So how about this convention, huh? I can hardly think I¡¯m so excited.¡±


    Camden responded, ¡°We¡¯re not here for that. We¡¯re just going to theke.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Carousel is holding a horror convention you may know. Carousel Horror Nights. They have for nearly three decades.¡± He could barely contain his excitement. ¡°I¡¯ve been asked to be a guest speaker. I moderate one of the top horror boards on the inte. Arterial Oasis. If you¡¯ve heard of that.¡±


    I <em>had</em> heard of it. I didn¡¯t say so because his wife J looked annoyed at my presence.


    I got an easy out when we heard a loud <em>bang</em> up ahead.


    We moved closer to investigate.


    ¡°Were you trying to break it off its hinges?¡± Camden asked.


    The door that read ¡°employees only¡± was now open.


    ¡°I just knocked on it,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I heard someone in there.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see anyone,¡± Anna said.


    The woman who drove the van was peeking her head in as Antoine and Kimberly watched.


    The inside of the building was dark. Little light managed to seep in and even the open door didn¡¯t illuminate the shadows within. I couldn¡¯t imagine anyone was in there. My heart started to beat quickly though. I couldn¡¯t say why.


    Then music started to y. It was old-fashioned carnival music that came out too slow, like it wasing from an old wind-up music yer in need of a tune-up.


    Next were the lights. Yellow-white light bulbs illuminated the inside of the room. The lights weren¡¯t hanging from the ceiling. No, they were all affixed to a machine that was about the size of an ATM. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw what the machine was: one of those old animatronic fortune tellers. The kind that might be seen at carnivals or on boardwalks. Every circus has at least one, and they could even be found in an arcade.


    Normally, the animatronics would give you a rolled-up fortune in exchange for a quarter. It might even be programmed to tell your future out loud. Often, they were dressed like psychics or traveling palm readers. This one was different.


    The base was a red square box, and above that, a ss box contained the upper torso of a smiling figure. He was dressed like an old-fashioned usher that you might see at a movie theater. He wore a red jacket with brass buttons and a round usher¡¯s cap with a chin strap, and in his hand, he held a shlight that flicked on and off along with all the other light bulbs attached to the machine.


    Across the top of the machine was a sign that read ¡°Carousel¡¯s own Ss the Mechanical Showman.¡±


    In the middle of the machine, right below the ss case, was a red button with a receptacle underneath.


    For a moment, no one in the group said anything as the fortune-telling machine began whirring to life. I think Antoine might have cursed under his breath, and Kimberly gasped. Beside me, the woman, J, was pulling on her husband¡¯s arm.


    After the carnival tune ended, the dummy in the ss case began to speak. His little wooden mouth moved up and down with a slight ck of yellow teeth.


    ¡°Wee to Carousel, the town where moviese to life. The show¡¯s about to start, and you¡¯re in the front row!¡± he said in a slightly warped mechanical voice.


    ¡°What the heck,¡± I said.


    ¡°Come on up and get your tickets. The Centennial Celebration awaits.¡±


    No one moved.


    ¡°Are we supposed to get a ticket?¡± Anna asked, looking at Antoine. After all, he was the one who invited us.


    ¡°I have no idea. Chris didn¡¯t say anything about this,¡± he responded.


    As if to answer the question, Ss the Mechanical Showman said, ¡°No admittance without a ticket. You don¡¯t want to miss the show!¡±


    Antoine shrugged his shoulders and approached the machine. He pushed the red button and the gears inside the mechanism turned, releasing threerge tickets into the receptacle underneath. Antoine retrieved them and began to read through them. He didn¡¯t say anything as he read, but a puzzled look appeared on his face.


    Before I could ask what the ticket said, Kimberly had also pushed the red button and retrieved her tickets. Then the woman in the brown jacket, followed by Anna and Camden. The couple who had arrived in the small car each pressed the button after each other, though the woman absolutely did not want to, from the look on her face. Finally, it was my turn.


    I pressed the button, and three tickets slid out. As I picked them up, I noted how heavy they were, how thick. They were printed on high-quality stock, and each was cool to the touch. Each of the tickets had a title, an illustration, an borate graphic design, and a text description.


    ¡°These are awesome!¡± Bobby said. ¡°They really go all out with this convention.¡±


    I don¡¯t know what I had expected to be on the tickets, but I certainly didn¡¯t expect what I ended up seeing.


    One of my tickets was blue, another green, and the one that interested me the most at first, for whatever reason, was silver.


    Still, no one said anything as we each reviewed our tickets.


    My silver ticket read:


    The Film Buff


    Minor Archetype


    You are the Film Buff. The master of the unwritten rules of horror movies. You¡¯ve seen every sher, spine-tingler, and creature feature; now we will see if you can survive them in real life! With your help, your allies may stand a chance against the nightmarish beings that lurk in the shadows of the silver screen.


    That is, if you can get them to listen to you before it¡¯s toote . . .


    Base Stats


    Mettle ¨C For Feats of Strength and Offensive ability


    1


    Moxie ¨C To make your performance convincing


    3


    Hustle ¨C To be Quick, Nimble, Evasive, and to always hit your Mark


    1


    Savvy ¨C For Perception, nning, and Deduction


    5


    Grit ¨C For Willpower, Toughness, and Endurance


    1


    Plot Armor ¨C Conquering all five aspects of Plot Armor will make you a Master of Horror.


    11 (total of all stats)


    Was this some strange roleying event? Were my friends and I even supposed to get tickets?


    My curiosity was piqued. I read further.


    My green ticket read:


    Cinema Seer


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: ---


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The Film Buff has seen every horror movie and can guess every twist and turn. When the Film Buff makes a clever prediction about an important and impactful plot event, all allies who hear it will obtain a boost in Grit and Savvy if that prediction is proven true.


    Beware, the more predictions the yer makes, the less powerful they will be. Predictions must be made On-Screen. Multiple buffs in a single storyline are difficult to perform at the lower levels.


    You may not want someone calling out a plot twist in your theater, but you would kill to have someone do it in Carousel.


    On-Screen? What could that mean?


    The blue ticket read:


    Trope Master


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: ---


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The signature ability of the Film Buff is their ability to understand how monsters and shers operate within a story. With this ticket, the Film Buff will have insight into which tropes enemies have equipped. This trope works best with high Savvy and close proximity to the enemy.


    Enemy tropes have generic descriptions. The clever yer will figure out how their tropes will be expressed in each specific storyline.


    With great poweres great bncing: during storylines where this trope is equipped, the Film Buff¡¯s Plot Armor will be reduced by half. Hopefully, that¡¯s all that will be cut in half.


    The curtains were up.


    The show was starting.


    The Game at Carousel had begun.

 Book One will be moving to KU

    Book One will be moving to KU


    .r6f68ba0346bd4a7b9a9773832d832b95{ disy: none; }


    Hello Readers!


    Book One of The Game at Carousel has stubbed so I can publish it to Amazon KU next month. I am very thankful to my RR audience for their support and I will announce when the published book is avable on Amazon.


    Audible Pre-Order: /pd/The-Bystander-A-Horror-Movie-LitRPG-Audiobook/B0CRSF24JT


    Summary:


    <strong>In a town where horror movie tropese to life, one''s only chance to survive is to y their role, in the first book of a spine-tingling gamelit series.</strong>


    When horror-obsessed Riley Lawrence and his group of college friends arrive in the small town of Carousel for their Centennial Celebration, the few decrepit cars parked in the street don''t scare them. But when they enter a dimmed theater, the animatronic usher hands them each a ticket, and the lights dim, Riley realizes they''ve entered the inescapable patchwork of a horror movie set. And they''ve each been assigned an archetype¡ªSchr, Athlete, Eye Candy, Final Girl¡ªto y out as the curtains rise.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it.


    Assigned the Film Buff archetype, Riley''s doomed to repeat a pattern: knowing exactly who the killer is but never surviving the attacks himself. After all, film buffs may know what''sing, but they''re always the first to be hunted down. Until, that is, Riley learns he can avoid a death or two by exploiting the Oblivious Bystander trope. It seems monsters and killers won''t harm him as long as he can convincingly pretend he hasn''t noticed them.


    To make it through this deadly game, Riley and his friends will need to leverage their tropes effectively to determine what''s trapping them there in the first ce. But as the rounds continue and escape seems farther and farther out of reach, they''ll be forced to ask themselves: Would they survive in a horror movie?


    <strong>The first volume of the hit LitRPG horror series¡ªwith more than three million views on Royal Road¡ªnow avable on Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, and Audible!</strong>


    lost_rambler

 Chapter Forty-Four: The Detour [Start of Book II]

    Chapter Forty-Four: The Detour [Start of Book II]


    .r9f3da72cbff54fa09ae72a55da127700{ disy: none; }


    I couldn''t sleep that night. My body yearned for rest, but my mind was relentless. I kept looking out across theke at the mountain Arthur had mentioned. I really wished it had been overcast so I could see the light reflected in the clouds. Just some sign of a way out of here would have made me feel sane.


    I tried talking to Camden about dying, but he wasn''t ready to talk about it and I didn''t have much to say either. I was still numb. It was strange, I kept having these miniature moments of panic where I would forget that I wasn''t dying. Right as I was about to sleep I would suddenly jolt awake and pat my body down looking for the gashes and cuts that I remember receiving.


    They were never there, of course.


    When I had taken a shower, the hot water running over my skin was ufortable. That skin had been burned earlier. It''s like my mind hadn''t really gone back to normal.


    As Iy there, I considered saying all of this to Camden. I could only imagine that he was going through the same thing. But I''ve never been good at talking about things like this and after having been inducted into the small group of people keeping Carousel¡¯s enforcer a secret, it almost felt hypocritical to try and be open about my feelings. Like I didn''t deserve to.


    I contemted exactly how much I could tell my friends about the axe murderer. As I saw it, there were two possibilities. Possibility One: I can''t talk about the axe murderer himself but I am unrestricted otherwise. If that was the case, it would be pretty easy to tell my friends things. I would just have to leave out a few details. Possibility Two: I can''t even acknowledge that I know what happened at all. That one was trickier.


    Arthur and Roxie appeared to have gone with the second choice. They acted like they didn''t even <em>know </em>what happened to people who disappeared. They didn''t hint much at all. They didn''t try to get clever about it.


    All of the other yers had been able to connect the dots over time. You had to y the game. They knew <em>why </em>yers disappeared more or less. They just didn''t know <em>how</em>.


    A further question: did I need to tell them? Most yers followed the rules pretty closely without being told there was a literal axe hanging over their heads. They knew there were consequences. Why risk it if there was nothing to gain? What was the difference between an axe murderer and spontaneousbustion as far as the other yers were concerned? Missing is missing. Dead is dead.


    A final question: how long would I wait before <em>I</em> tried to get clever and ended up saying too much? The problem solver in me wanted to outsmart this restriction. I only hoped that desire would fade with time. I thought about how I might hint things to them, how I might test the boundaries.


    I guess I''m not good at keeping secrets.


    I don''t think I ever fell asleep that night. I just remember eventually it started to get lighter outside and the birds started to chirp and the little campers came out and started chasing each other around ying tag and daring each other to go into the abandoned cabin.


    Morning at Camp Dyer, as always, came without my permission.


    The next morning was breakfast as usual. The veteran yers treated me normally. The ones that I didn''t know that well nced at me for an extra few seconds, but they seemed more curious than unweing.


    Grace had nned for us to eat tacos that morning. Some of the senior yers had just done a run to Eternal Savers Club, Carousel¡¯s version of Costco, where you can get huge savings on bulk items. Of course, I''m pretty sure they just cleared a storyline there and then looted it for everything that was on our shopping list, but either way, we saved a lot of money.


    Every time someone made a run to E.S.C., it was like Christmas came to Camp Dyer. They would bring back bags full of candy, microwave snacks, and whatever other goodies were on sale.


    I sat with my friends. I don''t know if they got over me not telling them what had happened to Jte, but I think that they were developing the <em>understanding</em>, however begrudgingly. They would get it with time. I hoped they would never learn about it the hard way.


    With what had happened to Jte, Adeline had told us that we had to go on storylines more often than before. Just until they knew how long of a break we had before Carousel woulde knocking. I didn''t have to go anywhere but I made it clear that I wanted to go with them if they went on a storyline.


    Truth be told, I don''t think they wanted to go.


    Luckily, Chris, Antoine''s older brother, had apromise for us.


    He told us about a very easy storyline that was more of a brain teaser and was actually kind of fun. He couldn''t tell us details, or at least he wouldn''t tell us details, but he said that our chance of dying was lower than it had been at the Astralist. I guess we should have told him how close we came to dying to the Astralist.


    ¡°Can Ie?¡± Someone asked from behind us.


    I turned to look and, to my surprise, it was Dina, the Outsider who had arrived at Carousel at the same time we had. She hadtched on to a few different teams since we got there. I couldn''t see her plot armor level or any of her tropes because she had that Outsider ability that made it hard to get any insight into her. Guarded Personality, I think it was called.


    She wore her brown leather jacket and distressed blue jeans, the same as she had when she got here.


    That must have meant that her grit was higher than my Savvy. I still hadn''t used my stat tickets. I was contemting sharing them with my friends in order to buy back favor. That wasn''t a smart idea, but I kept it in my back pocket.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Anna said. She gave us all a quick nce as if to say <em>We are letting here!</em>


    Dina smiled. She moved over to the table that we were sitting at right across from me.


    ¡°Do you think I can get you to do a detour for me first? I mean before we go on the storyline that you were talking about.¡±


    It was like she was asking me personally, not the group.


    ¡°What kind of detour?¡± I asked.


    Dina leaned in close. ¡°I need to go see a psychic in town. Lara said that it can be a little bit troublesome to get there unless you have someone with a scouting trope. The trouble is, she told me that person had to be about the same level as me so I can''t ask any of the veterans. I asked Jte but I''m sure you could guess how that went.¡±


    I was taken aback. I didn''t know what to say. The trope that I had gotten from Jte, (I don¡¯t like it here¡­), was a scouting trope. It wasn''t the best one. The information it gave was based on a vague feeling of unease and fear, but it would probably keep us alive.


    ¡°You mean like a real psychic?¡± Kimberly asked. Truthfully, she sounded like she was excited. I think Kimberly had been into astrology back before Carousel. Astrology probably didn''t have the appeal anymore. After all, Carousel had different stars.


    Dina nodded.


    ¡°Are you sure it''s safe?¡± Anna asked.


    Dina shrugged. ¡°I don''t think that Lara would have told me about her if it wasn''t safe.¡±


    ¡°Do you mean Madam Celia?¡± I asked.


    Dina looked surprised. ¡°Yeah, you heard of her?¡±


    ¡°I met her yesterday,¡± I said.


    I coughed. I didn¡¯t want to invite questions about the Grotesque storyline.


    Before we could ask any more questions like ¡°Why do you need to go see a psychic?¡± Dina was up and gone.


    ¡°Meet you out front in an hour?¡± She asked as she left.


    And that was that.


    ¡°Wonder whose turn it is to die now,¡± Antoine said as she walked away.


    Kimberly gave him an exasperated look. ¡°Don¡¯t say that!¡±


    To be fair, it was a good question.


    Honestly, I felt really cool guiding them through Carousel. Arthur had always looked cool when he was telling us what to do to prevent triggering omens. I had likened it to traversing a war zone. Everyone was really afraid of storylines so they listened to every word that came out of my mouth.


    ¡°Switch to the other side of the street.¡±


    ¡°Wait for this NPC to pass.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t stare in that shop¡¯s windows.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t walk too close to the sewer grate.¡±


    Stuff like that. I would have looked a whole lot less badass if they knew that the reason we were avoiding all those things was that I saw phrases on the red wallpaper like "This ce gives me the creeps," "I''m getting goosebumps," "Something doesn''t feel right," and, of course, "Honey, I¡¯m scared."


    If we could have walked in a straight line we would have been there in an hour, maybe an hour and a half. It took us nearly three.


    Ethereal Emporium: Antiques and Spiritual Readings was a standalone shop in an outlet strip next to a restaurant that served baby back ribs and ¡°Johansen¡¯s Fine Furs.¡±


    Once we were in the parking lot, we were home-free.


    As we approached the store, the others waited for me to give the all-clear before they entered. I gave them a curt nod.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it.


    Dina was in first.


    Say what you will about Madam Celia Dane, but her store smelled amazing. I could almost feel my aura cleansing itself with every breath I took.


    When we entered, a bell on the door rang. No one was out front when we got there. The ce was filled with antique furniture and curios filled with strange objects: crystal balls, a rabbit¡¯s foot, various tarot card decks, and other ult items.


    ¡°Watch out,¡± I said. ¡°Some of the things in here are omens. But¡­ you have to buy them to trigger them.¡±


    How convenient. Omens for sale. It was such a hassle to have to go find one on your own.


    Perhaps the most interesting item in the store was a red mechanical box in the corner.


    It was Ss the Showman.


    The only difference was that this model was not powered on. The mechanical fortune teller stayed silent. His lights stayed off. I wasn''t going to risk pressing his button to see if anything happened. I took a moment to examine him up close. I half-expected him to wake up and start jabbering but he never did.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Dina called out.


    We listened intently toward the back of the store. The door had been open so surely an employee was there.


    As we were listening, a loud roar like a lion or bear sounded from across the parking lot.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said, as we stared out the window to see what had made the noise.


    ¡°Greetings!¡± A voice sounded from the back.


    A doorway at the back of the store had been covered in colorful beads that you had to walk through as you passed from room to room. As I turned to look, Madam Celia, the tall serious woman I have met the day before, entered the room through a shower of beads.


    Madam Celia Dane, Proprietor¡ªEthereal Emporium: Antiques and Spiritual Readings. NPC. Plot Armor: 50.


    ¡°You havee for guidance,¡± she said. It wasn''t a question. She said it like it was a fact. It was a good guess; most people who go to psychic shops probably are looking for guidance. Or lost wills.


    Dina stepped forward. ¡°Yes. I heard you might be able to help me.¡±


    Madam Celia gave her a look over. ¡°I may not be able to help you, but I can certainly send you on your path. Come. Sit.¡±


    Celia gestured toward a room near the back that was closed off. We walked in the direction she pointed and entered a small, enclosed room with a giant table in the middle surrounded by seats with overstuffed cushions. The room was dark, and the air was thick with incense.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never done this before,¡± Dina said.


    Madam Celia gave her a smile. ¡°Don''t worry dear. I have enough experience for the both of us.¡±


    We crowded into the room, each taking a seat. We allowed Dina to sit in the chair opposite Madam Celia.


    Madam Celia took one of Dina¡¯s hands and held it. She closed her eyes.


    ¡°You are on a quest,¡± she said.


    Dina nodded, but then, realizing that Celia couldn¡¯t see her, said ¡°Yes, I am.¡±


    Her voice came out weak and vulnerable in a way that I hadn''t expected.


    Madam Celia didn''t say anything for a while. It was like she was somewhere else mentally. Even in the dimly lit room, I could see her eyes moving behind her eyelids.


    ¡°You poor thing,¡± she said. ¡°Dealt an unfair hand.¡±


    Dina didn''t say anything. But she looked very uneasy, sad maybe.


    ¡°And you came here hoping that I would give you the answers. But that isn''t my role here. We all have a role here, in Carousel. You¡¯ll learn that soon enough. You came to this ce as Orpheus, but will you leave with your prize? I cannot tell you the way, but a darker power might be able to.¡±


    ¡°A¡­ darker power?¡± Dina asked. She sounded hesitant.


    ¡°I think it would be very strange for you to turn your nose up at this point,¡± Celia said with the ghost of a smirk.


    Dina looked down.


    ¡°I don''t know what it will take for you to get to the end of your story. But I do know the next step.¡±


    She reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out a ticket. She handed it to Dina.


    ¡°You will need your friends¡¯ help for this,¡± she said. ¡°To get to the end and back again you will need many things, to aplish many feats. Don¡¯t worry, there is a path that will lead you there. You need¡­ a guide who knows the way.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°One step after another,¡± Madam Celia said. She pointed to the ticket that she had just handed Dina. ¡°This is your next step. If only you have the bravery to take it. Now go. Never make the mistake of thinking you have time to waste.¡±


    Madam Celia herded us out of the store and back out into the parking lot. There were still animal noisesing from somewhere in the strip mall.


    ¡°Are you going to tell us about that?¡± Antoine asked.


    Dina didn¡¯t say anything. She took out the ticket and showed it to us.


    We examined it. It was different than the tickets we''d seen before, slightly smaller than a trope ticket. It had no imagery on it but instead, read:


    Now ying


    <strong><em>Antemortem</em></strong>


    Beneath that were directions to a ce called Berryman¡¯s Dive. It ended with "A Private Showing Just For You!"


    ¡°What is this?¡± Kimberly asked.


    I''d been trying to figure that out myself. It presented itself like an actual movie ticket, but the address was to what I assumed was a dive bar. And then it hit me.


    ¡°Madam Celia is a quest-giver,¡± I said. Most of the others looked at me, puzzled.


    ¡°That makes sense,¡± Camden said. He would know.


    ¡°A quest-giver?¡± Anna asked.


    ¡°In a video game, a quest-giver is an NPC whose job is to give you a quest to do. A mission. I think that''s what Madam Celia is. You go talk to her, and she gives you directions to a storyline.¡±


    The others took turns staring at the ticket. They all seemed interested. Up until that point, we had only gone on storylines that the more senior yers had vetted. We had never actually tried to let Carousel guide us, but it clearly had the ability to. After all, Roxie had said that there was a tutorial. There <em>had</em> to be quest-givers.


    ¡°You don''t think that what she said was true?¡± Dina asked. I think from the look on her face she really didn''t want me to be right. I think that she wanted Madam Celia¡¯s words to be real and not just an NPC ying a part.


    I shrugged my shoulders. ¡°Has anything actually been real here? Everything''s just a performance stacked on another performance.¡±


    Dina didn''t say anything. She almost looked sad but within a few seconds, she had wiped away any trace of emotion.


    Anna must have sensed the same thing I did. She put her hand on Dina¡¯s shoulder and said, ¡°We can go check it out. It doesn''t hurt to look. Riley can get us out of there if there''s anything dangerous.¡±


    Anna was putting an awful lot of trust in my new trope. She was putting a lot of trust in me. Hopefully, it wasn¡¯t misced.


    Berryman¡¯s Dive was to the north, a mile or so out of town. In fact, it wasn''t too far from Halle Castle. Avoiding omens felt so much more possible now that I could actually see them before we got to them.


    On one of the streets, there was an Open House, where a beautiful colonial home was being sold. We had to literally go around the neighborhood in order not to trigger whatever omen was involved with that house. I assume it had something to do with the fact that the door was left wide open.


    Eventually, we ended up on a dusty road with not much else around. As we walked down this road, dusk started to fall. It never got any darker or lighter. It was just perpetual dusk. Against the falling darkness, we saw it: Berryman¡¯s Dive.


    It was just a small country bar out in the middle of nowhere. A few cars were parked outside. It had arge neon sign with its name on it as well as neon signs with the names of a few of Carousel¡¯s off-brand beers.


    ¡°Are we good to go in?¡± Anna asked.


    I nodded my head. I couldn''t see any omens involved in just entering the establishment.


    ¡°I hope you kids brought your fake IDs,¡± Dina joked. She took the lead as we moved closer to the building.


    I noticed that Camden was hanging back. I turned back to see what was wrong. It was a terrible time to risk ending up in a difficult storyline. I don''t think either of us was in a good mental ce to be fighting for our lives again.


    ¡°What''s up?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said.


    ¡°Okay.¡± If he said it was nothing I wasn¡¯t going to press the issue.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ Look at where we are,¡± he said.


    I looked around unsure of what he meant. He pointed his finger along the road that we had traveled and then along another road that intersected that one. The bar was in the middle of nowhere at the corner of those two roads.


    I figured out what he was trying to point out.


    We were at a crossroads.

 Arc II, Chapter 24: What Came Before

    Arc II, Chapter 24: What Came Before


    Priority number one: get away from the haunted hotel room. We knew that technically our odds of something bad happening were low, but this was the ce where Cassie¡¯s body hadid cold for over an hour. This was not a ce we could sleepfortably if we could avoid it. There were broken windows and some shredded wallpaper.


    ¡°You cane to my ce,¡± Sidney offered. ¡°My Dad will make you some scrambled eggs.¡±


    ¡°Your dad?¡± I asked. ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­?¡±


    She understood what I was asking. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°God no. The Stranger isn¡¯t my real dad. That was just for the story.¡±


    She and Constance shared a giggle.


    ¡°Your real dad is here?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Sidney nodded. ¡°Dad, stepmother, and her son. The whole family. That was part of the deal.¡±


    I figured that Constance would invite us to her house because that was so close, but it turned out that ce belonged to some random NPC from a story about mind-controlling leeches. She just took it over for our storyline.


    As we walked through the night, Cassie and Isaac walked solemnly. Antoine had Kimberly wrapped in his arms. Dina trailed behind.


    Bobby wanted to talk.


    ¡°You notice how the Now ying board calls that story a reboot of <em>Reply the Departed</em>. Indeed it had.


    The Throughline


    The Centennial Celebration:


    Reply the Departed: Reboot


    I also noticed that the section on that board for Bonus Material had gained another ¡®???¡¯.


    Bonus


    ???


    Secrets of Carousel #6: The Dark Water


    ???


    ???


    That told me that Reply the Departed had Secret Lore or something simr. If I were to guess, it had something to do with the bluentern ghost. Even as we walked through the darkness, I still wanted to go find thatntern. Magic was strange.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to listen to that tape,¡± Bobby continued. ¡°It might give us a jumpstart on solving the Throughline. One step closer to figuring this whole thing out.¡±


    The tape detailing the history of Carousel that Dina had stolen from the carriage that brought us to town was still unyed. We didn¡¯t want to listen to it while still at the hotel.


    Constance, who was not very far ahead of us, said, ¡°You might take Carousel¡¯s warning on that.¡±


    ¡°What warning?¡± Bobby asked.


    ¡°When Carousel makes a point to mention something like that, that¡¯s a warning,¡± Sidney said.


    Constance nodded her head. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°I would wait until youpleted the Centennial storylines at least. Wouldn¡¯t want to steal Carousel¡¯s thunder or you might also get the lightning.¡±


    Sidney and Constanceughed together as fast friends.


    ¡°Is everything on the tickets a threat?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure not everything is a threat. You must consider the context,¡± Constance said.


    Antoine and Kimberly looked at each other.


    The walk was about twenty-five minutes until we got to a house in a nice neighborhood with big lots and multiple stories. They each had nice gardens and automatic sprinklers.


    ¡°There it is,¡± Sidney said, pointing to a house at the end of a cul-de-sac.


    It was the type of house you might wish you had grown up in.


    ¡°This is actually the cul-de-sac I grew up in,¡± Sidney said. ¡°They¡¯ve got NPCs in them of course, but the houses were from my world.¡± She led us up the driveway to the front door.


    She took out a key and started fitting it into the lock. Before she could, the door was opened and a man in a T-shirt and pajama pants opened the door. He was slightly balding. He looked like any random dad.


    ¡°Sidney! Do you have any idea what time it is?¡± he asked. ¡°You had us worried sick.¡±


    ¡°I tried to call, but my phone wasn¡¯t working,¡± Sidney said. ¡°I was at the library helping Ms. Barlow with an exhibit for the Centennial tomorrow. I promise.¡±


    Royal Road''s content has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The red wallpaper called her dad ¡°Ross Martin, Worried Father¡±. He was level three. Nothing out of the ordinary.


    His eyes shot toward Constance. ¡°Oh,¡± he said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware you needed her tonight, Constance.¡±


    ¡°She did try to call, Ross,¡± Constance said.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Ross said, ¡°Still. I don¡¯t like not knowing where you are. After what happened before, you know. We moved to Carousel so I didn¡¯t have to worry about you, you know.¡±


    Sidney hugged her father and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ¡°That stuff is long behind us, Dad,¡± she said.


    How old, exactly, was Sidney supposed to be? That was the question I was asking. Her age was so ambiguous. I thought she was our age, maybe older, but now I was wondering if she was a teenager.


    ¡°And these are?¡± he asked.


    ¡°My friends. They helped on the project.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± he said. Then he looked at us. ¡°If you¡¯re going to stay, just keep it quiet. You guys like scrambled eggs?¡±


    ¡°Sure do,¡± Bobby said.


    Ross waved us in. The house was beautiful. The living room was filled withfortable furniture. We all piled in andid out, exhausted.


    Sidney¡¯s stepmother, Tawny, was in the living room and greeted us enthusiastically, ¡°You¡¯re Sidney¡¯s friends? I¡¯m so d to meet you. She never lets us meet her friends. Let me get you some drinks.¡±


    She was awfully chipper for five in the morning.


    ¡°You moved to Carousel so he didn¡¯t have to worry about you?¡± Isaac asked. That was the first thing he had said in a while.


    Sidney faked chuckled and said, ¡°Yeah. I had some run-ins with evil. First when I was sixteen, then again every few years until I was in my mid-thirties and it was going to kill my daughter. I got a deal to save her. They made my life into six storylines. That¡¯s almost a record here. Dad doesn¡¯t get killed until the third one.¡±


    ¡°Does he know about all of this?¡± Dina asked.


    Sidney shook her head.


    ¡°He is blissfully unaware. Thinks the first storyline happened before we moved here. Really it¡¯s just on the other side of town. He¡¯s happy most of the time.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean when you say you took a deal?¡± I asked. ¡°Samantha said something simr.¡±


    In fact, she had taken the deal to save her dad, as I understand it.


    ¡°Some mysterious man arrived and offered me a deal. Just that simple. He said he was fascinated by my story. Said he had a ce for me where my daughter would be safe, where I¡¯d get to see my father again. Mind you, the whole time, everything is moving in slow motion. My daughter was screaming. My house was burning. I had lost. I usually won in the end. He just needed me to say yes. That¡¯s what I did. There¡¯s more information somewhere in my script, but I can¡¯t find it. They don¡¯t like to be brought into the story like this.¡±


    Sidney got a look of sadness on her face. I couldn¡¯t help but notice that her daughter was nowhere to be seen.


    Constance appeared to sense that Sidney was done talking too because she turned to us and said, ¡°You chose me because you thought I might have some information for you. Indeed, I do. Ask it quickly. I have a schedule to keep.¡±


    Antoine and I looked at each other. We hadn¡¯t had time toe up with a list of questions.


    ¡°What are we supposed to be doing here? The Throughline is the main goal, right? We have to finish the Throughline to leave, right? How does Secret Lore y in?¡±


    Constance thought for a moment.


    ¡°Carousel considers knowledge to be power. Knowing certain things is all it takes to move forward in the narrative, more or less, for better or for worse. I will give you some knowledge.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.


    ¡°I could talk for hours about Carousel, but I would be talking in circles. It¡¯s beginning, its purpose, all things you will learn in due time, I hope. When you do, I hope you will tell me about it. I regret that my role in this world is as a bit yer. I regret that I cannot help you in any real way. I regret¡­ tranting that damn book."


    She looked at me. "You may want to write this down."


    I grabbed the Carousel As from Antoine¡¯s bag and a pen from Dina so I could write things down. Even then, there was a lot to write down. I turned to a nk page and started to write what Constance told us.


    "It was lifetimes ago," she said, "I was sitting in my study deciphering that book I ought not have touched. My regret for my hubris in those days is immense."


    "I remember everything that happened after that," she continued after a pause, "after I said those words. Thousands of people do not deserve to be imprisoned here in Carousel but I am not one of them. The destruction I brought upon my world is unforgivable and I ept this life as my punishment. My world descended into darkness and nothingness until one day I woke from it, and I was here."


    "I remember everything about that day," Constance mused, "except for what it was we talked about. That part is kept from me, stricken from the script. It was Ss Dyrkon who brought me here, a strikingly handsome man with dark hair and dark eyes. He asked me something, and I can see his lips moving, and I can feel my lips moving in my memories, but the words aren''t there. All gone."


    "I wasn''t able to give him the answers that he wanted," she admitted, "but he was soon able to find someone who could. And the answer they gave him was to build the Game at Carousel."


    "You see, first there was nothing but darkness and mystery. Then there was a town called Carousel. Then there was a game. The purpose of all of it lies so far back in the past I cannot find it. I''ve spent my lifetimes looking for it, but not a scrap of paper or a whisper will reveal it. He put it just beyond my grasp. That is not my purpose."


    "I think that is why he wants you here," Constance said to the listener, "he wants you to know what happened, to be a part of it, to live through it or die, and he is willing to do whatever it takes to get someone to witness his obsession. Carousel was born from obsession. Most evil things are. Whether you are obsessed over life or death, you still end up in a horror movie. Isn''t that how the saying goes?"


    "The Game at Carousel tells the story of what happened before," she continued, ¡°But Carousel could not tell that story in a straightforward manner. No. It stitched together the pieces from worlds apart. It used the tools avable."


    "The game ousted what came before, as far as I can tell," Constance said thoughtfully.


    "Sydney was brought in at Carousel in 1996. Tar was brought in at Carousel in 1969. All of them, the Paragons, brought in at their own time and at the same time because the game at Carousel exists outside it all. I wonder if that was rted to the question Ss asked me so many years ago, how to get outside of time. If so, he really did get his answer."


    "Remember the darkness. Remember the founding. Remember the game," she urged.


    "Finally, I want you to remember the moment that all that changed. At Carousel 1989, a simple story about a young woman and her father being held hostage by psychopaths was brought here. Not the best story, not special in any way. And yet when it was added to 1989, everything changed."


    "Carousel became irrevocably intertwined with your world," Constance concluded.


    "I don''t know what he''s nning. I hope that the Insider knows what they''re doing, but I doubt they could possibly anticipate the sheer force of will that they''re dealing with."


    She thought for a moment.


    "Learn everything you can during the Throughline. You must master it in order to understand what came before. Good luck."


    Sidney¡¯s stepmother came into the living room with some cups of ice and a pitcher of lemonade. ¡°Drinks, anyone?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I should be headed home,¡± Constance said. ¡°I have lines today. Have to work the library¡¯s booth. I have a meeting with the mayor tonight. Goodnight, everyone.¡±

 Arc II, Chapter 25: Play it cool

    Arc II, Chapter 25: y it cool


    Carousel as a town was strangely amodating. Every set came with lodgings of some kind. Some were better than others, but it was quite funny to watch as Sidney¡¯s father grabbed four cots from the basement. Her stepmom gathered nice linens for us to sleep with. They gave us bigfortable pillows and set us up around the house with our own little amodations.


    Maybe the Martin¡¯s home actually was stocked like a hotel back in their world, but I suspected that was a Carousel thing.


    I ended up in the den area, which was like the living room, but it showed more signs of being lived in. Antoine and Kimberly were allowed to sleep in the guest room, which was hrious given Sidney had told her parents that we were her fellow high school students. Her parents just went along with it, not noticing any of the oddness of letting strangers sleep in your house all morning and into the afternoon.


    I had given my sleeping trope to Antoine, so it took me a while to actually fall unconscious.


    I was awoken five or six hourster by a kid around twelve ying video games on the television in the den.


    He noticed I was awake soon enough.


    ¡°You slept forever,¡± the kid said. ¡°You were asleep when I left for school.¡±


    He was still wearing his backpack as he yed what appeared to be some other universe¡¯s version of a NES.


    ¡°Sorry about that. What time is it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Two-thirty,¡± he said. ¡°We got out of school early so we could help set up for the Centennial, but I didn¡¯t sign up for anything.¡±


    I could see he was an NPC, level three. His name was Taylor Martin.


    ¡°What are you ying?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Beast of the Dark,¡± he replied. No further exnation was offered. I remembered being a kid and being wholly captivated by video games and movies. Heck, even as an adult¡­


    I got up from the cot and did my best to fold the nket I had been given. After I had aplished a passable effort, I went to leave the den and took onest look at Taylor. He had no idea what kind of world he was in. Life must have been so simple.


    I made my way out into the living room. Dina and Sidney were there discussing their children. Dina was almost acting like a normal person for a moment. Talking about her son¡¯s favorite games and taking him to SeaWorld. Sidney talked about her daughter and how much she missed her.


    I waited for a lull in the conversation before I said, ¡°So, Taylor is your brother?¡±


    Sidney nodded. ¡°Half-brother. He didn¡¯t wake you up, did he?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I lied.


    She could tell I wanted to know more about how this all worked.


    ¡°Taylor didn¡¯t ever get any older than that in my world. He was killed. The storylines based on my life won¡¯t tell you that. He just doesn¡¯t return for the next movie. I think I¡¯m lucky in that. He never dies, not even Off-Screen. Never ages. Perks of being a Paragon, I guess.¡±


    The mood in the room somehow got more depressing.


    ¡°Are the others still asleep?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sidney answered. ¡°Except Bobby. He talked my dad into taking him to go check on some dogs from another storyline or something.¡±


    Those dogs from <em>Permanent Vacancy </em>had captured Bobby¡¯s attention pretty strongly.


    ¡°Is that safe?¡± I asked.


    ¡°For now,¡± Sidney said. ¡°They should be back soon.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°We need to get going.¡±


    ¡°The Centennial awaits,¡± Dina said. She almost sounded optimistic.


    I went to check on the others. The Hughes siblings had been given ces to sleep at the ends of hallways upstairs. That wasn¡¯t to say their amodations were bad. Those halls wererge and homey. It was a nice house. A nice neighborhood.


    I peeked down the hall to check if Cassie was up.


    She was. She sat on her cot and stared at the ground. She had not quite recovered from her death.


    We made eye contact. I gave a quick smile as an apology for disturbing her.


    ¡°Isaac¡¯s still asleep,¡± she said. ¡°Unconscious.¡±


    She was using her <strong>The Anguish</strong> trope to monitor the team¡¯s health statuses.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll be leaving soon. I¡¯lle get you.¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°Do we have to do another storyline?¡± she asked.


    Adeline had kept a policy of never giving new yers false hope. I didn¡¯t know if that was the best idea, but I didn¡¯t know a better one.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.


    She didn¡¯t react to the news. She was clearly upset. I was supposed to do something tofort her.


    ¡°Well, with your new trope tickets, you will have more than half my Plot Armor, which means I will be targeted before you. If that helps.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t,¡± she said. ¡°But thanks for trying.¡±


    She waited a moment.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with Antoine?¡± she asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s under a lot of pressure,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s the only real fighter we have so it weighs on him.¡±


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°Does that affect Incapacitation?¡± she asked. ¡°Because his Incapacitation status flickers sometimes. He woke up a few timesst night.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°He¡­ he got a fate worse than death a while ago. It messes with him sometimes. He¡¯s handling it.¡±


    ¡°A fate worse than death?¡± she asked. The magnitude of death itself was weighing on her. Thinking of what could be worse than that brought a tear to her eye. ¡°It must have been some fate. His status is flickering right now,¡± she said.


    ¡°They¡¯re awake?¡± I asked. ¡°Antoine and Kimberly?¡±


    She nodded her head.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you in a bit,¡± I said. ¡°Could you make sure Isaac is up?¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said softly. She started digging through her luggage as I left. It must have been nice to have spare clothes.


    I left her and Isaac upstairs and went to find the guest room.


    When I found the right door, I knocked.


    ¡°Just a second,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°Is Antoine okay?¡± I asked. I wished I had Anna with me. She would know what to do.


    ¡°Just give us a second,¡± she said again.


    I waited.


    Eventually, Kimberly answered the door, dressed in clothes I hadn¡¯t seen her in.


    ¡°Are those Sidney¡¯s?¡± I asked, distracted.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she answered. ¡°Antoine and I are still getting ready. We¡¯ll be out in a bit.¡±


    As she tried to shut the door, I put my foot in the way. ¡°Is Antoine having problems?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s getting ready,¡± Kimberly said, at first trying to keep up some pretense, but then she said, ¡°He¡¯s having some¡­.¡±


    She gave up on the excuse.


    I peered into the room. Antoine was buttoning up his cardigan.


    ¡°I¡¯m alright,¡± he said as I looked at him. ¡°Everything¡¯s okay. Just a nightmare.¡±


    His voice cracked.


    There was a pause as I thought of what to say.


    ¡°Cassie said your Incapacitation status was going off,¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a nightmare,¡± he said, echoing the title of his best mental health trope, the one that was supposed to make his trauma go away.


    It was a very powerful trope.


    But we were not very powerful yers. Not yet.


    ¡°Just tell me,¡± I said, unsure of the right words. ¡°If there is a problem, I need to know. We, your team, need to know.¡±


    Antoine considered what I had said. I could tell he was worried about something.


    ¡°Close the door,¡± he said softly.


    I did as he asked, closing it behind me.


    ¡°I just get confused sometimes. My heart beats really fast,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s no big deal. Really.¡±


    He had been trapped in an endless forest for decades, or at least was afflicted with the memories of it.


    ¡°Is it the forest from the ghost world?¡± I asked. I had worried that the forest from thest storyline might have reminded him of the Straggler¡¯s Forest. ¡°Is that what did it?¡±


    Antoine shook his head and sat back on the bed. ¡°No. That was fine. Actually breaking my leg really helped keep me in the moment, you know.¡± He stared into the distance for a moment, ¡°In the nightmare¡­ there was no pain or any other sensation except panic. It actually worked out.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re worried that Carousel is going to do something,¡± Kimberly said. She was crying. ¡°I think it threat¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t Kimberly. We don''t need to raise rm on ount of me.¡±


    ¡°We need to tell him!¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Maybe he¡¯ll know what to do.¡±


    ¡°I am just give me a second,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Tell me what?¡± I asked.


    Kimberly looked at Antoine, pleading with him with her eyes.


    ¡°Carousel''s just taunting me,¡± Antoine said. ¡°It¡¯s fine. It''s just trying to get under my skin. I would have told you if it was a big deal.¡±


    ¡°Show it to me,¡± I said.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he said. ¡°I don''t think it''s an actual threat.¡±


    He drew a ticket out of his pocket and handed it to me. His hand was shaking as he did.


    I grabbed it and read.


    y It Cool


    Type: Perk/Healing


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Stud


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Even under the crushing weight of a horror movie, some characters never break. Maybe some people really are just that tough. Maybe.


    With this trope equipped, the yer¡¯s fear and mental trauma can be suppressed simply by acting like it doesn¡¯t exist. This trope will not heal such issues permanently, but at least while in a storyline, and especially On-Screen, you¡¯ll be cool, calm, and collected. The audience will think you¡¯re a badass.


    Until you can¡¯t fake it anymore. When it all bes too much. When they realize exactly how far gone you actually are, will they still trust you?


    What will happen to everyone then?


    When they find out the truth?


    ¡°Oh, damn,¡± I said. ¡°What truth is this referring to?¡±


    Carousel was needling him over his mental scars. The Insider should have picked a better way to show us Secret Lore.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal,¡± he said. ¡°I just get nightmares! That¡¯s all.¡±


    He had been using a trope he couldn¡¯t use properly to try and undo serious problems. It wasn¡¯t working well enough.


    ¡°We need to talk to the Paragons,¡± I said. ¡°There has to be a way to deal with this. A day spa or a therapist. Dr. Mentes, maybe.¡±


    Dr. Truman Mentes was a Paragon who had acted as a minor antagonist in the Subject of Inquiry storyline. My guess was that he was the Psychiatrist Paragon. That had to be the way to go.


    ¡°He won¡¯t put enough points into Moxie to make his trope work properly,¡± Kimberly exined. ¡°I try to tell him!¡±


    The <strong>You were having a nightmare¡­</strong> trope used Moxie. If the user didn¡¯t have enough of it, it didn¡¯t work well.


    ¡°I can¡¯t put all of my points into Moxie,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I need to boost my physical stats so I can fight. Who else will? Once we get our Final Girl back things will be different.¡±


    They continued arguing for a bit. I hadn¡¯t really seen them argue since we had arrived. Maybe they just didn¡¯t do it in public.


    ¡°Whatever we do,¡± I said, ¡°We need to keep moving forward. It¡¯s the Centennial. Something big is going to happen today. We need to make a n and stick to it.¡±


    Antoine nodded his head. ¡°Exactly. We just keep grinding it out. This problem will take care of itself.¡±


    Kimberly looked at him, clearly not satisfied with that idea.


    ¡°What we really need to do is get in a storyline,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I can test this puppy out.¡± He grabbed the y It Cool trope back from me and waved it.


    He actually did look excited to try it out. If he could forget his problems during a storyline, that would make constant storylines a quick fix for him.


    I didn¡¯t know what I was supposed to do.


    ¡°Meet up in the living room,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll head out when Bobby gets back.¡±


    ~-~


    I couldn¡¯t imagine the pressure that Antoine was under. I was familiar with the pressure I was under. It was like a Grotesque perched on my shoulders. I preferred things when all I had to worry about was beating storylines.


    I sat in the living room eatingsagna that Sidney¡¯s stepmother made as I waited for everyone to gather back around.


    Finally, we heard a car pull into the driveway. Bobby was back.


    We all went outside to meet him. I half expected Bobby¡¯s dogs to pile out of the car, but they didn¡¯t. He was in a good mood though.


    As soon as he met up with us in the driveway, he said, ¡°So I was reading in the As about background tropes. It said they are most effective on Wallflowers out of all Archetypes because their backgrounds are least likely to constrain the story. What we have to do is keep bringing up my history with animals. I think Carousel will give me some type of trope to let me bring the dogs around with us.¡±


    I nodded and said, ¡°Sounds good. My only worry was that he might not be happy if Carousel didn¡¯t go along with his n.


    Sidney led us out of her neighborhood toward the Centennial.


    It was a long walk where I contemted what I had to aplish and everything we had left to figure out.


    Sidney and Dina talked casually about things I wasn¡¯t interested in and Antoine was back to his tall, confident self. Or at least he was pretending.


    The Hughes siblings were quiet, but that was to be expected.


    ¡°I have a line on my script that I have to say,¡± Sidney exined. ¡°After I say it, I won¡¯t be a yer anymore. I¡¯ll be an NPC. Anyst questions before I say it? I don¡¯t have much time.¡±


    I had already asked her vaguely about help with trauma for Antoine. I even asked about Dr. Mentes. She told me that I would get my answer about medical help soon and not to worry. Somehow, I still managed to worry.


    ¡°If there are no more questions,¡± she said, as we arrived at the entrance to the Centennial grounds near town¡¯s square.


    She paused.


    No one asked anything. We had asked her every manner of question already, at least the ones we could think of.


    She looked at the ground and nodded her head.


    ¡°Then this is goodbye for now¡­¡± she hesitated but then called out loudly, ¡°I¡¯ll help you in any way I can. If you make it to the day of the Centennial,e find me. I can tell you more then.¡±

 Arc II, Chapter 26: The Carousel Spins On

    Arc II, Chapter 26: The Carousel Spins On


    ¡°If you make it to the day of the Centennial?¡± I repeated as Sidney walked away.


    Her words hung in the air. The Stranger had said the same thing the day before. Back then it had just sounded like an odd way of saying ¡°See you tomorrow¡± but when Sidney said it, it made no sense at all.


    It was the day of the Centennial. I was sure of it. The NPCs and signage had been clear that the Centennial was the 5th of August. The day before had been the 4th of August.


    How were we not on the day of the Centennial?


    I looked at the others.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Bobby said.


    ¡°I thought today was the day of the Centennial,¡± Kimberly said.


    We looked around the festivities for a sign, any sign. Unfortunately, there was nothing to set us on the right path.


    The Leads board on the red wallpaper simply said:


    Leads


    The Founder¡¯s Tale.


    ¡¤ Cemetery on Geist Estate [?]


    ¡¤ Jedediah Geist[?]


    Nothing that I couldn¡¯t have already memorized.


    ¡°If the Centennial isn¡¯t today, does that mean we started everything over?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°A time loop?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Like Groundhogs Day.¡±


    I was d there was someone around to pick up my ck on movie references.


    ¡°Maybe we didn¡¯t do the storyline right,¡± Bobby suggested.


    We didn¡¯t need to specte.


    ¡°Let¡¯s retrace our steps from yesterday just to be sure,¡± I said. If it was a time loop, that wasn¡¯t the worst news. That would mean time was on our side.


    Possibly.


    We quickly walked into the crowds of people enjoying the rides and booths that had already been set up. Like the day before, many booths had not yet been opened because it wasn¡¯t the official start of the Centennial yet.


    We were headed to the history disys that the local junior high had put up.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Dina said. Her eyes were on a swivel. ¡°The mayor is over there.¡±


    I followed her gaze and saw that the mayor of Carousel was walking on the same street he had been on when we had seen him the day before.


    ¡°His Plot Armor is back to three,¡± I said.


    We watched as he spoke with his assistants about something passionately, how he greeted passersby.


    ¡°We need to check on the time capsule,¡± Antoine said. ¡°That¡¯s the best way to be sure. The old one was dug up yesterday. If everything is happening over again, then the hole won¡¯t be dug yet.¡±


    I agreed mostly. ¡°If we go over there we risk triggering that cutscene where they dig it up again.¡±


    Before we could make a decision, we were osted by a familiar nondescript face.


    ¡°How did you get to Carousel?¡± The Stranger screamed at us from across the clearing we were standing in. Nice to see he was alive.


    I turned to see him as he closed in, the same intense look in his eye I remembered.


    As he approached, I could have sworn there was a glint in his eye as he watched our reactions.


    ¡°Wait,¡± he said. ¡°You were here before. I¡¯ve seen you before. You¡¯re not that new. When did you get here?¡±


    He really managed to sound unhinged in a way that made me feel like I might have been the crazy one.


    ¡°Yesterday,¡± I said. ¡°You spoke to us.¡±


    ¡°I did?¡± he asked. He turned around and thought for a moment. ¡°How many days has that happened?¡±


    ¡°Just the one,¡± I said.


    ¡°Carousel has a hard time letting go of the past,¡± he said. ¡°You have to find a way forward. If you make it to the day of the Centennial¡ª¡±


    ¡°Come find you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I guess I¡¯ve said that before,¡± he answered. ¡°Carousel won¡¯t let me go. There are some of us that still have the hooks in. Others walk around, enjoy the festivities, and look forward to the Centennial that just won''te¡­. But even Carousel can¡¯t keep this fa?ade up perfectly. You need to move forward before the cracks start to show again.¡±


    I''d get right on that.


    ¡°Why is it doing this?¡± Antoine asked.


    The Stranger looked at Antoine and immediately recoiled in pain as if remembering how Antoine had beat his head in with a baseball bat while possessed.


    ¡°To let things go forward, you would have to leave things behind,¡± The Stranger said. He started to walk away but then turned back. ¡°Figure this out quickly. There¡¯s a long way to go.¡±


    And then he left, but not before looking back over his shoulder onest time.


    ¡°So it is a time loop,¡± Isaac said. ¡°We¡¯re just going to do this again.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure what The Stranger had meantpletely. A time loop would mean everything started over except the memories of those trapped in it, but more than that had changed. I just couldn¡¯t put my finger on it. Something felt off. We had not woken in the B&B for one. We still had our prizes from thest storyline.


    ¡°The histories then back to the time capsules?¡± Antoine suggested.


    I nodded.


    We didn¡¯t need to go to the Diner. That had been a detour.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the vition.


    We approached the line of boards filled with clippings from newspapers and online print-offs. It all appeared the same as I remembered it. That is until I read it. The board on the disy said:<blockquote><strong>The Founding of Carousel</strong></blockquote><blockquote><em><strong>August 6, 1922</strong></em></blockquote><blockquote><em><strong>The Haunted History of the Geist Family</strong></em></blockquote>


    <strong>¡­</strong>


    I read the title of the history disy again. Then I skimmed through the articles some junior high kid had added to the board in a rush to get the project done.


    ¡°August 6th?¡± I asked. ¡°There is no way this said August 6th. Carousel was founded on the 5th.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I was worried this would be too straightforward.¡±


    ¡°Today is the 5th,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Tomorrow is the Centennial on the 6th.¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow the Centennial will still be a day away,¡± Bobby said. ¡°If I¡¯m following this right.¡±


    Everything else on the board looked the same. The only differences were the dates rted to the founding of Carousel.


    ¡°What does it mean?¡± Cassie asked. She hadn¡¯t spoken up all afternoon. ¡°Why change it?¡±


    I had a hunch, but I had to keep looking.


    ¡°What are we supposed to do?¡± Kimberly asked. She wasn¡¯t asking anyone in particr.


    I pulled out the littleminated cards we had received for ying the <em>Ten Second Game</em> storyline.


    ¡°We got back to the hotel, I bet,¡± I said. ¡°But this time, we don¡¯t have to do the storyline.¡±


    Our licenses could allow us to break the pattern.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Cassie asked, not managing to hide the twinge of desperation in her voice.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°But it looks that way. We really weren¡¯t directed toward anything else. I any of you know better, speak up. Otherwise, let''s get a move on. I¡¯d rather find out sooner rather thanter.¡±


    No one had an objection. There were no other clues. It was clear where the path was pointing us. This part of the Throughline was called the Tutorial by the yers, after all. I had to hope that meant it was hard to miss something important. Of course, most of the yers probably didn''t y the full Tutorial if my understanding was correct.


    We knew where to go. None of us wanted to go that way, not if it risked us getting close to that Strander ke character again. The ghosts themselves were unsettling, but a powerful entity with a disregard for the rules was wholly more terrifying.


    Cassie was starting to struggle carrying her luggage, so I went and offered to help her with it. Last time she had declined the offer, but this time she didn¡¯t. It must have been difficult to die and then have to get right back into things. When I died, I usually had some time to dpress. Campy Dyer was starting to look like paradise now. I could see why the Vets liked it so much.


    It wasn¡¯t long before we were back at the tables where we had somehow snagged thest hotel room in Carousel. Gina, the NPC who had helped us before was back.


    Kimberly took the lead again. ¡°We can¡¯t find the people we were supposed to meet up with. Do you know where we could find a hotel?¡±


    ¡°Oh my gosh,¡± Gina said with the same grin I remembered. ¡°Things are so hectic right now. I bet that¡¯s why you can¡¯t get ahold of them. We can certainly set you up with some rooms. This happens with every big event in Carousel. I can check if anyone has canceled their rooms and maybe we can set you up with a ce for the weekend. What do you think?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a lifesaver,¡± Kimberly said softly.


    My eyes were over on the patch of dirt that some men had started digging on. The same patch of dirt they had unearthed the impossible time capsule from before. The new time capsule was set out next to it. The mayor and his entourage were all getting into ce. Rhonda Moore was walking toward us while talking on her phone.


    ¡°I don''t care that it''s only rainwater; we can''t have the you-know-what backing up during the Centennial. You need to get someone to fix it immediately!¡±


    She hung up the phone as she approached us. ¡°Hello! Wee to Carousel, the town where moviese to life! Is Gina getting you set up with amodations?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°She¡¯s being very helpful.¡±


    ¡°Good!¡± Rhonda said. ¡°Do you see that over there? That¡¯s the Centennial Time Capsule. We¡¯re burying it tomorrow. Be sure toe check that out!¡±


    ¡°You should go check it out now,¡± Gina joined in. ¡°It¡¯ll be a moment before I get your room all booked up.¡±


    ¡°Thanks!¡± Kimberly said.


    We all made our way across the square knowing what we would find there.


    <strong>Carousel¡¯s Centennial Capsule¡ªA Hundred Years of Fun!</strong>


    Buried August 6, 2022.


    <strong>Do not open for One Hundred Years!</strong>


    <strong>Carousel Loves Families!</strong>


    It was set to be buried tomorrow.


    The mayor made his way over and gave his spiel.


    ¡°I see you are admiring our new tradition!¡± Mayor Gray said enthusiastically as we walked up. ¡°Well, she goes into the ground soon, never to be seen again for a hundred years. Isn¡¯t that exciting?¡±


    He presented the letter he intended to drop in.


    ¡°By the time you leave, you will be a believer in my vision for this ce. It will be a ce of prosperity, of happiness, of reconciliation between what has been and what can be. Do you know who said that?¡±


    ¡°Ss Dyrkon,¡± I answered.


    ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± the mayor yelled as if I had solved world hunger. ¡°Most attribute the quote to Bartholomew Geist, but in truth, Ss Dyrkon was every bit the visionary as Geist. He just wasn¡¯t as skilled at marketing himself. You know the town''s mascot, Ss the Mechanical Showman is named after him, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that,¡± I said.


    The conversation would have continued further, but then, as had happened before, the men digging the hole for the time capsule had nged their shovels against something metal.


    They dug it out and the mayor wiped off the dirt.


    <strong>Carousel¡¯s Time Capsule!</strong>


    A Hundred Years of Thrills--Here¡¯s to a Hundred More!


    <strong>DO NOT OPEN UNTIL August 6, 2092.</strong>


    Buried August 6, 1992, during Carousel¡¯s Centennial Celebration


    This time, I wanted to see inside, except I couldn¡¯t. Rhonda Moore, once again, had used one of her Team Leader tropes to encourage us to stay back and watch. The script wasn¡¯t going to let us see inside that easily.


    We had to watch the debate about opening it again.


    Everything happened word for word. Constance argued it was a prank. Kitty Lincoln thought it was filled with anthrax or explosives.


    The back and forth.


    And then Madam Celia returned and gave her speech to the mayor, who was just as rattled as before.


    ¡°You will open the capsule. That¡¯s what I have to say. Whether it is now, tomorrow, or the next day, or thirty more years from now, you will open it. When you do, you will figure out what message the past has for us. The voices of the dead can be louder than the living here in Carousel. When they choose to speak, you will hear them. There is no use dying what will happen. There is even less use ignoring what already did.¡±


    That was all it took to convince the poor little NPC mayor to open the time capsule.


    His Plot Armor jumped back up the fifty. He locked it back up.


    ¡°Have this brought to my offices¡­ the ones at the clock tower. We should get the hole covered with a tarp so we can bury the proper time capsule tomorrow as nned. Can someone remind me of when it is supposed to rain again?"


    "Two days from now," Rhonda answered quickly.


    They all dispersed. The cogs were turning. I was starting to see how the beginning of the Throughline worked. The town was a world left waiting for something to happen.


    As if to drive home the point further, something did happen.


    A woman¡¯s scream sounded in the distance. Everyone looked back toward the festivities. The woman wasn¡¯t being attacked or harmed.


    She was going intobor.


    A nurse, the same nurse we had seen at the hospital¡¯s booth the day before, was escorting the pregnant woman toward a nearby parking lot.


    It could have been nothing. Maybe we had been here toote to see that happen the day before, but I didn¡¯t think so. It was an obvious clue meant to drive home what had been going on in Carousel within the story of the Throughline.


    Every day, people would get up and go through their lives as if it were the day before the Centennial. The schools had a half day. Families woulde to ride the rides and y the games that had already been set up.


    Time didn¡¯t stay still though. People had babies, got injuries, lived, and died. The entire cast changed out except for the Paragons and, if Sidney¡¯s situation wasmon, their families.


    The people of Carousel¡¯s lives moved forward with the date, all except for the part Carousel cared about. The story we were meant to follow.


    This wasn¡¯t a time loop.


    It was a continuity loop. The story wouldn¡¯t move forward until someone moved it. Carousel was holding it in ce. It was like in a video game when you don¡¯t trigger the first quest, the game just stays in limbo until you arrive. Even if thirty years pass, the game is ready for you to start the plot.


    Something was supposed to happen the day before the Centennial. Something we were meant to have a part in. I didn¡¯t know what.


    But not everything was caught on this eternal treadmill.


    The weather, for instance, was not affected. Yesterday, the forecast said it was three days until a rainstorm arrived. Today, it was only two days.


    Rhonda Moore had been scripted to inform us that the sewers under the town were in need of repair.


    It was alling together.


    It would soon fall apart.

 Arc II, Chapter 27: Early Morning Poker

    Arc II, Chapter 27: Early Morning Poker


    Back to the resort we went. We were all anxious about finding the spirits of the dead there, but it was clear that we were meant to return to Jed Geist''s old home, now thergest, fanciest hotel suite I had ever been in.


    Since we had triggered the time capsule scene earlier this time, there was no need to enlist a Paragon to guide us to our hotel room. It was still light enough outside. The scene with the front desk clerk at the resort yed out simrly but without Bobby¡¯s involvement.


    It turned out that Bobby¡¯s Recast trope had some staying power because she asked him why he was at work that day. Apparently, his character had weekends off.


    The Stranger didn¡¯t approach us. The mirrors weren¡¯t covered in the suite. Everything looked normal. I could smell fresh paint from the repairs that had been done. It was strange for a reality-altering entity like Carousel to use NPCs for something like fixing windows and sheetrock, but it apparently did. To be fair, there were plenty of building materials on the premises due to the ongoing construction in the rest of the resort.


    None of the others found this as interesting as I did.


    They were just relieved to not be running a storyline that night.


    ¡°But we have to be doing something,¡± I protested.


    The rain and clogged sewers were as close to a ticking clock as we could get. We had two days. Whether we were supposed to prevent some sort of flood or prepare for it, I didn¡¯t know, but taking the night off felt unwise.


    ¡°We need a break,¡± Kimberly said. She was referring to Antoine, which was funny because Antoine was more than willing to find whatever challenge was next on our list.


    No one wanted to sleep in the actual rooms. The Ten Second Game was safe enough, but still, it would be hard to sleep while it was going on.


    We pulled the mattresses into the living room and spread out the furniture. All of the bedroom doors were closed tight.


    Still, tension remained, especially among the newbies.


    ¡°You think this is rattling,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Back at Camp Dyer, there was this clearly haunted cabin out by theke. It was covered in police tape and the windows were shuttered. The little kids at the camp would act all sweet and ask to y tetherball or whatever, but eventually they always tried to get you to go in the cabin. Creepy little kids.¡±


    They talked about Camp Dyer like it was full of fond memories. They told stories about the Vets, both funny and scary. We never would have spoken so highly of it when we were there.


    Dina and I were the only ones not going along. We were hunting for clues. We knew we had been sent to this particr suite for a reason. This building had been the property of a member of the Geist family. That was a little too much of a coincidence to let pass. We didn¡¯t know how this suite yed into things, but we knew that some of Jed Geist''s junk was still being used to decorate the ce after it got purchased by the resort.


    Within the storyline we had just yed, Sidney¡¯s character had been trying tomunicate with Jed Geist¡¯s ghost. That was a blinking neon sign telling us that we should attempt that too.


    She had the obvious advantage. Her <strong>Outsider¡¯s Perspective</strong> trope was perfect for finding something out of ce, but in the end, it wasn¡¯t something out of ce that we needed.


    We were in the storage room where we had found The Stranger lurking during the storyline. The room was filled with furniture and boxes, most of which werebeled, ¡°To Geist Museum,¡± as if there was some intention of getting these items into the hands of some Carousel historian at some point in the future.


    ¡°You ever wonder how real these people were?¡± Dina asked me as she flipped through a book that must have been Jed Geist¡¯s stamp collection.


    I shrugged my shoulders. ¡°The way Constance talked; they might have been once. Back before Carousel was Carousel.¡±


    ¡°You think we¡¯ll ever meet any of them?¡± she asked. ¡°The Geists.¡±


    ¡°Given Carousel¡¯s obsession with them, there¡¯s no telling.¡±


    I closed up the box I had been rummaging through. It was a mess. The objects were all wrapped and cushioned with crumpled old newspaper. What was the point?


    ¡°To talk to him using our Licenses, we need a Keepsake, which as far as we know you get from killing an enemy in a story, or we have to find the murder weapon that did him in. I¡¯m assuming he was killed and didn¡¯t die naturally, because, well¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Carousel,¡± Dina said.


    ¡°Yep. But why would the weapon that killed him be in with his belongings?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We need clues,¡± Dina said, diligently opening another box and digging through the next box. She pulled handfuls of crumpled newspaper out of a box and said with a smirk, ¡°Maybe this is the murder weapon,¡± as she pulled out an ancient toaster that must have been one of the first ever produced.


    Iughed, but before I could respond, there was a knock at the door. Bobby was standing in the doorframe.


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    ¡°You guys, I got some food and stuff from the kitchens,¡± he said, smiling. ¡°All I had to do was wear my uniform and they thought I was still my character!¡±


    ¡°Good call,¡± Dina said. She set her box down and followed Bobby out to the kitchen to share in the spoils. It really was good to have a Wallflower on the team.


    As I walked out of the room after them, it hit me. Where would you find information about the death of a man from a famous family?


    The clues we needed were in the boxes after all, but not in Jed¡¯s belongings. They were used to wrap and protect his belongings.


    I grabbed some of the newspaper inserts that Dina had left lying on the ground.


    There was a little sticker on an old front-page section with this address and the name, ¡°Geist, Jedediah¡± on it. That meant that whoever had packed up all his stuff after his death had used his own newspapers as packing material. He must have had a newspaper subscription that kept running after his death, causing them to pile up. If that was true, then an article reporting on his death could be somewhere in all of the mess.


    I took the copy of the Carousel Gazette with me into the living room to show my discovery to the others.


    When I got there, I realized very quickly that food wasn¡¯t the only thing Bobby had taken from the resort. Everyone was gathered around the coffee table where Reply the Departed had once been set up. The table was covered in mini bottles of alcohol now.


    Looking around, they had clearly been into them already. Back at Camp Dyer, that had been amon salve to Carousel¡¯s various afflictions as well.


    Everyone had a te full of chicken wings and a red stic cup filled with off-brand soda and spirits.


    And they looked happy to be doing something other than trying to survive.


    Isaac must have been a bit of a partyer back in the real world because he had already built up a collection of half a dozen empty bottles in front of him. Antoine wasn¡¯t far behind.


    So that was going to be what kind of night we were having.


    Luckily the others hadn¡¯t partaken as wholeheartedly.


    ¡°What¡¯d you find?¡± Dina asked when she saw me holding the newspaper.


    ¡°I think I know where the clues are,¡± I said. I showed her the sticker and gave her my theory about how the newspapers used to fill the old boxes were likely from the days and weeks after Jed Geist¡¯s death.


    Antoine was still with us enough to realize the importance of what I had figured out. He said, ¡°Guess we need more newspaper.¡±


    And he was right.


    We spent the next few hours collecting every scrap of newspaper from the boxes in the storage room. Kimberly divided them up among all of us except Isaac, who had drunk more than Antoine but didn¡¯t have the tolerance to handle it.


    ¡°A local swimmer is missing after being sucked through a crack in the bottom of the city pool,¡± Cassie read aloud.


    Something like that had happened before if my memory of the newspaper clippings on the history board was correct.


    ¡°It must have been Jed Geist,¡± Isaac said sloppily. ¡°Case closed. We need that swimming pool.¡±


    ¡°Food poisoning at a noodle bar in downtown Carousel. November 1992,¡± Bobby read.


    ¡°We need those noodles,¡± Isaac said.


    The search continued.


    ¡°You know, this would have been really good information for Constance to tell us. Being the Carousel historian and all,¡± Antoine said.


    Constance had plenty of chances to talk about Jed Geist. We had asked enough, but our questions had been too broad. If she was allowed to tell us, she must have needed specific questions.


    ¡°Or maybe we should have chosen Chief Willis,¡± Dina said, holding up a newspaper for Kimberly to read.


    ¡°Final Geist Found in,¡± Kimberly read. ¡°Marring tomorrow¡¯s Anniversary festivities, thest known heir to the Geist legacy was found dead this morning in his North Carousel home. Police are currently investigating all leads. While the cause of death has not yet been determined, the death has been ruled a homicide.¡±


    She squinted her eyes at the article. ¡°Continues on page A13. Look at the picture. It¡¯s that Willis guy. There¡¯s something in his hand.¡±


    Kimberly passed the article around so we could take a look at it. The future Chief Willis was only an officer in this photo. He was holding something long and thin that had an evidence tag hanging from it, whatever it was. The photo was too grainy to make out exactly.


    At first nce, I thought it was a riding crop, but that would be a silly murder weapon.


    ¡°Firece poker,¡± Dina said once she got another look at it.


    We all turned our heads to the firece nearby. It still had its firece poker.


    ¡°What do you want to bet that there is a firece tool set in that storage room that is missing a poker?¡± Dina continued.


    It didn¡¯t take long to find. There was a set of five tools for the firece in one of the boxes. The poker was missing.


    ¡°The poker, so clich¨¦. If he had been killed by the tiny shovel I¡¯d be impressed,¡± Isaac said from his chair.


    ¡°You guys catch the day he died?¡± I asked. ¡°It was the day before Carousel¡¯s Anniversary.¡±


    ¡°Every day is the day before the Anniversary,¡± Antoine reminded me.


    ¡°Maybe this is the reason for that,¡± I suggested.


    We continued searching through the newspaper for a while longer, but then it was time to get some sleep. Not that that¡¯s the first thing we did.


    They wanted to talk first. Their lips were loosened by the booze and the thrill of discovery.


    Cassie told us about their brother. Isaac sat glumly trying not to throw up.


    ¡°When our parents died,¡± she said. ¡°He took care of us. He was older. Barely out of med school, but still, he took in two teenagers. Do you think that¡¯s why Carousel wanted us? Because we had no one left to look for us?¡±


    No one answered that. We could all exin why we were ideal victims. My family was dead. Bobby just had Jeate and they weren¡¯t close to their rtives. Dina had driven off everyone who cared about her, and Antoine was already on a rocky foundation with his parents.


    ¡°My parents must be worried sick,¡± Kimberly said. It didn¡¯t sound like she was bragging, but she clearly was certainly an outlier, as were Anna and Camden who both had parents and siblings who would miss them.


    ¡°If Carousel could take Chris without anyone doing anything, it could take anyone,¡± Antoine said. ¡°He was a superstar before he left. My parents devoted their lives to getting him into the NFL. He even had a manager already. If he can disappear, anyone can.¡±


    That was something I had never pushed Antoine on. He was the only one of us who really knew what it looked like for Carousel to kidnap a loved one. Cassie and Isaac said that their brother just got a job at some hospital. They didn¡¯t know anything was up.


    Chris, however, had all kinds of loose ends.


    But Antoine didn¡¯t want to talk about how Chris had been taken by Carousel without anyone knowing something was up. He rolled over on his mattress and checked out mentally once the conversation started.


    I didn¡¯t have much to contribute. All I left behind was student loans.


    I tried talking about strategies involving our new tropes, but no one wanted to talk about that. I went and grabbed some of the now cold chicken wings and sat up watching everyone. My sleep pattern was off.


    How could anyone rest at a time like this?


    But none of them really slept. That was made clear when the clock on the wall struck 3am and nothing happened. We knew we weren¡¯t in a storyline. We knew that. But still, the fear that 3am woulde and the Ten Second Game would start again was on all of our minds.


    Everyone cheered.


    Then, we finally got to sleep.

 Arc II, Chapter 28: Not the Worst Ending

    Arc II, Chapter 28: Not the Worst Ending


    That was the first night in a while that I was able to use my instant sleeping trope all to myself. That was fortunate, as every noise in the suite jolted me awake with thoughts of ghouls and ghosts. I woke up early and sat around in one of the chairs in the living room, nning what I thought was going to be a very important meeting.


    I needed to rally everyone toward figuring out what we were supposed to do next. It was clear that we needed to find the weapon used to murder Jedediah Geist. It was unclear at that time how we were meant to go about it. The continuity loop that we were stuck in revolved around the town square and the Centennial. Trying to solve a murder in the middle of that felt very busy.


    Somehow, Bobby had beaten me to consciousness and was already in the kitchen, making multiple loaves of toast to be eaten with jam that he had taken from the kitchens. They were individual serving packets, but they hit the spot.


    Bobby had a nervous energy as he worked. He muttered to himself as he wiped up crumbs. He was distant.


    Everyone got up one by one. Thest up was Isaac, and when he did finally scrape himself off his mattress, he was clearly hungover. I remembered back at the Lodge, whenever people would get hungover, they would find their way to Reggie or one of the other owners of the <strong>Hair Of The Dog </strong>trope, which could cure their hangover or at least undo most of its harmful effects by serving them a ssh of peach tea.


    Before people got off on tangents, I decided to say, ¡°We need to find Chief Willis. The only way we¡¯re moving forward is if we find that firece poker and my money says we need him. We can¡¯t focus on anything else until we find him, okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to check my calendar,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to figure this out,¡± Kimberly assured me. ¡°We all know what¡¯s at stake.¡±


    I didn¡¯t think they were acting like it, but luckily I didn¡¯t speak my mind before there was a knock at the door.


    Whatever he was doing before, Antoine jumped to his feet and ran to the door. First, he looked out the peephole. There was a look of shock on his face, and then relief. He opened the door to reveal Police Chief Willis standing outside.


    He was a tall man in his fifties or sixties by demeanor, but with an athletic build that made him look younger than he was. He wore a ballcap that said, ¡°CPD¡± and mirrored sunsses.


    ¡°Productive day,¡± Isaac said. ¡°What else did we have to do today?¡±


    What was it Constance had said? Information was power. Maybe knowing the next step was enough to manifest it. Maybe I was just stressing myself out. Chief Willis was the exact person we needed to see at that moment. He might have answers. I had hoped that when I looked at him on the red wallpaper, I would see that he was acting as a yer. But he was still an NPC. We were going to have to y our roles.


    As soon as the door was opened, Antoine said ¡°Hello,¡± and asked ¡°How we could help you?¡±


    "We got some reports of some screaming happening herest night. We''re always getting reports of screaminging from this ce, but I thought I¡¯de check it out anyway," Chief Willis said.


    "Is that normally the kind of thing that the police chief investigates?" Antoine asked.


    "Well, as a matter of fact, it isn¡¯t," Police Chief Willis said, "But with the Centennialing up, I thought I¡¯de check on it myself."


    "Fair enough," Antoine said.


    Willis stuck his head inside the door and took a look around. "So, what was the deal with the screaming?" he asked.


    "We were ying a game," Antoine answered matter-of-factly.


    "A game?" Willis asked. "Is there any chance it''s the type of game that could be used to contact the dead?" He put on a wide grin. He knew exactly why people came to this particr hotel room.


    "We might have," Antoine answered.


    I could see where the conversation was going. Discovering the photograph of a young Kurt Willis working at the crime scene of Jedediah Geist¡¯s murder must have triggered the next part of the Throughline.


    "I don''t know why kids in this town are so obsessed with the death of Jedediah Geist. If you were to list out his family members, he would be the least interesting. In many ways, he died one of the least interesting deaths too."


    "Least interesting?" Kimberly asked, approaching the door. "Does that mean they know who did it?"


    "That means that a person did it and not some sort of thing that goes bump in the night," Willis answered. "For those guys, that is pretty boring. So, have you kids had any luck?"


    "Not so much," I answered.


    "Well, shoot," he said, backing out the door. "So, if the screamsst night weren''t anything major, I''m gonna go ahead and head out."


    "Wait a second," I said. "Did you have any involvement with the original investigation?"


    "As a matter of fact, I did. It''s part of the reason that I am bewildered at people''s fascination with it. Even back then, people made a bid deal out of it. The mayor at that time brought in a special team to investigate. Of course, they found nothing, and when they found nothing, the mayor helped this story disappear. Disappearing isn''t the right word; he helped to turn it into a legend. That''s how everything goes around here. First it¡¯s an emergency, then its taboo, then it kids talk about it at summer camp."


    He turned to leave, but then Kimberly asked, "He was killed with a firece poker, right?"


    Chief Willis looked at her with a side-eye. "Now, how did you know about that? Most people think he was stabbed. That''s the tall tale at least."


    I grabbed the newspaper leaflet that we had found and showed it to him. It depicted a younger Officer Willis holding a firece poker with an evidence tag tied around it.


    "Well, ain''t that a handsome son of a gun?" Willis said as he looked at the picture. "I imagine that particr piece of evidence is currently locked away in a storage room under City Hall¡­¡±


    At first, he waited for a response, but then seemed to decide to deliver the rest of his exposition all at once as if he felt he was wasting his time.


    ¡°Now, if you really wanted to take a look at it, I might suggest you go apply for a permit because the mayor turned the cold case storage into a sort of museum called the Cold Case Museum. It goes with the aesthetic of Carousel being this creepy ce that everyone wants to make it out to be. If I were you, I would hurry; it is the day before the Centennial, after all, and City Hall closes at noon. You might get a glimpse of some of the evidence. Maybe not the stuff you like, but the stuff that they set up for disy. Not that I''m suggesting you do any of that."


    Only in Carousel would cold case file storage be turned into a museum.


    ¡°We might just do that," Antoine said. "You know, I''m heading back that way if you''re interested in a ride. I remember them saying that you all didn''t have a car," Willis said.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Unlike our previous run-ins with Paragons, I felt no pull toply with what Willis had just told me to do. Still, I didn''t need it. It was all starting to form a picture for me. Find the murder weapon. Talk to Jedediah Geist. Figure out what it was we were supposed to be doing here. A hundred stepster, we¡¯d get to go home.


    ~-~


    The moment we got inside his SUV, his demeanor changed. His information on the red wallpaper changed too. Now he was a yer.


    ¡°Sorry to rush through that,¡± he said. ¡°I have to say it like that. It¡¯s in the script. I just didn¡¯t see the point of drawing out the conversation with experienced yers.¡±


    I looked at his poster.


    Kurt Willis is the <em>GI</em>.


    The poster depicted a tense scene: both Willis and the axe murderer were positioned back-to-back, each on opposite sides of a doorway. They were hidden from each other''s view, pressed against the walls in a strategic stand-off. Willis, armed with a gun, was poised and ready, mirroring the axe murderer''s silent menace.


    He was a soldier Paragon.


    "I figured you for the Sheriff Paragon," I said.


    He nodded. ¡°Understandable. Can¡¯t put one of the advanced Paragons in a Throughline story unless you want the plot scrambled.¡±


    That made sense. Advanced Archetypes like Detective, Monster Hunter, or Sheriff changed the story around considerably.


    Kimberly was talking with the newbies outside, trying to convince them to go along. There are only so many times you can tell someone to just go along with things, things will be fine, before they realize that you don¡¯t know what you are talking about.


    Still, Cassie seemed to be amenable to our predicament. Isaac wanted to debate. I only hoped Antoine didn¡¯t join in the argument. He¡¯d try to put his foot down. Kimberly¡¯s approach was to be empathetic but unyielding, much like Adeline. I thought that was a good route.


    Kurt Willis sat in the driver¡¯s seat, waiting for everyone to get in so we could go.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing better than you think,¡± he said. ¡°I know you feel like you don¡¯t have a grasp on things yet, but you are doing well. Soon you¡¯ll see a fuller picture of what your task is. Then you can panic.¡±


    ¡°It does feel like every answer just adds on three new questions,¡± I said.


    ¡°I can see that. If it helps, you already avoided the worst ending for the Centennial storyline. Fun ending, but the worst.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to know,¡± I said. ¡°And what was that ending?¡±


    ¡°Never find the early Omen for the second storyline so you get stuck in thete Omen,¡± he said. ¡°Never figure out who killed ol¡¯ Jed. Never get to talk to Jed. Die, most likely, a terrible death unless I can save you, which I can, but still. Not a good ending for the new yers.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s where we¡¯re going?¡± I asked. ¡°To an Omen?¡±


    ¡°Oh, so you have yed this game before?¡± he asked with a chuckle.


    Bobby, who had been waiting patiently for the others toe with us, said, ¡°If I use my veterinarian background enough, do you think that will give me some animal taming tropes?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s entertaining,¡± Willis said. He lit a cigarette and looked patiently out toward Kimberly and the others. ¡°You¡¯ll regret it, but that¡¯s everything here.¡±


    ¡°Every decision is the wrong decision,¡± I said, wondering if Willis would mirror my observation. ¡°It¡¯s a horror movie.¡±


    Willisughed. ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought about it like that.¡±


    Antoine approached the vehicle and asked me, ¡°I¡¯m not going to be able to bring a baseball bat into City Hall, am I?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± Willis said. He tapped his bulletproof vest, and his various policing weapons. ¡°But I¡¯ve got us covered.¡±


    If the omen was outside the building, his bat would just disappear and reappear somewhere on set, like it had in <em>Subject of Inquiry</em>. If the omen was inside a government building, getting weapons in would be a problem.


    Antoine looked at Willis and realized he was acting as a yer already.


    "Alright," he said and went to put his bat back in the hotel room with everything else we were leaving behind.


    Our patience was eventually rewarded. Kimberly convinced Isaac to go along with us. Isaac still protested as he entered the SUV, saying, ¡°You¡¯re all just okay with giving Carousel what it wants? Am I the only sane person here?¡±


    The sooner he got his head wrapped around our predicament, the better. I knew what he was going through. The mind makes all sorts of excuses under the pretense of just being logical or skeptical, or whatever excuse it can muster to convince you not to willingly enter a horror story.


    I was past that in many ways. Still, the butterflies were yingser tag in my gut, and my heart was beating so fast it could phase out of my chest.


    Once we were all squeezed into his vehicle, Chief Willis said, ¡°Alright gang, it¡¯s time to give Carousel what it wants.¡±


    Isaac cursed at the mockery, but at least he didn¡¯t try to climb out of the car.


    The drive was much faster than the walk, even with most of the streets being closed to traffic. Willis could just pull up on a wooden barrier, and one of his officers would move it so he could go through.


    ¡°That¡¯s Officer McCarthy over there,¡± Willis said, pointing to a rather old uniformed police officer. ¡°We got him from a storyline about these sea witches with a taste for long pig. Oh, and that¡¯s¡­¡± he seemed to have forgotten the man¡¯s name until he nced at the red wallpaper. ¡°Hayton. His father was a constable wherever, but he was born here.¡±


    ¡°Some NPCs are from other worlds. Others were born here?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°Yep. This run is a strange one. It¡¯s been thirty years since thest game started. Thirty years of Carousel almost being a normal ce to live. I¡¯m not sure a gap that big was intended. Normally, the game is meant to start within a few months of thest or to ignore the previous gamepletely. We just had a game thatsted thirty years. When all that story got rewritten, an entire generation past in Carousel just waiting for the Centennial to start. We¡¯re in new territory here. Things aren¡¯t going to be gentle.¡±


    ¡°Thirty years,¡± I said. ¡°If thest game had started thirty-one years ago, then the time capsule would have been buried in 1991 instead of 1992.¡±


    ¡°You got it,¡± he said.


    The way he and the other Paragons talked about what was happening was frustrating. It was like they thought we understood, but it took me a moment to process.


    ¡°Why does the previous game matter?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°Is there a reason we can¡¯t start new? Is it just for rescuing?¡±


    ¡°Rescues, yeah. You want to bring back people who died in thest game, you need to do it like this,¡± Willis said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it though. This is the way the game is meant to be yed. Oh, that¡¯s Marnie Singer. She¡¯s from a storyline where the government puts explosive cors on criminals and makes thempete in games of chance. Look, when she sees us, she¡¯s going to hide because she doesn¡¯t trust the police.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t me her if that was how things were in her storyline. Marnie was an older woman, well over thirty.


    ¡°If thirty years have passed without Carousel being a hellscape because it was caught in a continuity loop, where do the storylinese from? If her story starts back up, is she going to be part of it? What about stories with evil kids? Are they evil adults now?¡±


    Willisughed. ¡°You¡¯re asking good questions, but prematurely. There¡¯s a phrase we¡¯re building toward, but revtion that will help you understand things. You¡¯re almost there. Lucky you.¡±


    ¡°And if we make it to the Centennial,e find you?¡± Dina asked. She had a sense of humor hidden behind her quiet demeanor.


    Willis reallyughed at that one. ¡°Find one of us for sure. I¡¯d be honored.¡±


    He pulled the SUV into a parking lot near arge government buildingbeled City Hall.


    ¡°You see that over there,¡± he said, pointing back toward Town Square, toward the clock tower.


    I could see its face easily enough. It was nine-thirty.


    ¡°Carousel is like a giant clock. All the cogs and gears are lined up in ce. The brass is polished. The hands and numbers pristine. But it has no spring. No power. It needs something to get its gears turning. Carousel can¡¯t brute force it. It can¡¯t script itself to work. It needs¡­ you. People like you. Paragons weren¡¯t enough. We¡¯re still attached to the script. So the mop head was right. Your job is to give it what it wants.¡±


    ¡°What does it want?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Sometimes I think it just wants to watch,¡± Willis said. ¡°Whatever it¡¯s after, I just hope I¡¯m around to see it. I¡¯m dying to know.¡±


    The process of applying for a permit to get a tour of the ¡°museum¡± of Carousel cold cases was not that difficult. The clerk practically threw it at us as she got prepared to leave for the Centennial. We were meant to be doing it, after all. NPCs weren¡¯t going to stand in our way, ¡°Not until the big leagues,¡± at least, Chief Willis had warned us.


    When he said it was a museum, I had first thought he was saying it tongue-in-cheek. He wasn¡¯t. The signs leading to the stairwell were filled with little ads for the museum.


    <em>Come see a genuine reproduction of the very gun used to kill Councilman Teague during the ''64bor riots.</em>


    <em>The Enigma of Echo Bridge - View the recovered personal belongings of the victims from the infamous Echo Bridge disappearances.</em>


    And many more like it.


    ¡°Why do they keep it in the basement?¡± Cassie asked as we descended the stairwell.


    ¡°For plot reasons,¡± Willis answered. ¡°Their volunteer staff of the Cold Case Museum are getting things ready for the Centennial. The custodian will be meeting us down here.¡±


    As we made our way down to the lower levels, I could hear the distinctive sound of water moving. The air smelled humid, and there was a vaguely unpleasant smell in the air.


    Someone was screaming down below. Not scared screaming, more like asking for a favor.


    ¡°Kurt,¡± a man¡¯s voice said. ¡°We have some flooding down here. I could use a little bit of help.¡±


    As we turned our way down onest flight, it was clear they did, indeed, have some flooding. The entire floor was covered in a foot of water. The fluorescent lights blinked from the roof.


    ¡°This is an omen,¡± I said as calmly as I could muster. Like they needed me to know that.


    ¡°It sure is,¡± Willis said. ¡°Now get your tropes ready. Once the first toe goes in it triggers the whole thing, and this one is one you need to be ready for. I¡¯ll cover First Blood, in a manner of speaking. You lot draw straws for Second.¡±

 Arc II, Chapter 29: Cold on the Trail

    Arc II, Chapter 29: Cold on the Trail


    yer


    Plot Armor


    Mettle


    Moxie


    Hustle


    Savvy


    Grit


    Riley


    25/2


    3


    7


    5


    7


    3


    Antoine


    23


    6


    4


    5


    2


    6


    Kimberly


    21


    3


    7


    5


    1


    5


    Dina


    20


    3


    3


    4


    3


    7


    Bobby


    20


    3


    6


    4


    3


    4


    Isaac


    13


    1


    4


    3


    3


    2


    Cassie


    14


    1


    6


    3


    3


    1


    <strong></strong>


    <strong>yer Tropes:</strong>


    (I would like to remind readers that this is a reference. I will describe tropes before theye up. You dont have to read this unless you want to)


    <strong>Riley Lawrence is </strong><em><strong>the Film Buff</strong></em><strong>.</strong>


    <strong>Having risen to level 25, he can equip 9 tropes and one background instead of 8.</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>"Trope Master"</strong> grants him the ability to perceive enemy tropes, but at the cost of sacrificing half of his Plot Armor.


    <strong>"Cinema Seer"</strong> buffs the Savvy and Grit of his allies when they hear him predict cinematic and impactful plot elements.


    As an <strong>"Oblivious Bystander,"</strong> Riley remains untargeted by enemies as he convincingly acts oblivious to their presence.


    <strong>"Escape Artist"</strong> buffs his Hustle to help enact usible escape ns.


    <strong>"The Insert Shot"</strong> makes allies aware of an object the yer chooses. The object will be shown to the audience and its use will be buffed in the Finale.


    <strong>Directors Monitor</strong> allows him to watch the rest of the storyline after his demise via Deathwatch.


    <strong>shback Revtion</strong> allows him tomunicate with allies from Deathwatch through shbacks to his past dialogue.


    <strong>Casting Director</strong> gives him a summary of his teams roles in the storyline.


    <strong>"My Grandmother Had the Gift" </strong>A background trope that gives Rileys character some ambiguous connection to The Gift through his heritage.


    <strong>Cutaway Death</strong> sends him Off-Screen before the moment of his characters implied demise and allows him to exist behind the scenes Written Off if he survives the encounter.


    He did <em>not</em> equip <strong>Coming To A Theater Near You, "I Don''t Like It Here...,"</strong><strong>Out Like a Light, "Location Scout,"</strong><strong>The Wrong Reel, Raised by Television,</strong> <strong>What Doesnt Kill Them Makes Them Angry</strong>, or <strong>"Dead Man Walking."</strong></blockquote>


    I had about a dozenbos I wanted to try, but I didnt want to mess around with the Tutorial. I would have to make some time to experiment afterward.


    <strong>Kimberly Madison is </strong><em><strong>the Eye Candy</strong></em><strong>.</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>"Convenient Backstory"</strong> allows her to believably change her backstory to assist with the current task, buffing the relevant stat.


    <strong>"Social Awareness"</strong> allows her to see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs.


    <strong>"Get a Room!"</strong> boosts the odds of important discoveries when exploring with a love interest during the party.


    <strong>"A Hopeless Plea"</strong> forces the captor to explicitly deny her release when she asks to be released.


    <strong>"Pregnancy Reveal"</strong> buffs her Grit when she pretends that she is pregnant and buffs the father''s Mettle if she dies.


    <strong>"When in Rome"</strong> buffs her Grit until Rebirth if her performance matches the tone of the movie.


    <strong>Does anyone have a scrunchie?</strong> allows her to shift Moxie''s points into another stat by putting her hair up.


    <strong>Carousel Academy Awards</strong> buffs her Moxie based on the quality of her performance in the previous storyline.


    She did not equip <strong>A Lip Cease</strong>, <strong>Looks Dont Last</strong>, <strong>Typecast, Breaking the Veil of Silence, The Woman in Mourning, or "That''s What I Said!"</strong>.</blockquote>


    <strong>Antoine Stone is </strong><em><strong>the Athlete</strong></em><strong>.</strong><blockquote>


    His <strong>"You were having a nightmare"</strong> trope allows him to repress or heal mental trauma (he is not strong enough to use its plot-resetting powers yet).


    <strong>"Gym Rat"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory.


    <strong>"It''s Part of the Uniform"</strong> gives him higher Mettle when attacking with sports equipment.


    <strong>"Just Walk It Off"</strong> heals the Hobbled status by walking.


    <strong>Knight in Shining Armor </strong>buffs his Mettle and Grit when defending a love interest.


    <strong>"Time Out!"</strong> allows him to go Off-Screen during a fight, reducing enemy aggression.


    Brandishing a weapon is <strong>Like a Security nket,</strong>buffing his Grit and soothing his and his allies fear.


    <strong>Reload After Cut</strong> allows him to go Off-Screen by reloading his gun.


    He did not equip <strong>Swing Away</strong>, <strong>Off the Bench</strong>, <strong>Everyone Loves a Winner,</strong><strong>The ybook</strong>, <strong>A Race Against Time, Coyote in a Trap, </strong>or <strong>"Bad Luck Ma." </strong>He also didnt use<strong> y it Cool </strong>because he worried that Carousel was nning something nefarious by giving it to him.</blockquote>


    <strong>Dina Cano is </strong><em><strong>the Outsider</strong></em><strong>.</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>"Guarded Personality"</strong> resists all insight abilities.


    <strong>"An Outsider''s Perspective"</strong> alerts her to new, out-of-ce, or unusual information.


    <strong>"Better Late Than Never"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle if she waits until the Finale to assist allies On-Screen against the enemy.


    <strong>"A Haunted Past"</strong> A background trope that gives her character some past trauma that haunts her and gives her ess to various tropes.


    <strong>"Encouragement from Beyond"</strong> soothes her when stressed, scared, or in pain and may provide useful information.


    <strong>"Outside Looking In"</strong> grants her the ability to discern ideal spots to linger and observe events without actively participating in the narrative.


    <strong>They Fell Off</strong> allows her to quickly get out of handcuffs and simr restraints.


    She can leave physical or mental messages in the story that her allies can detect when in the location she left them with <strong>Pen Pal.</strong>


    <strong>Light Fingers</strong> buffs the yers attempts at stealing items from the set.


    She did not equip <strong>You dont know me, but,</strong> Dark Secret, or <strong>They ruined the shot</strong></blockquote>


    <strong>Bobby Gill is </strong><em><strong>The Wallflower.</strong></em><blockquote>


    <strong>Background Noise</strong> allows him to get background information from NPCs when Off-Screen.


    <strong>The Good Samaritan </strong>buffs his Mettle and Grit for helping allies in a crisis if they have not met On-Screen and are strangers.


    <strong>Last-Minute Casting</strong> recasts him as an NPC that is moderately involved in the plot. The selection is seemingly random. He will get some limited background information for the character and some ess to the NPC script.


    If youe across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    <strong>From Humble Beginnings</strong> debuffs the yers stats 30% in the Party, then but buffs them 15% in Rebirth, the Finale, and the Final Battle resulting in a 15% buff by the end of the story.


    <strong>Craft Services Are The Real Heroes</strong> ensures that there is edible food and water on set somewhere during the storyline.


    <strong>My Only Role is Exposition</strong> gives him some useful information to be ryed On-Screen but takes it away if he starts to bore the audience.


    <strong>Actually, I''m a Veterinarian</strong> changes his characters background to being an animal doctor and allows certain tropes to be equipped.


    <strong>If you Can''t see it, it Won''t Bleed</strong> allows him to temporarily mend wounds by covering them from the audiences view.


    <strong>Remember Me?</strong> allows him to promote his character to main cast by pretending to know them and introducing himself.


    He did not equip <strong>The Hidden Infection, The Wisdom of Crowds, </strong>or<strong> And Thats Lunch.</strong></blockquote>


    <strong>Cassie Hughes is </strong><em><strong>The Psychic</strong></em><strong>.</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>The Anguish</strong> lets her see her allies health stats from anywhere and lets her take some of their pain by feeling it herself. This can reduce their overall injuries.


    <strong>We are not abandoned</strong> can keep her allies spirits high by weaving a narrative of some higher power in control. When done well, this trope can heal Incapacitation, certain forms of spiritual Infection, and even buff Grit.


    <strong>Reflective Jump Scare</strong> allows her to get a glimpse of the enemy when she looks in a mirror, giving her some small insight into what is in store.


    <strong>Foreboding Signs</strong> gives her insight into who will die next and how in character, allowing her to prepare for what is toe.</blockquote>


    <strong>Isaac Hughes is </strong><em><strong>The Comedian</strong></em><strong>.</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>If hes still cracking jokes</strong> allows the yer to reduce or eliminate injuries by using humor the next time he is On-Screen before the audience know how injured he is. Works on allies situationally.


    <strong>Weapons of Mass Absurdity</strong> using humorous weapons Buffs his Mettle and Hustle. The buff extends to weapons that are used if the original weapon fails.


    <strong>Blood Loss Delirium</strong> gives the yer a pleasant drunken stupor when they have major blood loss and provides cover for antics.


    <strong>Gallows Humor</strong> allows him to ease mental pain with dark humor after a tragedy.</blockquote>


    <strong>Police Chief Kurt Willis is </strong><em><strong>The GI.</strong></em><blockquote>


    <strong>Ill buy you some time</strong> buffs him greatly in all stats when he sacrifices himself to allow his allies to escape. If used during First or Second Blood, he is guaranteed to be the blood sacrifice.


    <strong>Pack Mule</strong> allows him to carry the weapons a soldier might carry on his person. Buffs Grit.


    <strong>Till the job is done</strong> allows him to survive an apparent death and return in the Finale, but he may only use two tropes during the Finale and his injuries remain.


    <strong>Provisional Command</strong> upon taking control of a situation, allows him to temporarily buff allies bymanding them around. With his impending demise, he can buff one ally permanently.</blockquote>


    We stood before the flooded waters.


    Police Chief Willis was giving usst-minute instructions.


    Hope you know how to shoot a gun, he said. Listen to everything I say, or I might shoot you myself.


    He had other generic military catchphrases that he spouted off too, but I got the sense that he was just trying to get a reaction from us.


    Most of you have been through plenty of storylines by now so you''ll know the way they work, he said. This one is part of the Throughline though. Keep your eyes and ears open because there is information in this storyline that is true or at least true outside of the game. Most of it is only true in the original storyline, or not true at all, but some part of it is true.


    "You mean canon?" I asked.


    "No, I left my cannon in the car," he said with a wink. "Might wish I hadn''tter."


    I looked at the water.


    "Cold-Blooded Things" was the title. My <strong>I dont like it here</strong> trope had said it was a high difficulty. <strong>Location Scout</strong>wasnt too useful outside of storylines, and I didnt want to waste a ticket slot to use it in the storyline even though I had just unlocked a new slot by getting to 25 PA. I would have to be satisfied with what it could tell me. The storyline involved sewers (several different types), the basement at City Hall, Hallowed Heart Hospital, and Town Square.


    Thats all I knew for sure.


    I got my tropes all set. My goal was to use my <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong> strategy inbination with <strong>Cutaway Death</strong> to try to stay in the game as long as possible.


    No time like the present, Chief Willis said. Ill go first ande back to get you.


    He walked into the ankle-deep water and disappeared from our view down below. He was acting as a yer, so when he took his first step into the water, he triggered the Omen. The needle on the Plot Cycle clicked from Omen to Choice to Party.


    It didn''t take long for him to turn around ande back toward us. I could hear him walking through the water. The thing was when he returned, he wasn''t Police Chief Willis. He was Officer Willis.


    He had even changed clothes into a standard police uniform.


    All right, he said, if you insist oning now''s the time. Sorry about the flooding, we can''t control the weather. Unless of course, you want to turn back. There''s no reason we have to put up with this charade any longer.


    We''reing, Kimberly said confidently as she walked down into the water.


    The rest of us followed.


    What became immediately apparent was that the Cold Case Museum was not a museum anymore, not in this storyline at least. Like the library or the hospital or the university, the Cold Case Museum was a collection of Omens, I realized. We had asked for the omen rted to Jed Geist''s death, and that is what we had gotten. I theorized if we had asked about any other case, we would havee downstairs, and it wouldn''t have been flooded.


    We would have to visit the museum some other time when it was, well, a museum instead of a flooded storeroom filled with cardboard boxes and ticked-off police officers.


    They managed to get the power on right as we came down. The room was huge and filled with shelves covered in white boxes.


    Bobby, of course, disappeared before the rest of us had even gotten off the stairs.


    What did you say was going on? a man named Detective Jeff Swanson on the red wallpaper asked.


    Task force, Officer Willis said. Mayor handpicked them so that they could work on the old Jed Geist case.


    I took note of everything I was hearing. My friends and I were part of a task force, apparently. I started to review our roles on the red wallpaper using my <strong>Casting Director</strong> trope, but soon I realized that that was unnecessary.


    Another task force? Detective Swanson asked. Didn''t we already have some crack task force who couldnt solve it in the first ce?"


    "Oh, you see, that was a task force made up of senior detectives, experienced investigative reporters, and criminologists. This is a different kind of task force. You see, we''ve got a local psychic," he said, pointing toward Cassie, "and we''ve got the guy from Isaac in Traffic, you know, the shock jockey," he said, pointing at Isaac, "and of course, Miss Carousel," referring to Kimberly. "Oh, and this is that guy who tackled the bank robberst year, and the other guy is a Geist family historian, wait, no, that''s not right, he is a Geist family horror movie historian. You know he''s an expert in all of the horror movies that the Geist family produced which I am sure will be very useful. And finally, we''ve got the woman who sued usst year when her son went missing because we didn''t have enough to deal with already," he said, pointing toward Antoine, myself, and Dina, respectively.


    The vets had always warned me that casting director was a waste of a trope slot. Carousel would never let yers go through a storyline without giving them information as basic as their identity. Convenience of the trope aside, I felt pretty silly. Our roles lined up mostly with our Archetypes.


    We really were a special task force.


    Why them? Detective Swanson asked.


    Well, they''re celebrities, don''t you know? Willis answered. That makes them uniquely qualified.


    Publicity stunt, Swanson said, nodding his head. For the Anniversary.


    I would never use the mayor of something like that, Willis answered.


    Well, if they need to see the evidence, they''re going to have to wait a bit while we fish it out, Swanson said. He gestured over to a section of the room where the shelving had copsed from the flooding. You really saw all of the Geist movies? Swanson asked, looking at me.


    Thinking on my feet, I said, Yep, saw every one of them, ask me anything.


    Nah, Detective Swanson said.


    Willisughed.


    That was how the scene went on for some time; the camera woulde on, and one of the officers would make ament toward one of us for us to respond to. Carousel was just gathering lines for its final cut.


    Swanson asked Antoine, I can''t believe a guy like you would wanna be stuck in a group like this, a bunch of attention hogs. Didn''t you save a cop? What are you doing here?


    Antoine kept his cool, looked over at Kimberly, and said, I have my reasons.


    One of the officers said something to Dina that I didn''t hear about what she expected from them. It was probably rted to her character''s missing child whom she had sued the department overfor ipetence or something.


    In response, all she said was, This is basically what I expected from your operation, she gestured generally toward the flooded basement filled with old case files and evidence.


    The police officers cussed under their breath.


    Eventually, an Officer Martinez arrived and said his one line, They''ve got the box over here for you, he said, gesturing across the room.


    We went off-screen after that while we trudged across the basement and dug through a mountain of ruined file boxes filled with artifacts from other cold cases.


    You see that guy over there, Willis asked. Officer Martinez? We got him from a storyline with a monster called a toe biter, whatever that is. Look at how jumpy he is.


    The man he was pointing to was indeed very nervous about trudging around in murky water. I knew that some NPCs were aware of their situation, but some anonymous police officer without much of a speaking role having leftover trauma from the horrors of his world was different. He was just an ordinary NPC. Didnt seem fair.


    We went back on-screen as we were sorting through boxes that were falling apart.


    I got it, Willis said. Geist, Jed. Died August 6th, 1992. Exactly three years ago, wouldn''t you know it?


    Three years ago? Had I misheard him? It was thirty years ago. Or at least it would have been. This storyline must have taken ce twenty-seven years earlier. Other storylines had been set in the past. It wasnt unusual.


    The box wasn''t in great shape; the lower portion of it was brown from water, but unlike many of the boxes around it, it wasn''tpletely destroyed. Willis carefully picked it up from the bottom and set it on a stic table.


    All right, Willis said, The mayor has made clear that you are to see and examine the contents in this box. However, we will be watching to make sure that you do not take anything. You are not police officers; you are not on this case officially. If it were up to me, you wouldn''t even be here. Is that clear?


    We all nodded.


    Willis lifted the lid off of the box and stared down into it. The box was barelyrge enough that the fire poker would have been able to fit in it diagonally. Even then, it might have to have been sticking out a little from under the lid.


    That is, if it had been there.


    You said you were looking for the murder weapon specifically, Willis asked. He didn''t even have to search through the box to realize the weapon was missing. Jeff, he said, talking to Detective Swanson. It''s on the inventory, but the murder weapon is not here.


    Let me look at that, Swanson said, grabbing the clipboard with the inventory list out of Willis''s hands. Now that doesn''t make any sense at all; I remember that being here.


    I do too, Willis said. I was the one that put it there. Is it possible it was taken away for additional testing?


    They already got fingerprints and blood analysis, what else is there?


    The two men started to get hot under the cor, probably because they were being watched by a task force that they had spent the better part of 30 minutes making fun of.


    Typical, Dina said. The mayor told me that I would get a good look at the quality of our police by joining this task force. He didn''t know how right he was.


    Cool it, Willis said. We''ll find the murder weapon; it has to be around here somewhere.


    We went off-screen as a group of cadets came in and started sifting through boxes, sorting evidence into piles. None of them found the murder weapon of course. They were just getting into position for the next shot.


    Meanwhile, the rest of the contents of Jed Geists box wereid out on the table and organized so that we could look at it.


    We would go back on-screen asionally to get shots of us examining the evidence.


    Most of it was not very useful. The clothes that Jed Geist was wearing when he was killed were in there, as were a dozen other pieces of evidence that didn''t seem to amount to much. Fiber samples, a slip of paper with Jed Geist''s fingerprints on it, a map of the hotel room as it was back when it was Geists home, things like that. There were also crime scene photos that were very vivid and grizzly. The camera did not go off-screen while we were looking at them, which told me that this storyline was likely a gory one.


    There were two things of interest buried in the paperwork.


    This is a prescription for oxycodone, Antoine said, holding up a small orange bottle. Whoa, that dosage is off the charts. He must have had a high tolerance.


    A drug addiction? Isaac asked. My listeners are gonna love that.


    Doctor Howard Halle, Antoine read off the bottle.


    Kimberly, Antoine, and I looked at each other.


    Halle was thest name of the Astralist, a mad scientist who had attempted to suck out our souls not so many months ago. If this person was rted to Simon Halle, that could be useful information. That told us that there were supernatural elements to the storyline, assuming that both Simon and Howard were from the same world.


    That made sense in a way. If a world was filled with horrors, Carousel might be inclined to double dip when it brought in its storylines.


    That meant that Cassie and my psychic abilities could y well here.


    It also told us exactly how close we hade to being a part of the Throughline and ruining Project Rewind.


    Antoine handed me the bottle and I looked at it. Thebel read, Take 40 mg every 6 hours as needed for pain.


    He then picked up and passed over several other bottles. One read 10 mg and another read 20 at ater date. We were being shown a growing addiction through an evolution of dosages on prescription bottles.


    Look, Kimberly said, Dr. Howard Halle. She was holding up a business card for Halle. Isnt this the address for the resort that got built where his home used to be?


    She passed the card around. She was right.


    Looks like we need to talk to Dr. Halle, I said.


    Don''t go bothering him, Willis said. You think we didn''t notice the prescriptions? Halle was his physician. There was nothing weird going on.


    Halle had an alibi, Detective Swanson said, He was performing emergency surgery at the time of the murder. Hard to beat that one.


    That is quite the alibi, Isaac said. I couldnt have killed him, officer; my knife was in some other guy at the time of the murder.


    It was nice to see that Isaac''s sense of humor was stronger than his sense of impending doom this time.


    His sister, however, was quite a different story.


    As we stood idly chit-chatting with the camera going on and off-screen, she stared off into the darkness of the recesses of the storeroom.


    I kept an asional eye on her just to make sure she was doing OK. It was unfair that she had to y another storyline after dying so recently for the first time.


    I just happened to be watching her face the moment she saw it.


    She stared down at the still slightly flooded floor and screamed. Her eyes darted up as if she expected something to be there, but of course, nothing was there.


    Then she looked down back at the water.


    "What''s wrong?" Isaac said. He broke character at hearing his sister''s scream, he ran to her to see if she was OK.


    "I thought I saw something, she said. She was breathing quickly and clearly startled.


    "Oh, here we go," Detective Swanson said. "The psychic has to get attention."


    "What did you see?" I asked.


    "I saw a reflection in the water, but there was nothing there when I looked up. I swear I saw it, it was awful."


    "What was it?" Kimberly asked gingerly.


    "A man," Cassie said, "but there was something wrong with his face. It had a bunch of stitches, and there was something else that I couldn''t quite see before it disappeared."


    "This has to be a prank on us, doesn''t it?" Detective Swanson asked Willis.


    "Don''t listen to them," I said. "My grandmother had the gift too. I''d like to think she left a little bit of it to me."


    Cassie forced a smile at me. "Maybe more than a little," she said.


    That was pushing it. A little psychic goes a long way. A lot of psychic goes off the rails. I didn''t want her giving Carousel an excuse to do something wild with me.


    A man with a stitched-up face. A doctor with links to the victim, I said, In the old Geist horror flicks, you could expect a mad doctor or two. It wouldn''t surprise me one bit if it turned out that Doctor Halle was up to some surgeries not approved by the medical board.


    Between hisst name and the fact that the hospital was a shooting location, it was clear. I threw in a little Cinema Seer prediction just to help my friends out.


    "Well, it''s official then," Detective Swanson said. "Turns out the doctor was involved in the murder because the psychic saw a man with stitches."


    Officer Willis started to say something, but before he could, he was cut off.


    There was a loud rumbling sound somewhere deep in the distance. It sounded like it wasing from somewhere outside the walls of the basement. Everyone in the room froze in ce as the sound droned in and out and then finally stopped.

 Arc II, Chapter 30: The Ribbon Cutting

    Arc II, Chapter 30: The Ribbon Cutting


    Questioning Dr. Howard Halle was coincidentally very easy. All it took was a call to the number on his business card to find out that he was at an event at Hallowed Heart Hospital just up the street.


    He was Jed Geists personal physician. He knew something. He may even have been the killer. It was clear that the plot was pushing us in his direction.


    We could have walked, but Chief Willis (Officer Willis in this storyline) insisted on driving us.


    Cant leave my vehicle unattended out here, he said. Gun theft is a rising crime.


    That was his subtle On-Screen way of telling the audience there were more guns in the car than what he had on his person. When we went Off-Screen, he told us that explicitly.


    Carousel has a sticky rtionship with guns, he said. Doesnt like them making things too easy. You understand that youll do just fine. Listen to the flow of the battle and move with it and youll get the best results. Hotshots out here trying to force a win end up on a little white missing poster sooner orter.


    He was mostly talking to Antoine. Antoine was our powerhouse. We only really had one fighter so if we got a gun, we knew who it would go to nine times out of ten. I could probably use it to blow up a gas tank or some other feat of precision, but if we needed to gun something down, we had to put it in our Athletes hands.


    Is that what happens next? Cassie asked nervously. We have to fight?


    No use worrying about if you have to fight, Willis said and he pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. Youre never more than a few scenes from a fight. After a while, its the peacetime that will make you nervous. Now use that Moxie to act brave and lets get this show on the road.


    As we approached the non-emergency entrance of the hospital, we saw balloons and banners celebrating the opening of a new wing at the hospital.


    All we had to do was follow the signs.


    The hospital was one of the expensive, fancy ones I had only seen on television. The banquet room we arrived at was on par with the ballroom at the mansion that had hosted the pickled wizard masquerade.


    A hundred or so NPCs we in attendance and all of them dressed in their best tuxes and gowns. We werepletely out of ce.


    Luckily, it would seem, we arrived right at the end of the event.


    A man was standing on the podium in the middle of a speech. Behind him, arge, red ribbon hung tight ready to be cut. On the red wallpaper, his name was Dr. Howard Halle, the very man we sought to talk to. He was a refined and well-dressed gentleman with an ease of elocution that almost distracted from the fact that he was marked an enemy on the red wallpaper.


    Dr. Howard Halle in <em>Cold-Blooded Things</em>.


    Dr. Howard Halle


    Plot Armor: 25


    __________


    Tropes


    Intellectual Curiosity


    This viin will alter normal targeting to pursue yers who trigger his curiosity.


    Non-Combatant


    This viin cannot be attacked On-Screen until it attacks the yer or is otherwise identified as hostile. Attacking it will not be effective, nor will it change the story. It will cause the yer to go Off-Screen for a time.


    Theyll Never Believe You


    When tangling with this viin, the authorities will not believe or take seriously anything the yers tell them.


    PHDs Unlimited


    This viin has an education in every schrly topic rted to the storyline.


    The Mad Doctor


    This viin cannot be dissuaded from their strange or hical beliefs.


    Heart of the Operation


    An attempt to kill this viin by yers or allies will attract powerful protectors buffed by his Moxie.


    Advanced Rhetoric


    This viin may use their Savvy stat as Moxie.


    Minion Maker


    This viin is able to summon or create low-level monsters to do its bidding.


    2 Additional Trope Imperceptible


    Dr. Halle spoke smoothly and intelligently in a dated mid-Antic ent that seemedpletely out of ce in this story.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    As we gather here on the eve of Carousels Centennial Celebration, we are not just marking a milestone for our town, but also unveiling a beacon of hope with the inauguration of our new stic Surgery and Reconstructive Wing. This wing is more than a building; it''s a promisea promise to restore, to renew, and to uplift the spirits and lives of those who have been touched by trauma.


    Tonight, we''ve brought together some of the Ill just say itdeepest pockets in Carousel. He paused while the crowdughed, As I''ve often said, With better ies,e better oues, and the oue is all that matters. I''m sure our benefactors here tonight agree that the only nip and tuck we''re interested in this evening is nipping the ribbon behind me and tucking into some of the excellent food our caterers have prepared for us! Anotherugh from the audience. Im sorry for that one. I couldnt help myself. No wonder my nurses tell my patients This is going to hurt a bit every time Im about to tell a joke.


    Let''s not forget, while this new wing is built with the support of generous donations, it''s thepassion and expertise within its walls that truly make it a cornerstone of hope. It''s your unwavering support that transforms lives, giving our patients not just the medical care they need, but the confidence and courage to face the world anew.


    So, as we stand at the threshold of this new era, let''s celebrate the collective spirit that makes Hallowed Heart Hospital a haven of healing. Here''s to a future where every individual can embrace life''s journey with strength and self-assurance. Thank you.


    With that, Halle took a scalpel from his pocket, removed its cap, and then used it to slice the red ribbon behind him to the apuse andughter of the room.


    He posed for a few photos and then made his way into the crowd, which, over the course of twenty minutes or so, began getting food and filtering out of the building. Dozens upon dozens of well-dressed NPCs followed their scripts to help set up the next scene where we had a one-on-one chat with Halle.


    We didnt get a chance at first. He was tied up with guests. I couldnt hear what he was saying, but I could tell he was very charming from the way everyone he talked toughed.


    High Moxie yers get ready, Willis said as he shoved down some of the catered food. Moxie is used to counter deception. Tonight were going to see if you can tell whether he is lying. Good luck.


    He was talking to me and Kimberly. We were tied for the highest Moxie. Cassie and Bobby were next, but Bobby was off NPCing somewhere.


    I thought there were tropes for that, I said.


    Sure if you want to use up a slot for it, he said, Detectives got one. Sleuths got a worse one. Heck, even Agents got one. Psychic too, but they get a little of everything. Most Archetypes get a taste of stuff like that. When ites down to it, its best to rely on your stats and the gray thing between your ears.


    How will we know? Kimberly asked. She had a good Moxie stat, though she had been mostly beefing up her other stats ofte.


    You get a feel for it. When you aim your gun and pull the trigger, you know if you hit the target before the bullet gets there. Intuition. Know what its telling you.


    This was not a topic the Vets had told us much about. Sure, Adeline had told us the line about not relying on tropes for things that we could aplish with leg work, but using our stats like that was still something we were new at. I wasnt even sure if the Vets had it down pat.


    As I watched Dr. Howard Halle and waited for our turn to talk to him, I noticed that we were being watched.


    On the other side of the room was a woman whose face was covered in a ck veil. The fabric was so thick I couldnt see through it. She wore ck gloves and a long gown with a fancy jacket whose sleeves covered her arms.


    Despite not being able to see her face, I could tell she was looking in our direction. It made sense. She was an enemy, after all.


    Cecilia


    Plot Armor: 25


    __________


    Tropes


    Dont Wake the Beast


    This viin is asleep or in a simr condition. They will not stir without outside intervention. Waking them will transform them into a more dangerous form that ys by different tropes.


    Non-Combatant


    This viin cannot be attacked On-Screen until it attacks the yer or is otherwise identified as hostile. Attacking it will not be effective, nor will it change the story. It will cause the yer to go Off-Screen for a time.


    Theyll Never Believe You


    When tangling with this viin, the authorities will not believe or take seriously anything the yers tell them.


    We had gone in and out of being On-Screen. The next time we were in the clear, I said, Enemy in ck across the way.


    Cecilia, Kimberly read off the red wallpaper. Is she staring at me?


    I then exined both her and Dr. Halles tropes.


    Thats a pretty neat trick you have, Willis said, referring to my Trope Master ability. If we had someone like you in my world, I might never have ended up in Carousel.


    After a few more moments, he added, Spread out and look for clues. This will be a bit. Theres only really one meaningful clue before we move to the next set. Whoever finds it gets a dor.


    We fanned out and looked for clues. I hoped that he didnt mean we had to talk to people. Finding one piece of information from someone in a room full of people felt impossible.


    Antoine and Kimberly wandered off to make use of Kimberlys Get a Room trope. I was confident they would be sessful.


    I hoped they would be. The first NPC I interacted with asked me if I was one of the patients in the burn unit. We were Off-Screen at the time, so he was really telling me I should check out something rted to the burn unit. Little clues like that made an unfair game fair again. High Plot Armor was what naturally led to clues for yers. My effective PA was low thanks to Trope Master so I rarely got steered anywhere.


    It was always possible he was saying something unttering about my face. I decided to go with my first theory.


    When I got to a wall in the banquet hall that led to the burn unit, I saw that Kimberly and Antoine had beaten me to it.


    On-Screen.


    Look at this, Antoine said as I strolled up to them. He read from the que, This Burn Unit is dedicated to those who lost their lives in that terrible ze on April 10th, 1984. Purified by me, their souls lifted toward the heavens.


    Its a bunch of Geists, Kimberly said. Was this the fire at the Geist Manor?


    There were over two dozen Geists on the list. It was a ughter. I went through the names listed: Thomas, Helene, Lillian, Moira, Bastion, and more and more.


    It was, I said. You know a lot of the original Geist films burned up in that fire. Most of what we have are copies.


    I made that part up. How would I know? I just needed to stay in character.


    Thats the real tragedy, Antoine said sarcastically.


    Theres a quote from Jed Geist here, Kimberly said. Does the light of a me create dark shadows? Or does it only reveal them? My familys deaths will leave almost as deep a mark on thismunity as their lives did.


    After a moment of contemtion, she asked, I hope he didnt write their obituaries too.


    He was the only one not invited to the party, I said. Come on, I think Dr. Halle has run out of rich people to schmooze.


    We left the memorial wall and found the others who had already gathered to speak with Dr. Halle, who was saying goodbye to a fabulously bejeweled woman who seemed absolutely taken with him.


    He turned to us. I understand that they have finally reopened my old friends murder case. I cannot thank you enough for your efforts to bring Jedediahs murderer to justice and I will answer any and every question you have for me.


    He looked each of us in the eye one at a time with a reassuring gaze and said with a warm smile, Now ask me whatever it is you desire. Im ready for anything.

 Arc II, Chapter 31: Bobbys Other Wife

    Arc II, Chapter 31: Bobby''s Other Wife


    Do you have any idea who might have wanted Jedediah Geist dead? Antoine asked. He wasnt going to waste any time beating around the bush.


    Dr. Howard Halle smiled. In fact, I do. His whole family bore one grudge or another, but as they all famously predeceased him, that might not be useful information to you. Then there were the townsfolk who developed a sort of superstition about the Geists and their fabulous wealth and good fortune. Those people are too many to name and too nameless to remember. Youll have to recall the animosity between the Geists and Geist-nots. Sure, nowadays we talk about the Geists like they are our founders and mascots, but when they were living, jealousy brewed in every pot. Did any of you grow up here? You must know.


    He looked at each of us. Of course, none of us had.


    I wanted to ask what had happened to the Geists. We had seen snippets, but there was much we did not know. The problem was, my character should know if he was a historian of the Geists. I wondered if there would be a problem if I decided to break character in a small way like that.


    Luckily, I didnt have to.


    How did all the Geists die out? Kimberly asked. I know a lot of them died in that fire at their manor.


    Halle looked directly at her. Yes, Bartholomew and his sons were always building new mansions to live in. Most of them are still intact. It was strange that they never could find a ce to settle down. Most of the final Geists were dispatched that day, just over a decade ago. Very sad. The ruins have been left just as they were when the fire went out. Im sure a look over what remains would be an important stop on your crime-solving tour. But it is true, the Geists were known for their dying long before they were all dead, in odd and unfortunate ways. Some suspected a serial killer taking revenge on the bloodline. Others believed that unlimited wealth led to recklessness. I suppose the idea was that they died in strange ways because they werent busy making a living. I couldnt say, myself. I was the family doctor. Most were in good health until they passed. Physical health, at least. Something weightyy on their minds that I was not qualified nor interested to understand. It was the type of knowledge that led to an early grave, perhaps.


    It was another line about the Geists and their secrets.


    I tried aiming my beefy Moxie stat at his dense speeches, but he spoke quickly and smoothly at an odd but soothing cadence. I couldnt tell what, if anything, he was lying about.


    Did you kill him? Dina asked. She must have been tired of his winding answers too.


    No.


    Even with a one-word answer, I had no idea if he was telling the truth. He was an elegant speaker with a finely tuned and artificial warmth that I had no idea how to interpret. I could tell he saw the whole conversation as a sort of game, but that didnt mean he was lying. It just meant he enjoyed the conversation.


    Jedediah was called the ck sheep of the family. How does one go about getting a nickname like that in a family like the Geists? I asked. Halle knew Jed. He might have some piece of information we needed.


    Halle seemed to appreciate my question. Jedediah hated his family more than the townsfolk did. Ill never know why. He knew something about them, something that well I dont think is in the purview of your investigation. Truthfully, the only family members Geist cared about were his nieces and nephews. He liked to think them meless, at least when they were young.


    I suppose the first odd thing about him was that he got a job. An actual job at that, not a vanity project funded by the Geistrgess. He was an ountant or something simrly unremarkable. I couldnt say. Bartholomew founded the college for his children to attend in hopes that they wouldnt leave him. If memory serves, Jedediah was the only one to graduate. The others decided to go y entrepreneur with their fathers money. They opened restaurants and hotels, factories and even skateparks. Not Jed. He didnt want their money.


    Strangely, I think that Jedediah was more like his father than any of his siblings. Simr personality. Simr interests. Despite this, it was his siblings that ran his fathers businesses and productions after Bartholomew passed. Jedediah was content in his home on the other side of the hill, his back toward Carousel. He never left if he could avoid it in his golden years. He rented much of his property to a resort on the condition that they cater his meals and clean his home. I always wondered if he was hiding from something up there on that hill. Perhaps, he just couldnt face the town his father had built.


    So far, we had learned more about the Geist family than we had about the murder itself. That either meant we werent asking the right questions or that this storyline was not a straightforward murder mystery. It might not have been a murder mystery at all. Perhaps the answer would be revealed without our efforts. This was the Tutorial, after all. New yers would hardly be interested in ying detective.


    There was an important part left to ask, even if we already knew the answer.


    Can you tell us what you were doing at the time of the murder? Antoine asked. We knew it was sometime in the early morning the day before the Centennial. The actual date kept moving forward thanks to Carousels trickery.


    I was performing emergency surgery, Halle said. A man had impaled himself with the help of a tractor. I have provided my notes of the event to the previous investigators.


    If youe across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    We had read them. Assuming the documentation was correct, he was busy during the hours the medical examiner had estimated Jeds time of death.


    Thank you for your time, doctor, Officer Willis said. I know that you are a busy man and I do appreciate your indulging us.


    I will always be avable to help. I may have been Jed Geistsst friend in the world. I may also be one of the few who cheers when the truth is revealed. I think many prefer that this and the other Geist mysteries remain unsolved. The truth is finite. Its absence is full of possibilities.


    Halle turned to leave and we went Off-Screen. I noticed that he went to speak with Cecilia, the woman whose entire face was covered in a veil.


    I cant tell, Kimberly said. I didnt find any obvious lies.


    Me neither, I said.


    I was too distracted, Cassie admitted. I couldnt help thinking about the needle ticking toward First Blood.


    Kimberly went tofort her. Isaac was frozen, no doubt watching the needle just as Cassie had been.


    Finding lies gets easy as you go along, Willis said. Knowing the truth when you hear it, though, thats always hard.


    Halle stuck around talking to other guests. Willis kept us there. He was waiting for something.


    On-Screen.


    There was yelling in the distancea storm of it. I would have thought it was a crowd of people, but as it moved to the banquet hall, it turned out to just be one woman who was pulling her way past tworge security personnel.


    Please someone talk to me! she screamed. Someone, please! Just let me talk to someone in charge.


    NPCs at the party who were administrators of the hospital all worked in unison to calm the remaining guests.


    This is a hospital, one man said, You have to expect things like this.


    The woman, whose name was Donna on the red wallpaper, said, No one will answer my questions. I need to talk to someone in charge.


    She was extremely distressed. Her hair was pinned up tightly except for a few flyaway clumps. She wore a brown pea coat and jeans. She had a piece of paper in her hands. As she drew close, I realized exactly what it was.


    A missing poster.


    It looked just like the ones posted for deceased yers. The only thing that stood out about it was that unlike all of those we had seen on the boards near the diner, this one did not have a dead yer on it.


    It was Bobby. His face was stered on it along with his name and other details.


    Please, she yelled, My husband is missing. I know hes here. I just need to talk to someone.


    Officer Willis picked his time to shine. He strutted up to the woman and the security guards and said, Ill take it from here, fes. Thanks for all of your help.


    Thanks, Officer, one of the hospital administrators said.


    No, Willis said, Thank you.


    He turned to Donna. Maam, you mind following me? We cant have you causing a disturbance at a hospital.


    You have to listen to me! Donna protested, but sheplied.


    Ill listen. I''ll be all ears. Just follow me, Willis said.


    She did follow him. He guided her back over to us. He stopped just close enough that we could hear everything.


    Just talk to me, Willis said. You dont have to raise your voice. Im listening.


    My husband Bobby Gill, she said, pointing to the picture. Hes a veterinarian. We live in Southern Carousel. Three months ago, he was in a car wreckte at night. When the police arrived, he wasnt in the car. There was a lot of blood though. A witness said he was taken away in an ambnce but the hospital said that he was never dropped off except I know he was.


    She was crying intensely. It got so bad she had to stop and collect herself.


    Have you checked with other hospitals? Willis asked.


    Of course, she said. But this one was the closest and I got a call. Look, this one is the closest. He had to have been brought here. There are other cases just like mine. It''s a pattern.


    The hospital called you? Willis asked.


    I got a call. I heard someone on the other side, she said. She looked like she was starting to regret talking about this part. I know it was Bobby. I recognized it was him. The call traced back to this hospital.


    What did he say?


    She paused. I know it was Bobby. He didnt say anything. He grunted like he was trying to. Like he was gagged or hurt. I know it was him. I cant exin it. I know in my heart, my soul that it was Bobby. I just cant get the hospital to tell me the truth.


    I see, Willis said skeptically.


    No, Donna said. Youre doing it. You dont believe me. I know it sounds weird, but two people can have a connection that transcends physical space. I know it was Bobby trying to talk to me. I just


    Shes telling the truth, Cassie loudly interrupted. I can tell.


    Whatever Cassie felt must have been strong if she was willing to say it out loud. I was also psychic but only in a way that helped fill out my backstory. I wondered if Psychic Archetypes got vibrations or something more.


    Willis looked back at Cassie like he was scolding her for making his job harder.


    Maam, he said. If the hospital says he never showed up, he probably didnt.


    I can feel him


    Before Willis could respond, a loud throat-clearing sound interrupted him.


    It was Dr. Halle.


    I couldnt help but hear your plight, he said. I do have a considerable amount of weight to throw around in this hospital. Might I be of service?


    I need to find my husband, Donna said, pleading with him.


    Halle nodded. Yes. I confess I am familiar with your circumstances. Word does get around in a hospital. While I am certain that your husband was never a patient in this hospital, I might offer you a tour. It may take a while, but perhaps then, you will be satisfied?


    I want to see every room, she said. Especially any rooms withatose patients. I read about some patients being mixed up because they were both unconscious. Thats my leading suspicion.


    I will make the arrangements, Halle said. If you will follow me.


    Part of me knew he was just putting on a show of politeness and charisma, but still, I wondered if there was something beneath that.


    Because I got a strange feeling.


    Off-Screen.


    Kimberly had the same feeling.


    I think he was lying, Kimberly said. I dont know what about, but it was something.


    I got the same feeling, I said.


    It was a vague note of deception in the pit of my stomach. Was the tour a sham just meant to calm a hysterical woman, or was the lie more specific, more insidious?


    I think Bobby is here somewhere, Cassie said. Despite her low level, she only had one less Moxie than Kimberly and I did. It was at the expense of her other stats, but it helped her be the best Psychic she could be. Because when she said his name, I could see him on the red wallpaper.


    The whole time Halle was talking with Donna, Cassie looked like there was something she wanted to say, but she never did.


    Like with a trope? Antoine asked.


    Cassie nodded. My Anguish trope. I can see his health status. I couldnt see it until he was mentioned.


    She looked afraid as if her ability might cause her to feel his pain all of a sudden like it had in the previous storyline.


    Whats wrong with him? I asked.


    Hes Mutted, she said.

 Arc II, Chapter 32: An Illegal Search

    Arc II, Chapter 32: An Illegal Search


    Finally, the NPCs started to pack things away and break down the room. We were ready for the next scene. The tables of food were being packed up and taken somewhere in the distance. The sad part was that Bobby''s <strong>Craft Services Are The Real Heroes </strong>trope had likely yed some part in the absolute feast and he was the only yer who had not gotten to enjoy it.


    Not to mention that he was Mutted wherever he was.


    Kurt Willis, the GI Paragon who had been leading us on this storyline was ying his part being a likable if slightly boisterous police officer, was going into his spiel about how this was a waste of time again. He repeated himself a lot. I doubted every word would get into the final cut. I wondered how much, if any of it was actually on the script.


    Dr. Halle is very influential in this town, he said. Bothering him with nothing to show for it is going to be embarrassing for everyone here. He gave us a look over. Well, embarrassing for those of us with real jobs. I doubt the movie dude or the psychic are going to fall too far in public opinion from this pageant of misfit detect


    Just as he was about to finish his line, a banquet worker walked by him pushing a trolley with a bowl of hard punch inside. As she did, the trolleys wheel caught a snag in the carpet, and the bowl of punchunched up over Willis, showering him in the thick, syrupy red beverage.


    He cursed loudly in shock.


    If I didnt know better, I would say he really was shocked, as if he was not expecting it. Was it possible something new had happened?


    Cassie gasped. It looks like blood! she screamed. It sounded almost involuntary.


    The banquet worker was apologizing profusely as Cassie started hyperventting.


    I think hes in danger, she said.


    I cant believe I got assigned to this stupid exercise in futility, Willis yelled as he desperately tried to wipe the red drink off his uniform. It stained instantly.


    Nobodys going to die, he said with a meaningful gaze. I have to go wash up. Dont go anywhere without me. Im in charge of making sure this investigation is above board!


    I got the feeling that when he said, Dont go anywhere, he meant the opposite.


    Cassie, Kimberly said, Its okay. Hes just fine. Hell just need a new uniform.


    You dont understand, Cassie answered, Its a sign. It means that we are heading toward his death. Its happened to me before.


    Willis looked at her at first with worry, but then he wiped that off his face and reced it with anger. He left us behind after soaking up as much punch as he could with banquet napkins.


    The punch had looked like blood.


    Cassies <strong>Foreboding Signs</strong> trope could help her predict death order. In this case, it was telling her that Willis life was in danger. She was right, of course. He had a trope guaranteeing he would be First Blood. With her premonition, we would be able to discuss our impending doom On-Screen and in character. I could see how that would be useful.


    Are we really going to stay here? I asked.


    Not a chance, Antoine said. I think we need to go see if Dr. Halles hiding something.


    He nodded over toward arge map of the new wing that had been constructed. Halles office was featured prominently on the first floor.


    We knew where we were going.


    Why the heck would he need an office this big? Isaac said. Something tells me his ego had a hand in the new wingyout.


    We spread out. There was a wall of filing cabs in a hall that looked like a break room connected to his office. His office also had its own bathroom, several closets, a separate area for his secretaries, a conference room, and a fountain that gurgled in the corner.


    His desk was cluttered with paperwork as well. A solitary filing cab was behind it.


    Keep your voices down, Antoine said. If we get caught our investigation is over.


    We searched high and low. The file cabs were locked, but his desk drawer where he kept the keys wasnt. Dina found them in seconds. She didnt even have a trope for that.


    We each took a cab and started searching.


    Ive got it, Kimberly said. The file from the surgery he performed the morning of the murder. She looked over it. My initial impression is that it looks right. I trained as a nurse to help round out my profile for the pageant circuit. These logs and notes are consistent. She flipped through them. He was operating for five hours She read aloud, The foreign object was carefully removed, necessitating intricate dissection due to its size and the extent of tissue involvement. Multiple sections of the small intestine were resected, and primary anastomosis was performed The nursing staff signed off on it.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    She passed the documents around. Her Savvy jumped four points. <strong>Convenient Backstory</strong> was a really quick way to graduate from nursing school.


    Look, she said, He could have faked the whole document, but then the conspiracy would have to include a dozen other people. I just dont think hes lying about it. She looked up at the frames on the wall filled with graduate certificates, licenses, and newspaper clippings. The guy is incredibly qualified. Hes a world-renowned stic surgeon yet he was the first call for aplicated emergency surgery from an abdominal injury.


    So either hes innocent or he managed to get a lot of people to lie for him, Antoine said. Thats terrible news. It means we broke into his office for nothing.


    Well just tell him I came in for a consultation, Isaac said. I wonder what the going rate on calf imnts is.


    Antoine casually handed him a folder to look through. Antoine had taken a peek. Isaac took it and began flipping through it.


    Check this out, he said, holding up arge folder filled with photographs.


    We gathered around him and looked over his shoulder. Inside, were a collection of photographs of women in various attire, ranging from swimsuits to evening gowns. They appeared to be on stage.


    The women were beautiful, but the pictures themselves were marked up with ink from someone circling their various body parts and writing notes beside them like, Gorgeous Perfect or Too chubby.


    The pictures spanned at least a decade.


    Oh my god, Kimberly said as Isaac flipped through them. Thats me!


    She grabbed the picture and examined it closely.


    On the back, it said, Miss Carousel 1994. Kimberly was the reining Miss Carousel.


    Theyre all Miss Carousels, Isaac said, showing the other side of several of the photos.


    There were lots of names. He flipped through them. At the bottom of the stack was a picture with Miss Carousel 1972 written on it.


    This is the oldest one, he said, flipping the page over. The woman was beautiful. It was the only one without notes on it.


    He is a stic surgeon, Antoine said. I imagine this is just his way of staying on his game.


    Yeah, Isaac said. Its probably like those magazines the barber gives you so you can pick out a haircut. He lets women pick out what they want to look like. Ill take the lips from 89, the forehead from 91, and 77s calves are to die for.


    Still, Kimberly said, It feels strangely viting.


    Is it because he said you had a perfect face? Isaac asked.


    Kimberly didnt look sure, but I could tell she was uneasy.


    Lets put this back, I said. It was weird and all, but it didnt make sense for us to dwell on it too long.


    I grabbed the photos, stacked them back in the file, and put them back in the file cab. As I went to shut therge drawer, something strange happened.


    The drawer closed before I had even gotten my hand out of it. The metal edge mped down on my right hand.


    I withdrew and winced in pain.


    Cassie stared at me nervously. We both had the same realization. Her <strong>Foreboding Signs</strong> trope appeared to be at work again. I hoped that having my hand mmed in a drawer was a very loose metaphor. I didnt want to be crushed that day.


    Your hand, she said, pointing her finger at my appendage.


    I looked closely at it. There was a thing red mark where the drawer had mmed, but it wasnt an unbroken line. The metal edge had not been smooth. The line was broken up into little dots.


    The marks made me think Cut along the dotted line, Doc but I hoped I was just looking too far into it.


    Ill have to be more careful, I said.


    There you are! a deep voice boomed from across the room. What in gods name are you doing?


    It was Officer Willis. He was wearing a collection of odds and ends that I expected must havee from the lost and found bin. He wore a tropical shirt and shorts that were so short he was in danger of being making this film X-rated. His uniform was in a bag in his hands, but his gun belt and its various weapons were still strapped around his waist.


    You cant be here. You are acting on behalf of the government. This is a warrantless search. Dont you understand what that means?


    That you didnt see anything, and you need to take anotherp around the building? Isaac said. He was still a little jumpy, but I appreciated his effort. You look great by the way.


    This is serious, Willis said. Im calling the mayors office. This whole thing was a joke and now youre breaking the


    He went silent.


    Someonesing, he said.


    He thought for a moment. Even with his condemnation of us, it was clear he didnt want to get caught. Whether it was his characters fault or not, he was responsible for us.


    Dammit, he said. Hide. Now. If I get in trouble for this, I am tasing you all.


    So we did. Willis flipped off the light and each of us found our best hiding spots.


    Something appeared on the red wallpaper. Dina had used her <strong>Pen Pal</strong> trope to leave a note for us. Since we were all in the room with her, we didnt have to search for it like normal.


    The note said, Newbies in the closet by the coffee maker.


    Dina didnt have the highest Hustle for sneaking around(which may have been an oversight on her part) but she could sense which parts of the set were going to be Off-Screen thanks to <strong>Outside Looking In</strong>. Getting the newbies in a good hiding spot was important because they did not have good Hustle stats either.


    In the darkness, I saw three figures, Dina, Cassie, and Isaac go into the closet.


    The rest of us didnt need to. We had Hustle. Kimberly, Antoine, and I were tied in the stat at 5 points (not including Antoines buffs from <strong>Gym Rat</strong>). Officer Willis Hustle was good too. I finally understood why Halles office was sorge.


    We needed usible ces to hide. This was in the script, or at least some version of it was. That meant we were doing well I hoped.


    People wereing and they were taking forever.


    I hid underneath a long conference table. If I was in danger of discovery, I could dart for the secretaries office.


    I didnt see where the others went. Normally, we might not have risked hiding under these circumstances, but with a Paragon telling us to, we had more confidence. Not to mention, we all got a buff to Hustle from following hismand because of his <strong>Provisional Command</strong> trope.


    We waited as whispers grew louder down the hall.


    Eventually, it became clear that the intruders were Dr. Halle and, as the red wallpaper told me, Cecilia. She had not yet been introduced to us On-Screen, but we had taken note of her. It was hard to miss the person covered from head to toe in ck fabric.


    All Im saying, Cecilia whispered, Is that she is interesting, isnt she?


    No, Halle answered. She is not. She is a perfectly health young woman. I have no use for her.


    But wouldnt she be perfect for your studies?


    Cecilia, he said, I am a principled man. My studies have strict guidelines and she fits none of them. She is wless.


    I heard the sound of something heavy creaking along the floor, along with the sloshing of water.


    The fact is, he said, I am not certain that it is wise for you to be so fixated on that methodology. The current system is making rapid improvements.


    They continued to speak to one another, but their voices faded and the sound of friction and sloshing water returned.


    I looked out from under the conference table and looked toward where I hadst seen them over at the back of the office where the water fountain still gurgled.


    They were gone.

 Arc II, Chapter 33: The Secret Staircase

    Arc II, Chapter 33: The Secret Staircase


    Once Doctor Halle was gone, we went Off-Screen.


    Willis started to p. Things are moving right along. Been a while since I had to change my shorts in a story before, he said with a grin. Speaking of, you guys know what''s next?


    We somberly looked around at each other and nodded.


    You''re going to be First Blood, Kimberly said.


    Right you are, he said. And then what happens?


    We had all been through this before. We know what happened next.


    We regroup and try to survive, continue solving the mystery without you, Antoine said.


    True enough. But what else happens after my apparent death? he asked. His trope would not cause him to actually die but he would be taken out of the story until the finale.


    I knew what he was getting at.


    Then theye after me, I said.


    Willis pointed at me to confirm I was correct. Since we know that we can make a n based around it. Of course, as abat build, I should not be the one making the ns. Just note that it is pitch ck down there.


    Then he and everyone else looked at me.


    I had watched every storyline we had run through over and over again on the red wallpaper using my <strong>Director''s Monitor</strong> trope. Every victory and every lesson learned had been burned into my mind. Ibined that with every movie I had ever seen and quickly came up with a n.


    It looks like they opened up a tunnel and I''m guessing based on context clues that tunnel goes into the sewers, I said. So we take our First Blood sacrifice and the high PA characters and send them down into the sewers under some pretense of following Doctor Halle. You have to be resistant to the idea because you can''t suddenly act gung ho. Antoine will insist and tempt you into following Halle. Dina will rush down there first to force your hand. We leave the lower PA characters at the entrance--that''s me, Cassie, and Isaac.


    After a little bit, I break away and go down into the sewers looking for youpresumably because my character got bored. My character wouldn''t know anything about what''s up yet so I might be able to get a little use out of Oblivious Bystander before the firefight starts. Since we can see each other on the red wallpaper even in the dark, Cassie and Isaac should stand at the bottom of the stairs so that we can see our way out. Dina can leave a message at every intersection telling us which direction you guys went using her Pen Pal trope.


    After First Blood, the enemy wille to find me and hopefully give Kimberly, Antoine, and Dina a chance to get back to the exit. Then I shake my followers and meet them back at the exit so we can try and move forward in the story. We collect all of the information we have and then make another n.


    Willis looked at me with an amused grin. Not bad, kid. Well see how that works out. Thinking about your character motivations is important.


    Well shucks.


    Willis took a deep breath. Gun, he said, showing where his gun was on his belt. Extra magazinesbecause I am a very well-prepared cop. Pepper spray. Taser. shlight. Baton, he gestured at Antoine, Radiowont work down there, but you still have to try to use it cause Carousel will like it. My belt wille loose in the fight. I have a spare firearm in my boot along with a knife so I''ll be fine. When First Blood happens, make sure you get the belt and use it wisely. There are more rounds here than Carousel will let you keep so the story wont kick into gear until you start running low. You all ready?


    Antoine nodded firmly, Lets do it.


    Wait, Isaac said, Ive been thinking. If were saying this out loud doesnt that mean you-know-who is listening?


    Willisughed. Oh yeah. Carousel is right here in the huddle, he said. And itll have notes. Thats the fun part.


    We took off in the direction of the fountain that we had seen Doctor Halle and Cecilia hovering around before they disappeared.


    The water in the fountain had not yet stopped sloshing back and forth when we arrived.


    On-Screen.


    Did they I asked. Did that thing just open up?


    Kimberly stepped forward and started touching the various carvings in the stone of the fountain. They were standing right here and then I heard a loud noise, she said.


    We need to get out of here, Willis said. We shouldn''t be messing around in here. You were supposed to be investigating a murder not trespassing in a hospital.


    Just as he finished speaking Antoine reached out and found a small button on the side of the fountain that would have been hard to see unless you were looking for it. He pressed it and held it.


    Soon enough the fountain started to move to the right with the whir of a motor and the sshing of water. There were dim lights strung up revealing stone steps that led down into the ground. Down below there was a sound like a river running.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    This leads to the sewer system, Antoine said. You don''t need a warrant to go down into the sewers.


    Why in the world would they need a direct passage down there? Willis asked.


    Must be a pretty good reason if they''re willing to put up with the smell, Isaac said.


    Truthfully, it didn''t smell bad at all. It was a movie sewer. Sewers in movies had rats and trash and leaves and sticks and asionally monsters but they never seemed to have anything grosser than that. The sewers in movies were just for storm drains. No sewage.


    This is not the type of thing that this exploratorymittee was designed to look into, Willis said.


    What are you talking about? Antoine asked. This is exactly the type of thing we should be looking into. Doesn''t it make you the least bit curious? Remember that woman saying that her husband had called her from the hospital but then Doctor Halle says that he''s nowhere in the hospital. We have to check this out. It could very easily be rted to Geists murder.


    This wing didn''t exist at the time of Geists murder, Willis said. Look I''m putting my foot down we are not going down into the sewer system to chase a suspect. That is not the type of thing that I can allow a group of civi


    He stopped talking as Dina walked past him and started descending the staircase.


    What are you doing? Willis asked harshly.


    Antoine and Kimberly were quick to follow.


    Willis turned to me, Cassie, and Isaac and said, You three stay up here; do not go anywhere. You had better not follow us down there. I''m going to arrest them. That''s what I''ll do, I''ll arrest them and if I don''te back call for help.


    The three of us waited at the top of the stairs as the needle on the Plot Cycle moved closer and closer to First Blood. The longer I waited, the more nervous I got. If there was a w in my n, Willis would not have told me. He couldnt without spoilers.


    I stood there Off-Screen and thought of all the ways that my n could go wrong while Cassie and Isaac were too afraid to talk.


    On-Screen.


    I waited a few moments. I then walked back and forth.


    Thats it, I said. Im going in after them. This is ridiculous. They probably found a whole opioid smuggling operation or something. If Im not back soon, call for help."


    I then took a breath and plunged into the sewers.


    By the time I had gotten to the bottom of the stairs, I couldnt even see much more than a green light reflecting in the water. The light from the stairway was useless.


    Willis had a shlight so their group was likelypletely unbothered by the darkness.


    I looked to see if I could still see them on the red wallpaper. I caught sight of Kimberly to my left. Her health status was fine. The others werent visible, which meant I had lost line of sight. The room was huge. I could tell even without being able to see well.


    If they were to the left, that meant I needed to be to the right.


    Willis would be killed, then I would be targeted to draw the enemies away from the others. I had to get some distance, but not be so far away that Carousel just skipped me on the priority list.


    The sewer had walkways on both sides of the canals with asional bridges to allow you to cross to the other side. The system was huge and well-built, even with the creepy ambiance. I knew that there were a lot of storylines in the sewers so it made sense that they would be nice.


    The needle was almost to First Blood. I wasnt sure how well Oblivious Bystander would work if I heard gunshots. Luckily, the water in the middle of the passage was roaring. The sewers were having trouble, I recalled. The water was practically forming rapids.


    One slip into it would likely be fatal.


    I called out, Hello?


    No answer.


    I continued onward. I stepped carefully and used the right wall as a guide so I didnt get too close to the water.


    I took a step and there was a crunch as I stepped on something.


    More steps. More crunches.


    The story was set in 1995 so that meant I couldnt use my phone as a light. I bent down and grabbed objects on the ground I had stepped on. It was too dark to make them out.


    I immediately regretted it, though I tried my best not to show it.


    They were bones. Rat or fish, I couldnt tell at first, then I felt what was left of some hair.


    Twigs? I asked in my most confused voice.


    I couldnt have my oblivious character getting too wise.


    I kept walking as I saw the light ahead. It was faint, starlight seeping in through a storm drain, but it was light. The sewer opened up to arger area here with some slow spots where the water wasnt moving as fast. There was also a drainage pipe sticking out of the wall that had a torrent of water pouring out of it into the stream below.


    After some time, First Blood was struck. I heard faint gunshots but didnt react to them. I found a rail and leaned against it.


    I waited for Rebirth to start. The fight took a bit longer than expected. Then, it was time to head back.


    On-Screen.


    Screw this, I said in character.


    With First Blood over, I would be targeted. I needed to get a good look at our adversary.


    ~-~


    I didnt see what was following me when my Chase Scene indicator lit up on the red wallpaper. I couldnt see anything. I could hear footsteps in the dark.


    Allies could be seen as long as I looked in their direction, but enemies needed to be actually seen with few exceptions, like the Unknowable Host, which I had seen on the red wallpaper even with my eyes closed.


    Whatever was chasing me was out of luck. After leaving the well-lit area, I couldnt get a look at them if I wanted to. I couldnt hear anything over the river of the sewer to my right.


    Ironically, I was incredibly safe.


    I made my way back in the direction I had walked, following the same wall so I didnt get lost.


    My n had worked. As I got close, I saw Antoine, Kimberly, Cassie, and Dina on the red wallpaper in the distance.


    But where was Isaac? I turned my gaze as carefully as possible. Each of my team members showed up on the red wallpaper, but Isaac was gone.


    He should have been with them.


    My eyes strained against the darkness. I couldnt make out much at all.


    Then, I found him.


    Isaac Hughes the <em>Comedian</em>.


    Unconscious, Mutted, Hobbled, Incapacitated.


    But how?


    They should havee after me. Nothing should have targeted him unless there was a trope at y I didnt know of.


    There was another status lit up.


    Captured.


    He was being carried away somewhere. They were moving fast.


    If I continued straight, I would find the others and get some good information.


    If I turned right, I could follow Isaac.


    I could let him die. I could. No one would me me. Everyone dies in Carousel. Still, I didn''t want him to die so soon. I didn''t know if he could deal with it. What''s more, this enemy had taken him captive. That meant they were likely headed to an important location.


    I had to act fast or else I would lose sight of him on the red wallpaper.


    I felt my way around until I found I could safely walk across one of those bridges over the torrent. It wasnt realistic for my character, but I was Off-Screen and the audience wouldnt know how I had veered off-path.


    Even if I couldnt save Isaac, I could make his sacrifice matter by following him to an important location.


    I wished I could send a message to the others. Maybe they would see me in pursuit when they looked in my direction on the red wallpaper.


    They must have been pretty rattled to not chase after him themselves.


    I continued on, trying to keep pace, working to stay Oblivious.

 Arc II, Chapter 34: The Doctors Visit

    Arc II, Chapter 34: The Doctor''s Visit


    I carefully scanned the area ahead, making sure to keep the mental image of Isaac in my mind so that I could see which way he was being taken.


    A flood of self-doubt and shame moved over me as I began contemting how my n had failed that badly. Was it Cassies <strong>Foreboding Signs</strong> trope that did it? Perhaps her vision predicted my demise, but then when <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong> countered it, Carousel was robbed of its victim.


    Was that it? Had Carousel attacked Isaac because I had avoided my fate in a way that wasnt satisfying to the audience?


    It felt possible, but this was too soon. There were better ways for Carousel to send that message, ways that didnt take so much guesswork.


    As I stumbled blindly through the darkness, I couldnt quite put my finger on what had gone wrong. I walked faster. I needed to keep Isaac in range on the red wallpaper.


    Hello? Officer Willis? I cried out. I had to keep up the appearance that I was just lost, that I had no idea what had just happened. In the darkness, the audience wouldnt know that I was wandering around with a purpose.


    Then, I saw something that gave me pause.


    Ahead of me in the darkness in the same direction that Isaac was moving in, I could see something else.


    There was something else on the red wallpaper that I could only get a glimpse of for a split second at a time.


    It was too dark for me to see with my eyes, but still, I saw some other being on the red wallpaper. That didnt make sense. I had to have a visual on enemies to read the red wallpaper most of the time.


    As best as I could figure, Isaac was being carried, but someone else was in front of him that I could not see clearly.


    I stared intently ahead as I moved through the dark tunnel. I listened, but the sound of the water was too loud to hear anything.


    The whole time, I was still being followed.


    Whatever was about to go down, I wasnt going to have many options. I powered on.


    Soon, I figured out what I was getting glimpses of on the red wallpaper. I knew deep inside the moment I saw it, I just didnt want to believe it.


    It was Bobby.


    It took a moment for me to get a good look.


    Bobby was moving ahead of Isaac. Was he a prisoner or No. His Captured status wasnt lit.


    I checked his other stats. He was Mutted, as Cassie had said. I had no idea what injuries he had, but I knew his Infected status also was not lit. That meant he wasnt being controlled. Whatever he was doing, it was of his own volition.


    I hurried ahead, running through the checklist of what I had to do.


    I needed to get a look at whatever enemies we were dealing with. I needed to somehow resolve Cassies vision of my demise. I had to figure it all out.


    There was light up ahead.


    On-Screen.


    I exited the dark corridor I had followed them down and found myself in arger room where many tunnels converged, their overflowing streams all met and fell down a deep shaft. Right there, in the middle of it all, was what I assumed to be a water treatment station that had been abandoned some time ago, looking beaten up and taken over by nature. The walls were crumbling and covered in moss, and the pipes were rusty and twisted everywhere. The windows, however, were clean. The walkways were swept clear.


    Isaac, Bobby, and whoever had been carrying Isaac were already in the building somewhere before I got a good look.


    Was Bobby helping the enemies?


    The lights on inside allowed me to see that there was a bunch of weirdb equipment with bubbling vials and beeping machines. It was clear Halle turned this ce into his secretb, but there wasn''t a soul around, just the thunder of water dropping downward and a faint sound above.


    Calliope music.


    We were near the Centennial Celebration.


    I had to get to Isaac, but first, I needed to deal with whatever was following me.


    One more step into the light.


    Hello? I cried out.


    No answer.


    Time to investigate the creepy abandoned building all alone.


    Another step out of the darkness. Whatever was behind me would soon be visible, if only faintly.


    My character would be none-the-wiser about what was about to happen. I tried to convey my nervousness, the fear of a man who wandered too far into the dark.


    I turned around.


    A figure moved out of the shadows behind me, seemingly gliding over the concrete walkway. I hadnt been able to hear him before. He wasnt walking, he was scooting along behind me.


    He was a small man, or at least he had once been. His skin was pale and moist. His mouth was wide, his ck hair greasy.


    His arms were longer than they should have been. Hey atop a small wooden tformjust a few nks of wood nailed together with some shopping cart wheels bolted underneath. A nket was his only cushion from the rotten wood.


    He couldnt walk because his legs were a deformed mess, but the look in his eye told me he was angry at my presence. Angry I was there; angry I could see him. His legs were long and thin, their deformity so gangly. I hadnt heard his movement because the wheels on the concrete blended so well with the rushing water.


    He pushed himself toward me on his little cart. He was much faster than he looked like he could be.


    Malformed Hybrid (G. McBride)


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Plot Armor: 15


    __________


    Tropes


    An Affront to Nature


    This viin is revolting to see for the first time. One nce will leave the viewer Incapacitated with revulsion.


    Home Lair Advantage


    The viin can travel freely, unnoticed due to their knowledge of the setting and its passages - both public and secret.


    Theyll Never Believe You


    When tangling with this viin, the authorities will not believe or take seriously anything the yers tell them.


    Unwarranted Aggression


    This viin will attack when and if the plot calls for it without logical motivation.


    Animals Are Psychic


    The viin demonstrates knowledge that it has no logical means to acquire, an instinct to kill or survive.


    Far Gone


    This viin has lost their humanity, but not all at once: Something remains.


    I found myself unable to move in any direction except to back away haphazardly, my eyes fixed on the malformed person before me.


    My wits didnt return until I took a step and almost missed the floorthe shaft where the water emptied into was behind me. I had almost fallen off the edge.


    I reached out for something to help me bnce myself, but there wasnt anything. The rail in this area had been broken or rusted out decades ago so when I put weight on it, it gave in immediately.


    I tried to use it to pull myself back up, but I could feel the rail bending, ready to break.


    Thinking quickly, I solved my falling problem and Cassies vision problem all in one swift movement.


    I held out my right hand toward the hybrid as he approached me. Even as I started to fall, he took the bait. He lunged forward, leaving his cart behind. His wide mouth opened up wide and revealed a row of jagged little baby teeth.


    Pain burst through my hand, but it helped me bnce just enough to force myself forward and away from a watery grave. I could feel him gnawing. His teeth were sharp and his jaw powerful. It was more than I was expecting. I could hear the bones in my hand cracking from the power of his jaw.


    Blood started to pour out of his mouth. He didnt let go.


    At that point, I would have preferred falling.


    I shook him to the best of my ability, but he held tight, hissing the whole time. I started to grow cold as I heard a growl to my left. Bobby was standing next to the door holding arge syringe. He walked toward me; there was something wrong with his face.


    His nose was weird as if he had a bad reaction to stic surgery, his jaw jutted out irregrly.


    There was a long red piece of flesh hanging out of his mouth that took me a moment to recognize as a tongue.


    A dogs tongue.


    He limped toward me, his right leg stiff and injured.


    He stuck the needle into my neck.


    Why? I asked as my vision dimmed and I drifted off to sleep.


    I woke up in a hospital bed. A nce up at the roof told me I was inside the rusted old water treatment facility. The ceiling was corroded, the lights though, were bright.


    My hand hurt, but the pain was distant, so wonderfully distant. I felt a calmness washing over me, a warmth.


    I was smiling stupidly.


    I didnt care what had happened to me. I didnt care that all of my fingers other than my thumb on my right hand were gone, reced by gauze and tape. Everything was good for the first time in a very long time. Since before Carousel. Since before my grandparents died. Since before


    The painful memories were distant just like the pain on my hand.


    I wasnt alone in the room. There was another bed to my right. My vision of my stump blurred, and I could see Isaac clearly. He was in terrible shape. The foot of his bed faced me and he was sat up enough that I could see his face straight on.


    Half his face was missing. The left half. He didnt seem to mind and neither did I. I didnt even think to try to talk to him. It never even crossed my mind.


    There were people around me. People, but not humans. Not exactly. Not for many years.


    I couldnt tell what they were. A patch of fur on a short man. Scales on a mans face. Stitches everywhere. Feathers poking out of the skin of a tall woman. It all swirled around me and it all made perfect sense somehow. I wasnt surprised. Whatever sedative I had been given, I couldnt have been surprised by anything.


    They had the same tropes as the little guy on a skateboard, except their <strong>Far Gone</strong> tropes listed their status as Mostly intact instead of Something remains.


    They came and stared in a swirl. Time passed without me noticing. I didnt think or care about anything.


    Then a man stood over Isaac. It was Dr. Halle. I fought off the urge to wave.


    Halle put something ck and small into the end of a thin tube with a handle at the end. He took the end of the tube, eased it down Isaacs throat, and pulled a lever on the end of the tube.


    Isaac was rxed and carefree, but moments after the tube went down his throat, he started to shake, to convulse. It was temporary.


    A voice in the back of my head told me, I need to leave.


    But the voice was so quiet and my limbs were so heavy. Even my arm with all its missing fingers weighed a million pounds. I would just stay there and everything would be okay.


    Then it was my turn.


    Only then did I realize I was On-Screen.


    The realization that I was being watched shot a burst of anxiety through me that was stronger than the sedative, if only for a moment.


    I was being watched. That meant something bad was about to happen. I had to pull myself together.


    Before I could make myself do anything, the wave of peace took back over. No more worry or anxiety. Thank goodness.


    Halle brought his apparatus over to me.


    Looks like the sedative is wearing off, he said.


    Someone behind me moved. Maybe the spoke, I couldnt tell.


    No more, Halle said. That wont be necessary. I want to speak with this one.


    He looked at me intently. Then he reached into the pocket of his white doctors coat and retrieved a device shaped like a gun, but instead of a barrel, it had a short needle. At the bottom of the handle was a small vial of yellow liquid.


    He pressed the needle into my arm, pulled the trigger, and suddenly, everything good faded away.


    The sedative leeched out of my system so fast it was like waking up. I hated it. I missed the feeling immediately.


    Then the pain in my hand returned.


    What are you doing? I asked in a panic.


    Halle didnt answer at first. He rolled his tray of tools over to me neatly and methodically, making sure that each of them was just so.


    Whats going on? I screamed.


    The digits of your right hand have undergone traumatic amputation, involving theplete loss of the distal, middle, and proximal phnges, he said. His charm from before was all gone. There was only the Doctor left. There''s substantial associated soft tissue trauma, and the exposure of the metacarpal heads is evident. My immediate focus is on controlling hemorrhage, preventing infection, and assessing the viability of the remaining tissue for certain radical reconstructive options.


    The coldness of his delivery and the matter-of-fact manner of his speaking sent a shiver up my spine.


    Why am I not in the hospital? I asked, trying to drag out the conversation.


    These radical reconstructive options are not yet approved by the short-sighted medicalmunity that governs Hallowed Heart, but they do show much promise, he said. What I learn from you may go on to perfect the procedures and help others regain mobility, normalcy, and perhaps even beauty.


    Experimentation? I asked.


    Radical discovery requires radical experimentation, he said, taking a deep breath. You are in luck. I have developed the zenith of this line of medical science, the breakthrough that I believe signals the end of my search. I am almost there, and you will help me cross the sanative finish line. Thank you. Now, if you struggle, I will use the bolus gun.


    He grabbed the tube with a lever that he had fed down Isaacs throat, an object I had only seen before being used to give medicine to cattle.


    No, I said faintly.


    Good, Halle said. Bobby, he held out his gloved hand. Bobby, who was the person behind my bed, reached over and plopped a small wiggling ck object into the doctors hand.


    Wait, I said. In a panic, I almost cried out Bobbys name.


    Dr. Halle ignored me.


    This should go without saying, Halle said. But if you chew, I will be most displeased.


    He lowered the object in his hands toward me.


    Only then did I get a good look at what the object was, slimy and wriggling.


    Oozing a green liquid, the object smelled horrible.


    It was a tadpole.

 Arc II, Chapter 35: Out of Hand

    Arc II, Chapter 35: Out of Hand


    You may need that gadget after all because there is no way in hell Im swallowing that thing, I said, I said, staring at the wiggling tadpole.


    Dr. Halle was none too pleased. He didnt grab for the bolus gun. Instead, he grabbed a tool from the table that a demented dentist might use to hold my jaw apart.


    It was only at that moment that I realized I was restrained. Whatever sedative he had used before had dulled my perception and made it so I didnt even try to escape.


    I struggled against my restraints, but there was nothing I could do.


    Halle held the tadpole out toward my lips. I butted my head against it, causing the wiggling creature to fall to the floor.


    The needle on the Plot Cycle was standing still. That meant one thing. Carousel wanted me to swallow the creature.


    It needed the shot, the disgust, the revulsion. It didnt take any acting skills for me to supply that. The tadpole was gross.


    Halle simply grabbed another tadpole and the whole thing started over again. He wasnt going to use the bolus gun, with its long tube to force the thing down my throat because that wasnt the shot Carousel wanted.


    I wasnt getting out of this, no matter how I tried. Still, I couldnt bring myself to do it.


    After two attempts, Halle started a monologue. I was relieved. It had been a few days since I had gotten one of those.


    Years ago, I was working to perfect the very sedative that you recently sampled. The perfect surgical tranquilizer. Needless to say, I seeded. I created the perfect form. In high doses, the patient was safely sedated. In low doses, the concoction could even treat shellshock, depression, and mania.


    He grabbed arge brass syringe like the one Bobby had used on me and held it out for me to see.


    It was only after I examined the cerebral spinal fluid of my test subjects that I found the true miracle this sedative could provide. A substance formed in the spine of those who had taken the sedative, the likes of which had never been dreamt of. A substanceposed of altered white blood cells and other unidentifiable ingredients. This substance promoted healing in a way I had never seen before. I called it Ichor, the blood of the gods. s, it was not enough. The process used to create it was... barbaric. I needed human subjects to farm it. I could never get approval for that.


    He looked into the distance as he spoke.


    My attempts to repeat the process in animals were not sessful, but they too led to a discovery. The healing properties that Ichor had on human subjects were impressive, but when introduced to foreign DNA, the substance was absolutely magnificent. I realized that I could use it to transnt animal tissue into humans, revolutionizing reconstructive surgery as the world knew it. My research has led to this, he said, holding up one of the tadpoles, My most momentous achievement yet. This creature has lived its whole life in Ichor. When it swims through your digestive tract, it will multiply the impact of the treatment. The research thus far ispelling. Swallow this creature and I will fix your hand just like knew. Ingesting it is harmless. Refusing it, not so much. Choose now.


    Carousel had decided to appeal to my mind, to let me know what the tadpole was in hopes that I might then be able to stomach swallowing it. Now I understood. The sedative helped produce the magic Ichor, which helped make the magic polliwog which would help heal my destroyed hand.


    It was all very scientific.


    I was d to know it wasnt a mind-controlling slug. I detected no deception from Dr. Halle with my Moxie. I believed he was telling the truth. Still, I did not want to swallow the tadpole.


    But I had to. The story needed to move forward.


    I looked back at Bobby, hoping that he might give some hint of what I was supposed to do. He looked me in the eye. He winked.


    Was he telling me it was safe? He didnt have the Infected status. That meant he wasnt under mind control. How was I supposed to square that with his actions from before? As best I knew, he had caused or beenplicit in Isaacs injuries. If so, that would exin why my original n failed. A yer had interfered with them.


    I didnt have any choice. Bobby forced me to be still and Halle forced the wiggling science experiment to its destination. I resisted, but at that point, it was just for show.


    I could feel it crawling downward. I just hoped no one I knew was going to watch this movie.


    My stomach convulsed. I wrenched against my constraints once more. It was over.


    Off-Screen.


    Dr. Halle went to another part of the building. Isaac was still on the sedative.


    Bobby, however, came around so I could see him, limping harshly.


    He held out his hands, pointed to Isaac, and said, Sllooooolhhy, which, judging from his facial expression, was dog-man speak for, Sorry.


    You interrupted my n. You caused Isaac to be attacked, I said. I wasnt trying to sound usatory. I just wanted to know why.


    He grabbed a slip of paper off a shelf along with a pen. He was familiar with theb; I could tell. I wondered how long he had been down there. Carousel liked to y with time, or at least our perception of it. Who knew how long he had been down here as Halles assistant?


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    He wrote on the paper, I didnt want them to hurt him. He did anyway. Im sorry. Needed to take the story in a different direction. Needed to bring you here.


    I read it over.


    If my n had worked, we might never havee down to Hallesb, at least not as soon. Bobby must have known some reason why we had to be there.


    The script told you we needed someone down here? I asked.


    He nodded.


    True ending, he wrote on the paper. Knew you would follow.


    I nodded. That made sense. A Wallflower got a limited view of the script when they used some of their tropes. Bobby must have been able to see where different versions of the script diverged and knew which one we needed to be on.


    No wonder it gave you the dog tongue, I said. Couldnt have him exining things to us. That would make it too easy.


    He nodded.


    Still, I said, Isaac is really messed up.


    Bobby looked ashamed.


    By the way, is that tadpole going to kill me or what? I asked. That whole scene was terrible.


    He shook his head.


    So when was the other shoe going to drop? Dr. Halle was a bad guy, but so far it looked like he wasnt Jed Geists murderer and he wasnt trying to kill me. How did he fit into this story?


    I noticed that Bobby had an extra trope on the red wallpaper. It was an enemy trope.


    <strong>Far Gone</strong>: This character has lost their humanity, but not all at once: Mostly Intact.


    I was still Off-Screen when Halle returned. Bobby started doing random tasks around the room.


    When we finally went back On-Screen, it was only for a brief moment.


    Dr. Gill, Halle said, Go collect the tissue needed for the operations. The pre-checklist has a list of what is needed.


    Bobby looked over at him and I could see an overwhelming look of fear in his eyes, but he took a clipboard and left.


    Off-Screen.


    Minutester, we went On-Screen again when a rumble echoed through the building. It was the same sound we had heard under City Hall. That was over soon. Back Off-Screen.


    Then, it was just me and Dr. Halle as he and a feathery tall woman worked to prep Isaac for surgery.


    I decided not to just sit there.


    You have family here in Carousel? I asked.


    Halle didnt answer. I needed to be more direct.


    Do you know a Simon Halle? I asked. It couldnt be a coincidence that Carousel had two mad scientists with thest name Halle. Howard would have been about the same age as Simon, the Astralist. They could have been brothers. Maybe cousins.


    Dr. Howard Halle paused.


    He looked back at me curiously as if lost in thought. It looked like he was genuinely confused.


    Simon... Perhaps, he said. Then he went back to work. That was that. I noticed he would pause sometimes afterward. My suspicions were as good as proven. They were rted.


    After an hour or so of boredom and pain, we went On-Screen. Bobby returned with arge tray covered with a towel.


    What are you doing? I asked, not because I didnt know but more because thats what my character would do.


    Sedate that one, Halle said. He doesnt need to see our proprietary processes.


    Bobby nodded. He grabbed the brass syringe once more and drove it into my neck. He looked almost apologetic when he did it.


    By the time I felt the cool liquid hit my bloodstream, I passed out.


    ~-~


    I awoke many hourster to the roar of the water in the sewers. It had picked up its pace. That could only mean one thing.


    It had started to rain.


    I knew that sess or failure was determined by how far into the Tutorial we had gotten before the rain came. It had been signaled to us so intentionally. I had to hope we hade far enough.


    I eventually noticed that my hand was not wrapped in gauze anymore. My missing fingers had been reced by four, long, thin gray fingers. They were waxy-looking. I felt no pain from them. I wasnt as sedated as I had previously been.


    I tried to move them. They obeyed. Other than the mismatch in skin color and the stitches, the hand felt fully integrated into my body.


    I noticed that I had gained the same enemy trope as Bobby.


    <strong>Far Gone</strong>: This character has lost their humanity, but not all at once: Mostly Intact.


    I couldnt see any negative effects of the trope so far. I wasnt Infected. I didnt hunger for flesh. My Mutted status was still lit, but that was already like that.


    Then I took a look over at Isaac.


    Half of his face was covered with a surgical dressing of some kind. His good half.


    His bad half was horrifying.


    The skin was a pale gray-green. His eye was ck and the pupil was oddly shaped. His surgery had been far moreprehensive. That half didnt look human at all.


    It was a relief that he was Unconscious.


    Worse than anything, he had the enemy trope too, but his was different.


    <strong>Far Gone</strong>: This character has lost their humanity, but not all at once: Something remains.


    Something remains. That was the same level of degradation as the strange man who had bitten me. This was bad news.


    On-Screen.


    The sedative still had some hold over me, but not enough to make me forget how bad of shape I was in. The needle on the Plot Cycle was past Rebirth and was making its way to Second Blood. I needed to find a way to get out of theb, rescue Isaac, and meet up with the others.


    Dr. Halle reappeared. He didnt look me in the eye once. He focused on my hand.


    Do you have sensation in your hand? he asked.


    I tried to speak. My tongue was asleep and hard to control because of the sedative.


    Halle reached back into his pocket and retrieved the little needle apparatus he had used on me earlier. He stuck the small needle in my arm and suddenly, I was lucid and sober.


    As he ced the wake-up gun back into his pocket, I made a decision.


    I used <strong>The Insert Shot</strong> on it.


    That device was useful for bringing us out of sedation. The effectiveness of Halles sedative was scary. One shot and a yer would be useless. We needed that anti-sedative, whatever it was. There were several potential targets for the trope in the room. It was between that and the sedative syringe itself. I had to pick one. I hoped I chose wisely.


    The Insert Shot would make the object more narratively powerful. I had some ideas for how that might be useful.


    I also needed the rest of the team to know I was alive. <strong>The Insert Shot </strong>would make them aware of the object on the red wallpaper. It would show them what it was and where. There was even a possibility it would help lead them to the undergroundb.


    Do you have sensation in your hand? Halle repeated.


    I nodded.


    Good, he said. Your surgery was a profound sess. Your friends was not as perfect. I cant figure out why that would be. Perhaps his Ichor agent was less potent. More research is required.


    Are you going to let us go? I asked.


    Halle shook his head. I will keep you here for observation.


    He left afterward. His bedside manner was below par.


    I didnt go Off-Screen though. I had a visitor.


    The woman dressed from head to toe in ck approached my bed from the side. She stared at first.


    I couldnt see her face or eyes under her veil, but I could tell she was looking at my hand.


    Then, she spoke.


    That woman you were with earlier, Kimberly Madison. She is quite beautiful, isnt she? Cecilia asked, closing in on me.


    Yep, I said cautiously.


    Cecilia giggled. Miss Carousel. When Howard perfects his procedure. I wonder if he could make me look like her.


    She lifted her head as the water picked up its pace outside.


    For a brief moment, her veil moved out of the way and I could see under it.


    I saw her skin.


    It was squirming.

 Book One is Available Now!

    Book One is Avable Now!


    Hey everyone,


    Thought I''d give this its own post.


    As you''ve probably heard, <strong>The Bystander: A Horror Movie LitRPG (The Game at Carousel Book 1)</strong> is now on Amazon. If you''re reading this, you''ve read the story before. It''s been edited and enhanced. Now is the perfect time for a reread.


    Your support is crucial. A quick rating or review can make a massive difference in helping new readers discover the story. Its a small act that means the world to me and the series as a whole. I cannot stress this enough. It is free if you have Kindle Unlimited, so if you do, consider giving it a download and refresher.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    This is the first book in a new series from a new author. It needs your help. When I released it on RR, it slowly grew to have an amazing following just from releasing new chapters. Amazon doesn''t usually y out that way. Without the support from readers like you, many people would overlook it and the algorithm would banish it into oblivion. I think the Amazon crowd might like it if they give it a chance.


    I know it''s cringe to beg like this, but I have to ask because I believe in the story and want to give it its best chance at seeding.


    Thank you for being the best part of this adventure. I can''t wait to show you what''s in store.


    E-book, Print, and Audiobook

 Arc II, Chapter 36: Cecilia

    Arc II, Chapter 36: Cecilia


    For a while, it was just me and Cecilia On-Screen. She talked in circles. At first, I thought she was just redoing lines to get a better take for Carousel, but then I started to suspect that she wascking some of her higher faculties.


    When Howard fixes me, I think I will run for Miss Carousel. Ill have to make a new name, obviously, but that is hardly a problem. If you can change your name, you can change who you are, she said. After a few moments, she added, Oh, you really dont have any idea how beautiful that girl is. I watched her at the party. She was the center of attention.


    That wasnt strictly true. Dr. Halle was the person everyone else was looking at, but Kimberly was the center of Cecilias attention.


    Howard says he cannot guarantee that Ill look the same as I did, but Im fine with that. My old life isnt something I would want to go back to anyway. A pretty daughter is a feather in her fathers cap. Isnt that the saying? It certainly felt that way.


    Did you ever run for Miss Carousel back before I started to say, but I realizedst second that asking her what happened to her might have been the very thing that triggered her <strong>Dont Wake The Beast</strong> trope.


    I didnt want to wake the beast. Not even a little.


    Back when I was beautiful? she asked.


    The air was drawn out of the room. I thought I heard a frenzy hiding in her voice.


    I shrugged.


    She stared at me for dramatic effect. Not being able to see her face or eyes made it impossible to know what was going on in her head. I tested the straps that held me to my hospital bed. They held tight like a treacherous seatbelt.


    She gingerly grabbed my injured hand.


    She admired the craftsmanship of the long thin fingers. They were like a pianists fingers, perhaps. Gray as death, but long and nimble.


    What kind of creature could they havee off of? I thought they might be a monkeys fingers, given the animal parts schtick, but that wasnt right either. They had an artificiality to them.


    She sped my hand, squeezing it tightly.


    Then she answered my question.


    I did run for Miss Carousel. It wasnt my idea. I was told to. So I did. Thats not what the gossips thought, but they always were so mean. It was just me, the girl who worked reception at my dads business, and Julie Havers. The others dropped out. She had a leg cast, Julie did. She had to get it removed prematurely for thepetition. Her brother did it with a hack saw. I watched. I dont know how he didnt draw blood. It smelled so bad under her cast. Like she was rotting.


    Her gloved fingers moved over my new ones, squeezing them, testing them.


    She was in tremendous pain, you know. The whole time. Everyone watched her wondering when her leg might just snap. I dont know how she hid the pain on her face for the judges. I always admired her for that. You dont deserve the beauty if you cant deal with the pain


    Cecilia drifted off into a memory.


    I swallowed hard.


    Across the room, Isaac let out a moan. He was waking up. I dreaded what might happen when he sobered up enough to understand his situation.


    It looks like he almost has the process figured out, I said, trying to be positive.


    Cecilia looked back to Isaac.


    No. Not quite. He still cant figure out the molding process. Ive heard nothing but promises for over a decade. I havent given up. You can never give up, she said. The pain doesnt matter. Only the possibilities matter.


    I started to realize that Cecelia might have been drugged. The lulls in her voice. The determination to just float into the future without a future. It was all so familiar.


    I suspected something else. Cecilia might not be her name. I had my suspicions.


    "Dr. Halle was Jed Geist''s personal doctor.," I said. "Did you know him?"


    Cecilia didn''t answer for a moment.


    "He was a nice man," she said with a sniffle. "They never did figure out who killed him, did they? I hear he was thest living Geist, but I don''t think he counts. He never cared about his family. He just let them burn up and threw them away... Some say the Geists deserved what happened to them. Do you think so?"


    I couldn''t say. We hadn''t been told what they even did yet.


    "Most people don''t deserve what happens to them," I said.


    She paused again. I could feel her eyes on me even though I could not see them.


    "Some do," she said coldly. It was thest thing she said in the scene.


    How did Cecilia fit into all of this? There was one person at the center of everything. One person connected Halles experiments to Jed Geists death.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    That was the point, after all. Figuring out who killed Jed Geist and why. But then Bobby did say there were multiple directions the script could go.


    I had ideas, but how did I test them without triggering her trope? I would have to wait until I wasnt tied down. I would need a weapon and an escape route before I poked that bear.


    Isaac started moaning louder, crying.


    Cecilia bolted the moment he started as if his anguish was torture for her.


    He continued crying, then screaming in horror.


    He was pushing against his restraints, desperate to get out.


    Isaac, I yelled. Isaac. Listen to me!


    He looked at me with his new eye. The uninjured half of his face was still covered.


    His pupil was wide and with points on either end. The green tint around it was toorge.


    It was clear he had only just noticed me when I spoke to him.


    Isaac, I said. Youre going to be okay. Just tell a joke. Itll make you feel better, I said, referencing his mental health trope, <strong>Gallows Humor</strong>, that soothed him when he made a morbid joke.


    He was panicking. The drugs were clearing up. The sedative was a made-up movie drug that didnt y by logical rules. He shouldnt have beening out of it that fast.


    Wait, I said, I got one.


    If my n didnt work, I was going to feel like a real jerk.


    Look at this, I said, wiggling my new elongated digits, I can count to twelve and a half on my fingers now.


    I hoped he would catch on to what I was telling him. Carousel would probably cut that joke.


    It looked like he was about to say something.


    I can take a group photo all by myself now, he mumbled.


    That was a joke. I couldnt tell if it was working.


    Thats good, I said. You got another?


    He was staring across the room at the window, which was so clean and polished he could see his reflection in it. I had wondered why the windows of this old decrepit building had been the only thing clean. This was part of the n.


    Dont look at yourself, I said. Just close your eyes. Tell me another joke.


    He did as I said.


    I wonder if I can get mirrors for half price now, he said. He continued mumbling on, trying to keep his mind off his condition. No, the half-off joke should be about Halloween costumes. Now I know which side is my good side.


    His Incapacitated status, which had been fully lit, was now blinking. His trope was working. The jokes were calming him down, even the bad ones.


    As he calmed down, we went Off-Screen.


    I noticed that the hybrid goons that had hanging around had all left theb. Bobby was gone. So were Cecilia and Dr. Halle.


    We marched toward Second Blood. It was soon and I was no closer to getting out of the bed.


    I started contemting all of the different escape methods I might employ. Scooting the bed to find a scalpel, turning the whole bed over, simply wiggling until I squirmed free, etc., but none of them would work. My <strong>Escape Artist</strong> trope would have gone off if they were usible.


    What was I supposed to do?


    Luckily, my answer came only minutester.


    Someone kicked in the door to theb. It was the same door I had seen when I arrived at the abandoned building.


    I soon heard feet shuffling inward.


    On-Screen.


    I told you I could have picked it, Dina said.


    As cool as that would have been, you were taking too long, Antoine said.


    They had made it!


    Over here! I shouted.


    In the excitement of their arrival, Isaac screamed, Dont look at me!


    The method that had soothed him before stopped working.


    Isaac, Cassie said. Isaac! Oh my god!


    She ran across the room. The others were right behind her, avoiding the equipment that was stacked around the ce.


    Cut me out! I screamed.


    Antoine had been distracted by Isaacs new face. He moved into action, grabbing a scalpel and cutting through my restraints like it was nothing.


    I noticed that he was wearing Willis belt now,plete with weapons and radio.


    I knew it was in vain, but I asked anyway, Did you contact the cops?


    They wont listen to us. Thought it was a prank because of the Centennials. Can you believe that? Antoine said.


    I could believe it. That was the result of one of the enemy tropes in y. We had to try because that was what our characters would do, but of course, it wouldnt work.


    Isaac was on the verge of screaming as Antoine went to cut his restraints.


    Wait, I said.


    I rushed to the cab where Bobby had gotten the brass syringe and sedative.


    Kimberly, do you know how to use this? I asked, handing her a clean syringe and a bottle of the magic drug.


    She nodded. She took them from me and started reading the bottle.


    That is so weird, she said under her breath.


    She had used her Convenient Backstory to establish herself as a nurse. Administering this sedative would be a walk in the park.


    She drew out the liquid and quickly sedated Isaac with a small amount.


    Instantly, he calmed. He actually startedughing.


    Off-Screen.


    Thank goodness you were able to show us where you were, Cassie said. I could see he was hurt, but I didnt even see him get taken. It was so dark.


    Kimberly put her arm around Cassie.


    Antoine looked at me curiously. Why did it attack him first? What happened with your n?


    I knew what had happened. Bobby had ordered the attack. My n to draw the bad guys away was working.


    I couldnt tell them that. At least not until the storyline was over.


    Maybe he got debuffed so his PA was lower than mine. Then the injury lowered it permanently, I said. Lets talk about thatter. <strong>Insert Shot</strong> told you toe here?


    I wasnt sure what Insert Shot, the trope I used to notify my allies of Dr. Halles de-sedation gun, would look like to them.


    Got a notice on the red wallpaper that said, Anti-Serum Applicator. Dr. Howard Halles pocket at the abandoned Carousel water treatment facility, Antoine exined. Cassie pretended she got the info from a psychic vision. We went to City Hall and looked up the location on a big map Dina stole from them."


    I nodded. I figured it would be like that.


    Psychics were really useful. Having a narrative excuse to act on information obtained from allies'' tropes was a huge win. To think, I could have been doing that the whole time with my background trope...


    After a few moments to surveil the ce and wait for Isaac to level out, we went On-Screen.


    We need to get out of here, I said. Halle is using a magic liquid called Ichor to fuse animal parts to humans. Thats what he did to us.


    I wiggled my long fingers.


    Kimberly jumped back in shock.


    Most people use their fingers to count to ten, Isaac said. He can use his to multiply.


    The others chuckled, probably more at Isaacs odd demeanor than the joke itself. It was basically my joke too, which I tried not to feel bitter about.


    Antoine went to cut Isaac out of his bed.


    What kind of animal has skin like that? he asked, looking closely at Isaacs face.


    Just as he asked the question, the building started to shake. It wasnt the raging water from the sewers, though that was growing louder and louder, it wasing from deep inside the building.


    We need to get out of here, I said, looking over in the direction that Bobby and Dr. Halle had run off to.


    Is that sound of the sewer breaking? Kimberly asked.


    The water did speed up a lot, Dina said. That could be it.


    No, I said. Its something else.


    Whatever made that sound was nearby. I didnt know what it was, but I feared we would soon find out.

 Arc II, Chapter 37: Escape the Fray

    Arc II, Chapter 37: Escape the Fray


    Everyone grab a scalpel, Antoine suggested. He dumped the contents of a drawer that had been filled with the little metal surgical implements wrapped in protective wax paper onto a cold metal table. I have a feeling were going to need something sharp soon.


    A cackle came from behind him.


    Well take our tiny knives and you take your gun. Well see whos best, Isaac said with a giggle. The sedative had washed away his panic. He sat and pressed a finger into the new side of his face, then he ran it up, tracing his stitches upward.


    After everyone had grabbed one we all looked at each other silently. A fight wasing. That was true. Isaac was right. A scalpel wouldn''t do much in a fight against multiple opponents. Antoine just wanted us to <em>feel </em>safer.


    After a moment of silence, Antoine said, Whats next?, trying to ignore Isaac.


    Two doors, Dina said. She stared into the distance. Her eyes were unfocused. I knew that look. She was reading the red wallpaper. One seems to go further into the building. The other leads outside. Either way, were On-Screen as soon as we leave this room.


    Her <strong>Outside Looking In</strong> trope helped her avoid the spotlight. It looked like, this time, there was no avoiding it.


    I noticed that Dina had blood in her hair from their first run-in with the enemy during first blood. They had been attacked in the dark. Never saw a thing but glimpses on the red wallpaper. Officer Willis'' shlight had run out of batteries just before the attack. shlights were one of the staples of horror. You needed a trope for them to work right.


    Kimberly had managed to make it work againter by saying she had reced the batteries while On-Screen. Sure enough, it had fired right up. It would probably stop working the moment we needed it again.


    Im not sure what were supposed to do here, Kimberly said. She flicked the shlight on and off nervously. I noticed that she tried her best not to look at Isaac''s face. She was trying to be strong. I thought we were solving a mystery, but then we have to deal with monsters.


    She had a point. I was starting to see what Kurt Willis had been talking about. This story was not like the others that we had yed through before the tutorial. In a way, it felt like one story stacked on top of another. Part of it was the Throughline.


    Outside, the water in the sewers raged. It felt like we were in the bowels of a ship during a hurricane. At any moment, the ship could capsize.


    "Now I know what a dirty mug feels like in the dishwasher," Isaac said, as the water became louder; the giant pit outside could only drain so much.


    Maybe that was a better metaphor.


    Everyone was waiting for me to have a n. That meant I had to have one. I took a deep breath. I had been through a lot in thest few scenes. The thing that kepting up in my mind was Cecilia. She was hiding something. Don''t Wake the Beast, her trope had been called.


    I had a strong conviction that Waking the Beast was exactly what we were supposed to do. She had said that some people deserved death and she was talking about Jed Geist. It couldn''t be a coincidence. She was our next move.


    But I needed them to make that decision with me.


    We could get out of here and regroup on the surface," I said. "ording to <strong>Location Scout</strong>, part of this story takes ce in Town Square." I paused to let them mull over the idea of escape. "At least thats one idea.


    Leave the rapidly flooding sewer system? d we have a high-savvy yer to figure that one out, Isaac said dreamily. His eyes were closed as hey back on his hospital bed. He made a very chill Frankenstein''s monster.


    The water rushed louder. The earth beneath our feet shook gently, but we all felt it.


    You said its one idea, Antoine said, ignoring Isaac again. He kept a hand on his holster, ever ready to protect us. Whats the other idea?


    The woman called Cecilia on the red wallpaper knows something about Jed Geist she wasnt saying, I said. We could go find her.


    Cecilia? Kimberly asked. Her voice cracked. Her hair was up in a wet ponytail. With every breath, she looked on the verge of tears, but she was being brave. What was her deal?


    I took a deep breath.


    I dont think her name is Cecilia for one. I had a conversation with her where she shot up half a dozen red gs. The thing is, shes sedated with the same drug as Isaac."


    "Lucky her," Isaac said with a smile. He still kept his eyes closed. "High five."


    He didn''t even raise his hand.


    I continued. "Part of the reason I used the Insert Shot on that little wake-up gun Halle has is because of how zonked she acted and that was before I had a one-on-one with her. Now Im certain.


    The fact that she had a trope called <strong>Dont Wake the Beast </strong>was also strong evidence for me. I had seen the trope before, but this time it felt a little on the nose.


    More than that, I felt the pieces just fit together. Even if we didn''t have all of them.


    Antoine took a deep breath and nodded his head. So we use this Antiserum Applicator to get her sobered up. Then she spills her secrets. There''s one problem. How are we going to justify going further into the building instead of leaving? I mean, this ce is a bunker of pure concrete dug into the ground. There might not be other exits." He gestured around at the concrete walls and floor. "Honestly, I thought we were pushing it when we came down into the pitch-ck tunnels to begin with. Our characters have a death wish.


    He had a point.


    Bobby is hurt, Cassie said, looking at me. She hadn''t been holding back tears. Her dark mascara was running and her breaths were irregr. Not just Mutted and Hobbled. He keeps getting Incapacitated. Can we say we''re trying to save him? His wife was looking for him. You saw his missing poster and his face. Maybe we''re just good people. Can''t that be enough?


    That might have worked if I had time to establish a connection with Bobbys character On-Screen. Unfortunately, I was either sedated or conversing with Halle most of the time we were together.


    Thats probably the closest justification we have, but its still a stretch, I said. Especially since he appears to have joined the bad guys and our characters know that.


    Oh, Cassie said, looking dejected. An idea lit up her eyes. I could have a vision saying we have to go that way.


    That was a good idea.


    No matter what we do, I said. It will be the


    wrong decision, Antoine finished my sentence. I had used that phrase a lot. Do we want to regret trying to escape or do we want to regret trying to solve this thing? I dont know about you all, but Im aiming for second ce.


    We all knew the answer. Mere survival was not a victory. We needed to understand what had happened to Jed Geist.


    That meant we were going with option B.


    Heres what I know about the murder, I said. Most of the clues arent real clues that a detective would use. I see all of the narrative signs pointing to one person. As crazy as it might sound.


    I told them everything that Cecilia had told me and why I thought she knew more than she was letting on.


    How sure are you that we can get her to talk? Antoine asked. "Don''t Wake the Beast sounds like a pretty clear warning."


    A soft 70 percent, I said.


    He bit his lip.


    That''ll have to be good enough, Antoine said. What else are we doing today?"


    "I was hoping to buy a mask," Isaac said. "Surely Carousel has a mask store. I''m for something Phantom of the Opera, but anything that covers this thing up would work."


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    We all rolled our eyes at the same time.


    Something we havent talked about is what to do with him, Kimberly said.


    She was right. Isaac was going to slow us down big time. Going into a potential fight with him could spell disaster. Even escaping with him would be difficult. He was able to walk, but he had no sense of urgency.


    I must have gotten the dosage wrong, Kimberly continued. The writing wasnt in English.


    Carousel likely had a hand in that. It couldnt let us make things too easy.


    The time for talk was over. Iid out the n and it was time to go.


    I hadnt told them what Bobby had told me about the scripts diverging. If I had mentioned that, they might have figured out he had been the one to cause Isaac to be attacked. I hadnt told them that this was the strongest foundation for my suspicion that if we fled, we would not get the ending we needed. I just had to hope that he had been right.


    Lets do it, Antoine said.


    He took a step out the door toward the tunnel system we had arrived from. Instantly, we were On-Screen.


    No! Cassie screamed. We cant.


    She buckled to her knees and started hyperventting. It almost sounded like she was drowning. She had a ir for the dramatic.


    Whats wrong? Antoine said.


    We cant go that way, she said between strained breaths. The waters are rising. Well get trapped before we can escape. We''ll drown. We have to go further underground. Our lives depend on it... finding the answers depends on it. We have to go further. Please.


    Cassie wasnt a bad actress at all. Her terrified expression was genuine. This was pure improvisation. Hopefully, Carousel would be okay with it.


    Damn it to hell, Antoine said skeptically. Do you want to run into more of those things? You werent there when they attacked before. I cant let us go through that again. I cant. He looked up at Kimberly. There has to be another way.


    Cassie didnt respond. She just looked up at him with tears rolling down her face and mouthed the words, Please.


    She led us down here somehow, Dina said. She knew what the building was called. Maybe we should listen to her.


    Antoine didnt respond. He just looked at Kimberly.


    When Kimberly nodded, he stepped back from the door.


    This is crazy, he said. What do you think of this? he asked, looking at me.


    I think that woman in ck knows more than shes letting on, I said. Besides you can fight monsters, but if we get trapped in a flood were helpless.


    Antoine nodded.


    Better get ready for a fight, he said.


    We all made a show of brandishing our scalpels. Kimberly held onto the sedative and the brass syringe. That would be an effective weapon.


    Antoine walked over to therge door leading deeper into the building. He pushed it open and we piled through it. Kimberly and Cassie helped guide Isaac.


    "Weirdest pub crawl I''ve ever gone on," he said with a giggle as they practically carried him along.


    We were on our way. The needle on the Plot Cycle marched forward with every step.


    The rumbling sound from earlier pounded again. We were getting closer to it, whatever it was.


    An rm started to sound as if it were waiting for us. Red lights and a ring horn filled the hallway.


    Theres been a breach of the posterior wall. The foundation ispromised, Halles voice rang out over an inte. Divert all iing water toward the base specimens. We have no further use for them. We cannot let the proteus pools copse. All personnel work to prioritize the east wing. We mustnt let all our sacrifices be in vain.


    We need to run, I said as water started to flood in behind us.


    The others looked back.


    Move, Antoine cried out.


    We were locked into our decision. No going back.


    The inte came on again a few minutester. Halles voice was hurried and panicked. The damage is too severe. Open the retaining doors and release the specimens from the proteus pools. If they remain there, they will be crushed by debris. Then you must save yourselves. All personnel evacuate. All is lost.


    Evacuate? Antoine asked. That means there are marked exits.


    Isaac startedughing.


    I followed his gaze. I couldnt quite believe what it was I saw.


    A human ear was hopping down a hallway. Thats what it looked like. A disembodied gray ear. There was no blood or gore. Just a misshapen fleshy ear quickly bouncing down the hall.


    At first nce, I was immediately Incapacitated by its tropes. I didnt even have time to look at it on the red wallpaper before it turned a corner, but I remembered a trope that the guy who bit my hand had.


    <strong>Animals Are Psychic</strong>. The trope reminded me of the instinctual ability of animals to find safety during a natural disaster. I was ready to bet that the hopping little ear had that same trope too and would lead us to safety.


    Well, safety from the flood at least.


    That way! I cried out.


    No one argued with me. We turned and ran after the apparently dismembered body part.


    When we did, we found the exit. It wasnt marked though.


    There had been a cave-in. A wall had copsed and a mudslide had poured down into arge concrete room. I could see cobblestones mixed in with the mud. Pavement too. The ground above had copsed from the floodwater.


    I saw gray light leaking in through the hole.


    It was a way to get to the outside. Water streamed down the copsed earth, but it was climbable. The hole that had opened up in the ceiling was at least thirty feet in diameter. I could hear the noise from the Centennial up above.


    I could also hear screams. A nce at the needle on the Plot Cycle told me it was Second Blood.


    There was no question what they were screaming about.


    Climbing up the copsed mound toward the surface, was an army of human body parts.


    Hands. Feet. Faces. Hearts. Intestines.


    All of them had been grown, molded onto the backs of giant mutant frog-shaped creatures. The frogs flesh wasnt green. Some of it was gray. Some of it was brown. Some of it was a caucasian pink. All of it was ill-fitting as it sagged off of its host creature.


    Isaac tried to make a joke, but even in his sedated state, he couldnt say anything in the presence of the creatures.


    Among them was an impossiblyrge frog. It was the size of a tank. It could have swallowed a man whole. It had faces molded onto its back, along with entire mounds of flesh-covered bones. The faces were fully functional, and muscled. They had jaws but no teeth. Some of them had voice boxes that wheezed. Tongues lulled about. Eyes rolled in their sockets.


    They were just spares. They had to just be spares, grown in theb. They couldnt be real people attached to the back of the monster.


    Skin Frog


    Plot Armor: 25


    __________


    Tropes


    An Affront to Nature


    This creature is revolting to see for the first time. One nce will leave the viewer Incapacitated with revulsion.


    Unwarranted Aggression


    This creature will attack when and if the plot calls for it without logical motivation.


    Theyll Never Believe You


    When tangling with this creature, the authorities will not believe or take seriously anything the yers tell them.


    Animals Are Psychic


    The creature demonstrates knowledge that it has no logical means to acquire, an instinct to kill or survive.


    Uncharted Anatomy


    This creature has a unique anatomical design that makes killing them difficult and unpredictable without further study.


    Thoroughly Dispersed


    This creatures group can instantly upy the entirety of a set area, making it appear omnipresent and unpredictable to characters.


    Frenzy to the Finish


    In a Fight or Chase Scene starting in Second Blood, this creature will prioritize targeting characters based on their Hustle stat alone, regardless of their total Plot Armor.


    All Hope is Lost


    Flee. Abandon all hope of victory. The Win Condition is Escape the Fray


    I looked at the transnted fingers on my hand. I could see the bandaged hand on the skin frog that it hade off of.


    The frog let out a bellow so loud I could feel it in my bones. It had been the thing making the rumbling noise.


    I shook my head, snapping myself out of it. We were On-Screen, but I had to tell my friends what the Win Condition was.


    Escape! I screamed.


    They didnt need to be told twice.


    We ran toward the pile of mud and gravel and started climbing our way up. Water poured down on us as we wed for the surface.


    Antoine was working overtime, climbing, then turning around to yank us up after him.


    He climbed a tall block of concrete that had been in the mix. Then he reached out to help the others. One step after another, we forced our way up the hill of mud and stone until we found ourselves on the surface in the middle of town square.


    Therger skin frogs were devouring people. They even gobbled up any hybrid human they saw. The featherdy''s feathers floated in the air as shey dead.


    The rain came down in sheets.


    One skin frog that was the size of a car let loose its tongue and wrapped up a nurse. I noticed there were dozens of human tongues attached to it. The creature slurped her up and bit her in half.


    Mass human carnage. Most of the NPCs had only 3 Plot Armor. They were defenseless.


    Where do we go? Antoine screamed.


    I didnt know. I looked around.


    I saw a sh of a whiteb coat and Dr. Halle on the red wallpaper.


    Over here! I said.


    Does this count as cannibalism? Isaac asked, watching a man getting gnawed on by a frog that had multiple sets of human teeth in its jaw.


    We ignored him.


    I could now also see Cecilia and Bobby on the red wallpaper in the crowd. We chased after them.


    The frog with human teeth jumped after us, but Antoine was ready with his sidearm. One shot in the head.


    Nothing. The creature was hurt, but its injury almost energized it.


    It leaped at Cassie as she helped Isaac along, but before it could bite her, Isaac managed to twist her forward, taking her out of the frog''s path and putting himself in the way.


    His brotherly instinct had cut through the mind-numbing effects of the sedative, if only just for a moment. He technically broke character, if only for a moment. I had felt the effects of the drug. I knew how it felt. The real Isaac was in there and managed to exert his will when the moment called for it.


    Isaacughed as he realized what he had done. The frog sank its rows of teeth into him. Its mouth was sorge that it managed to bite his whole torso.


    Antoine took another shot. Then another. Kimberly was readying the syringe to try and put the frog to sleep, but


    The frog let go of Isaac, who was now bleeding from dozens of little bite marks. He didn''t appear bothered by them at all. Between the sedative and his <strong>Bloodloss Delirium</strong> trope, Isaac wasn''t going to be bothered by anything.


    Both the Fight Scene and Chase Scene statuses were lit up, so the person with the lowest Hustle would fall victim.


    Dozens, hundreds of NPCs were getting killed as the fleshy, misshapen monsters leaped around.


    Everywhere we turned, there were more and more body parts. Many were attached to the donor frogs that lugged them around. Others were ripped off of actual humans.


    The further we went, the fewer living NPCs we saw. The ce was strewn with their body parts.


    Fewer NPCs meant that soon, the frogs would only have one target left.


    Us.

 Arc II, Chapter 38: The Frog Trap

    Arc II, Chapter 38: The Frog Trap


    What are our characters motivations? Kimberly asked.


    Good question, I said.


    I thought for a moment. There were countless movies where things like motivations were dropped leading to the conclusion of the story. By that point, the audience is usually invested enough to not even realize that the protagonists could just walk away.


    Theyre headed to the hospital, I said. Thats the only set piece in that direction. We just so happen to have someone who is severely injured. Combine that with our innate curiosity or sense of justice and were golden.


    Truthfully, I didnt know what my character would be thinking right then and I didnt care. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins so fast I could hardly think. I kept hearing a sound I thought was the rushing sewers, but I soon realized it was just my own blood rushing I was hearing.


    I took a few deep breaths.


    We had gone Off-Screen as soon as Second Blood ended. We were just outside of town square.


    There were people everywhere. It was a massacre.


    Guys, Dina said. We have to stop.


    Well lose them if we stop, Antoine said.


    Look, Dina said. She pointed back to town square. We were quite a distance from the copsed sewer where we had climbed up, but there were many holes just like it throughout the entire area.


    She was pointing to a mound of mud and cobblestones near a tilted statue in the center of town square.


    The time capsule, Kimberly said.


    Dina must have noticed it because of her <strong>Outsiders Perspective</strong> trope. It jutted up from a mound created by the flood.


    Its lock was still attached, but the capsule had warped badly from its tumultuous unearthing.


    I can bust through that, Antoine said. Its broken. Look. He put his hand on one of the panels that had been used to build the contraption. The weld is busted. Theres a crack big enough to get my hand in.


    Weird, I said. Youd think it was too early for us to get this.


    And I was right.


    He ced his fingers in the crack and started pulling. He wasnt wrong. The structure really was broken.


    He was making progress. He pulled against the metal. Whatever help I could be, I tried to be. It felt like we were bending it. I could feel it straining on my hands, even though there was hardly any ce to put them.


    Somethings in there, Antoine said. I can almost see it. Kimberly, reach in here when we pull back.


    She knelt near therge metal structure and began sticking her hand in. Just as she did, it started to vibrate.


    It was a familiar rumble.


    I managed to say, Dammit, it <em>was</em> a trap, just as the mound of dirt near the capsule started to rise and something underneath it began shaking.


    Now Carousel is ying dirty, Isaac said.


    With a pun like that, he must have lost a lot of blood.


    We had gotten greedy. And we would pay the price.


    Run! I screamed as if the others needed to be told.


    On-Screen.


    The mound of dirt continued shaking. The faces on the back of the giant frog started to be revealed. It had buried itself. That was how the capsule had been unearthed. We had just woken the beast in a way we had never intended.


    Time out! Antoine screamed just as Chase and Fight Scene flipped on at the same time.


    Suddenly, the mound of dirt with a horrific frog underneath stopped moving.


    I normally wasnt around for Antoine to use his Time Out trope. How fun.


    Is there an advantage to running into the carnival area? he asked. We could lose it in the buildings.


    He had a point. If hiding was our best bet, the mess of overturned carnival booths and amusement park rides was a good bet.


    We may have to try that to keep Isaac alive, I said.


    The frog would attack the person with the lowest Hustle. That was Isaac and Cassie.


    Sacrifice me, Isaac said. Im not good for anything right now anyway. Let me die for you.


    Cassie was fully crying and embraced her brother tightly.


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    Its okay, he said. Hes a big boy. Might not even have to chew to swallow someone my size. Ill get to see what else is in there.


    It wasnt a bad suggestion. I was a little relieved that he was the one to suggest it. I might have even agreed with him if Kimberly didnt have a better idea.


    Look at the statue, she said.


    I immediately understood what she was saying. The tower was tilted way off its base. Like the capsule, some of its welds had been broken.


    Kimberlys Savvy was tied with mine at that moment. She had picked a learned background as a nurse using Convenient Backstory and she had put her hair up in a ponytail to activate <strong>Does anyone have a scrunchie? </strong>That transferred much of her Moxie into Savvy as well.


    Her n just might work.


    I wasnt sure her n would work. The frog was PA 45. Every time we had been that over leveled we had made a point to avoid confrontation. Her n involved facing almost head-on.


    Ten seconds left, Antoine said.


    We cant hope to kill it, I said. But we might be able to slow it down.


    It cant have high Savvy, can it? Dina asked. Its a frog.


    I shrugged. Sounded right to me.


    It does have dumb looks on its faces, Isaac said.


    Three seconds, Antoine said. You all know what to do!


    And


    On-Screen.


    The mound of earth started shaking again and the frog emerged, human skin, bones, and organs, all exposed.


    It opened its eyes.


    Incapacitation. I couldnt move, but I knew it would pass.


    The statue wasnt twenty feet from the frog.


    Oh damn, someone said.


    It nudged forward. At its size, it would be to the statue in a single hop. The margin for error was very thin.


    Run! I screamed as the frog shook itself and started evaluating new prey.


    I turned tail and ran. Antoine was already behind the statue.


    Isaac and Cassie were right in front of me. I ran as fast as I possibly could. I could hear the frog gearing up to jump behind me.


    Something flew past my ear. Before I saw it, Antoine had drawn his gun and fired three shots into it.


    The tongue. The frog wasnt following us. We were close enough for it to just grab us and slurp us up. It had withdrawn its tongue from the gunshots, but soon enough, it was firing again.


    I grabbed Cassie and Isaacs arms and pulled them to the ground. The creatures tongue barely missed us.


    Antoine! Kimberly screamed. Push this over.


    The frog leapt. In seconds, it was right behind me. It could crush me with one foot.


    I couldnt see what the progress was on the statue. I was on the ground on top of the Hughes siblings.


    The statue was on the verge of toppling. All it needed was a strong enough push and it would topple.


    The frog was directly in its path. The statue was big enough to believably injure the thing. We just had to hope its Animals are Psychic ability didnt kick in and give it the good sense to move.


    The frogs tongue came out again. This time, it wrapped around Cassie.


    Push! Antoine screamed.


    The statue didnt budge.


    Bang!


    A loud shot rang out from somewhere.


    Bang!


    I looked around at the source. Thats when I saw him. Kurt Willis, GI Paragon, limping at us from across the square.


    He held a gunrger than his leg and he was firing it at the giant frog.


    The bullets werent doing lethal damage, especially with the creatures PA and tropes, but it did just enough to make it withdraw its tongue and hop away from the bullets.


    It rubbed up against the statue.


    The statue fell directly onto the frogs back leg. I heard a snap.


    Get up! I screamed at Cassie and Isaac. We were close enough that when the frog struggled to be unpinned by the statue, we would be crushed.


    We managed to get up and scramble out of the way as the frog leaped away, clearing twenty feet in one jump. I had assumed the frog had broken a leg, but I wasnt sure. Its tropes helped protect it from damage, but I had distinctly heard a snap.


    Willis continued firing shots at it as it left. Then, he said, I dont know if Halle killed Geist, but I have a sneaking suspicion he isnt innocent.


    He was still wearing his borrowed shorts and shirt, but the shirt was torn. As Cassie predicted, he was covered in blood. His high Grit made the wounds a minor inconvenience. He had a bandolier full ofrge bullets wrapped around his body like a sash.


    Sorry I waste, he said. Got swept out into the river. Had to get my cannon from my car. He tapped therge gun in his hands. Cannon was a good name for it. It was neither a shotgun nor a rifle. It was huge, too big for a real-life police officer, but just right for a fictional one.


    How are you alive? Antoine asked.


    Im two hundred pounds of hard to kill, Willis responded. Now someone tell me what the hell is going on.


    Off-Screen.


    We didnt actually need to fill him in. I got the impression that he had run this scenario every which way it could be run.


    Man, you guys areing right along, he said. Might get something close to a perfect run. If my cigars hadnt gotten soaked, I could have lit one after the frog ran off. That would have sealed things, dont you say?


    Willis homed in on Antoine and started correcting his techniques. Hisck of quips, bullet counting, and general choreography were up for criticism. He must have been watching us for a while.


    I was just d we got a chance to take a breath.


    So you all tried to open the capsule, huh? he asked with augh. I suppose you learned your lesson. Everybody does eventually.


    Antoine nodded.


    So all I got is one question left for you all. Are we going for the solve here? I see you''re chasing the doctor for a finale back at Hallowed Heart. You know we can just run away. If we get out of the city the movie ends. Of course, a lot of the footage gets cut if we do that, but we don''t have to risk getting things wrong.


    That was so tempting. Those frogs were incredibly disturbing and the hybrids in Halles arsenal could freeze your blood with a look.


    But I needed answers.


    We''re going to solve it, I said. The others nodded in agreement. Isaac didn''t but he was too far gone.


    Were going to the hospital? he asked with augh that turned into a cough. His stitches were bleeding. Im in no shape to go the hospital.


    He might not survive the finale.


    Most people don''t solve this their first time, Willis said. The clues are things your characters are supposed to already know going into the story so you have to learn it before the Omen. Usually, folks solve it the next day after it''s over and theyve had time to think.


    He stretched as he talked. We were in for a fight.


    This story doesnt feature the yers as much as most of them do, but if you solve it, youre the headliners. I''m excited to see what you got.


    We had yed a story like that before, <em>Permanent Vacancy</em>. That story, or at least the version we yed, was mostly about Samantha and her dad. We didnt show up until halfway through the movie.


    This one must have been the same. The viins were featured prominently. That likely meant the audience would have more clues than the yers, which could exin why this story felt like we were on a tour through a mystery, not actually solving it. It was a cold case. The clues were hidden by time.


    That wasnt without precedent for old-school mysteries where the detective didnt even show up On-Screen until the second act.


    The question was, could we figure it out with the information we acquired? I hated the idea that Isaac had been maimed. I couldnt let it be for nothing.


    Lets get a move on, soldiers, Willis said, chuckling. With a nce at me and Isaac, he added, Its time to meet your maker.

 Arc II, Chapter 39: The Unveiling

    Arc II, Chapter 39: The Unveiling


    We moved as quickly toward the hospital as we possibly could. Isaac was slowing us down. He was bleeding out. Unfortunately because of his sedation and the tropes that he had equipped it was nearly impossible to tell exactly how close he was to death.


    A few times I actually thought he had died but the red wallpaper confirmed that he had not yet, though his Dead indicator status had lit up briefly once or twice, sending Cassie into tears.


    As we moved, I tried throwing out ideas of what we would do when we got there. Trying to string together some motivation for our characters was difficult. This storyline made it difficult the moment we decided not to just run for the hills.


    Whatever you do, I said, Don''t try to kill him.


    I had other ideas on how we would get his magic little wake-up gun out of his pocket. Unfortunately, they relied on Isaac to survive until we found the good doctor.


    On-Screen.


    Everyone down! Willis screamed.


    I hit the ground.


    I heard gunshots firing. I heard the sound of things dying though I could not exactly call them screams. It was Antoine shooting, not Willis.


    Move! Willis cried again.


    Off-Screen.


    It''s a dance, Willis said. Don''t just bam bam bam kill every enemy you see. Shoot one duck behind the car then pop out and shoot another. Let it rush you for a few feet, and shoot again. Make it entertaining.


    I just stop shooting them? Antoine asked. They wereing right for us. Im supposed to just let them get closer?


    You evaluate, you make a judgment, and you give Carousel a nice piece of footage. Never let the audience know when things are easy, or they wont be.


    Antoine sounded frustrated.


    We kept moving forward, a half block at a time. The frogs were everywhere, strategically ced so that they were behind things in your line of sight, only to jump out at us as we moved forward. Most of them werent serious threats. Some didnt even attack us. A lot chased NPCs, but they never did that close enough to us for us to intervene.


    On-Screen.


    Hospitals half a block further, Willis said. He still cracking jokes?


    Isaac moaned.


    Kimberly was helping him along. She looked him over and said, We dont have long. Hes lost a lot of blood.


    There they are! Dina said. Going in the back way.


    She pointed toward the hospital. Our detour with the giant frog hadnt taken us much time On-Screen. Halle, Cecilia, and Bobby must have slowed down for us to catch up for continuity.


    Well deal with himte, Willis said. We need to get to the emergency room. My money says itll be packed.


    That was a bet he lost.


    We made it across the final street to the hospital.


    The emergency room was to the right. The direction Halle had gone was to the left.


    Im following them! Dina said. She picked up speed and took off toward him.


    Well be right behind you, I said.


    As she left, she made notes on the red wallpaper using Pen Pal. I could only see two before she got too far away for me to see the rest.


    We couldnt go after her yet. We had hoops to jump through.


    Oh my god! Kimberly said as we rounded the building toward the emergency room.


    I might have said the same thing.


    There were dead NPCs everywhere. More than I had ever seen. It was raining, but the water that flooded over the ground of the parking lot was thick with blood.


    And you were worried it would be crowded, Isaac said.


    We rushed to the door. It was locked.


    Antoine banged on the door. It was an automatic, but they had disabled it and piled chairs in front of it.


    Hello! Cassie screamed. We need help!


    A lone nurse poked her head over a stack of chairs. Her nose had been bleeding and she looked scared out of her mind.


    Help, Cassie screamed. My brothers hurt. Please let us in.


    That was a slip-up. They hadnt been established as siblings in this story. Perhaps the audience will think she is lying for sympathy.


    The nurse looked tempted to help and even started moving a chair, but then she got a full view of Isaacs face.


    Fear overcame her.


    She turned tail and ran.


    We watched her as she faded into the distance.


    Oh well. We tried. At least it was an excuse to get to the hospital.


    As the nurse faded into the distance, she stopped, turned, and started running toward us. We saw through the ss windows as a swarm of frogs the size of dirt bikes started chasing her back toward us.


    As she got to us, she tried unstacking the chairs to escape, but she was toote. I saw her get dragged backward and that was thest of her.


    We need to move, Willis said. Theres a hospital west of here. Its smaller, but it might be safer.


    No! Cassie said. We have to save him. We need the doctor. Hell help.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    That quack is the one who did this to him, Antoine said.


    Cassie started to cry. He will help.


    Plus, I said. That woman Cecilia is with him. She knows something about Geist.


    How can you think about that right now? Antoine asked. That was a publicity stunt. Who cares who killed the lonely rich guy?


    We had gone with Antoine being the skeptic who argued against our ideas. We needed someone and he seemed like the most down-to-earth character we had.


    Dammit, Antoine said. If he turns me into one of, he shot a nce at Isaac. If he does that to me, kill me.


    ~-~


    We followed Dinas notes on the red wallpaper right back to Halles office. That was little surprise. We found her hiding in the shadows and watching as Halle packed a bag. We had been Off-Screen for a bit.


    When I got a clear view of Halles office, I saw why.


    On-Screen.


    Why didnt you find me, Bobby? Donna, his NPC wife cried. I waited so long. I knew you were out there somewhere.


    She had found him at longst. He was crying, but he couldnt reciprocate because his tongue was unnaturally long.


    He hugged her. She ran a finger over his odd scars, his deformities. She didnt seem the least bit deterred by his grotesque appearance.


    As they embraced, she suddenly fell into his arms.


    Halle stood behind her holding a syringe.


    She knows our little secret now, Halle said. I told you that if she found out she would join us, didnt I?


    Bobby growled. He sounded like a dog.


    We needed to get in there.


    He lunged at Halle, but instead of going for his throat, he reached for something on Halles person.


    Hes going for Halles little wake-up gun, I said.


    Bobby had seen my Insert Shot trope activated on the red wallpaper. He was going for the Antiserum Applicator under the pretense of trying to reawaken his fake wife.


    I rushed into the room. Halle was not a physically dominant enemy, but still, he gave Bobby a difficult time.


    I noticed that Cecilia stood behind Halles desk. I hadnt been able to see her before. She was just watching. Not a care in the world. Even without seeing her eyes, I could tell she wasnt rmed at all.


    Bobby managed to remove the wake-up gun from Halles pocket. He couldnt get ahold of it, in part because of his deformed hands. He knocked it away from Halle.


    He knocked it right toward me.


    I grabbed the gun. I did the ssic pretend dilemma thing that characters do in movies as if I didnt already know what to do next.


    I nced up at Cecilia. I ran to her and stuck the applicator against her arm and pulled the trigger.


    Cecilia stumbled backward but didnt react beyond that.


    It wasnt going to be as easy as bringing her out of sedation. I needed to solve the mystery. Thats how these things worked. Cant get around that.


    Youre name isnt Cecilia at all, is it? I said.


    She wasnt looking at me. She looked at her gloved hands.


    Dont, she said. Dont say it.


    Youre Lillian Geist, I said. Winner of the first Miss Carousel Pageant. Youre supposed to have died when the Geist Mansion burned up.


    She didnt say anything, but she did turn her attention up toward me. Had I not said enough? Was I just wrong?


    It was odd that we found a folder of photos of Miss Carousel winners in Halles office. At first, I thought it was some sort of stic surgery nightmare storyline, but that wasnt it. It was a story about animal-human hybrids and skin frogs.


    The only Miss Carousel photo in Halles office that wasnt scribbled all over belonged to Miss Carousel 1972. That was Lillian Geist. All of the signs had pointed to Lillian Geist from before this storyline even started. The newspaper clipping about her winning the first annual Miss Carousel Pageant had stuck out like a sore thumb when we read about the Geist family.


    That picture in Halles folder had been of her, her true face. It was the first time I had ever seen a Geist, assuming a statue didnt count.


    The clue Kimberly and Antoine discovered about the mansion burning up, allegedly killing Lillian Geist, was ced conspicuously in the same room where we first met the veiled woman, Cecilia. Even the new hospital wing being the type that a burn victim might be admitted to was a clue.


    All of it revolved around her. All of it pointed to her presence.


    But they werent real clues. Not for a detective. They were clues for an <em>audience</em>for the people watching the movie. To them, finding that photo would have meaning. That was for the benefit of the audience. It was some type of callback for them.


    We had been given precious little backstory for this story. From what Willis had implied not-so-subtly, this story followed the viins perspectives more than it did ours.


    We as characters were not being led to the truth. We were just here to try to survive the carnage.


    What you said about Jed Geist abandoning his family, I said. You were talking about yourself. He abandoned you. You attacked him.


    I didn''t have the motive figured out so I tried to be vague.


    Its not my fault, Cecilia said. It wasnt my fault. I couldnt control myself. It was what they did to me!


    She had said that if someone could change their name, they could change who they were. She had sure tried.


    She reached up with trembling hands and removed her veil, pulling it off her headpletely so that we could see her whole face and head.


    She had been burned, of that I was sure, but that wasnt even a fraction of what horrors had been done to her. Her face and head were covered from scalp to neck, with wriggling creatures that looked like a cross between a snake and a worm.


    They were not freely moving. Instead, it looked like they had been grafted into her skin directly, one of Halles early experiments no doubt.


    She put a trembling hand up to her face and felt the wriggling things.


    She screamed in abject horror.


    Cecilia, Dr. Halle said. Calm down. Ill get you sedated shortly. Just calm yourself. All will be set right.


    But Cecilia, or should I say, Lillian, grabbed onto one of the wriggling things and yanked it off her face. Blood poured from the ce where the creature had been affixed.


    Leave the caecilians alone, Cecilia, Halle said. Dont damage yourself further. I can still fix you.


    She didnt listen. She ripped another caecilian off, whatever that was. Suh-si-lee-un.


    That isnt my name, she said. I can never escape my family.


    Lillian Geist, The Beauty Queen


    Plot Armor: 25


    Geist


    Tropes


    The Tormented


    This viin is out of the ordinary but you dont know why.


    An Affront to Nature


    This viin is revolting to see for the first time. One nce will leave the viewer Incapacitated with revulsion.


    Home Lair Advantage


    The viin can travel freely, unnoticed due to their knowledge of the setting and its passages - both public and secret.


    Theyll Never Believe You


    When tangling with this viin, the authorities will not believe or take seriously anything the yers tell them.


    Animals Are Psychic


    The viin demonstrates knowledge that it has no logical means to acquire, an instinct to kill or survive.


    Far Gone


    This viin has lost their humanity, but not all at once: Something remains.


    Interests Align


    This entity does not need the yers to lose in order to achieve its goals.


    Pattern Killer


    Before the finale, the viin will only kill victims chosen ording to a pre-established motive.


    Non-Combatant


    This viin cannot be attacked On-Screen until it attacks the yer or is otherwise identified as hostile. Attacking it will not be effective, nor will it change the story. It will cause the yer to go Off-Screen for a time.


    A Woman Scorned


    Never underestimate a woman seeking revenge. All stats and saving throws are buffed against those who wronged her and those who try to stop her.


    shback Monologue


    This viin has a story to tell, or, rather, to show.

 Arc II, Chapter 40: The Beauty Queen

    Arc II, Chapter 40: The Beauty Queen


    Here it was, the viin monologue. I had seen them before but never like this.


    But this time, something was different. We were not consistently On-Screen as she spoke, and more than that, it felt like her speech was not happening in the moment despite the wordsing from Lillians mouth. It reminded me of the cutscene that had urred with the mayor and the time capsule.


    The audience was not seeing the scene as it was happening. Lillian was narrating.


    She started to speak, and for the first time, I saw something on the red wallpaper I had only been told about.


    The script.


    It was like a piece of paper in my head that scrolled as she spoke. The scene was titled SECRET LILLIAN GEIST REVEAL.


    The script had instructions that said, Everyone watches as the newly revealed Lillian Geist exins her torment in Carousel. No one interjects except Dr. Halle if prompted.


    Lillians speech started to scroll up, but far from the structured lines of text I had seen in actual scripts, it was an outline with checkmark boxes and sentences like THE MANSION FIRE BACKSTORY.


    Most of the monologue didnt appear on the script in any form, and when she spoke, the word Ad lib would appear in bold instead of the checkbox.


    Lillian took a deep, troubled breath. She was trembling with rage and trying not to cry. Somehow, she found the strength to calm herself and speak, shaking with every word.


    <strong>AD LIB.</strong>


    "Everything that is happening is happening to punish us. I know its true. My cousins and I all talked about it. For as long as I remember, I remember people talking about the Geist Curse," she said. "When I was a girl, I heard servants saying that Geists always get more than they deserve, but in the end, they get exactly what they deserve. Always, little quips like that, and only when I was there to interrupt them. One day, I listened by the door while my nanny talked to her sister on the phone.


    <strong>FIND CLIP.</strong>


    <strong>BEGIN FLASHBACK.</strong>


    Suddenly, as she spoke, I saw a movie screen on the red wallpaper. A scene was ying on it. I saw the nanny; I saw a curious little girl sneaking outside of arge, wooden door in what must have been inside one of the Geist Mansions.


    They were talking about a casserole recipe, but when I entered the room, she suddenly changed the topic of conversation to us, the Geists. I dont remember what she said, but it was something I thought was mean. It was like everyone knew what was happening to us, dying off one by one, but no one cared because everything we ever tried seeded. Every business flourished; every venture was tremendous at first.


    <strong>END FLASHBACK.</strong>


    <strong>FIND CLIP</strong><strong>s</strong><strong>.</strong>


    <strong>BEGIN FLASHBACK.</strong>


    The shback changed. I saw car dealerships filled with customers. I saw movie audiences packed into a theater screaming at one of the Geist horror movies. Then, there were ribbon cuttings, fancy cars, tuxes, and several mansions, all shing before my eyes.


    <strong>END FLASHBACK.</strong>


    I thought they were jealous of us growing up. Now, I wonder if they knew we were just being set up to fall further, that there was a conspiracy of whispers, and everyone was in on it. She broke away for a moment and grabbed her head in frustration. Everyone knew who I was just by looking at me. Even as a child, before I was in the tabloids. Even when I disguised myself. How was that possible?"


    <strong>FIND CLIP.</strong>


    <strong>BEGIN FLASHBACK.</strong>


    I saw her dressed in full winter gear at a ski resort. Not an inch of skin was showing, yet a chipper young woman asked if she was Lillian Geist.


    <strong>END FLASHBACK.</strong>


    "I woke up and found myself walking to the opening of a hospital wing today where no one looked at me. They stopped looking at me a long time ago. Where was I before the party started? I don''t remember. It''s all the fog. Is it the drugs, that damn sedative, or was it the town itself? I swear the town moves me from room to room, from party to party, from hopeless situation to hopeless situation without my knowing. I know how this must sound, but I swear its like every moment of my life is a set."


    <strong>END AD LIB.</strong>


    <strong> THE MANSION FIRE BACKSTORY.</strong>


    <strong>BEGIN FLASHBACK.</strong>


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The shback on the red wallpaper changed. Suddenly, I saw a beautiful woman in herte twenties walking down arge, ornate set of stairs toward what appeared to be a party of some kind. I recognized the woman as Lillian Geist from her picture in Halles office.


    "I don''t even remember the party where I got the burns. It was a big eventlots of people. For being a family everyone hated, people never failed to attend our parties. I don''t know how the event started, and I don''t remember getting ready for it. Has my memory merely faded, or was it ever there? I just woke up walking down the stairs. All eyes were on me. I was called beautiful no less than a hundred times."


    <strong>BEGIN FLASHBACK.</strong>


    I saw scenes of people greeting Lillian. She looked ufortable. As she crossed a room, eyes followed her. People blocked her path wherever she went, greeting her dully.


    Then, there were shes of red and orange.


    <strong>END FLASHBACK.</strong>


    "After that, all I remember is the burning. Someone said there was a fire, and everyone looked scared, but no one looked <em>surprised</em>. If my life has taught me anything, its the difference between afraid and surprised on a persons face. The townspeople are never surprised, not really. Just like you dont look surprised right now, Howard."


    Dr. Halle didnt look surprised. He looked like he was waiting to get things over with.


    "Is it insane to say that I think that entire party was for me? For my benefit. For my destruction. Hundreds of eyes watched me, waiting to see what was going to happen, and when it did, it was like they always knew. Their words were wooden. Most didnt even try to escape except to block my path."


    Lillian must have been trying to cry, but no tears came. She might not have been able to produce tears.


    "By the time the entire ce was aze, no one was watching anymore because Lillian Geist was dead in all ways that mattered. No one called me Lillian until Doctor Hale found me among the wounded. He treated my injuries. He took me to the only person I had left alive who cared about me, my uncle Jedediah.


    <strong> THE MANSION FIRE BACKSTORY.</strong>


    <strong>AD LIB.</strong>


    A nurse called me Cecilia once. Then she covered it up like it was a mistake. That was before Dr. Halle suggested the name as my alias. How did she know who I was before I did?"


    <strong>END AD LIB.</strong>


    She might have just been a phenomenal actor, but her speech felt unrehearsed.


    <strong>BEGIN FLASHBACK.</strong>


    The shback changed to show Lillian with horrible burns covering much of her face and head. She was bandaged up and unrecognizable. Days passed, and she went through multiple surgeries.


    <strong> BACKSTORY OF CECILIA TRANSFORMATION.</strong>


    "I never wanted anyone to know what had happened to me. I couldn''t stand the idea of people looking at me without calling me beautiful. That was my shield. When the people were staring at my beauty, it was like they weren''t looking at me. I was hidden, even in a crowd of people. Somehow, I thought once people stared at my scars, it wouldn''t feel the same."


    "It took a long time for the burns to heal. Infection nearly took me so many times, but the town wouldn''t let me die. Uncle Jed called me a survivor, but I don''t think that''s why I lived. It wasn''t my time to go."


    "The pain was like you couldnt imaginechronic, unceasing. Things never changed unless they were getting worse. I turned to the pills to block the pain, both inner and outer, but soon enough, my tolerance grew; the pills never could help anymore."


    The shback changed to show little snake wormscaecilians, wriggling around in a container filled with Halles Ichor.


    "Then, Doctor Hale had an idea, a treatment that he said would take no more than a year. A revolutionary new substance that he had discovered could be used to not only stop the pain but to build me a new face. I was overjoyed. A new face. A beautiful face that people could look at instead of looking at me. No one would know who I was. But he had to do research, and then he said he needed to examine more patients. He told me to pick out what features I wanted. If I could find him someone to study, he would have the data to finish my treatment.


    <strong>END FLASHBACK.</strong>


    <strong> BACKSTORY OF CECILIA TRANSFORMATION.</strong>


    <strong>AD LIB.</strong>


    "For years, Howard, you had breakthrough after breakthrough, but each one only hurt me in new ways until, eventually, you put these things on me. You said it was a temporary measure, but by then, I knew that you were part of the conspiracy. I had known for a long time that you weren''t trying to help me. You were part of my punishment. Every new thing you tried failed. Sess was always a year away."


    "I couldn''t stand these creatures you sewed onto that you said would bring me closer to being finished. I knew it was a mockery. You didn''t have to do this, but you did anyway."


    <strong>END AD LIB.</strong>


    <strong> BACKSTORY OF JED GEIST MURDER.</strong>


    <strong>BEGIN FLASHBACK.</strong>


    I saw a dark, rainy night. I saw Jed Geists house.


    "One night, when you left for an emergency surgery, I started to run low on the sedative. I began to wake up. I rushed to Uncle Jed''s house, but when he saw me, there was fear again, but still no surprise.


    <strong>AD LIB.</strong>


    He must have known what was happening, but he wouldn''t say. Why wouldn''t he tell me why every Geist but him was subjected to such horrifying fates?


    <strong>END AD LIB.</strong>


    I saw Lillian in her current state, staring at an older man whom I knew to be Jed.


    Anger overtook me, and I could feel a dark voice inside my head wake up for the first time. I took the fire poker, and I beat him with it. The treatment didn''t make me beautiful, but it did make me strong.


    <strong> BACKSTORY OF JED GEIST MURDER.</strong>


    <strong>AD LIB.</strong>


    I had nowhere to go and no allies anywhere. Somehow, I woke up here, back in a painless stupor. I dont remembering back. How did I get back here? Everything continued as normal. You constantly had breakthroughs and promises, but each one took us in circles. So tell me, Howard, are you in on it? Do you know why all these things keep happening to me? Who is putting you up to it?"


    The script continued scrolling, and the words, yers react to the reveal and try to survive the iing horde. If Lillian attacks Halle, go to Scene: DR. HALLE STAIR DEATH. If she does not


    The script disappeared. I could see it while it had instructions for me (to stay still and not say anything), but it was gone once that was done.


    Lillian stepped around the desk toward Halle and asked, So, Howard, are you going to answer me, or are you just going to keep up the ruse.


    Halle almost rolled his eyes. He simultaneously appeared annoyed and terrified.


    CecilLillian, he said. I have devoted my life to helping those with life-altering conditions like yours live normal lives. We are at the forefront of the current technology. The best I can do is make educated guesses about how long your treatment will take. Lets not forget that you volunteered for this. You chose this.


    Lillian was enraged. I didnt choose this, she said, gesturing toward her body. You said it was revolutionary and would heal mepletely. You said it would take months, and then I could have a new life.


    She stepped further toward him. You arent going to tell me the truth, are you?


    Halle didnt respond. Instead, he took in a breath. He knew what wasing.


    After all, he could see the script.

 Arc II, Chapter 41: Stairway Death Scene

    Arc II, Chapter 41: Stairway Death Scene


    Lillian Geist closed the distance across the office toward Halle in a matter of seconds. They had the same Plot Armor, but I had to imagine that hers was more geared toward melee than Halles.


    You did this to me! she screamed. Tell me why!


    She grabbed him and quickly threw him toward the water fountain in the corner of the room. As she had said, the treatment Halle gave her did not make her beautiful, but it did make her strong.


    As the fight bore on, the chorus of frogs in the distance grew closer. They had found their way here from the emergency room area. It was very polite of them to wait until just after Lillians reveal and speech.


    Weve got to get out of here! Willis screamed to us.


    Mystery or no mystery, the Win Condition of this storyline was Escape the Fray, and we had only gone further into it.


    Come on, Isaac, Cassie said. She was trying to sound gentle and encouraging, but the adrenaline made the wordse out through tears. We just need to go a little further; get up.


    Isaac wasnt going to get up. He wasnt dead, but his Dead indicator on the red wallpaper was blinking faster and faster.


    He tried to speak. He couldnt.


    Lillian continued to beat on Dr. Halle, who had taken the scalpel from his pocketthe same one he had used to cut the ribbon earlierand was wielding it at her in vain.


    Are you going to mess my face up? Lillian said with augh.


    She backhanded him. He dropped the scalpel.


    Then, she reached over to the fountain and pressed the switch to open the secret staircase.


    Please, Halle said softly.


    He wasnt going to survive. I had gotten a glimpse of what this scene was titled on the script before it had been taken away. It was his staircase death.


    What I didnt know was that this scene had onest twist to throw.


    As Kimberly and I tried to help Isaac get up before the frogs arrived, I heard a scream from the entrance of the room.


    It was one of the Malformed Hybrids. Then another and another until a half dozen or so arrived. The woman with the feathers, the various amphibian hybrids, and a man who looked like a warthog all came with their eyes fixed on us and Lillian. Their Plot Armor was higher than I was expecting, almost as high as mine.


    Halle had a trope that summoned protectors when the yers or an ally attacked him.


    This meant that Carousel counted Lillian as our ally. His trope had been triggered.


    The warthog rammed Willis before he could respond.


    If I were to guess, this fellow might have been the guy who carried Isaac off through the tunnels when he was attacked on Bobbys orders. He was certainly big enough, with huge muscles and tusks protruding from his mouth.


    The warthog turned and started to run after me. I got ready to dodge. My high Hustle would help me there.


    But it didnt even get to that.


    Antoine fired two shots at him. The warthog didnt seem to feel it but did decide to target Antoine instead of me. Antoine then jumped up and over Halles couch to evade him. When the warthog charged again, Willis had regained hisposure and fired one shot into the beasts leg, dropping him to the floor and another in his skull for good measure.


    The woman covered in feathers was down on the ground asleep before I even saw what happened to her. Kimberly had injected her with a heavy dose of Halles sedative as she attacked.


    While the hybrids were technically targeting me because of my low PA, they didnt seem shy about aiming at the others. After all, it would look weird if they didnt.


    A man with a snakeskin pattern on his face and a long neck bit at Cassie, who fell to the ground as she tried to back away. Then, the snake turned to me and bounded for me, only to fall as Cassie grabbed its ankle.


    Bobby was protecting his fake NPC wife. He barked at the hybrids, who strangely seemed to understand him and would respond in their animal tongues.


    As they moved through the room, they got closer to me, but they also got close to Lillian, who grabbed Halles head and bashed it into the fountain.


    They must have been restricted from helping him until that point because as soon as she picked him up by the hair, two of the hybrids tackled her. Halle dropped to the ground.


    The whole thing was chaotic. The camera would have actually been on Lillian and Halle. Everything else was background.


    Lillian threw the hybrids aside with a few brutal swings and a banshee scream.


    She went back to Halle, who was trying to crawl away and picked him back up by the hair.


    No more promises from you, she said. She threw him down the steep stairway into the tunnels.


    He hit the stairs, bones audibly crunching the whole way down. For a moment, we went Off-Screen for what was likely a close-up of Halles broken body at the bottom of the stairs.


    That gave me an idea for how I might use my Cutaway Death trope. A fall into darkness was an ideal setup.


    Soon after, the energy in the room changed.


    The hybrids PA dropped down five or more points a piece. Halle must have been dead. His protective buff had vanished.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    The hybrids looked down the stairs as if in mourning, but they didnt have much time to be sad because the frogs arrived.


    The frogs didnt discriminate, but they did abide by their rules. In a Fight or Chase Scene, they attacked the characters with the lowest Hustle.


    Suddenly, I wasnt the person in the most danger.


    Some of the hybrids were. Once that they had lost their buffs, frogs the size of refrigerators began jumping through therge te ss windows separating Halles office from the rest of the floor and attacking whoever was nearest them.


    Those most in danger were the hybrids, Bobbys wife, and Bobby himself because he was Hobbled and had terrible Hustle.


    The enemy of our enemy was our friend. Those of us in the room started closing in on each other. Cassie, Isaac, and I had managed to get separated from the others in therge office.


    Cassie continued to try to get Isaac up, but he was a goner.


    A message appeared on the red wallpaper from Dina that read, Tunnels are Off-Screen.


    That was all the confirmation I needed.


    We have to find a way out of here, he said.


    Isaacs Dead indicator flickered even faster. He was almost gone. Cassie was trying to invoke her Anguish trope to stave off his death, but that wasnt working. She cried to the heavens, saying, I can feel your pain, Isaac, but we just have to go a little further.


    She couldnt feel his pain because he didnt. Between his Bloodloss Delerium trope and the sedative, he didnt have pain to share, and if he did, this was not a good moment for her to share it. She was too flustered to set up the power correctly.


    A frog swallowed the snake man and started choking on him. That didntst long, though, because the frog managed to bite the hybrid in half.


    Theres an exit that way, Donna, Bobbys fake wife, said to him as more frogs jumped into the room. She pointed in the direction of the exit. I saw it when I was looking for you.


    Show us the way, Willis said.


    He ushered Antoine, Kimberly, Dina, Bobby, and Bobbys wife out of the room.


    Willis knew his job was to help us escape, even if that meant leaving a few of us behind. He couldn''t risk the survival of the group for a few injured yers. If the others survived, we would, too, eventually.


    That was good for them, but they were closer to the exit. Cassie, Isaac, and I were trapped. Two frogs had found their way in and were scrambling over furniture toward Isaac.


    Cassie threw her body over him to protect him.


    She didnt need to in the end.


    Halle always said you creatures were the solution to all my problems, Lillian said, speaking to the nearest frog. It wasrge and had been used to grow human faces just like the giant frog had been.


    She walked slowly toward it and fell to her knees.


    The frog wrapped its enormous tongue around her and swallowed her in one bite.


    The other frog hopped closer to Cassie, Isaac, and me. Its eyes were not frog eyesthey were human. Its teeth were human, and its toes were also human.


    We couldnt get past it to get to the others. Luckily, the frog that killed Lillian was still working on her, so to speak, so it wasnt interested in us.


    The other was, though. With no one else in the room, it would target Cassie and Isaac.


    I had to make a decision, and I already knew what it was. Isaac was as good as dead, but Cassie didnt have to be.


    Ill take Isaac, I said. You escape and catch up with the others.


    No, she said. I cant leave him.


    Cassie, I said. You have to trust me. Our best chance is if you run. Let me take care of that thing.


    I dont know who dies next, she said. I tried to pay attention, but I was scared.


    I grabbed her shoulder as the frog hopped closer. It looked jealous that it hadnt gotten to eat Lillian.


    I know who dies next, I said. And its not you. Go help the others.


    I pushed her away from us as the frog jumped.


    The frog hit me, but it was more interested in Isaac. I figured it would be.


    I pulled Isaac away from it as it tried to scoop him up in its jaws. This creature tripped over its loose skin as it pursued us. All of the frogs tripped over their loose human skin, but it never seemed to slow them down. It was just shocking imagery.


    Cassie looked like she wanted to help, but I screamed, Go!


    She ran. The others couldnt have gotten too far. I still heard gunshots right down the hall.


    I pulled Isaac away from the frog. I didnt want to go too fast, so I baited it to make sure it didnt go for Cassie.


    I inched closer to the entrance to the secret staircase.


    With Isaac lying on the ground, painting the tiles with his blood, it was difficult for the frog to get at him.


    If the frog managed to get its tongue on Isaac, he was doomed. Selfishly, I knew that might not be the worst oue. The frog would be distracted long enough for me to escape. Besides, it was possible Isaac wasnt going to live long enough to see The End anyway.


    But I couldnt just feed him up to the beast, not when there was another way. I couldnt help him live for long, but I didnt need to see him eaten either.


    I pulled Isaac down into the secret staircase, leaving him bnced on some of the steps below.


    He mumbled something, but I couldnt understand it.


    I quickly reached up and grasped the switch on the fountain and triggered it so the secret opening would close.


    I had to time things right.


    The frog jumped. At first, I thought it wouldnt get through. The entrance was closing fast, and the frog wasrge, but as it extended out for the jump, its body stretched thin enough to get through the hole. I had hoped it would just get close enough that I could feign being knocked down the stairs to my "death".


    It hit me like a freight train.


    I screamed. I had to.


    The frog and I were tumbling backward down the staircase. I couldnt tell if we hit Isaac as we went down.


    It wasnt perfect, but I seeded at my main goal technically.


    As I fell down the stairs, I noticed I was officially Written Off on the red wallpaper.


    <strong>Cutaway Death</strong> sent us all Off-Screen.


    My death had been implied by being attacked by the frog. I hadnt expected the full-on tackle. I had hoped it might try to wrap me in its tongue, which would then get caught by the closing secret door, but that was too much to hope for.


    Inded hard on the ground. I was already mutted because of my hand surgery, but even if I hadnt been, I would be now.


    One of my arms was bent the wrong way. Pain surged through my body. Breathing hurt. My head hurt. I was bleeding.


    I looked around. I could hear the frog somewhere. Would it be too much to ask that it be injured, too?


    If it was, I couldnt tell. It was dark at the foot of the stairs.


    I thought quickly and crawled my way to the edge of the walkway where the ravine of rushing water waited bellow.


    I couldnt see very well, so I just listened.


    I hoped the frog wouldnt go back upstairs to look for the dying Isaac. Cutaway Death implied some fight was meant to ur after it triggered, a fight with me.


    I tried to let my eyes adjust. I stood tall. I took off my hoodie quickly and draped it over my front.


    Sure enough, the frogs tongue shot at me, stuck to my hoodie, and ripped it away.


    I heard an odd coughing as it tried to swallow it.


    Then, I heard a sound I couldnt cea p.


    Next was a shuffle as the frog leaped at me. I waited until thest second and dodged out of the way.


    The creature sailed past me and fell into the raging stream. I didnt know how strong frogs were at swimming, but this frog had human toes, so I had assumed it wouldnt be too good at it. It also had human eyes, which is why I surmised it couldnt see in the dark.


    The only thing itcked was a human brain, so it fell for the oldest trick in the book.


    I copsed to the ground. The cool, damp concrete was oddlyfortable because I was so exhausted.


    I had to check on Isaac. I crawled over, letting my bad arm rest.


    I looked up the stairs. In the dim light, I couldnt see him, but I could detect him on the red wallpaper.


    He was Written Off, but he wasnt dead. Not yet. Luckily, he was Unconscious. I would need to check on how being Written Off affected death.


    All I had to do was wait for my friends to get away, and I would be fine. We all would be.


    A light appeared against the wall next to the stairway. It was from a lighter.


    Illuminated in an orange flicker was the bloodied face of Dr. Howard Halle.


    Mr. Lawrence, he said. His words soundedbored, his breathing shallow. How do you know my son? What do you know about Simon Halle?

 Arc II, Chapter 42: Medical History

    Arc II, Chapter 42: Medical History


    You asked about Simon Halle, he said. He was in bad shape. Not dead, but it was clear that the fall had injured him severely. How do you know that name?


    I had asked Off-Screen. He had not answered me at the time. I suspected that the script had been the reason. Now, both of us Written Off in a dark tunnel, the script didnt appear to be stopping him.


    I met him a few months ago, I said. At Halle Castle.


    Dr. Halle leaned his head back. I despair on his face. He didnt speak for a moment as he took it in.


    They brought that damn castle too. How could they resist?


    I didnt know what to say. I was afraid that one wrong utterance might make Halle less likely to talk to me or, worse, he might decide to attack.


    He looked me in the eyes. I could see him breathing deeply through his nose.


    Is he like me?


    Yes, I answered. Hes a scientist.


    They brought him to Carousel. How could I have missed it?


    I thought for a moment. I remembered looking at the map Grace had set out to show how Carousel grew over the years.


    The castle he lives in, I said. It got brought here in 1999. But you would call it Carousel 1999 because thats something different, right?


    I had noticed that when the Paragons spoke of dates, they often put the word Carousel in front of it as if they were not just talking about a year.


    Halle nodded. This story takes ce in Carousel 1995, but I expect the real year is something different.


    2022, I said.


    Amazing, he said. He thought for a moment. Carousel 1999. Ive never been cast there. They kill me off in Carousel 1995, as youve just seen. But Simon, is he well?


    I didnt know what to say.


    Come out with it, boy, Halle said.


    Hes still trying to bring back his dead wife. He can disconnect his soul from his body. I dont know what to tell you.


    Halle nodded. Astral science. When he was young, he showed much interest in the subject. I had hoped he would grow out of it. A waste of a brilliant mind. If only I had not gotten stripped from my family, he might have fared better.


    He tried to keep an even tone in his voice, but I could hear him struggling to remainposed.


    You were taken from your family? I said.


    Halle nodded, strangely ashamed. When my experiments were prematurely uncovered, they tried using me of all manner of malfeasance. They could never understand how important my work was. Most of my patients rallied to my side at the trial; they testified on my behalf. They knew that once my methodology was perfected, I could correct previous mistakes.


    He swallowed hard. Of course, that was never to be.


    Did you get an offer toe here? I asked after he paused.


    By correspondence in my jail cell. An offer of amnesty. A job offer to work for a rich and influential family and all of the finances and subjects to continue my research. Given what I was facing, I hurriedly wrote back, epting. A mistake, perhaps. I dont even remember arriving.


    There were a million things I wanted to ask. I tried to sort through them, to find the ones he would answer, the ones he would know about, but the more I thought, the more I feared ruining the conversation. All I could do was keep him talking.


    So you didnt know anything about how things would be once you got here?


    I got everything I was promised, but not in the way I expected.


    That doesnt sound fair, I said.


    Dont pretend to be concerned about my treatment, he said. I know you would have killed me had you the opportunity or ability.


    It was a courtesy, I said. Something youre supposed to say.


    True enough, he said. Youll find that the working definition of fairness is very warped in this ce.


    The illusion of fairness.


    He nodded.


    You would not be able to understand this, he said, But I didnt notice that anything strange was happening for many years. My sense of the ordinary was taken from me. It all felt reasonable. The killings. The shadowy borders beyond understanding. I didnt question it.


    Shadowy borders?


    Wait, I said. Were you brought here before the game was created?


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the vition.


    Constance had told us that the actual game at Carousel wasnt always here.


    Halle nodded. I will say, Dyrkon, despite his deceptions, did keep his every word. He was a very reasonable man whenever you found a moment to speak with him.


    Is he still around? I asked.


    He ignored my question. More than that, it was like he didnt even hear it.


    When I woke up for the first time. I was a victim of a loathsome creature. I realized that I had not aged in decades. The Geists and their scandal were ever-growing then. I was always their family doctor. I realized I had not seen my family in all the time I had been in Carousel. I just hadnt noticed they werent here. I was perfectly oblivious. I asked Dyrkon about it, and he was, again, very reasonable. He gave me myplete consciousness. All of my memories. At that moment, I knew exactly what kind of ce this was. It was a kindness on his part. Ill never forget that.


    And then he asked me. Would I still want him to bring my family here? Of course, I said no. I begged him not to involve them, to let me be enough, he said. Tears flowed from his eyes. He promised he wouldnt. He assured me. I should have got it in writing. They brought my family here anyway, it seems.


    Do you still have the rity he gave you? I asked. Do you remember what he showed you?


    Halle shook his head. I heard it said somewhere that <em>we only remember that which makes us better at our roles</em>. I do not remember where I heard it. That became even more true when the game began. No longer was the world in chaos. It was organized, you see. The horrors were tamed. They could not have things the way they were before. Everything needs to be separate. Everything needs to be locked away in its ce.


    They put everything in a script, I said. I didnt know who they were, but I would get to that.


    Yes. Speaking of the script, he said. He looked up. His eyes zed over for a moment. I am afraid to say that your friends wife character has been killed. I assume you werent close?


    I shook my head.


    He could still see the script even after being Written Off.


    The rest of my group is okay? I asked.


    Yes, he said. The soldier is very skilled at motivating people to run faster.


    Tell me about the game, I said. Please. I need to know.


    Halle nodded. I can only tell you what I know. You do understand that, yes, and what I know is tightly controlled?


    I nodded.


    Carousel 1946, he said. The year I arrived both before and after the game was built. I was the family doctor to the Geists. I was a pir of themunity. I did my experiments in a rarely visited storyline outside of town in the newly built Carousel Hillsof course, it hadnt been named yet. The hospital was named for me. I was important.


    That made more sense. More than just his timeline with his son, his ent was dated for 1995. He had the manner of a man from an earlier time.


    I am not bothered to join tedious storylines for quite some time. In Carousel 1964, that changed. My age was a problem. I was too young, and getting older would make me less effective in my role. My history was changed. I was given an additional storyline at a cocktail party in one of the Geist Estates. I checked the pulses of murder victims and was asionally the murderer myself. They changed the name of the hospital. They made me less prominent in themunity. Still, I tended to the Geists.


    In Carousel 1976, I take a break from my easy life and must voyage on a river expedition in search of a rare species of amphibian that is said to have a toxin that could work as a revolutionary sedative. This is nonsense. I did not get my sedative nor my Ichor from a frog. They were having fun with me when they wrote that. I was a side character. The boat ends up surrounded by giant crocodiles. Terrifying.


    I listened intently to everything he was trying to tell me. Any detail might prove critical.


    Carousel 1995. I am cast as a shadow of my original story. I am stuck in the sewers operating on frogs. Someone had decided that was to be a theme for me. How juvenile. This role is for the Throughline. It is of the utmost importance. Unless I am needed in Carousel 1946, Carousel 1964, or heavens forbid, Carousel 1976, I am tending to the remaining Geists, Jedediah, and Lillian. I die quietly and am forgotten.


    Needed in Carousel 1946? I asked. Time travel?


    No, nothing of the sort, he said. Youll learn soon enough that Carousel has restrictions, seams in its construction; as much as they try to hide them, they cannot. The storylines are set in the past. They are the only way to find out what happened at the center of it all.


    The center of the story, I said. The birth of Carousel.


    That too.


    Time wasyered in Carousel. It was not linear.


    I had so much I wanted to know, but there was one question that I needed answers to above all others.


    You say they a lot, I said. Sometimes you talk about Ss Dyrkon; other times you talk about someone else. Who are you talking about when you say they?


    I had heard people talk about Carousel as an evil entity and a town, Bartholomew Geist as its founder, and Ss Dyrkon as both a partner of Geist and something else altogether. I also heard a they being referenced by both Halle and the Paragons.


    He spoke of Dyrkon with reverence. He spoke of they with disdain. They must have been different people.


    They dont like to be brought into the story, Halle said.


    Its Geist''s partners from the founders tale, right? It says he needed help building the town, so he brought in partners.


    Halle shook his head. Geist''s partners in the Throughline are characters like yours truly, founder of the hospital. Though I suspect there may be some symbolic ovep. I dont remember.


    Oh, I said.


    They, he began, Helped build the game at Carousel. They are insidious enemies. They recruited many of the current residents and ever so yfully defiled my backstory. To top it off, they brought my son here against my wishes. Tell me, he said, changing his tone, Does my son seed at bringing back the dead?


    No, I said. Not in the way he hoped.


    He nodded his head.


    He toils and is ultimately unable to take the final step, Halle said. I did the same, you know. My treatment worked the first time. They took it from me. They locked it away. I dont remember it. I suspect they did the same to my son. Surely, he seeded in his obsession.


    That made some sense. The senior Halle said that NPCs only remember things that make them better for their roles. I wasnt sure. I had seen NPCs trembling at the memory of their fate. But it did make sense in general.


    Cant really be a mad scientist if you have the cure, I said.


    Halle chuckled, then coughed.


    Mad science and obsession, he said wistfully, The Hahlbeck family curse. And Carousel does love families.


    I heard something stirring in the water behind me. I panicked. One of the frogs must have been back despite the heavy flowing stream.


    I did my best to scuttle against the wall next to Halle.


    Fear not, Halle said. I believe I have spoken out of turn. Carousel always gets upset when I talk about them. Its not even against the rules explicitly.


    What? I asked as something crawled up onto the concrete from the stream.


    I could barely see it in the glow of Halles lighter.


    But I heard it growling.


    It moved closer.


    Not a frog, no.


    It was a crocodile.


    I will see you again, perhaps in Carousel 1946, Halle said. I would advise you, though. If I ever offer you a drink, you might want to identally drop it before imbibing.


    The crocodile snapped up Halle''s right leg and drug easily down into the water.


    I was left alone.

 Arc II, Chapter 43: The Prescription

    Arc II, Chapter 43: The Prescription


    The needle on the Plot Cycle was nearly to The End. I thought about crawling toward Isaac, but then I thought better of it. His Dead indicator was blinking longer and longer. He was unconscious. The only thing that approaching him might do was wake him up. That would only cause him to suffer.


    I sat and contemted how he was even still alive. His Grit was nothing to write home about. He must have triggered his <strong>If hes still cracking jokes</strong> trope constantly throughout the run. His injuries were minor but numerous. I just hoped he wouldnt be too affected.


    It took twenty minutes for the story to end. I was sure d about it because it meant my hoodie had returned. The pain was one thing. The cold, wet ground was another.


    I stood and cracked my back. That made me feel better.


    Isaac was still asleep at the top of the stone steps when I climbed up to him.


    He was fully healed.


    I nudged his shoulder. He came to with a cough.


    Im up, he said.


    As soon as he realized what was going on, he reached for his face to make sure it was back to normal. It was. His face and his shaggy hair both back the way they were before his ordeal.


    My shirts not ripped anymore, he chirped, examining his tie-dye t-shirt.


    Thank god, I said. I was worried about that.


    He chuckled.


    It was actually one of the things I kept thinking about while I was zonked out. I only have one shirt with me. I need to go back to the hotel to change.


    Iughed. Yeah, that sedative really had a way of rearranging your priorities.


    I helped him to his feet.


    The switch to open up the secret path into the hospital was hard to find at first, but I must have found it because the door creaked open.


    Not so bad, eh? I asked.


    He shook his head. Not bad at all, he responded. He was lying. He got quiet for a moment as we walked out of Halles office and then asked me, Did I die?


    No, I said. Even if he had, I might not have told him. Save that existential crisis for after the tutorial.


    We kept walking. I wasnt sure which direction the others had fled in, but soon enough, we found Dinas messages on the red wallpaper, which were still there.


    We talked, theorizing about why we didnt start to turn into monsters as a result of being experimented on. I theorized that was for a different version of the story.


    That was the thing I was most afraid of, he said. If I hurt Cassie.


    Well, you didnt, I said as we made our way through the carnage.


    There were body parts everywhere. There were more than made sense.


    You think they knew what would happen to them? Isaac asked about the NPCs.


    Some did. Others didnt, I said.


    Howard Halle had given me an important piece of information in our conversation. He said that NPCs only remember what makes them better at their roles. Did these poor people improve at being victims by remembering what would happen?


    Could they even remember what would happen?


    Willis talked about them like their situation was something he had never seen beforea generation of NPCs born during the continuity loop of the Tutorial. It was like he thought they were different. He questioned how they would fit into the storylines.


    NPCs usually respawned at the same rate as a storylines Omen did.


    But these NPCs didnt really have normal storylines. They were part of a Throughline story, and those didnt stick around once they werepleted. The Tutorial would be a husk of what we experienced. Once we pushed the Throughline forward, would they still have an Omen to regenerate for?


    I pushed those thoughts away. I was likely going to find out soon. I couldnt say for sure what the Throughline would entail, but I was developing theories.


    The path of messages from Dina led us back to the town square. It was still a mess.


    There goes that, I said.


    What? Isaac asked.


    I pointed to the time capsule. The mayor, a level 50 version of him, was having it loaded into a wooden crate and hauled away with a forklift.


    Back to square one on that thing.


    I suspected that if I talked to someone, I would find out it was still the day before the Centennial, and it would be for quite some time.


    Lets wait here, I said.


    Isaac nodded.


    ~-~


    It took a while for the others to return. When they did, Willis was not with them. He wasnt going to stick around for Ss, much like the Stranger hadnt. That was annoying. I still had questions for him.


    Cassie hugged Isaac tightly. She even hugged me, as did Kimberly. It was a big, happy reunion.


    I didnt have frogs on my bingo card, Antoine said.


    I did, Isaac said.


    They continued talking and evenughing. I was waiting for ourst arrival. Before long, he was there.


    Step right up, Ss the Showman said, You won a ticket!


    This time, I was the first to hit the red button on his box.


    I got two stat tickets. That was really good, considering how high my level was. I received one trope.


    A Method to the Madness


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Filmmaker


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Method actors can be a significant strain on the patience of a director, producer, or any other member of a film crew. Trying to give such an actor pointers would be maddening. Could you imagine if the bad guy still acted evil when the camera was off?


    When Off-Screen with an enemy, the yer will be able to continue talking to the enemy, but they will respond in character in simr ways to how they might On-Screen. Any information obtained must be reestablished On-Screen. The yer will see a timer for when they are back On-Screen.


    The enemy will not change their Off-Screen directions, so dont expect an easy conversation.


    Theres no such thing as a stupid question. Unless, of course, youre asking it to a werewolf.


    I also got two enemy collectibles. I was surprised to get any. Technically, I did trick a frog into jumping into a stream, but that hardly felt enough to score a kill. It wasnt until I looked at them that I realized there was something off about them.


    <strong>Lillian Geist (1995)</strong>


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    <strong>Bartholomew Geist''s Granddaughter</strong>


    Once the radiant star of gilded nights, Lillian Geist danced atop the precipice of her family''s shadowed legacy, a beacon of grace untouched by the murky depths of ambition. Yet, as time etched its truths upon her, she descended, entwining her fate with the very darkness she once soared above. Engulfed by mes of retribution and subjected to the whims of a deranged intellect, she emerged not as a phoenix but as a specter of vengeance, her beauty marred by the scars of her lineage and her own transgressions. Now, Lillian haunts the boundary between the past she rebelled against and the future she unwittingly crafted, a twisted monument to the notion that one can never truly escape the sins of their blood.


    That told me that solving her mystery was enough to get the collectible. There was something special about the Geists.


    The next one had me scratching my head, too. I definitely didnt kill Dr. Halle.


    <strong>Dr. Howard Halle</strong>


    <strong>Mad Scientist</strong>


    Dr. Howard Halle, once heralded as the savior of Carousel''s afflicted, conceals beneath hisurels a truth as disfigured as his creations. Esteemed for his miraculous healings, his real magnum opus brewed in the shadows the Ichor, a reagent of promised revival. Driven by a zealot''s faith in his discovery, he ensnared the vulnerable in his grotesque ballet of science, merging flesh with beast in a twisted pursuit of salvation. Each failure, rather than a caution, fueled his obsession, blurring the lines between benefactor and tormentor. As his experiments spiral into aberrations, Dr. Halle''s quest teeters on the brink of madness. With every desperate attempt to perfect his Ichor, one must wonder at the cost of his ambitionhow many more will suffer before he either achieves his dream or is consumed by it?


    Kimberly was up next, and while she didnt get a trope, she did get two stat tickets and a license. Pretty much everyone but Willis and I were under-leveled. It made sense they would get some stats from this storyline.


    <strong>License</strong>


    <strong>License Number:</strong> [E-2455b-0014]


    <strong>Issued to:</strong> [Kimberly Madison]


    <strong>ABILITY GRANTED:</strong> The holder of this license is granted the ability to invoke specific powers or wield certain objects from a horror movie realm without the need of a trope. This license authorizes the use of ["Halles Sedative"] from the movie [<em>A Doctor Calls</em>].


    Usage Permitted in: The Throughline [ ], All Storylines [X].


    <strong></strong>


    <strong>USAGE TERMS:</strong><ol><li><strong>Lore Constraints:</strong> The holder may use the selected ability within the lore constraints without the need to activate the associated storyline.</li><li><strong>Protection:</strong> The yer is shielded from inadvertently triggering the original storyline.</li><li><strong>Rule Compliance:</strong> The rules of use, as described in the movie''s storyline, must be strictly adhered to in addition to any listed conditions.</li><li><strong>Consequence Awareness:</strong> The user is not immune to the consequences stemming from improper or natural use of the ability. This License does not prevent unrted storylines from being triggered.</li><li><strong>Rescue use:</strong> Death as a result of using this ability subjects the yer to rescue from the respective current movie''s storyline.</li></ol>


    <strong>CONDITIONS FOR USE:</strong>


    1. Requisition: The object must be acquired by the yer and brought into the storyline.


    2. Natural Use: The object can only be used in the way the yers character would be able to use it.


    3. Logical Location: Unless the yer has applicable trope allowing them to bring the object into a storyline, the object will be found in a logical location.


    4. Shared Use: Allies are able to use this object if narratively consistent.


    <strong>NOTES:</strong>


    <strong>MISUSE AND REVOCATION:</strong> Improper use of this license or the granted ability or object may result in immediate revocation and additional penalties as per the governingws.


    Halles sedative was powerful and would be very useful in storylines where it could be brought in. After reviewing our tickets, we returned to Halles office to pick up some extra. There was only one vial. We would have to make it count in case it wasnt replenished.


    Antoine got two stat tickets too. He also got a trope and an enemy collectible.


    Better Make It Count


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: --


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Moxie


    In movies, having one bullet left ces a great amount of weight on that final shot. Luckily, the audience loves watching thatst bullet hit its mark.


    When equipped, the yersst round, arrow, grenade, etc, will be more urate and effective than any that came before it. Ensuring the audience is aware you are almost out of ammo boosts this tropes power considerably if done well.


    Most bullets are just background noise.


    <strong>Skin Frog - Mutant Creature</strong>


    Amid the shadowy corridors of innovation, the Skin Frog existsa chilling emblem of ambition morphed into a nightmare. Conceived to be architects of healing, these mutants, with their unsettlingly human skin, were once symbols of hope. Yet, from the depths of their creation, a sinister reality emerged. Enraged by their twisted existence, these behemoths of flesh embody the peril of ying god. As they rampage, they leave a legacy not of life but ofment.


    Cassie did a great job as a Psychic. She got three stat tickets and two tropes.


    Empathic Shield


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: --


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Moxie


    The fastest way to make the audience care about a character is to show them another character caring about them.


    When the yer shows sadness, worry, or grief about an injured, captured, or otherwise imperiled ally, the allys Grit will be buffed.


    Now she''s gonna cry, then I''m gonna cry. Were all gonna cry!


    At Your Own Peril


    Type: Debuff


    Archetype: Psychic


    Aspect: ultist


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Who can deny the signs? A characters disbelief in magic or fate does not protect them from its wrath.


    With this trope equipped, the yer can warn other characters of danger and they will have their Grit and effective Plot Armor debuffed if they ignore the warning. It works with psychic visions but is much more effective with props such as tarot cards, bad omens like inverted crosses, and other visible signs of an ill fate.


    You may not believe in fate, but fate believes in you.


    Isaac certainly yed an important role in adding to the drama and a fewughs. It would be a while until we were better working with humor. That was a big ask. He got three stat tickets, and he paid for them in blood.


    Let me get this straight


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Comedian


    Aspect: Cynic


    Stat Used: Savvy


    When a group of survivors barrels forward without self-reflection, they can seem reckless. Having someone there to summarize the stakes can make the team look more confident andpetent.


    With this trope equipped, the yer can summarize everything they and their allies are up against, as well as their ns to stop it On-Screen, increasing the odds of sess by making sure the audience is up to speed and the task at hand has been properly thought out. Effectively buffs the Savvy of the nner or leader.


    So, I did understand. Youre all nuts.


    Trash Talk


    Type: Debuff


    Archetype: Comedian


    Aspect: Cynic


    Stat Used: Moxie


    At the end of the day, the effectiveness of a scary monster is determined by whether the audience is scared. Making fun of it can make it less scary.


    By making fun of the enemy On-Screen, the enemys Mettle is debuffed. Remember, it is the audience that the yer must appeal to, not the feelings of the enemy.


    The guys got butterknives on his fingers. Come on!


    Bobby didnt get a trope. He got something he wanted even more: a very special license. He also got two stat tickets.


    <strong>License</strong>


    <strong>License Number:</strong> [E-2455b-0001]


    <strong>Issued to:</strong> [Bobby Gill]


    <strong>ABILITY GRANTED:</strong> The holder of this license is granted the ability to invoke specific powers or wield certain objects from a horror movie realm without the need of a trope. This license authorizes the use of ["The Coles Dogs"] from the movie [<em>Permanent Vacancy</em>].


    Usage Permitted in: The Throughline [ ], All Storylines [X].


    <strong></strong>


    <strong>USAGE TERMS:</strong><ol><li><strong>Lore Constraints:</strong> The holder may use the selected ability within the lore constraints without the need to activate the associated storyline.</li><li><strong>Protection:</strong> The yer is shielded from inadvertently triggering the original storyline.</li><li><strong>Rule Compliance:</strong> The rules of use, as described in the movie''s storyline, must be strictly adhered to in addition to any listed conditions.</li><li><strong>Consequence Awareness:</strong> The user is not immune to the consequences stemming from improper or natural use of the ability. This License does not prevent unrted storylines from being triggered.</li><li><strong>Rescue use:</strong> Death as a result of using this ability subjects the yer to rescue from the respective current movie''s storyline.</li></ol>


    <strong>CONDITIONS FOR USE:</strong>


    1. <strong>Requisition</strong>: The object must be acquired by the yer and brought into the storyline.


    2. <strong>Natural Use</strong>: The object can only be used in the way the yers character would be able to use it.


    <strong>NOTES:</strong>


    1. Treat these animals well. The audience may not care if you are mutted, but they will be very upset if these dogs suffer.


    a. Their pain will be yours.


    2. Do not seek her.


    <strong>MISUSE AND REVOCATION:</strong> Improper use of this license or the granted ability or object may result in immediate revocation and additional penalties as per the governingws.


    It looked like we had a trip to the B&B soon.


    Dina was very helpful in this story with her messages on the red wallpaper, but her presence in the stories tapered off, so she only got one stat ticket and a trope.


    Savvy Safecracker


    Type: Insight/Buff


    Archetype: Outsider


    Aspect: Criminal


    Stat Used: Savvy


    A truly experienced thief can tell the difficulty of opening a specific lock at a nce.


    With this trope equipped, the yer will be able to tell whether a lock can be picked and, if so, how long it will take by looking at the red wallpaper. The yers Hustle will be buffed while attempting to pick it.


    I said it would be tough. I didnt say I couldnt do it.


    Having received our tickets, Ss disappeared. No cryptic messages, no pregnant pauses. It felt a little rude after all we had been through.


    We made our way back to our hotel room. I wanted a break. At that moment, I just wanted chicken wings and sleep. I didnt care if the Centennial ever came.

 Arc II, Chapter 44: Time to Wait

    Arc II, Chapter 44: Time to Wait


    Days passed while we waited at the hotel suite that had once been Jed Geists home.


    Kurt Willis, the GI Paragon, had told my friends to wait a couple of weeks or so before pursuing the next storyline.


    Weeks. Was that a figure of speech, or did he literally mean we had to just sit around?


    That didnt match up with what I knew about the Tutorial at allnothing we had seen about the Tutorial referenced weeks spent twiddling thumbs. Then again, I had never seen or heard of an ount of the tutorial from someone whopleted it when it was new. I had estimated days at most.


    It was still the day before the Centennial. We hadnt crossed that threshold yet. I wanted to find the time capsule in the Mayors office, but there was always something stopping us from getting inside.


    Dina looked at the lock on the door and said it would take weeks to pick.


    Carousel was being adamant.


    We were getting our rest at least. That might make sense for rookies. I just wanted to be through with the Tutorial and move on to rescues.


    I was alone in the storage room of the hotel suite where we had found the old newspapers with information of Geist''s murder. The room had been reset. All of the boxes were resealed. Somewhere along the line, I got it in my mind that it would be neat to reopen them and see if there was something new to learn.


    So I did. I looked through every box all over again. They still had newspapers from around the time of Jed Geists death. Nothing had changedno new information. We still needed the firece poker to summon his spirit and interrogate him.


    As I continued cycling through the garbage that had been left behind from Jed Geists time in the house, I took a mental inventory of everything. It was strange. I swore there were new items. Old items were missing.


    As I pondered this, Kimberly walked in and found me while I had my back turned.


    Whats got you brainstorming? she asked.


    I looked back at her. Oh, I said. All of this stuff is different than the stuff that was here before.


    Different? You think there are new clues in here? she asked. I can get the others to help look.


    I shook my head. No, no. Thats not what Im saying. These arent important objects. Like this, I said, lifting a box, Theres a waffle iron. There was a waffle iron when we went through it before, but this one is electric. The other one was the kind you put on the stove.


    She took the iron from me and looked it over. Okay? Is that important?


    So that means that this room wasnt just reset. Not really. It was <em>restocked</em>. Thats an important difference. We werent gentle with tearing through these boxes when we were looking for the newspaper articles. Someone took away the trash we left and reced it with all new junk, all wrapped in the same newspaper with the date changed because of the continuity loop.


    Thats interesting, she said unconvincingly.


    It is. This means that there is a warehouse somewhere in Carousel filled with boxes that only exist to restock this room. Thats not all. Smell the air.


    Smell the air? she asked.


    I nodded.


    She took a sniff. It smells like a thrift store, she said. And menthol. Jed Geist must have been a smoker.


    No, I said. Well, he might have been. Thats not the point. The room didnt smell this way before. I remember. It smelled like mold and old people. It didnt smell like smoke. Check this out.


    I pointed to a stack of boxes near arge air vent. There was a small ss ashtray on one of the boxes. Two cigarette butts upied the tray.


    Someone opened that box over there, I said, pointing to a different stack of boxes. They took that ashtray and smoked in this room after they restocked it. Then they left. This room wasnt turned back to normal by magic. People reset it. NPCs.


    Wow, Kimberly said. "Hotel workers?"


    Maybe so, I said. Isnt that interesting? Why would it work like that? Carousel has shown so much power, and yet it has people stacking boxes filled with old junk so that yers can look through them to find these newspapers. Its crazy.


    Yeah, she said. She tried to sound as enthusiastic as I was. But theres nothing for us back here?


    No.


    She waited for a moment and then asked, Riley, why are you back here?


    The question caught me off guard.


    I just told you.


    Were in the living room, and were having a good time, all things considered. You know we have to wait here for who knows how long. Why dont youe in there with us? You said yourself there arent any more clues back here.


    This tale has been uwfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I could hear them watching TV in the other room. It was a football game intercut with news bulletins.


    Even Dinas in there, and she is literally an outsider. You cant say its because you dont know us. Weve been here for months. If being here doesnt make us friends, what could? And dont say its because of Anna and Camden because you were the same way when they were alive.


    I hated being put on the spot for this. As I grew up, I found myself straying away from groups more and more.


    Ille in there if you want, I said. Its not that Look, Ive always been like this. My grandparents sent me to trauma counseling and everything when I was a kid. Its just who I am.


    She set the waffle iron back inside the box she had taken it from and said, Come on.


    Thest thing I wanted to do was watch sports and rx. It was too early for that. We needed to figure out the Throughline and find a ce to stay other than this haunted house. We needed to start rescues. We needed to raise our levels. We needed to get our friends back. Then, we could talk about letting our guards down.


    But I relented. There was nothing to be found in those boxes that we hadnt already seen. Frankly, if I refused, she might think I disliked them or something. That wasnt true. It was just that they didnt want to talk about Carousel or the Throughline.


    Thats all I wanted to talk about. I couldnt think about anything else.


    Back in the living room, the others had pulled all of the furniture from around the house and a few mattresses back into the center of the room. They were watching Carousel University y the team with the Ranger Danger mascot.


    The stadium was having a moment of silence for those who died days earlier in the terrible flood and ensuing attack. A man I recognized as the dean of the university was leading the moment of silence. Even through the television, I could see he looked uninterested. He had done it all before.


    The moment of silence was over, and the teams took back to the field.


    I yed in a game like this, Antoine said. He had been drinking. I couldnt me him. Demolished everyone. Best time I had in a storyline, hands down.


    We had kept the television on as we watched news footage from the aftermath of ourst storyline. Unlike storylines from before, the damage and the deaths had remained, as Willis had seemed to imply they would. The reports were light on details. So light, in fact, they didnt even officially mention the frogs.


    The only reference to those mutant abominations was from a witness who spoke of giant monsters covered in human skin. The reporter had dismissed this im.


    Other than that, it appeared the deaths were canon, so to speak. And every few hours, the reporters would cycle through various stories.


    As I got settled, the feed changed from the game to an interview again.


    A reporter dressed in a tan jacket was standing outside the football stadium covering what appeared to be protests from the citizens of Carousel.


    Their objections were difficult to discern at first.


    Impeach Mayor Gray! one protestor yelled.


    Others were not so polite. All manner of curse words were flung.


    The screen cut away to a pair of newscasters. Sounds like there are some passionate protestors down there. Just one moment as we reconnect with Jen in the field.


    This sort of thing happened all day. Newscasts in horror movies cut in and out without meaningful continuity. They were only there to reveal important information at the right moment. Then they were gone. Every time someone entered the living room, breaking news would overtake whatever came before it. We had heard most of the stories already.


    This happened a few more times.


    I sat in an oversized, overstuffed chair and watched as the news cycled between the game and coverage of the protests.


    Live at Carousel University stadium; a reporter was interviewing a woman named Bonnie Hayworth, who was giving them lines about how celebrating the anniversary of the founding, even the centennial, was in bad taste.


    Thirty years ago, she said, Tragedy struck, and look here, days before the Centennial, tragedy struck again. When is our mayor going to realize that this town is better off forgetting its past?


    Back to the newscasters.


    Its difficult not to be reminded of the 70th-anniversary disaster that happened almost exactly thirty years ago, one reporter said. The mayors office has issued a statement asking citizens to forego the customary superstition, stating, We need to take the time to mourn our losses. Discussion of the Centennial is disgraceful at this time.


    Antoine lowered the volume on the television.


    Its chaos out there, he said. Im starting to think they arent actually going to tell us what happened thirty years ago.


    I am so confused about the timeline, Cassie said. I thought the frogs happened in 1995. Now it happened in 2022?


    Perhaps that was the purpose of the constant newscasts. To make sure we had time to learn how the timeline worked.


    I still wrestled with it.


    The Throughline was set in the current year, 2022, but storylines set in the past still affected The Throughline as if they had just happened. Carousel worked inyers. The Throughline cut through theyers, down toward something in the distant past.


    Last chance for a quick game of Reply the Departed, Isaac said with a cackle. I could tell he was doing it to work through his fears, but it still made my heart leap.


    Stop it, Cassie said. Dont even joke.


    Im sorry, he said once it seemed he had taken it too far.


    Bobbyy on one of the mattresses, reviewing his new license, which allowed him to bring the dogs from the B&B into a storyline.


    After the conversation drifted a bit, he asked, If it says not to seek her, that means she is somewhere to be sought.


    This solicited groans from everyone in the room. Bobbys license had contained the warning, Do not seek her, which he immediately interpreted as being about his deceased wife Jeate. He was might have been right. I wasn''t sure.


    Please tell me youre not stuck on that again, Antoine said. That is literally the nicest Carousel has ever been giving you that warning. Just stop, man. Just stop.


    What if it isnt a warning? What if its a dare? Bobby asked. Maybe Im supposed to be brave.


    In this case, Isaac said, A dare is probably the same as a warning.


    Bobby rolled over and vanished the license to whatever ce such documents and tickets go when we put them away.


    This is the first time shes been acknowledged, is all, Bobby said.


    I wanted to say something tofort him. I didnt know what it could be. I was thest person to see her alive, at least thest living person to see her alive.


    asionally, the others would nce over in my direction as if wondering whether I would say something. By now, Cassie and Isaac knew everything the others did. They must have been told when I wasnt around.


    I had seen Jeate cut nearly in half by the axe murderer for quitting the game. Counter-intuitively, I was not allowed to talk about it, or it seemed I would summon the murderer again. That was yet another thing I needed to understand about Carousel. Why keep him a secret from the yers?


    Even as I thought about him, I started to hear him breathing in my ear. Fear gripped me instantly.


    Cassie looked at me in surprise.


    Youre Incapacitated, she said softly, with a head tilt.


    I jumped up from the overstuffed chair and left the living room. It was time to sort through boxes again. I wouldnt find any surprises, I knew.


    Maybe that was half the point.

 Arc II, Chapter 45: The Graveside Chat

    Arc II, Chapter 45: The Graveside Chat


    Come here, boy, Bobby said. You can do it!


    The tall wolfhound from the Permanent Vacancy B&B stepped over the boundary they were previously unable to cross. It joyously hurled itself into Bobbys arms. He nearly fell back onto the ground as the beast put its full weight against him.


    Bobby looked happy. Thats all that mattered.


    We had trekked across the town so that Bobby could check in on his dogs. He fed them, yed with them, and talked about his ns with them for at least an hour. The rest of us hung out on the porch of the B&B and waited.


    Bobby had been asking for an escort over here for days. We finally relented when the news told us the roads were opening back up.


    Theres still Dr. Pepper in here, I said as I sat back down in one of the chairs. Otherwise, it hasnt been reset at all.


    It felt like a lifetime since that simple discovery of Earth-branded soda had brought me so much joy.


    Something happened to Samantha, Kimberly said. What a change. I wanted to talk about meaningless drivel, and my friends wanted to talk about heavy stuff. She knew something bad would happen to her. I could see it in her eyes.


    Maybe shes on the run, Antoine said. Staying one step ahead of Carousel.


    Maybe, Kimberly said.


    I stayed out of it. To my knowledge, Samantha had been axed for helping us escape or something simr to that. Either way, I wasnt going to start theorizing.


    How is the whole dog thing going to work? Cassie asked. Did the other yers do things like that?


    Vicious dogs are a staple of all good horror movies, Isaac said.


    Some of them, I said. Not usually the main characters that have them, though.


    Hes not a main character, Antoine said. Hes a veterinarian who specializes inrge breed dogs.


    "Well," Isaac said, "He does have first-hand experience."


    As Bobbys license stated, if a dog got killed or hurt On-Screen, it would backfire on us, especially if our characters put the dogs in danger. That didnt mean they couldnt be used, but they were a liability.


    Still, I wasnt going to try to tell him that. So far, he had been pretty realistic. He wouldnt bring the dogs with us until we had a ce to stay. He would tell the dogs to leave at the first sign of danger, stuff like that.


    I tried to be optimistic.


    Were going to the graveyard after this, right? Cassie asked.


    I nodded. We had some threads to pull over there. I wasnt as optimistic about that. So far, the little to-do list Carousel gave us was very scant and vague. Things werent going to be that easy.


    After we waited for Bobby to finish, we headed back across town toward the general area where we knew the main Geist estate to have stood. It was hard to miss. The whole property was surrounded by ck wrought iron.


    The Geist estate graveyard was so far away from the ruins of the mansion that I couldnt even see the building. We never even caught a glimpse of it. It was truly a beautiful graveyard, though.


    Truly.


    Not just in the way normal people might appreciate a solemn ce to remember deceased loved ones but in the sense that it looked like a wondend where ghosts and ghouls could roam freely. Leaves blew in the wind, covering the ground in a crisp orange nket. The graves were expensive and expressive. Each was a work of art. There were busts of dead Geists here and there. In fact, there were all manner of statuary spread around. If <em>The Grotesque</em> had been set here, we would have lost for sure. Street signs would lead you to different branches of the family, from the main Geists to the Carraways and the Madrigals, who were Geist cousins.


    The graveyard was divided between a sectionbeled "Lost, but not forgotten" and a section titled "Forgotten, but not lost," which was a pauper''s grave from what I could tell. How generous of the Geists.


    Much of the cemetery was cordoned off, likely because they were sets for various storylines and not genuine parts of the Geist graveyard.


    It took us thirty minutes of walking under the overcast sky to find the main branch with all of the right dead Geists.


    None of it made sense. Many graves had to be older than Carousel itself, or at least they were older than the current imed age of Carousel. The dates were worn down even if the names and strange inscriptions werent.


    We found arge monument to the Geists who died in a ze in 1984. ck humanoid figures danced freely atop arge fountain that had run dry years ago. They didnt have individual graves as I was hoping. Lillian Geists name was on the monument, though someone had taken a chisel or something to it to deface it. That might have been a good clue had wee here first.


    Theres nothing here, I said after we had investigated every grave. I meticulously wrote down the name of every Geist in that section, including dates. It would give us a rough estimate of who died when, but I had been wanting something elsesomething more.


    What were you hoping for? Antoine asked, holding Kimberly in his arms as they surveyed the gloomy grounds.


    I shrugged and moved a clump of leaves off of one of the grave markers with my shoe. I was thinking we would find a grave for Lillian Geist, but we know she didnt actually die in the fire. One of us would ask, ''if she didnt die in 1984, then whats buried underneath her grave marker?'' Then we dig it up and treasure or clues or something. I dont know.


    Antoine chuckled.


    Didnt quite work out like you nned, Dina said. She walked over the graves like a ghost, reading every one of them somberly. These people bred like rabbits. There must be cousins, second cousins, all of their extended family. Theres no way all of these people are Bartholomew Geists descendants.


    I could tell she noticed the same thing I did: a <em>lot</em> of Geist children just went missing. Not death dates, just a sad inscription pleading for their return.


    Doesn''t really line up with the timeline, Antoine said. Geists were only here for sixty years. The town was only founded a hundred years ago. If the story is to be believed. This whole graveyard makes no sense.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any urrences.


    They could have moved the older graves, Kimberly said. The ones with the dates worn off could have been transported. The mausoleums, too.


    That was true.


    Could just be props, Bobby said. A graveyard with twelve people in it doesnt work as well in a movie.


    That was also true.


    Could be that the Geists didnt get here a hundred years ago, I said. The Throughline story isnt supposed to be perfectly urate.


    Its looking like a dead end, isnt it? Bobby said. I was hoping it would be more than this.


    We got the tip to go to the graveyard from a random NPC who Bobby asked for information. It made some sense that the lead wouldnt break the case, but still, finding a bunch of non-answers was disappointing. The only real benefit is that now I had a list of Geists. In the long run, the trip was worth it.


    Back to the drawing board then? Isaac said. What exactly was on the drawing board? I forget. Do we have any ideas?


    All eyes were on me. How many times could I fail to have the answers before they stopped doing that?


    I have some thoughts. Im still working on them. They arent exactly organized yet, I said.


    Lets talk it out, Antoine said.


    Yeah, I said. Alright Lets talk.


    I sat down on a small concrete bench that I only realizedter was actually the tombstone sculpture for one of the Geists.


    Two weeks, I said.


    Two weeks, Antoine said. Thats what Willis told us. We had to wait a couple of weeks.


    He had let go of Kimberly, and both of them stood with the others in a circle near where I was sitting. Isaacy on the ground, looking up at the gray sky.


    Strange. Dont you think so? Are we really thinking that Carousel is giving us a break? Thats too generous.


    Antoine shrugged his shoulders. Maybe, but thats about how long you have before you have to run a new storyline before whatever happens if you dont run storylines.


    When the vets said they ran the Tutorial, even the vets in the As, they talked about it like it was quick. Too quick. Back-to-back, I said.


    So theres something special about this run? Kimberly asked.


    I nodded. I think that the Vets ran through the Tutorial after the Throughline had been advanced beyond it in the narrative. Like theres a checkpoint for the plot, and once a team gets there, the stories from before stop repeating.


    Thats what Curtis was talking about in the As, Kimberly said.


    Yeah  I said. Which implies that this two-week break is not inherent to the Tutorial; its part of the Throughline. Once we get past it, future yers wont get the break.


    That makes sense, Antoine said, Im with you there, but that doesnt exin anything. What <em>are</em> we supposed to spend the break doing? A sance?


    I nodded.


    Thats what I would think, I said.


    But we cant do the sance, Cassie chimed in. She looked like the wind was chilling her to the bone. Not without the murder weapon.


    Right, I said. Ive been thinking about that Just stay with me. The continuity loop ensures that it is always the day before the Centennial, and its always the anniversary of Jed Geists deathevery day, even today.


    The date of Jed Geist''s death was always one day before the date on the mysterious Centennial time capsule that got buried thirty years ago.


    The only day we can talk to him is the day he died, Antoine said, Which is why we need to do the sance before things move forward.


    I pointed at him as if to say, Exactly.


    But, I said, If thats trueif the trend we have observed about the continuity loop is correctdoesnt that imply that there is a gap between the date of Jed Geists death and the beginning of the continuity loop?


    The actual reason for the continuity loop was to provide a suitable environment for Carousel to handhold terrified newbies into the game. Still, there also had to be an in-story reason for it.


    A gap? Antoine asked.


    I hoped I wasnt overthinking it. It took me a while to figure it out. For the longest time, I assumed that the loop started on the day Geist died. That would exin why the Centennial neveres; the continuity loop started before it got here. But it couldn''t have started on the day he died, either, because that would lead to a paradox, well, a bigger paradox than those inherent to the loop itself.


    The day after Jed Geist is murdered, the continuity loop couldnt be started up yet, not unless it jumped a year into the future, which it could, but that isnt consistent. The first day after Jed Geist died, was it the day after his death, or the anniversary of it? It couldnt be the anniversary of his death <em>and </em>the day after his death.


    This led me to believe that the continuity loop had merely skipped a year forward on the day of his death, making it the anniversary and the day before the Centennial, but that didn''t work either.


    Ooooh, Bobby said.


    Yeah, I said. So the continuity loop, based on our understanding, must have been started between 1992, when Jed died, and 1995 when we ran thest storyline. Im guessing it started exactly one year after his death.


    On the first anniversary! Bobby said.


    Right, I said. Thats why its always the anniversary of his death. Thats when the continuity loop started. It has to be. And what else happened around that time?


    The fire poker was stolen from evidence, Antoine said, nodding. He understood where I was going.


    So possibly in a very short time period, one year after his death, maybe two, but well say one, the fire poker was stolen, the anniversary of Jed Geists death urred, and the continuity loop started. You get where Im going?


    You think someone ran the ritual to talk to Jed Geist on the anniversary of his death using the murder weapon, which is why it is missing? And that was rted to the continuity loop starting, Antoine said.


    I nodded.


    You know what else? Bobby said. The time capsule!


    I nodded again. I was d they were following my logic. The time capsule was confusing. I still didn''t understand it. It took me a while to realize that the capsule was the only proof that the original Centennial back in 1992 happened. The deaths that ured on that day could be retconned, but the time capsule wasbeled with the Centennial.


    How did the time capsule get there? Bobby said, If the time loop"


    Continuity loop, I corrected.


    Right, Bobby said, If the continuity loop started the day Jed Geist died, how would the time capsule have been buried a dayter? Thats how the dates line up, right? Answer: the loop didnt start until a year after he died. The original Centennial did happen. The tragedy urred. The capsule was buried. Except to most people, the tragedy was the 70th anniversary, not the centennial, because theyve been in a loop for thirty years. They remember it because the disaster happened after Jed Geist died, but before the loop started.


    I shrugged my shoulders. I was hoping to reveal that myself, but I was d to have some backup. Basically, yes.


    So someone talked to Jed Geist a year after he died, Antoine said, And that is rted to the continuity loop, so, therefore, we need to figure out who was trying to talk to him and why. But there''s just one problem.


    "The Centennial," I said.


    "The Centennial," Antoine agreed.


    "If the sequence of events was, Jed dies, the next day the original Centennial urs, and a yearter the continuity loop starts, then why is it always the day before the Centennial? Why does the continuity loop always keep the Centennial a day away if it already happened? That''s why I always assumed the loop started the day of his death, the day before the original Centennial. But if it started a yearter, then why does the continuity loop care about the Centennial? That should have been old news by the time it started."


    "Can we get a chalkboard to diagram this?" Isaac said. "Not that I''m not loving the brainstorm."


    "At the end of the day," Antoine exined, "Whatever is happening within the story of the Throughline caused the Anniversary of Jed Geist''s death to repeat every day but prevents the Centennial and any anniversaries from ever happening again."


    "Are we sure we aren''t overthinking this?" Bobby asked. "Maybe Carousel just thought it would be cool."


    I feared was losing them and confusing myself. "The point is, someone talked to Jed Geist on the anniversary of his death. I think it happened one year after he died. That''s all I got."


    Where does that leave us? Dina said, ignoring Isaac.


    All eyes on me again.


    I have a million ideas, I said. I was hoping you all would help me pick which one to go with. At the end of the day, we need to find out who contacted him on the anniversary of his death. Someone stole that firece poker for a reason and all evidence points to them doing the ritual to speak with him.


    That''s kind of a problem, Kimberly said. Havent kids been trying to talk to his ghost for decades now? Its not a rare practice. Every NPC will know someone who tried.


    That was true. We could be following leads for weeks without getting anywhere.


    I can think of a certain psychic who was alive back then and may remember someone trying to speak to the dead, Antoine said.


    Right. Of course. The solution was talking to someone. No wonder it eluded me.


    Cassie, Isaac said, Sounds like youre up.


    Cassie looked confused.


    Different psychic, Kimberly said. The one from the town square.


    Cassie looked relieved. She may have lightly stepped on Isaacs pinky as hey on the ground next to her.


    In a town where everyone has tried to speak with the spirit of Jedediah Geist, we had to find the person who seeded.

 Arc II, Chapter 46: Hearts Desire

    Arc II, Chapter 46: Heart''s Desire


    One at a time, Madam Celia said firmly from the doorway of her shop. She had been waiting for us. The elegant dress she had been wearing in the town square was gone. Instead, she was in a purple cloak and frock that looked absolutely pedestrian byparison. Wrapping herself in her cloak, leaving only her skinny, bejeweled fingers exposed, she said, Take a ticket and wait your turn. I will reveal the truth of your hearts desire.


    Isaac was the first to enter the shop. I was just saying this morning how I wished I knew the truth of my hearts desire.


    Madam Celia and Cassie both rolled their eyes. Sorry about him, Cassie said.


    Ah, child, Madam Celia said, You have the gift. I know this.


    It would have been more impressive if Cassies Psychic Archetype hadnt been on the red wallpaper for all to see.


    We walked in one at a time. Something was different about the ce from thest time we had gone. Her stock of items had been changed out, and none of them registered as Omens on the red wallpaper. The most significant change, however, was that the Ss, the Mechanical Showman machine she had against the back wall, was far from broken. It was turned on and moving around in short bursts like a simr machine might do in real life.


    Step right up and get your ticket for the marvelous Madam Celia! Ss said. Get a glimpse of your future while you still have one!


    Antoine was the first to make his way to the machine and press the red button.


    Nothing happened.


    Ten dors, Madam Celia said as she moved past us to the back room where she did the readings.


    Antoine looked taken aback. I forgot we even had money, he admitted. He looked at Kimberly expectantly. She was holding his money in her bag.


    Those are like theme park coins, Isaac said. Where did you get those?


    We hadnt received any money forpleting the Tutorial stories. In fact, we hadnt needed money so far, not even for room service. We had forgotten to even exin it.


    If this costs money and yers cant get money in the Tutorial, Bobby said, That might mean we arent meant toe here yet.


    He had a point.


    There are other ways to make money, Antoine said. I got the impression he didnt want to hear that this n wasnt right. This could be an incentive to sell any loot you walked out of a story with. Maybe thats why Tar was in the cut scene from before, so that we would know about his pawn shop.


    I thought it was possible Carousel had made it impossible toplete the storyline entirely on the first time, so putting advancement behind a financial barrier made sense enough. Either way, I was excited to see that the game anticipated using here.


    I fished into my hoodie pocket and withdrew twenty dors. I had little left from the storylines before the reset.


    I handed ten to Cassie.


    Bobby and Dina chipped in to get Isaac a ticket as well.


    We had never actually put money into one of the Ss machines before. Now it made sense why Carousel used all coins in their strange little economy.


    I was thest to take my ticket from Ss. It was possibly the simplest ticket type we had seen. Just a ne rectangle of paper with perforated edges like you might win at an arcade. It listed our number. Antoine received 0038 and each one of us received one number higher than thest.


    That meant he went first. He climbed into the booth with Madam Celia and her crystal ball and closed the curtain. I couldnt hear anything they were saying, even though I should have been able to hear through the curtain.


    Seven minutester, Antoine pulled back the curtain and climbed out of the booth. He had a look on his face I only saw when he was at a low pointa profound sadness and confusion.


    He didnt talk to us when he left. He just got out and went out the front door. At first, I thought he was having a panic attack and needed some air, so he ignored us. He even ignored Kimberly.


    That wasnt the case.


    Kimberly did the same thing. Then Bobby did. Then Dina, Cassie, and Isaac copied them exactly.


    I got the feeling that we were being controlled by a trope that prevented us from talking to our teammates between readings.


    That was the first indication that I should put my guard up.


    The second was that when I pushed myself into the booth as thest person, I saw a message from Dina on the red wallpaper.


    Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky.


    Asked about son. Couldnt help it. Sorry, the message said.


    Either Dina just dropped the ball or we didnt have free will. The truth of our hearts desire. That was what Celia had promised. Perhaps, we were beingpelled to ask specific questions.


    Was this a waste of money? Could this be beaten?


    I closed the curtain behind me. It was time to find out.


    Uwfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Child, Madam Celia said softly, moving her long, colorful fingernails over her crystal ball. You have been through so much. I know the question in your heart. Ask it, and I will tell all.


    I had to fight it. Or could I?


    If this was a trope, that meant Celias stats probably controlled its effectiveness, likely her Moxie. There was little chance I could beat her at that.


    Still, as the many possible questions began to form in my mind, I realized that I did have some ability to fight them.


    I expected to feel questions like, Whos the Insider? or How do weplete the Throughline as fast as possible? but such questions never appeared in my mind. Either Celia didnt really know my hearts desire or the game was rigged to exclude certain topics. Of course, it was the second option. There were no doubts there.


    The first question that popped into my head was, Do we stand a chance of rescuing Anna and Camden?


    I was so tempted to just ask it. I could feel my willpower slipping. If I gave in, I knew I would lose track of everything we set out to do. I almost asked it, but by some miracle, I fought long enough, and the question faded from my mind.


    What was my hearts desire?


    Surely that would have been it?


    But then, something deeper welled up within me that shook mepletely.


    I almost asked the next question. I nearly lost control.


    Are they here? I wanted to say. Which they? Not my grandparents. Carousel had teased me about my grandparents multiple times even when it was asleep. They wouldnt be in a ce like this.


    <em>They</em>. An image shed in my head.


    No. I couldnt bear to think of it.


    Why hadnt Carousel mentioned them? Why wouldnt it needle me about <em>Them</em> when it was such an obvious y?


    Why pester me about my fictionalized gifted grandmother or my horror movie-loving grandfather?


    Why didnt it mention <em>Them</em>? It had to have known about them.


    <em>Asked about son. Couldnt help it. Sorry</em>, shed into my mind againDinas message from the red wallpaper.


    I needed a better question. Something that would help the group. I had to think.


    What kind of question could I ask? What was my hearts desire?


    I could ask what he looked like, the shadow I had caught a glimpse of. I could ask about that. I had always wanted to know. The police wanted to know too, but my grandmother yelled at them when they pressed too hard. Who was it? Why had he been there?


    It urred to me that tears were falling from my eyes.


    I could know instantly. I could find out right then.


    <em>Asked about son. Couldnt help it. Sorry</em>, Dinas message repeated in my mind.


    Wait. Thats not what I was here for.


    I dont want a reading, I said loudly.


    In an instant, everything went back down where it hade from. The memories faded into the ces I had put them so long ago. By the time I left the booth, I could hardly remember.


    No? Celia asked, Well, you paid for my time. What were you hoping to ask?


    I took a deep breath. What was it we hade for?


    Thirty years ago in Carousel 19I mean in 1993, do you remember someone trying to contact the spirit of Jedediah Geist?


    Child, Celia said, My clients have asked about that miserable mans life more than I have been asked about soul mates and lottery numbersbined. Youre going to have to be a touch more specific.


    Right, I said. It would have been one of the first. Someone who eventually figured out how to do it. They would steal the weapon that murdered him from the police and then use the bell from Reply the Departedthe boardgameto do a weird ritual at his house. Did anyone ask questions about that sort of thing?


    Reply the Departed, Celia said. Oh. Her eyes drifted back into a memory as she spoke. She spoke with long pauses. I really shouldnt have told her about the game. I couldnt help it. I felt like a force beyond myselfpelled me. It was originally yed with a spinning top. The bell got poprter. She was an odd duck, that one. Had some strange stories. I didnt see any harm.


    Who was she? I asked. What kind of stories?


    Never knew her name, Celia said. She had some idea that nothing here in Carousel was real. I know what youre thinking. Mental illness, a palm reader taking advantage, but I swear, she was lucid and certain of her beliefs. She came into my shop one night right before closing. She spoke of being able to change the past, that all of this was some sort of story that could be rewritten. Strange ideas, I know. She asked if I knew anything about that.


    Someone who thought that Carousel was fake. That meant they had meta-knowledge.


    I told her that the only person I knew who ever spoke of such things was Jedediah Geist, who, for a period before his death, starteding to me regrly. His obsession with his familys legacy began to bloom after they had passed away. He wasnt so bold as to call the world fake, but he imed to know the secrets of Carousels founding. Of course, he was dead, so she was out of luck unless she could conjure his spirit.


    Why did she want this information? I asked.


    Celia thought for a moment. She was convinced that she could find a way to save those people who died in the 70th-anniversary ident. She didnt seem delusional; she was oddly calm and imed she had done something simr before. Look, I told her about the ritual in hopes it would dissuade her. Speaking to the dead is not to be taken lightly. I didnt realize she would go through with it, but if someone really took the weapon used to murder Jedediah, then it seems she might have.


    What did she look like? I asked.


    Thirty years old at the time. Understated, her hair hidden in a hat. I havent thought about her in years. The world being fake Odd ideas indeed, Madam Celia said. She was ying a character here. Obviously, she knew the world of Carousel was not normal, but her character apparently wasnt quite aware.


    Psychics are powerful, but they arent meta.


    Go, Celia said. I have to rest.


    I need to know where the firece poker is, the murder weapon! I said.


    Celia paused.


    You already do. But how did it get there? she said before grasping her head and exiting the booth.


    ~-~


    I walked outside, dissatisfied with my meeting with Celia. It would turn out I wasnt the only one. Most of them didnt have Dinas message to help tether them to reality.


    Antoine was particrly hard on himself.


    What did he ask about? I asked Kimberly as I saw Antoine distant and sulking.


    He wont tell me, she said with a lump in her throat. I wasted my question on something stupid and vain. I didnt know that would happen. It just slipped out.


    What did you ask?


    She looked deeply ashamed.


    If I would still be young when we escaped, Kimberly said through tears. She barely even gave me an answer. She said it is not a likely case. I kept asking questions, but I couldnt get my head right. Before I knew it, it was toote.


    Perhaps Psychics were a <em>little</em> meta.


    A quick survey concluded that Bobby and Dina had both managed to ask some basic questions to help us. Bobby figured out that Our path would open up when we knew the destination. He didnt even remember what he asked to get that answer. He had wasted most of his questions asking about his wife, which had confused Cecilia terribly and led nowhere.


    Dina figured out that we needed to talk to Jed Geist before the next storyline. Again, she had wasted her questions for the most part and didnt even remember how she managed to steer back on track.


    Cassie and Isaac asked about their brother. They forgot they were even supposed to ask something else until we reminded them.


    I had more to tell, but as I spoke, my memory of my time in the booth got scrambled. I remembered the answers but not the questions. It took a while to exin things.


    We have a character out there thats part of the Throughline and, from the sound of it, might know about storylines, Antoine said. Thats not nothing. Better than I got.


    I still felt like we were far from where we needed to be, but at least we had something new to talk about.


    All I knew was that Jedediah Geist had better have some killer information, or else I was going to be very irritated.

 Arc II, Chapter 47: Reply the Departed, Classic

    Arc II, Chapter 47: Reply the Departed, ssic


    Antoineid back on the overstuffed chair I had grown fond of in our time at the hilltop suite that had once been Jedediah Geists home. Every few moments, it looked like Antoine was about to get up and go somewhere else, but he didnt.


    We sat and had the same conversation we had been having ever since the second Tutorial storyline. It was going nowhere.


    Thats it, Antoine finally said as he started to get up, Im making myself something to eat. I cant think about this anymore.


    Atst, I had the chance to reim my seat.


    Or so I thought.


    I ordered room service, Bobby said, They make pizza from scratch in the kitchens.


    Antoine plopped back down in the chair. Thanks, man, he said.


    Bobby nodded.


    And so I never did get to sit in that chair again.


    What a pity.


    We had gone over all of the information we had gathered a half dozen times.


    After Lillian Geist made her appearance, we were more certain than ever that the news articles attached to the junior high history disy at the Centennial were more than just story vor. They were some kind of checklist.


    Kimberly had written the information we had on the wall with a marker.<ul><li><strong>Geist Buys Town (1922)</strong>: Bartholomew Geist acquires bankrupt township with help of Ss Dyrkon, ns revival.</li><li><strong>Carousel Revival (1924)</strong>: Geist seeks partners for agricultural, industrial, tourism boost, etc.</li><li><strong>Film Sets & Criticism (1934)</strong>: Geist family''s film set projects in Carousel face local safety concerns.</li><li><strong>Asylum Project (1964)</strong>: Cherise Geists asylum construction spected as film set/tax write-off.</li><li><strong>Pageant Win (1972)</strong>: Lillian Geist wins Miss Carousel, highlighting familys local influence.</li><li><strong>Factory Fire (1984)</strong>: No injuries in Geist factory ze due to upstanding citizen; Bensen Geist ns innovative rebuild.</li><li><strong>Film Set Tragedy (1984)</strong>: Fatal ident on Geist horror film set kills 4, including Carlyle Geist.</li><li><strong>Manor ze (1984)</strong>: Mysterious fire destroys Geist Manor during event; all family members present affected.</li></ul>


    Some of these were just background, but we still knew nothing about the movie sets, the asylum, or the various fires except that they happened.


    When we tell Camden about this, were going to pretend we figured it out a lot sooner, I said.


    I pulled my hair as I looked over the info.


    Yeah, everyone else gets to die and we have to y a game, Antoine said.


    Kimberly was still writing things on the wall. She was convinced that if we just saw it all in front of us, we would stop going in circles.


    She wrote about the events of The Ten Second Game and Cold Blooded Things. She wrote what the Paragons had told us and what Howard Halle had told me.


    What are we missing? I said in frustration.


    Are we thinking that Madam Celia was talking about a yer or something else? Kimberly asked. I had told them everything I could remember about my chat with the Psychic.


    I think it''s from the Throughline, I said. She was in character when she said it. If she was talking about a yer, I dont think she would have mentioned it at all. She had to be talking about a character in the story, someone who knew about storylines from the sound of it, someone who thought they could change the past by triggering one.


    Kimberly started to write things out on a numbered list.<blockquote>


    1. Mystery Woman X changed the past (storyline?)


    2. X also wants to save the people who died somehow at the original centennial, where the time capsule is from.


    3. Celia tells X to contact Jeds ghost.


    4. X steals the murder weapon.


    5.


    6. Continuity loop


    7. Thirty years pass


    8. Game starts</blockquote>


    What do we know? Kimberly asked. She does the ritual?


    She had to have, Antoine said. It would be weird if she didnt.


    Which means the firece poker was brought here to the hotel, Dina added. Where Jed Geist died. But its not here now. Weve torn the ce apart looking.


    We had literally torn it apart. The NPCs had to fix it. Everything smelled like paint.


    Why is this mystery person just now showing up? Cassie asked. Is there a chance we met her already?


    If we did, we didnt talk to her, Antoine said.


    It <em>was </em>reallyte to introduce an important character. If this person was important, why are we just now hearing about her?


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any urrences.


    Is it possible we just arent able to beat the Tutorial the first time around? Bobby asked. Thats something Carousel might do. The first storyline told us barely anything about the Throughline, and the second one was designed so that the Throughline information could be skipped, too.


    No one wanted that to be true, but it did make sense. Carousels first storylines were designed to be beatable without learning important plot points.


    I hate it when demonic interdimensional towns y tricks like that, Isaac said. Its just not neighborly. Worse than that, its cheating. Im starting to think all those protestors are right. We really should have a recall election. The leadership in this town iscking.


    Would Carousel t-out cheat? If the information Celia had was necessary for a yer to learn, then neers couldnt possibly get it because it cost money to do the reading. They would have to y through twice.


    Why cheat, though? Kimberly asked. New yers are going to be so freaked out they have no chance of solving it. Why hide things like this?


    Its a fool who looks for reason in the mind of a cosmic entity, Isaac said.


    It felt like we were missing something essential.


    Alright, I said. We thought about it from a story perspective. How about a game perspective?


    We did talk about that, Isaac said. Carousel cheats.


    Isaac could sometimes get caught in cycles of evangelizing cynicism.


    <em>We</em> technically cheated too, Bobby said, I doubt any yers in the history of the game were set up as well as we were to win.


    We did have experience. We knew what we were getting into. Project Rewind had set us up to win and the As often made questions of gamey knowledge trivial.


    Carousel knew what we had done. How would it respond?


    We did cheat, I said. We really did. I turned to Bobby. Tell me about the script again. In the second storyline, how did you know we were headed in the right direction?


    In thest storyline, Bobby had seen enough of the script to know that the path of the story diverged based on whether someone ended up going under Dr. Halles knife. He had made one of the hybrids capture Isaac in hopes that I would follow.


    We hadnt told anyone about Bobbys involvement in Isaacs injuries. That was a post-tutorial conversation.


    One script was titled <em>The Fray</em>, Bobby said. The other was titled <em>Possible True Ending</em>. That second one only triggered if the hybrids captured someone, and since you and Isaac did, we were on the right path.


    The ability to see the script made Wallflowers incredibly useful. They might not help you in a fight, but even a glimpse at different alternate script titles could be helpful.


    Im d I could be of service, Isaac said. It''s a good thing I just happened to be attacked.


    Isaac had been sedated nearly the whole storyline, so he felt very little pain. Hopefully, he would forgive us in time.


    What about the first storyline? I asked. Did that one have a true ending that we missed?


    Bobby thought for a moment.


    I didnt see anything like that, he confessed. That weird enemy Xander ck or whatever kept going off-script. I dont even know what the story really was. There wasnt much to it. The pages didnt flip very often unless he did something unnned, so it was a short storyline.


    That was my memory of the story, too. It was an uneven mess, not at all what Carousel appeared to have intended.


    Or did it aplish precisely what it was meant to?


    The original first storyline was called <em>Reply the Departed</em>, I said. <em>The Ten Second Game,</em> which we yed, was a reboot of that with the same props and setting and a new enemy.


    Punishment for Project Rewind, Antoine said. Carousel made a harder version of the story. Isnt that what we decided?


    Was that really our punishment? Strander ck had made things scary and hectic for us, but most of that was when he broke character. Carousel didnt seem to n on most of that happening.


    This hotel room is thest known location of Jed Geists murder weapon, assuming our mystery woman performed the sance, I said. But the poker isnt here. <em>Anymore</em>.


    Anymore? Antoine asked. You mean


    Based on the dates of the printout for the rules, the Ten Second Game appeared to have taken ce in the modern day, I said. But the firece pokerthe murder weaponobviously wouldnt be here in the modern day.


    Of course not, Dina said. The hotel was renovated. In fact, NPCs were literally renovating it the moment we showed up for the first time. The Stranger even pointed it out.


    Isaac sat up from his ce on the rug. You guys just realized something important, didnt you? I was paying attention. Can you go over that again?


    Carousel didnt give us a rebooted version of the first storyline because it wanted to make things harder, I said.


    It was trying to hide something inside the original storyline, Bobby said.


    Yes, I said. The original storyline, <em>Reply the Departed</em>, must have had the information we need to find the murder weapon, but Carousel hid it under an extrayer because we cheated.


    That would exin why the second storyline wasnt changed to be harder, Antoine said. Carousel was just trying to throw us off the trail from the beginning. Something about Reply the Departed would have made this game too easy for someone who knew what to look for.


    Antoine was getting excited about our recent theory. We were starting to connect the dots where, before, there were too many to see a pattern. He almost jumped up out of his seat, but before he did, Kimberly ran to him and jumbled into hisp.


    He sat there eating pizza until it was time to pack. We had to leave for a bit, and that meant Carousel was liable to reset the ce. We didnt know what would happen to our stuff if we left it there.


    The thing was, even if we knew we were supposed to y through the original Reply the Departed storyline, we had little idea of how to do so. There was no Omen any longer. The board game itself had been cleared out when the suite was repaired after we yed The Ten Second Game there.


    Where are we going exactly? Cassie asked as we were moving out the door.


    Pawn shop, Dina said.


    If youd told me that, I would have dressed up, Isaac said.


    The pawn shop sells items from storylines you recently did, Kimberly exined.


    Truthfully, I didnt know if this was the right path to take. If we assumed the things we were shown were clues, then the pawn shop made sense as a ce to start.


    Getting there was far easier this time around. There were no Omens to navigate, just the asional construction barrier from the repairs being made to town square.


    Despite the enormous damage many of the buildings had taken, Happened A Pawn waspletely untouched. The frogs hadnt even broken a window.


    That was reassuring.


    We entered the store to find that most of the shelves were empty. No tropes were for sale, and no specialty items were avable.


    All the pawn shop carried were a few odds and ends. In the back of the store, under the Games section, was the singr item in the store that registered on the red wallpaper.


    An old rectangr box read, Reply the Departed: A game not for the faintly-hearted, to seek replies from the departed.


    We might just be onto something, I said.


    I picked up the box. On the red wallpaper, it read, Reply the Departed.


    It was an Omen. My, I dont like it here. The trope told me it was triggered by taking it to Jedediah Geists house and ying the game.


    The difficulty was, Im getting goosebumps. That was a low difficulty. Made sense for a first storyline.


    Dont worry, a voice boomed from across the room. It came from a tall, bald man wearing a Hawaiian shirt. It was Tar Bellows, level 50. He was a Paragon and owner of the pawn shop. Its hard to y without all the pieces.


    Tell me about it, I said.


    Tar smiled.


    Now, you kids wouldnt be thinking of taking that game into the old abandoned Geist ce up on Overlook Hill Road, would you?


    Overlook Hill Road was the road the resort was on, the same resort that had renovated Jed Geists house into the suite we were staying in.


    Abandoned? Antoine asked.


    Yeah, Tar answered. Its been abandoned ever since Jed Geist was skewered with a kitchen knife. Never mind. I thought thats where you all were going.


    The abandoned Jed Geist ce. That was more like it. We paid for the board game and left. It just so happened to cost every penny we had.

 Arc II, Chapter 48: The Murder House

    Arc II, Chapter 48: The Murder House<blockquote>


    <strong>The Soundstage</strong>


    It seems strange that there is no entry on this despite the term being so widely used in the As.


    Most stories are set physically here in Carousel. If you arent careful and you ignore the NPCs trying to shoo you away, you can find yourself on the set of an active storyline that you arent a part of. Its pretty surreal until you get chased off by whatever killer or monster is at the center of that story.


    Some stories dont work like that. After being activated, theres no way to find where the yers went. They arent physically in Carousel anymore, at least not the part of it we have ess to. This ce is called the Soundstage. If a storyline is set in a world that Carousel cannot portray in real life, like a dream, hell, or even the far past, youll find yourself on the Soundstage. Everyone learns that eventually.


    Itsmon knowledge.


    The reason Im writing this is because I found a storyline out in the Gourmand Housing district that acted weird. It was set in the past, maybe the 1940s. That much was certain. The entire district was still being built during the storyline. After we finished, I expected to find ourselves back in the modern neighborhood, but even as we left, the houses were still under construction. I went back there today. Still, the whole ce is like it was during the setting of the story.


    We were not on the Soundstage.


    Carousel changed when we ran that story. I swear it did. I cant figure out why for the life of me. Arthur thought it was interesting too and he hasnt found anything interesting in a long time.


    Why was this storyline not on the Soundstage? Running the story appears to have permanently changed this neighborhood. I wish I knew what was going on.


    March 5, 2017


    -AW</blockquote>


    In the end, I could almost understand how a stubborn new yer could finish this storyline without believing they were in another world. It was so easy to think it was all an borate prank.


    Normally, we were supposed to have a Paragon who could help guide us through the first storyline gently after dropping us off at the original resort. The second time around, we didnt even have the Stranger there to help us.


    Still, I didnt think it mattered. We didnt need handholding.


    As we hiked up the Overlook Hill and found the little resort we had been staying at, two things became immediately apparent.


    First, we were in the past. The hotel we originally stayed in was being renovated to a more modern Scandinavian aesthetic. This version of the resort looked like it wasst renovated in the early eighties.


    Most of the buildings were still there; they were just uglier.


    Second, it was clear that our suite, Jedediah Geists old manor, had not be part of the hotel yet. There were no paths to the other side of the hill, and many of the trees had not been trimmed back. We would have to hike to get around unless we could find the actual road .


    We might be on to something here, Antoine said as he looked around the hilltop resort.


    We must have been.


    We made our way to reception. It was pretty simr except for the style change.


    I expected to see Mandy, the same employee working at the front desk that I had seen every time we came by here for food or towels, but she was gone and reced by an older man named Ned I didnt recognize.


    We didnt have any money, and frankly, we werent sure if we were even supposed to be here.


    We were sent here for a room because of the Centennial, Antoine said testing to see if the old story still worked.


    Stragglers, huh? the man asked.


    Excuse me? Antoine asked.


    I thought we already had everybody, Ned said. Guess you were thest to arrive. Stragglers. Let me get your keys.


    He turned around to arge pegboard, retrieved arge brass key with a room number on it, and handed it to Antoine.


    Sorry about the key. We still havent updated things to the keycards. Do you need help finding your suite?


    Antoine looked back at the rest of us before saying, Is it on the other side of the hill?


    Ned shook his head. All of our units are on this side of the hill. We dont have any over there for obvious reasons.


    Obvious reasons? I asked.


    Yeah, Ned said, looking for one of us to understand. The old Geist ce. Its not somewhere people would want to stay, you know. Youve heard the legendsghosts haunting the ce, murderers about, and whatnot.


    That makes sense, Isaac said. Everyone knows ghosts and murderers stick to their side of the hill.


    Ned shrugged unenthusiastically. Anyway, we have room service if you want to call from your room. If you need anything else, you can call me. I would be happy to help.


    Thank you! Kimberly said.


    We left to find our new suite.


    It ended up being the furthest suite from the office.


    If I were new to Carousel, I would never go y a creepy little game in an abandoned murder house, Kimberly said.


    I doubt youd have a choice, I said. Could be like the version we yed where the Stranger has a trope to trigger the story before we even get here.


    Could be the town just loops unending until you go over there, Bobby suggested. Or maybe Carousel uses mind control.


    I had no doubt Carousel had some foolproof way of getting a group of yers into a creepy house for a game of murder Monopoly. Still, it was hard to imagine. How would you get someone like Jeate in there?


    Antoine unlocked our new suite. He opened the door, and we all basked in its visage.


    Oh my god, Kimberly said.


    It was not great. Two twin beds, a pullout couch, and a few old cots provided enough beds for all of us. The television was small, and the ce smelled old and uninviting.


    They really should fix this ce up, Isaac said.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been uwfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    If we had to stay here for weeks, I would be spending the night in the murder house within the first three days, Cassie said.


    There was very little space and only a tiny table for working out clues.


    I know Carousel only gave us the renovated Geist suite to throw us off the trail, but I am super thankful we werent stuck here, Kimberly said.


    We moved our stuff in. I stood outside to get mentally ready to go explore the Geist house while the others got unpacked inside.


    I examined the game box.


    Antoine was outside with me.


    Should we practice this game, I asked. Once were in there, ying the game will trigger the storyline. I dont want to learn the game on the fly like that.


    Thats not a bad idea, but there is like a 100% chance someone was murdered in that hotel room, so maybe we do it over at the pic table, he said.


    And so we did.


    Here is how the game was supposed to go when you werent trying to summon dead people in real life.


    The game included:


    1 Board


    7 yer Figures (Film Buff, Eye Candy, Athlete, Wallflower, Outsider, Comedian, and Psychic)


    25 Murder Weapons


    1 Bell


    200 Sance Cards


    1 Rule Sheet


    200 Ghost Scoresheets (which were just little pieces of paper you could tear off)


    It was simple. To win, you needed to capture three ghosts. You captured a ghost by finding its name, the murder weapon that killed it, and a piece of important backstory.


    You moved your character around the board, trying tond on special squares that let you draw a card. The cards might list a question you can ask, such as, Spirit, were you killed for money? or a collectible ability, such as, Because of their training, the Athlete managed to run out of the room before the ghost attacked them.


    asionally, the card would say something like, There is a strange presence in the music room thatshes out against all those nearby. Any yers in this room must go back to the entrance and reset all progress on upleted captures.


    When you asked a spirit a question, you would wind the bell. If it rang, the answer was yes, and you would learn something about a spirit, be it its name, murder weapon, or backstory. Until the murder weapon is found, any yer can try to capture a ghost.


    Murder weapon questions stated, Grab a murder weapon from the weapons cache. And then allowed you to ask, Is this the weapon that killed you?


    A yes means that the ghost is yours to interrogate, and no one can steal it from you. A no meant to try againter with a different card and other yers can still talk to it.


    The ghosts were just hypothetical. They came into existence when you started asking them questions.


    The rule sheet showed a picture of 24 missing posters, indicating that there were only 24 ghosts in the game.


    The game was okay. Might have been fun under different circumstances.


    It involved a lot of luck but some strategy once you realized you could save abilities to use at opportune times. If you were in the same room as a yer, you could ask your own questions to uncaptured ghosts after they did, effectively giving you an extra turn.


    It wasnt until we yed the game in Geists old house that I realized how unnerving it really was.


    I told you I was no good at board games, Isaac said. You shouldnt even bring me to this next storyline. Id just get in the way.


    If Im going, youre going, Cassie said, pulling him along through the woods.


    As we rounded the hill, Jed Geists manor slowly came into view. It had seen better days.


    Some of the windows were boarded up, and the siding was falling off. The door still had police tape on it, but that had long been torn, and it just stood there as a reminder that a crime had urred here.


    As we approached the front door, I pointed out arge stic tub filled with newspapers that had been collected and delivered for a long time after Jeds death. Somewhere in these would be the paper with a clue as to how Jed Geist was killed, though new yers would be unlikely to guess that. These were the same papers that were used to pad Geists belongings and ced in boxes in the storage room in the future.


    The house had been tagged by graffiti artists many times over.


    Carousel must have a lot of gang activity, Isaac said. Im starting to think this isnt a safe ce to start a family.


    Door isnt even locked, Dina said at a nce.


    Ill still knock, Antoine said. He had brought his baseball bat, and he rapped his knuckles on the door. There was no answer.


    He reached down and turned the knob, which creaked loudly as it opened.


    As we looked in, I could see Isaac getting ready to tell a joke, but I beat him to it.


    Maybe we should call housekeeping, I said. I could have done better.


    That seemed to have deted whatever joke he was preparing.


    The ce waspletely different than we had seen before. It wasnt as run down as a meth den or anything, but it scored a ten out of ten in the murder house category.


    Everything inside was old, the things that hadnt been stolen at least. There was spray paint on the wall. The crown molding needed to be rebuilt from the ground up.


    The ce was a mess.


    But that was not the first thing anyone would notice when they entered.


    Lets leave, Kimberly said, at least half serious.


    That exins some things, Dina said.


    We had been debating on whether new yers would talk to Jed Geist on their first run. If we got to the house and the firece poker was sitting there with an evidence tag on it, surely they would be able to talk to him. That seemed too early.


    That was not a concern anymore.


    Thousands, literally thousands, of weapons littered the living room floor and surrounding hallways. Some kids had organized them into concentric circles and other patterns. Knives, crowbars, hammers, ice picks, screwdrivers, and every other handheld object that can be used to kill a persony littered around the room. Some knives were stabbed into the walls. Some were in the furniture.


    Anybody got eyes on the poker? Antoine said.


    I see at least two, Dina said.


    The odds of someone finding the right one on ident were minimal.


    So new yers fail the first time, I said. By the time they realize what weapon to look for, Willis shows up in his car to escort them to the second storyline, assuming they ever figure it out.


    Could you at least pretend you''re not having fun? Kimberly asked yfully.


    I smirk when Im nervous, I said.


    We gathered around the center of the room and set up the game. At the exact moment Kimberly finished shuffling the sance cards and ced them in their designated space, the Omen was triggered.


    We were in the story.


    There was much debate over what tropes we would bring. Given what we knew about the story, we decided minimal was best. We wanted the unvarnished story. No <strong>Looks Dont Last</strong> for Kimberly, no <strong>Last-Minute Casting</strong> for Bobby, and no Deathwatch for me. I didnt even use <strong>Trope Master</strong>, so I didnt have to worry about being attacked. We assumed that we had already seen the enemies for this story, so I didnt need to see their tropes again. Even if that backfired, we would be fine. This was an easy story.


    We were just a group of young people ying a board game with Dina and Bobby.


    As the needle on the Plot Cycle ticked from Omen to Choice to Party, there was a knock at the door.


    Antoine answered it.


    Three cute girls swarmed past him, giggling the whole time and carrying vodka and shot sses.


    You found the game! one of the girls, Brenda, said. They were all level-three NPCsnothing out of the ordinary.


    These werent sorority girls. They were some vor of alternative, maybe hipsters, but that was a stretch. I wasnt around in the early 90s to know. They acted like they knew us.


    Guess what I brought, one girl named Serenity said, holding out a long, thin object wrapped in a handkerchief. She opened it up to reveal an ancient boning knife. My brother swears this is the real weapon used to kill Jed Geist. His friend was one of the cops on the scene. He says he actually talked to him with this.


    Well have to try it, I said.


    Serenity sat down on the floor next to me and hugged me tightly, the boning knife poking me in the arm.


    This is so exciting! she said with a smile.


    She was very physically close to me. I was starting to see how Carousel might trick a bunch of new yers to go along with ying a creepy game in an old murder house.


    I took my attention off of her the best I could. I could flirt with girls ormune with the dead, but not both.


    I noticed that the sun outside was starting to set.


    Are we going to y this, or are we just sitting around? I asked.


    Oh my gods, Im so excited! Cassie squealed loudly. The three NPCs echoed her excitement, as she must have predicted they would because sheughed at their reaction.


    At first, I thought we were in trouble because there were only seven yer pieces, but only Serenity was brave enough to y. The others just wanted to drink and watch. Isaac graciously volunteered to sit out. I thought he was going to spend his time talking to the girls, but he pulled an old chair up behind Cassie and sat in it as if blocking anything in the dark house from getting to her.


    Antoine rolled the dice, and we were off.


    He rolled an eight, which just so happened to be enough to get him into the hall closet,nd on a special square, and draw a card.


    He drew a backstory question. Backstory information could be anything; as long as you got something, you were set.


    He showed us his card.<blockquote>


    Did the (yer archtype) kill you?


    Pick a yer character. If the spirit says yes, the named yer will be killed if they ever interact with or enter the same room as this ghost.</blockquote>


    Killed yers had to start over.


    He had to choose one of us and ask the question.


    He made eye contact with me. I nodded. He asked, Did the Film Buff kill you?


    Better me than the newbies, I guess.


    Then he twisted the key on the bell.


    The bell ticked and ticked, and then momentster, it rang.


    I felt something move over me. A shiver went down my spine.


    The others seemed to sense it, too, though nothing appeared on the red wallpaper.


    I smelled something vaguely familiar.


    It smelled like ash. It smelled like cigarettes.


    Where had I smelled that before?

 Arc II, Chapter 49: A Game Within a Game

    Arc II, Chapter 49: A Game Within a Game


    Spooky, Brenda said as she and the other NPC who wasnt ying started giggling. Does one of the ghosts smoke cigarettes? I swear I smell cigarettes.


    She took the sheet with the illustrations of all of the missing posters for ghosts in the game and started looking over the entry for each one, trying to see if they were smokers.


    You may need to raise your standard for signs of paranormal activity, Isaac said. If cigarette smoke is a sign of ghosts, then every bar in town is haunted.


    Brenda fakeughed.


    Truthfully, Isaac acting as Cynic here was good. We didnt need to encourage any plot threads that would pull us away from the game. My guess was that after Second Blood, the yers stop ying the board game and start freaking out somehow. That didnt work for us. We needed to y the game until we had contacted Jed Geist and figured out which of the pokers was used to kill him.


    After that, nothing mattered. We just needed the right poker.


    Dina rolled double-fives and got to go again. She rolled seven after that. With that roll, she managed to get her cloaked figure in the house, through the great hall, and into the gentlemens parlor while picking up three cards as she went.


    She immediately yed one of the cards, which stated the following:<blockquote>The Wallflower has a habit of following along absent-mindedly, even to their peril. Move them to a square adjacent to yours after you have moved. They must leave any ghost sheets behind.</blockquote>


    This gave Bobby a head start. The card was meant to be a disadvantage, interrupting an opponent as they question a spirit. The ghost sheets represented the ghost on the board. You had to be in the same room as it to ask it questions. We werent actually ying against each other, so Dina did this to help him.


    Thats it, she said.


    No questions? Serenity asked.


    Nope.


    And so we went on.


    Kimberly only got one card and didnt use it. She was setting her sights on a staircase to get to the second floor.


    I rolled a ten and headed for the library. I didnt quite make it in the door, but I managed to pick up two cards along the way:<blockquote>You overhear the other yers talking about you. Search the discard pile for any card with your yer archetype on it and choose one to ce in your hand.</blockquote>


    And<blockquote>As a naturally curious person, you can ask one question twice in a turn.</blockquote>


    No yers had discarded yet, so I didnt need to use my first card, and I had no question cards so that I couldnt use my second.


    I needed to make sure that I stayed away from the hall closet where Antoine had found the spirit that I suspected belonged to Bradley Speirs, an enemy I had killed by throwing him off a roof into the clutches of vengeful zombies. It was clear that this storyline was not even pretending to be subtle.


    We went all the way around. The NPC, Serenity, got double sixes and said, Can I get in the same square as another yer? I want to ask the smoking ghost a question.


    You can pass by it, but you cantnd on it, I said.


    Antoine was on the only square in the closet, so she was blocked, thankfully.


    She huffed and puffed and decided to follow Kimberly up the stairs. Being that she rolled better and rolled doubles, she made it upstairs in one go. She collected four cards along the way. The limit was five before she had to start discarding. She could only ask one question per category per turn unless otherwise instructed.


    When she got to the top of the stairs, she yed a card that said,<blockquote>You taunt the spirits. ce an Angered ghost sheet in any room. Any yers in that room must capture it, calm it, or escape by the end of their next turn, or they will be attacked.</blockquote>


    She ripped off a sheet from the pad of paper and checked a little box that said, Angered. Then she put it inside the gentlemans parlor with Dina and Bobby.


    Come on, Bobby said. I dont even have any cards yet.


    Dina didnt say anything, but she did give Serenity a look that probably meant anger or annoyance.


    Things went back around.


    Bobby got a good enough roll to leave the parlor and pick up a card. He was safe. We didnt know if being killed in the board game meant anything. It was still the Party Phase, so we were safe at the moment, but we couldnt be too sure.


    Antoine rolled enough to get out of the hall closet and make his way down the hall toward the trophy room. On the way, he picked up three cards.


    Dina rolled a five, and instead of fleeing the room with the angry ghost, she moved toward it and stepped on a square, which gave her three cards.


    One of those cards was a lucky draw.<blockquote>There is safety in numbers. Move to the room with the highest amount of yers in it.</blockquote>


    Technically, that was still the hallway at the entrance. She escaped by the skin of her teeth.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Kimberly continued her way upstairs andnded next to Serenity at the top. She collected an additional card but declined to y it.


    Cassie had gotten a bad roll at the beginning and hadnt even collected a card. She got a better roll on her second try and started her way down the hall. She got two cards and seemed happy about one of them.


    We were still in the early stages. Soon, we would need to start asking actual questions.


    I rolled four and made it inside the library, where I picked up two cards. The library had more special squares than almost any other room, so thats why I went there.<blockquote>You may ask a question about the weapon used to kill a spirit, but as you do, you notice that the Outsider is right on your tail. If you y this, the Outsider can move to your room and ask about the murder weapon if you fail. You must be next to a window to use this card.</blockquote>


    That wasnt bad. It was another card designed with the idea that the yers would not want to aid theirpetitors, which just wasnt the case here. The fact that it required you to be next to a window was interesting. Perhaps it guaranteed that it could only be used in certain rooms, or maybe it ensured that you were all the way in the room before using it, meaning that I could not use it to set a trap as easily.


    Whatever the case, I couldnt use it yet.


    My other card was more interesting.<blockquote>"This card can be activated whenever you choose. Select a ghost from the board to manifest in physical form. The ghost won''t know it has passed away. yers in the same room can ask the ghost questions directly without needing another card for it. However, be careful not to mention or suggest that the ghost is dead, as this will Anger it and cause it to attack."</blockquote>


    That sounded familiar.


    I must have stared at that card for a while because Serenity nudged me out of my daze.


    I started to figure out how this game must work. Eventually, this game must stop being a game, assuming you intentionally take it in that direction by invoking a real ghost. At this point, this card would either help summon a ghost or help yers understand what to do when such a ghost appears.


    We had already dealt with ghosts who attacked when they found out they were dead. In fact, some of us had been such spirits.


    Serenity rolled well and moved into the servants quarters upstairs. This was where things started to get spicy.


    She drew a card like mine, one that would let her ask a spirit what weapon had been used to kill them. Hers had no strings attached other than that she had to be near a window, which she was.


    She yed the card.


    Instead of selecting one of the little stic murder weapons from the box, she picked up the boning knife she had brought with her, the very same one her brother swore was used to kill Jedediah Geist.


    Spirit, she said, winding the bell, Is this the knife that killed you?


    The bell ticked, but in the end, it didnt ring.


    Lame! Brenda said as the bell failed to ring. You said that was the one.


    My brother swore it was! Serenity said.


    The third NPC, whose name was Keisha, asked, Do you think one of these might be it? She gestured around the room to the numerous weapons lying about. People have beening here since he died. One of these has to be it.


    Indeed.


    The game moved on. Bobby almost identally went back inside the room with the angry ghost but realized his mistake before he did. He managed to pick up two cards but didnt y either.


    Antoine made it to the Trophy Room and asked a spirit in there whether he sought revenge. That must have been all he could do. The answer was yes. Antoine ripped out a ghost sheet and ced it in that room.


    Cassie had a question card that let her ask a spirit as many questions as she wanted as long as the answer was yes. She was in the Dining Room when she used it.


    She followed in Serenitys footsteps and grabbed a real weapon. Of course, unlike Serenity, we knew the actual murder weapon was a firece poker. She grabbed one with a silver handle. I didnt think that was it, but I couldnt be sure. All we had seen was the rest of the set and a blurry picture.


    Is this the weapon that killed you? Cassie asked.


    The answer was no. Her unlimited questions were cut short.


    Kimberly found the master bedroom and ended her turn. She didnt have a murder weapon question.


    In ying the game before the storyline, we learned that asking the ghost their name first was a mistake, as other yers coulde along and ask it again, canceling out your question. The NPC didnt seem above such an act of sabotage. If you asked for the murder weapon first, you locked the ghost in, and only you could question it.


    That was our strategy. Unfortunately, I didnt know the meta of Reply the Departed. I was sure nerds on the inte would have it all figured out, but I didn''t have time to.


    Dina took her turn and traveled further down the hall. It didnt matter. I had other ns for her.


    As soon as it was my turn, I moved my character next to the window in the library, picked up a card that let me ask a ghosts name, and then used the card I got earlier to summon the Outsider to my room and ask about the murder weapon.


    It was a good strategy. Dina and I would both get a chance. We could each ask once so we didnt risk enraging it. I could then ask again because of my repeated question card if I wanted to risk making it angry.


    Dina nodded her head as she moved her character into the room.


    Wait, Serenity said. Where are Brenda and Keisha?


    She looked around the room. Sure enough, the other two NPCs had wandered off.


    Probably went to the bathroom, I said.


    I got up to select another one of the firece pokers. There were two good contenders. Both were the right color, but I couldnt remember the exact trim.


    I think we should check on them, Serenity insisted.


    We didnt want that. It was pretty clear that Carousel knew we were on to something, and it was trying to make plot things happen. That would be undesirable on many levels.


    You know, Isaac said, I think they ditched us. Were better off without them.


    Serenity wasnt pleased, but we pushed forward.


    Spirit, I asked. Is this the weapon that killed you? I held out one of the pokers.


    I wound the bell. It didnt ring.


    I just want to know where they went, Serenity said. Then we can finish. I know they didnt go out the front door. They have to be in the house, right?


    Dina quickly repeated my question but with the other poker.


    Is this the weapon that killed you? she asked, holding the third poker.


    We waited long enough that I thought we had failed.


    Then, after what felt like an eternity.


    Briiiiinnnnnnggg.


    I couldn''t help but cheer. We knew that once we had selected the right murder weapon, we would certainly be able to identify the ghost as having belonged to Jedediah Geist. Of course, the bell could have just rung by chance, but that didn''t seem likely.


    Wed done it. Now, no matter what happenedter in the storyline, we had seeded. We knew which firece poker Lillian Geist had used to kill Jed Geist. The same one the mysterious woman had brought to this house to talk to Jed Geist. With the right weapon, we could perform this ritual without triggering the Omen because of our Licenses.


    All we had to do was make sure there was no further information in this storyline we needed to know.


    Oh, and we needed to survive, but that goes without saying.


    We were pping and cheering at having identified the right poker. It made no sense within the story. Still, we didnt care.


    Somewhere upstairs, a scream sounded so loud it drowned out our celebration. The house shook. It might have just been the wind, but it sure felt eerie. A door mmed as soon as the scream stopped.


    I sighed.


    We could rescue the NPCs now if we had to.


    Someone had better be dead, Isaac said loudly for all to hear.


    What a coincidence. First blood had just passed.

 Arc II, Chapter 50: Dont Pull Any Threads

    Arc II, Chapter 50: Don''t Pull Any Threads


    The blood-curdling scream demanded a conga line of concerned friends running upstairs. It was one of the oldest rules in horror movie history. Everyone goes to the scene of the blood-curdling scream.


    Antoine took the lead.


    The others cried out, Brenda and Keisha in their most concerned voices.


    I ran and screamed right along with them.


    Antoine found the door that had mmed. He immediately started twisting the knob with all his might, throwing his shoulder against it.


    Its stuck somehow, he said. It might have another lock on the inside.


    Dina came forward and messed with the handle. Its not locked, she said. She bent down and peered through the keyhole. Theres something in the way. A dresser, maybe.


    Alright, Antoine said, Give me some room. Turn the knob.


    He waved us all back. Dina stretched her hand out so she could keep the knob turned.


    Antoine kicked the door right below the handle. A loud screech sounded from the other side, and the door opened a few inches.


    Another kick from Antoine. A few more inches.


    Now, he put his shoulder back into it and was able to budge the door. The heavy piece of furniture rocked back from where it had been leaned up against the door. There was a loud thud that made me think the floor was about to give in.


    The door was open enough for us to file inside.


    The object in front of the door wasnt a dresser; it was a wardrobe. Someone had leaned it back against the door using an old floorboard as a lever.


    Where are they? Serenity asked.


    The room appeared empty.


    Antoine shrugged. Someone had to lean that thing over, he said.


    The room was barren except for a mattress and some old nicknacks, some of which were simr to those that I had unpacked from boxes in my free time. They were Jed Geists things.


    I pointed in the only direction the girls could be hiding.


    Antoine followed the gesture and nodded. There was a closet.


    He walked over to it and slowly opened it.


    The blood-curdling scream returned as Brenda ran out of the closet toward Antoine.


    Her scream turned toughter.


    She got him good, too; he jumped back and barely restrained himself from punching her out of instinct.


    You jerk, Antoine said, holding back worse words. He turned and walked out of the room.


    You should have seen your faces! Brenda said as sheughed so hard she could barely breathe.


    We were all a little shaken up. The scream had been convincing.


    Youve had your fun, Isaac said. I hate it when people dont take board games seriously.


    I was just kidding! Brenda said gleefully. She looked around the room, and a curious expression took over her face. Wheres Keisha?


    Hahaha, I said. Were not falling for that again.


    Brenda still had traces of her smile, but a growing concern cast shadows on her eyes. No, Im serious. Was she not down there with you?


    None of us took her inquiries seriously. We stayed in lockstep. We werent going to pull threads that might escte the plot.


    Brenda pranked us. Keisha being missing was a prank too. Nothing was going on.


    Normally, being deliberately obtuse could cause problems, but we knew that this storyline could be run without fully revealing the nature of Carousel to stubborn newbies.


    New yers would think everything was an borate prank. The Paragons had told us this about the first storyline. If that was true, then refusing to pull plot threads could be an effective strategy for staying safe.


    If we never reacted to Carousels prodding, then the story would stay a safe, spooky tale.


    We werent going to do anything that strong-willed skeptics fresh off the carriage to Carousel wouldnt do.


    Having NPCs prank us was actually a good y by Carousel. It was a ssic of both middle-grade and young-adult horror. Heck, even <em>The Mummy</em> indulged in the trope.


    Pranks are an excellent way to solidify a character as a skeptic by giving them ammunition for dismissing the paranormal.


    Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, Oh god, were all going to die!


    Brenda became more and more adamant that Keisha wasnt with her as we moved back toward the stairs. Kimberly and Cassie stayed with her to listen to her and reassure her.


    The rest of us were ready to get out of there.


    Before we could find our way, we heard another scream.


    What now? Antoine asked, still shaken by the previous jump scare.


    It was Brenda again, but she wasnt screaming to scare us. The house was designed so that the upstairs doors could be seen by someone sitting in the center of the living room on ground lev hallway wrapped around the second floor.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    In the hallway opposite the staircase was Keisha.


    She looked genuinely frightened. She was crying. Her arm was held up against the wall as if someone were holding her there. Behind her was a shadow that was so faint it could be missed by anyone who couldnt see it on the red wallpaper.


    Bradley Speirs (Deceased).


    The shadow vanished no sooner than we looked at it.


    Keisha fell forward and caught herself against the rail.


    A message appeared on the red wallpaper, Stick to the n?


    Dina was asking on the team''s behalf using her Pen Pal trope. We still had the opportunity to y it cool here. The shadow was not apparent to anyone who wasnt looking for it. A viewer would have to pause the screen to see it if they were watching this movie.


    I had to answer her question. Do we engage, or do we not?


    The real question was, was Carousel just messing with us, prodding and teasing us, or was it intent on making this easy storyline harder than ever before?


    If it was going to make this storyline difficult, why would it not have just done that when we first arrived? Why bother creating The Ten Second Game if it was just going to escte the difficulty here?


    I had to make a decision, and I had only moments to consider it.


    If you guys keep doing this, nobodys going to have any fun tonight, I said.


    I was going all in on skepticism. The beauty of that decision was that we could change our mindster if forced, but if we chose to act like we were in danger, we could never take it back.


    Kimberly took my cue. Hes right, she said. Were here to have a good time, and this is getting out of hand.


    You think Im lying? Keisha said through tears.


    I didnt want my character to see the tears, as that would make it harder to dismiss her ims.


    Lets go back down, I said.


    I practically jogged to the stairs. The others followed.


    We went Off-Screen as soon as my foot hit the stairs. Antoine was right behind me.


    We still going to try to talk to Geist tonight? he asked.


    When we nned everything out, we werent sure if we would be able to. Now that we had a good idea of which poker killed him, we could contact him before the storyline ended.


    Lets not tempt Carousel. I dont think it will escte if we dont force it, I said. Lets not get greedy. We know which poker was the murder weapon. We end the story, and then we contact Geist on our own terms.


    How certain can we be that this is the right weapon? Antoine asked.


    It was a good question. Our whole theory revolved around two things. First, we knew that the magical rituals that were at the center of Reply the Departed and the Ten Second Game required the user to be at the same time, ce, and with the correct murder weapon. It would be strange if there were another ghost who matched all of those requirements, having been killed here with a firece poker.


    Second, we had to assume that Carousel wasnt just jerking us around. After the realization that The Ten Second Game was a ruse designed to hide the poker from us, it took a lot of faith to believe that Carousel wouldnt have another trick up its sleeve, but we had no cards in this game, so to speak. We had to trust that Carousel would allow us to obtain the MacGuffin once we had earned it. We had no other choice. No leverage. No tricks. It was simple: either Carousel was going to let us earn a win, or it was just going to mess with us for eternity.


    We had figured out its deception. That had to be enough. The Game at Carousel had to be winnablenot for our sake, but for the sake of the audience, the one true higher power by which even Carousel was limited.


    The audience wanted to see what was next. Keeping us clueless and trapped at the beginning was terrible for business.


    Its tempting to ask for the name. Its tempting to ask a million questions, I said. We need to dial things back. This is just a spooky story. Goosebumps. Thats it. We wait until we are out of the storyline to talk to Geist. The only reason we are running this storyline at all is to make sure we didnt miss story info.


    Antoine nodded. After so long of waiting to talk to Jed Geist, it was hard to go without confirming we had the right weapon, but we had to.


    We walked back downstairs and sat back around the game board. We went back to On-Screen. We were shaken, but we made sure to y the scene as if we thought Keishas ravings were part of a prank.


    We cant keep ying, Serenity said. We have to leave.


    We couldnt do that. Leaving right after First Blood wasnt possible. Carousel would stop us, or worse, it would expand the scope of the story so that escape didnt help us.


    Havent you ever seen a movie? I said with a forced smirk, We cant leave until we finish the game. Thats how this works.


    Iughed like my suggestion was a joke, but it wasnt. It was a signal to my teammates of the battle n and a statement to Carousel itself. I was using improvisation, but more than that, I was suggesting terms of engagement for Carousel.


    Go ahead and finish your spooky little ghost story. We arent going to escte. We arent going to run. We finish the board game; we go home. Thats our offerstrict Jumanji rules.


    And if Carousel didnt ept?


    We would be ready. We would have to be.


    Turn after turn, we yed Reply the Departed. As we yed, Carousel yed, too.


    Creaking floorboards, subtleughter upstairs that could have been the wind, and all manner of paranormal activity tempted to appear, but we never fell for it.


    Why dont we ask a spirit if this killed it? Serenity asked, reaching for Antoines bat. He quickly moved it out of the way.


    I just bought that for himst week, Kimberly said, with a new use of Convenient Backstory, It was fresh off the line. I doubt anyone has been killed with it.


    Serenitys smile disappeared.


    It appeared our gambit was sessful. This story really was straightforward as long as you let it be.


    Eventually, though, Bobby got a card that he was forced to y.<blockquote><strong>y this card as soon as it is drawn</strong>. A blue light shines through the library window. Any yers currently in that room must escape before the end of their next turn, or they will lose two turns.</blockquote>


    A blue light. That was another thing that sounded familiar.


    Fortunately, none of us were in the library, as that was where the ghost sheet with Jed Geists information was left upleted.


    Still, as soon as he yed the card, the living room got brighter, and a blue light appeared in one of the rooms down the hall.


    Shit, Isaac said, The cops are here.


    He really sold it, too. He struggled to get out of his chair and made a scene of falling over the armrest


    Never mind, he said. False rm. Its gone. Were good.


    That blue light was Second Blood, which made no sense until I realized that Keisha had somehow left the room without anyone noticing.


    We yed on.


    Most of us had collected two ghosts, being sure only to use the stic props as murder weapons so as not to tempt Carousel.


    Serenity constantly teased us on behalf of Carousel. It wasnt just the bat thing. She was still trying to talk to Jed Geist. She almost talked to him, too. Luckily, we were all working against her. We made sure she never seeded at summoning any ghosts.


    Finally, Kimberly got a lucky streak as she collected her third spirit.


    The game was over. We all cheered.


    Despite its many temptations, Carousel never managed to trick us into making Reply the Departed anything more than it was originally meant to be: a creepy little game meant to be yed with the lights on.


    Dina kept hold of the firece poker we had concluded was the weapon used to kill Jed Geist as we stood up to leave.


    Were done already? Keisha asked, reappearing from wherever in the house she had been.


    Yep, Kimberly answered. She wanted to say more but thought better of it. The needle on the plot cycle wasnt quite to The End yet.


    It didnt get there until we packed up the game and were officially outside of the house.


    Of course, we all survived. Except for Keisha, who had, upon returning to the group, inexplicably leveled up from Plot Armor or 3 to a much more respectable 55. She walked with a grin so wide it would make a crocodile jealous, and when she felt fresh air, I could hear herughing.


    Ss didn''t appear to us. We had taken the easy route and the firece poker was our only reward.


    We walked to our room with the weapon. We were afraid to cheer. The whole exercise had been stressful. Carousel had made sure of that with its constant threat of esction.


    None of that mattered anymore. We had lived.


    We had a ghost to interview.


    And I had so many questions.

 Arc II, Chapter 51: The Séance Part One

    Arc II, Chapter 51: The S¨¦ance Part One


    The renovated version of Jed Geists house, acting as a deluxe suite for a hip, modern resort, had been an incredible vacation.


    I didnt realize that while we were there. I could only focus on the negatives: the dark shadows cast in the windows, the oppressive luxury that seemed to mock us as we struggled for our freedom, the memory of having fought for our lives there in a storyline, the fact that the resort staff got our room service orders wrong half the time.


    Now, in the cramped little room we had been given after the modern resort returned to its run-down state from years prior, I realized just how lucky we had been.


    I supposed that this little room, which never made ims of being deluxe or even a suite, was the room that most newbies would be ced in for the Tutorial. How better to encourage yers to get out and interact with the world than to put them up here?


    This ce was a masterpiece in insipid horror. We could hear fighting in the room next to ours, fighting that always ended in a loud thud and the tenant moving out quickly. We never actually saw these people. They werent a storyline; they were just part of the environmental orchestra.


    The mini fridge made a dull buzzing sound and clicked erratically. The television would turn on on its own. Someone kept calling our phone and saying ominous things that sounded like code contract killers might use to talk about their work.


    The beds were small, the nkets itchy, and the shower always ran cold.


    I missed Dyers Lodge. I missed the simplicity of that life, even though I had not seen it as simple back then.


    Iy awake on a cot. It was daytime, but we were going to spend the night talking to Jedediah Geist, so we needed to sleep.


    Despite the room, everyone else had seeded. Antoine was out like a light, thanks to my trope of the same name.


    I could see it under his hand as he slept on one of the twin beds with Kimberly. Together, they were far too big for the bed, but they made it work. Funny, there were no more cots or beds. It was as if Carousel knew they would sleep in the same ce.


    If I could sneak over there, I could probably take my ticket back. I could be asleep without a care in the world. After a while, it would reappear in my possession anyway, but that hadnt happened yet. No one would ever know


    But I didnt want to risk it. I really didnt want to give Antoine the impression I resented him for using that trope. He needed help drifting off, even if he was reluctant to say it. He was hiding the severity of his problems from us. I had tried to make it seem so casual that I gave up my magical instant sleeping trope, but in truth, I wished I could use it instead. Insomnia was one of the reasons I had watched so many movies growing up.


    I decided to watch a movie instead of sleeping. That was one advantage I had over everyone else: I had built-in entertainment of sorts. My Directors Monitor trope let me watch our old storylines on a screen on the red wallpaper.


    It wasnt a fun time, usually, but it did upy my mind. I felt like I was seeing the fingerprints of Carousel itself as I watched us struggle to survive. If could just reconstruct its thought process, I might be able to help guide my team even better.


    Like this most recent storyline, <em>Reply the Departed</em>. It was corny, short, and less intense than most of the stories we yed through, but there was something to learn from watching Carousel turn a bunch of footage of young people ying a board game into a spooky spectacle that would have scared most young teens with its jump scares and building dread.


    We were not the main characters. That was something of a trend. Keisha was the main character, remarkably. We were just the friends who didnt believe her as she struggled to escape the house.


    As we yed the game, the events on the board were reflected throughout the house. Dina talked to a ghost who was killed with a mallet. An apparition appeared, apparently killed in the same way, watching us from the upstairs balcony.


    I had no idea at the time.


    Keishas character managed to get lost twice: once when they decided to prank us and again when she was trying to find a way out. The front door was locked. I didnt even remember her trying to open it, but Carousel had shot some footage of it, probably when we werent in the house anymore.


    It was funny, knowing theyout of the house by heart, that someone could get lost in it. It wasrge and had many rooms, but the entire floor n centered around the living room. No ce in the house was more than two turns and a hallway from finding us.


    Despite this, Carousel used fancy shots and angles to make it look like she was good and truly lost in a maze inside a creepy old manor. It had done something simr in the Astralist when I was being chased by a zombie.


    Impressive.


    When that movie was over, I rewatched <em>Cold-Blooded Things</em>. My friends and I only appeared in a quarter of it. Lillian was the tragic main character.


    It was in this movie that I got a glimpse of some of the Geists. Though I learned suspiciously little about them.


    Lillians father was Steven Geist, brother of Carlyle and Jedediah. He was a small man who had punched above his weight ss in pretty much every aspect of his life, from business to romance. He wore expensive clothes, and he was truly proud of his daughters beauty.


    The film followed her from beauty queen to her injury to her interactions with Jedediah. Jedediah might have been seventy years old in the movie, maybe younger. The film tried to portray him as casting her aside, but the only objective evidence of that was his shock at her appearance after the caecilians were put on her face.


    Before that, their interactions were cut up, spliced together, and involved little dialogue. Carousel was hiding something. A casual viewer might not know it, but I suspected that there was more to Lillian and Jedediahs interactions than the film portrayed.


    In fact, if Howard Halle hadnt been there to exin that Jedediah had put her in his care, a viewer might never have learned that. That was basically Halles job, exining things that Carousel couldnt get good footage for.


    The murder of Geist happened at the midpoint and was not presented as a mystery but as a tragic action by a psychologically devastated woman. She then lived in a sedated stupor until my friends and I showed up to try to solve his murder. We were presented as clowns. How else could we be presented? The audience already knew who the killer was.


    When I finally exposed Cecilia as Lillian Geist, she snapped out of it, and the movie ended with her dying from her fight with Halle. That wasnt how it actually went down, of course. That meant that Carousel either reshot things or used old footage. Perhaps jumping into a giant skin frogs mouth wasnt a proper ending.


    My friends escape was only shown in a montage over sad music. The End


    Can you stop messing with that? I asked as the credits rolled.


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    Isaac awoke at some point during the second movie and found an old radio in the hotel room. He was insistent on ying with it. He found a channel on the radio which appeared to y music exclusively performed by singers in duress. asionally, the whispered words Keep singing could be heard as the singers tried to perform through tears.


    Sorry, Isaac said. This thing is freaky.


    The others were waking up, preparing for our night-time sance.


    I tried remembering the early parts of Lillians life, the faces of her family. Truthfully, her father was the only person who was identified. The rest involved scenes with NPCs who were all obsessed with her beauty, a high school boy in her grade, a college professor, and the guests at the first annual Miss Carousel pageant.


    Anytime someone wouldment on her looks, I could see something in her eye. An alertness, a distrust.


    I couldnt help but feel Carousel had left some parts of the movie out on purpose, but I couldnt prove it. How hard would it be to edit up a version of the film that gave very little information? Technically, yers should not have a trope to watch the movie on their first run of the Tutorial.


    It was time to get up.


    I could almost throw up from the nerves, but I didnt want to get my face anywhere near thatmode in the hotel room.


    I went outside for some fresh air.


    The sun was setting, and the sky danced with colorsred, orange, pink, more red, blood red.


    I pulled the little metal bell from my pocket.


    Soon, it would be time.


    Are you sure about this? Antoine said.


    I nodded. I had just gone over my n for the sance onest time.


    We were going to y the Ten Second Game instead of Reply the Departed. Our license gave us the option of doing either type of sance. Reply the Departed was just a board game and was likely much safer, but it had one drawback: in order to talk to Geist face to face, we would have to rely on luck of the draw. Otherwise, we would be stuck with yes or no questions.


    The Ten Second Game was more dangerous, but we could talk to Geist as soon as he showed up and talk to him directly.


    It was a risk we needed to take.


    We dont know how many shots we get at this, I said. It may just be the once. We could be pushed into the third storyline after this is over, and then we might not have the information we need for the true ending. We need to talk to him directly.


    Antoine didnt seem sure, but he wasnt going to say no. He always had to project strength.


    Order of operations, Kimberly said. She held a list of all of the questions we hade up with, including a few joke questions that Isaac had contributed in jest. Unfortunately, we werent going to ask Jedediah Geist about updog or his underclothes. Luckily, Isaac also had some good ideas to add in. Everyone did. We were all fully invested. We decided to put off talking about Lillian until the end, but other than that, we will follow his lead and try to get him to talk about Ss and the nature of Carousel, if possible.


    I nodded.


    We dont know how aware he is, I said. If he has meta knowledge, we need to find out. Other than that, we need to figure out why the Geists appear to be cursed.


    That was the n.


    We walked through the woods around to the other side of the hill. The house was still rundown, with police tape everywhere. I had secretly wished that it would transform back to its renovated self, but it never did.


    We entered. Isaac invoked the spirits, or whatever it was called, where we announced our intention of ying the Ten Second Game that night. The creepypasta rules had seemed pretty straightforward.


    Then, it was time to wait until three oclock at nightthe witching hour. There was no good ce to sleep or wait in the house. Everything was decrepit and dusty.


    Maybe we should tidy up? Kimberly suggested, gesturing to the weapons spread in every direction.


    That was a good idea. Everyone pitched in, throwing the dangerous knives, hammers, and other deadly things outside. We didnt need them around if things went wrong.


    The mirrors were covered, and the doors were all locked except for those leading to the individual rooms, which stayed open.


    Remember, I said, Blue light means run. Dont tell Jed hes dead.


    Do you think his name is Jed because hes dead? Isaac asked. Carousel would do something like that. Give someone a name that rhymes with dead. It makes sense.


    Maybe, I said. Sometimes names are just names.


    Three oclock got there early that night. Carousel could change the time of day, and it was clearly willing to do so as we used our sance licenses.


    Last chance to back out, I said. Anyone wants to leave? Nows the time.


    No one moved. We had waited for this moment too long.


    Three oclock.


    Dina and I took the first shift. Bell in hand, we entered the nearest room and lined up in front of the window. Dina carried the firece poker. We had agreed to keep it out of sight, so she slipped it into her purse, which could contain it thanks to her Luggage Tag.


    I was still queasy. Dina was solid. Prepared. Ready.


    I wound the bell and waited.


    It rang.


    We waited for the first sign of a spirit. I had forgotten how difficult it was to see them ying the Ten Second Game. They were subtle, easily mistakable for a branch moving or a trick of the light.


    But eventually, I saw one.


    Are you Jedediah Geist, I asked. I rewound the bell.


    Tick, Tick, Tick.


    No ring.


    It was a dud. Even though Jedediah Geist should show up because we had met the right conditions, that didnt mean other curious ghosts couldnte too.


    We asked it questions about what it wanted and the like. It gave typical answers to our yes and no questions. Eventually, it got bored and left.


    Dina and I backed out of the room.


    No luck, I said. Whos next?


    Us, Antoine said. At first, I thought he meant him and Kimberly, but he meant Bobby. It made sense. Thest time Antoine had yed this game with Kimberly, she had gotten dragged out of the house and killed.


    Dina handed over the poker. I gave them the bell.


    I found a ce to sit and waited.


    Antoine and Bobby didnt find anything either.


    Neither did Cassie and I, nor Antoine and Isaac.


    Ill go next, Kimberly said.


    You can just wait, Antoine said. Helle.


    Kimberly shook her head. I think Carousel is waiting for me. We cant avoid this.


    Antoine understood that Kimberly was going to be in danger a lot in storylines, but this license was something new. We didnt know what could happen. Carousel could be tricking us. Suddenly, Antoine was feeling protective.


    Come on, Dina, Kimberly said. She ushered Dina forward, and they took the bell and poker to another room.


    We waited.


    The first ring of the bell would mean they found a ghost. The second should mean they found the right one.


    The bell rang. Momentster, it rang again.


    Everyone in the living room was alert all of a sudden.


    That meant they had confirmed their ghost was Jedediah Geist.


    The next part was crucial. There were two ways of letting the ghost in. Looking behind them instead of at the window and simply opening the window. We preferred the second option. That was the safer one in our experience.


    I heard the old window being coaxed open.


    Momentster, the temperature dropped in the room, and I heard Kimberly say from the other room, Hello, Mr. Geist. So d to see you.


    Always d to see me, a gruff voice said. Always a sight for sore eyes, just the guy you want to see. Now, why dont you cut the bologna?


    Antoine, Bobby, and I filed into the room. Now that we had a ghost in our midst, we could have more than two people enter the room at a time.


    I cautiously stepped around the door and found myself face to face with the man I had just seen while watching Cold-Blooded ThingsJedediah Geist, wearing a ratty bathrobe, surprisingly well-groomed despite his state of dress.


    He had a gash in the side of his head. I could see his skull; a bit of gray matter glittered in the moonlight.


    Jedediah Geist, The ck Sheep


    (Wandering Spirit)


    Plot Armor: 45


    Geist


    Tropes


    The Tormented


    This entity is out of the ordinary, but you dont know why.


    Death Delusion


    This entity is not aware it is dead.


    Dont Wake the Beast


    This entity is asleep or in a simr condition. They will not stir without outside intervention. Waking them will transform them into a more dangerous form that ys by different tropes.


    Walking Crime Scene


    This entitys ghostly form reveals clues as to the nature of its demise.


    shback Monologue


    This viin has a story to tell or, rather, to show.


    Mr. Geist, Kimberly said, trying to sound gentle and non-threatening. We were here to ask you a few questions about your life.


    I know who you are, Jedediah Geist said. I know why youre here.


    My heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that Jedediah Geist was meta-aware? That could be a best-case scenario.


    Oh? Kimberly asked.


    Geist nodded. He eyed her with distrust, and his jaw quivered with old man rage. Youre one of them, he said. Youre trying to trap me. Just admit it. Youre all trying to get me like you did my family. But you wont. Im onto you. Ive always been onto you. I nearly thought youd given up.


    He knew something alright. He knew this world was not as simple as it looked at first nce. The question was: how much did he know?

 Arc II, Chapter 52: The Séance Part Two

    Arc II, Chapter 52: The S¨¦ance Part Two


    Were not here to trap you, Kimberly said. Honest. We know something strange is happening here, and we think that you do too.


    Geists face didnt budge.


    Strange? he said. This isnt strange. I suspect that things have always been this way. The only people who know for sure are conspirators. Are you with them?" he paused only for a moment. "Dont answer. Dont tell me youre on my side. Ill forego that reassurance if it spares me another round of lies. Do you want to know what is strange about Carousel and my family? Ill never stop telling that story as long as I live. To silence me, they''ll have to kill me.


    He scratched his forehead, right next to the gash where Lillian Geist had beat his brains in.


    Now, get on with your questions. Before you ask, I will not be going with you to the supposed Centennial, he said.


    Kimberly took a breath. You think were here to bring you to the Centennial?


    He sat down on the broken bed in the room and leaned against the headboard for support. I am not a fool. I read in the paper that the Centennial has returned. I knew it would only be a matter of time before you all tried to pry me down the hill. You are nothing if not predictable.


    No, were not Kimberly started to say, but Antoine put his hand on her shoulder.


    You said supposed Centennial, Antoine said softly. Is this not the real Centennial?


    Jedediah began tough heartily.


    My father was sessful as long as I knew him and for many years before I was born, but I doubt even he could have founded the town before he even knew his letters. They reported it would be the Centennial three years ago, too. I guess they didnt expect me to lock myself in my house the whole week through. Thought they would try that trap again." He let loose another round ofughs. "They could never pull this sort of nonsense when my family was alive. My rtives were a bit slow on the uptake, but even they knew basic math. A Centennial in 1989, and again in 1992. They must think they are hrious. No, no, they throw their Centennial Celebrations to twist the knife. They know I am their prisoner, and now they unt it.


    He was aware that the Centennial date was off in some manner. It didnt sound like he knew about the continuity loop, but he did know they had thrown it before. I had the strongest urge to ask who he meant when he said, They, but I didnt want to derail the conversation just yet. I would save that question.


    You say your family wasnt aware of the strange nature of Carousel? I asked.


    Jedediah thought for a moment.


    What they knew and what they chose to believe, I couldnt say. You spend your life having the red carpet rolled out for you; you might be afraid to stray from it, too. Even if the carpet leads somewhere horrifying, you push the thought away. You want to believe that you are just that capable, that well-loved, that beautiful, that lucky. Youll walk the red carpet until it leads you off a cliff. I dont me them. As much as I tried to convince them that there was something wrong, that we were ythings to some conspiratorial oppressor, to Dyrkon, I never did have proof. We Geists wererger than life but notrger than death.


    Jedediah was aware. Lillian was aware that something was wrong, but she coped by going along with it and ying her role as the beauty queen that the town of Carousel hadid out for her. It sounded like Jedediah took a different route.


    Lets start from the beginning, Antoine said. Can you tell us about growing up as a Geist?


    Jedediah chuckled.


    I had an ordinary childhood, he said. I know that is hard to believe, but its true. My family was sessful, and no one had breathed a word of any Geist Curse until I was already grown. We summered in the Carousel Hills on Lake Crescent. We took ski trips to Snowblind in the winter. My father worked incessantly, but I thought all fathers did that, so I was content. My mother was my best friend back then. She was quite pleased with that. Carlyle and Steven wanted to grow up so fast, but I agreed to be her little boy. She was the one who taught me to ride my bicycle and how to dress my scraped elbows. My brothers were older than me by a decade. They wanted little to do with me at that age, so I was socialized with the helps children. Nothing untoward happened until until I was twelve.


    As he spoke, images appeared on the red wallpaper. shbacks. I saw him dressed up all proper, chasing frogs by a pond next to one of the Geist Mansions, though it was too small to be the one that burned down. I saw him watching his brothers talk to girls through an ornate ss window. At the end, I saw him sneaking through a hallway in darkness.


    He paused. I wanted him to continue, but before I could ask him to, Kimberly spoke.


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    Your mother, she said. She passed, right?


    Jedediah nodded. When I was fifteen. I was alone in the world after that.


    She looked at us suspiciously, and it was only then that I realized what was odd. As he spoke, there was no shback footage of his mothernone whatsoever.


    Without prompting, Jed continued.


    It was hard enough after I was twelve, but without her, I was alone with my secret and no one to talk to. I chose to believe it was all a dream, he said.


    What was all a dream? I asked.


    The shback returned to the dark hallway, to young Jedediah Geist walking slowly toward the sound of whispers.


    The meeting, he said. It was the first time I ever saw Ss Dyrkon in the flesh. I had seen posters with his name and those mechanical contraptions on street corners before for tourists. I knew of the man, and I had heard the stories, so when I saw him, I recognized him. He was striking, intimidating.


    Jedediah continued talking, but the shback immediately took me aback. It was Ss Dyrkon. Actually seeing him was a shock. He was a tall man who could have been a celebrity by his looks and poise. Not the image I had of a banker. He had dark hair and piercing eyes. The mannequin in the Ss the Showman boxes was clearly modeled after him, but they did not do the man justice. He nced down the dark hallway in the direction of Jedediah, but he said nothing. Wasnt looking at Jedediah. He was staring right at me. That meant he was looking right into the camera.


    He smiled a devilish smile and then returned his attention to the man I knew to be Bartholomew Geist. My heart nearly jumped from my chest.


    He had looked at the camera.


    I could barely contain my shock. I heard a rustle in the hall where Isaac or Cassie had jumped back in surprise at the revtion.


    Jedediah continued.


    I had never seen my father like this, he said. He was soft-spoken and respectful. He had never been those things before.


    In my mind I saw it. Bartholomew Geist presented an impressive figure, but at this moment, he was clearly not in charge.


    I dont have the money to continue expansion, Bartholomew said, I dont mean to doubt you. I only meant that these new ns, another hospital, more neighborhoods. We cant even fill the homes we have. The city is hardly producing taxes. I cant bear this burden myself.


    Bartholomew Geist didn''t make eye contact with Dyrkon.


    I thought this is what you wanted, Ss said. You want to be the owner of your own tourist destination. You want control. You wanted to run the show.


    Yes, but


    You can take on more partners. That worked in the past, remember? I know of a man who could bring in an impressive hospital, not like the shoddy deathtrap you built for me. He could bring in a state-of-the-art sewer system along with it. No need to worry about bad workmanship. Let me take care of it.


    I didnt know what kind ofwear would be put upon the structures when you instructed me to build it. It was always a temporary facility, after all. We can build a new one in a few years once we can get proper taxes from the townsfolk. We need people to move to Carousel, thats all. Taxes are the answer.


    Dyrkon moved closer to Bartholomew and whispered. I cannot bring in more residents without the facilities you promised. I asked for sets. I asked for locations. You chose to be cheap. I have stories to tell. I would hate for you to go back on your part of the bargain. Our contract was unambiguous.


    Bartholomew sighed, beaten.


    What kind of partner? The partners you have suggested in the past have been


    I assure you, Dyrkon said. The man I have in mind is nothing if not a professional. He even cleans up his messes. All he needs is a home in the Carousel Hills and a lot for his hospital to be constructed on.


    I assume. I hope my family will be exempt from whatever entricities he brings?


    Dyrkonughed. Ill tell you what. I give you my personal guarantee that Dr. Halle will use his skills in support of the health of you and yours.


    Dr. Halle Bartholomew said. If he will never touch my kin with murderous intent or effect, then I agree.


    Ss and Bartholomew shook hands.


    Jedediah had been talking this whole time, but I was devoting all of my attention to the shback.


    Thats when the man appeared. I thought he was an ordinary man. Perhaps he had been hiding in the corner, but I had not yet realized what I had seen.


    In the shback, I saw Dr. Howard Halle step nervously into view from the direction of the firece. He observed his surroundings cautiously.


    Ss introduced the two men. They shook hands. Bartholomew looked defeated.


    Onto another matter, Ss said. You asked about bringing in new citizens. Lets start with these.


    He handed Bartholomew a folder like the kind awyer might use.


    Bartholomew looked at it intensely, leafing through it.


    Spouses? he asked. My children are far too young for this. I thank you for your consideration, but this is too much. Thank you.


    You asked for abundance for your line. This is what I have provided: perfect additions to the Geist family tree, perfect families to popte Carousel. Its been done. I assure you that these matches are superb. I guarantee that given a free choice, these are the matches your sons would choose for themselves.


    Bartholomew read the page aloud. Carlyle Steven Jedediah. Jedediah is too young even to think about girls. Is he supposed to wed this Harriet girl at his age? I really must obje- This really is too much.


    You dont object, Ss said, putting his hand on Bartholomews shoulder. I assure you, you do not object. You asked for this. Ive brought it to you. Be grateful, as your sons will be. Besides, look at their families. Allpetent, industrious lines. Well-bred, as you would say. As good as if you had picked them yourself.


    Bartholomew didnt answer for a time, but then he said softly, Thank you.


    Young Jedediah had a curious look on his face as if he didnt quite understand what he had just seen.


    He scampered back down the hall in the shadows.


    My father had just gotten home from a long trip. I thought if I caught him before he went to sleep, Jedediah Geist said, Maybe he would have a treat for me before my brothers showed up to take it. I didnt understand what I had heard. I forgot it. I simply told myself it was all a dream. It had to be. It had to be a dream until I met <em>her</em>: Harriet, the girl of my dreams. Long auburn hair, a smile so beautiful, so discreet, you thought she was sharing it only with you. Harriet, the love of my life. Harriet, the woman they sent just for me.

 Arc II, Chapter 53: The Séance Part Three

    Arc II, Chapter 53: The S¨¦ance Part Three


    The shback changed.


    I saw a young Jedediah alone in the schoolyard. Another child, whom I could assume was a bully, was skulking around the yard. He had all the telltale signs: a mean look, rolled-up sleeves, and a small posse. Jedediah was rmed. He wandered off, looking for safety. He was in a utility closet of some kind.


    Of course, when he emergedter, the bully was right there waiting for him.


    In my life, it was like everyone knew where I was. I could never understand how that could be. My brothers didnt share my observations. They loved being the center of attention but I sought solitude, and that was something no one would allow.


    He was slowly learning that everyone in town knew who he was. He couldnt hide, and he couldnt be alone in a crowd.


    That same bully must have been a favorite tool of Carousels because momentster, in another memory, I saw him chasing young Jed into the woods, where Jed came upon a grisly scene that looked like somerge animal had attacked a group of vagrants.


    Their bodies had been gnawed on by the look of things. What was more, they were moving. As soon as Jed saw the first twitch, he turned and ran, only to be caught by his bully. He might have gotten beaten just then, but even the little jerk who had been chasing him didnt know how to react to his frenzied look.


    I ran to the police and told them everything. I was so worked up they eventually sent officers to look for the men I had seen, he said, clearly still haunted by the memory. They said there was no one there. One of the officers looked at me and said, Your friends must have been pranking you, kiddo. There were footsteps leading away from the scene. Footsteps I knew what I had seen. Still, I developed a profound fear of the woods. That was particrly troubling no matter which direction you try to go in Carousel, youll find a forest eventually. I was trapped.


    The shback jumped forward. He was older, wore a tux, and was sitting alone at a wedding venue while arge group of well-dressed people enjoyed the festivities.


    My brother Carlyles wedding is where I met Harriet. I saw her across the room and it was like I knew her. I had forgotten what Ss Dyrkon had said for the most part. It had all faded to nothing but a generalized feeling that something was wrong in the world. When I saw her for the first time, I didnt even think about my growing suspicions the whole night. She stole my heart and told people I had stolen hers


    Watching the older, deader Jedediah Geist ry this information sent pangs through my heart. He was in great pain to tell us this.


    They conspired for so many years to force me to go along with their grand schemes. All those years of the stick, all it took was the carrot. I decided that I didnt care if there was some strange conspiracy. I didnt even conceptualize it as a conspiracy then. I only knew the cold stillness in the eyes of those who worked together to force me into traps. When I was a young man, the Geists were not dying off yet, but we each experienced in our own time horrifying things. Off-putting things. Death. Carnage. We were always on its periphery. The rumors of witchcraft and ghouls felt so possible to us. Our friends would go missing. That group of dead vagrants in the woods was not thest I would see. Our fate had not found us yet, but it was circling.


    I saw it all: various people who must have been Geists, a young woman who survived a sher at a slumber party by hiding under the bed, a man swimming fearfully while being stalked in ake by a gigantic creature whose shadow lurked just below the murky depths, and Steven Geist with a girl in the back of his old-fashioned car when she started coughing up needles.


    It was normal. We assumed everyone had these experiences. It never hurt us. We were nothing but observers of others'' misfortunes. We were mocked if weined. Besides, our real problems were the townsfolk. The odd misfortune could be chalked up to bad luck. The tabloids, though, the rumor mill, started to talk about us as if we were the cause of everyone elses misfortune.


    A montage of news headlines came through, alleging the Geists were crooks, corrupt, or even devil worshippers.


    It was strange. We were at once reviled and simultaneously hailed as the town''s leading family. My father practically became a mascot. They loved him. The legends might not have been ttering, but they did love to spread them. As this continued, it was time for me to marry. Everyone said so, and my love for Harriet had only grown, but as I contemted this, I knew I would have to ask the question of whether she was in on it. I had never seen the cold, knowing stare from her before as I had seen from the conspirators. I hoped that she was real. The memory of Ss Dyrkon was pushed away until the time to propose ticked closer and closer. I was starting to make some real money at one of my fathers businesses. My life wasing together. Still, I couldnt shake my suspicions and just enjoy it all.


    Jed was in tears as he spoke.


    I needed a test, and I had been nning one for many years. I had only dyed it because I didnt want to know the truth. I went to a travel agent in town. She could sell vacation packages to Snowblind, Lake Crescent, the Lost Oasis, or any number of ces. I searched through them and asked if there was a package to an ind resort. They offered beach packages, but nothing so remote that couldnt be reached by train or small aircraft. I wanted something on the other side of the world. My ns to travel had always been cut short by one thing or another.


    I saw in the shback that the travel agent shook her head at his request.


    Then I told her the one set of words that I knew would change things. I knew in my heart. She had the cold, knowing look, and I knew she was one of them, one of the conspirators. I said, Such a shame. I was hoping to propose to my girlfriend on an ind resort. Are you certain you have nothing like that?


    Her eyes went cold and momentster, she said, As a matter of fact, we did just make a deal for an ind package like the one youre talking about. Its so new I almost forgot about It. I made the purchase, and deep down, I knew what it meant. Carousel is a ball of yarn that unravels in the direction you pull the thread. I heard that somewhere; I dont know where. Still, no amount of good sense could get in the way of a young heart full of love. I decided to go forward with the trip.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    The shback changed. Now Jedediah and his soon-to-be bride were arriving at a beach on a beautiful ind vacation.


    I went forward with the goal of finding more of the conspirators here. These ones were not as adept at hiding their intentions. On the first night at the resort, I started to make love to Harriet, and I knew that I was either going to choose her and leave my doubts behind or I would have to burn it all to the ground. I got off the bed and went to my bag. Our room was open to the ocean. It was a great moment. A big moment. I got down on one knee and said Harriets name. I pulled out the ring, but before I asked the question I rushed to the front door opposite the ocean view and opened it all at once.


    He started tough maniacally.


    Dozens of them, maybe a hundred. All of them stared in the direction of our suite. They were standing perfectly still. They knew what was going on in there. I caught them staring! These ones werent as skilled as the ones back home, heughed again. As soon as I opened the door, they took a brief moment and then started going back about their day.


    There was no denying it from the shback. Those NPCs at the resort looked confused, scared even. They were obviously watching the script as Jed was going to propose and were looking to where the only important thing on the ind was happening.


    I broke up with Harriet that day, that moment, as she tried to exin away what I had just seen. When she knew it was over, for the first time, I saw her eyes grow coldthe cold, knowing look. Finally, I flew back to the only ce they would take me, Carousel. I kept my life to myself. I begged my father to buy me thend where I built this house, and I have been here ever since.


    He started to cackle.


    I know the cold, knowing look. I see it on your faces now, he said.


    The cold, knowing look he was talking about was when our eyes lost focus as we watched the shback on the red wallpaper. He had seen NPCs doing it asionally as they followed instructions from the script. After a while, you would catch them doing it. Living in Carousel his whole life, he must have seen it many times but didnt know what it was.


    Cold knowing look? Dina said. Im just waiting for you to tell us the good part. The deal with Ss. Did you ever learn what that was about? Did you even talk to your dad about it?


    Jedediah huffed. I could never tell him I saw that I couldnt know if it was real or not. I never saw Ss again. He was always around, but somehow I missed him. I I was scared to know if it was true. You couldnt understand.


    All I want to know, Dina said, Is if you know what is going on in Carousel right now. Ive seen the people youre talking about. The Geists are gone, but they, the people you are talking about, they''re still here. Something is in the works. Do you know about any of it?


    Dina was ying bad cop. We had briefly discussed this. I still wasnt sure if it was a good idea, but we knew that we might need to give him a nudge in the right direction.


    I have been in this house for decades. I have avoided their every attempt to take me away from here. I have no idea what is going on out there. I dont know what they decided to do once they got rid of the other Geists. The other woman seemed to think there was a plot to kill us all. She wanted my help too, and I will tell you like I did her: I cannot help you.


    Dina backed down. We didnt get the spontaneous, useful admission we were hoping for, but we did get a new lead. We had to take our time, though.


    You said that the Geists were an audience to the terrible things in Carousel. That changed at some point, right? The Geists clearly became more than just an audience, I said.


    He stared at Dina for a moment longer and then turned to me.


    After my father died, he said. After that, we didnt have nearly as many mere close calls. We became victims even though my family still denied it. It was clear to see. Too many idents resulted in Geist deaths. Our Cemetery started to fill up. My newspapers became bearers of ill tidings. Injuries and death. Missing children. Strange diseases. Whatever protected us from the perils of this world, be it some contact with Dyrkon or otherwise, soon disappeared until all that was left was me.


    It was a ssic story from the sound of it. A man makes a bargain, and then the billes due. But that didnt satisfy me. There was something missing from that little tale. Us. The yers. If this was simply a cautionary tale, why were we brought here? Why were we forced to learn this story?


    I was hoping Jedediah would be our ultimate Tutorial guide and give us everything we needed to get started. It was starting to seem like he was just here to fill in some lore. A few months ago I would have jumped for joy for this information, but now I wanted more.


    You said there was another woman who asked you questions. Can you tell us about that? Kimberly asked.


    Her, he said. Strange young woman. She knew about the traps. She knew that one bad interaction could lead to your doom. She imed she had seen one and lived through it. I told her she could only do that so many times. Heughed.


    Back on track. The woman who knew about storylines. Was she a yer? A Paragon? We needed to find out.


    Did she have the cold knowing look? I asked.


    He shook his head. In my mind, I saw the shback to her face. She had dark hair and eyes. She might have been thirty at the oldest.


    I didnt see it, he admitted, But its never toote for them to reveal it. They can keep it hidden for a long time. I wish I could have helped her.


    The shback took over. Most of the clips from before didnt have sound. This one did.


    ~-~


    I think some people plotted to kill off the Geists, the woman said. They did something, summoned something, a man, I think. He tried to kill everyone at a factory. He wanted to burn it up, but I managed to warn them. It was a Geist factory.


    I read something about that, Jed said to her. There was a fire. You must have been a child then.


    No, she answered excitedly. This was like the day after the Centen she started to say, This was almost a year ago. This trap was the fire at that factory. The trap was in 1984. I know that sounds crazy, but I swear. When I managed to get everyone to evacuate, I thought I had saved everyone, but now Im not sure. The Geists that were there ended up dying anyway.


    Jed eyed her incredulously.


    Even if I believe you, he said. How could I help? The entire town had had a silent conspiracy against us my entire life. Ive never been able to do anything about it.


    This wasnt like that, she said. I get what you were trying to say before about conspiracy, but thats not what Im talking about. These were normal people. They were not being silent. I heard them talking about it. They were disappointed that everyone survived, almost scared even. They hated you guys for some reason. I think they are the ones who killed the rest of you off. But not you. They didnt hurt you. I just want to know why. If you have any idea why you were left alone for so many years after the others were burned up one after another, it could help me figure out how to save my sister.


    Jed raised an eyebrow. Your sister?


    The woman took a deep breath.


    The same thing that attacked your family back in 1984 attacks the Centennial tomorrow. It kills my sister. I cant prevent it. I need to learn how to beat whatever he is. I dont know why it wouldnt attack you. It seemed to have tracked down every other Geist.


    Jedediah got quiet.


    The shback faded for a moment as Jed spoke.


    Of course, there was nothing to tell her. I couldnt say why I was spared. I didnt know.


    But the shback betrayed him.


    I saw a glimpse as he spoke. I saw him in his house some years earlier. He wasnt alone. There was another man there, a man I had only recently seen.


    It was Ss Dyrkon.

 Arc II, Chapter 54: The Séance Part Four

    Arc II, Chapter 54: The S¨¦ance Part Four


    Tell us the truth, Antoine said. It is weird that every Geist was surgically removed from this town except for you.


    Jedediah began to get angry, but perhaps not at us. He relented.


    You wouldnt understand, he said. Even with the certainty I had that I was right, the years took their toll on my resolve. I would have left this ce and rejoined the world below. I would have, except when I had a small health scare in the early eighties, my brothers sent the supposed family doctor to tend to me. I had seen him before. It was Dr. Howard Halle. The same man I had seen with Ss Dyrkon. He hadnt aged a day, as far as I could tell. It was possible that I was even older than him.


    The shback showed Halle knocking at Jeds door. Jeds look was first surprise, then resignation. Somehow, he remembered the man from all those years ago.


    The hope that I had been wrong was ripped from me. It was no victory. The man tended to me as a friend and doctor for years. Of course, he, too, would get the cold, knowing stare sometimes. He would try to lure me to his trap in the Carousel Hills, but I was too old to give a rise over it.


    After that, Jedediah began to weep. Ghostly tears ran down his face.


    The night the manor burned, you could see the fire glowing in the clouds over Carousel, you know. I turned on the radio, looking for some exnation. Somehow, in my heart, I knew what was happening. I could feel it. I had known something was going to happen for some time. I had received an invitation to a party at the estate. A plot was brewing. I had just lost my brother Carlyle. The party was in his honor. Something was going to happen. When I heard the manor was aze with my whole family inside, I could stay here no longer.


    I lost track of what Jedediah was saying as I watched the shback of him running around the side of the hill and screaming, Im going, Im going, to an NPC sitting in the hotels shuttle van. Jed held out his hand. The NPC handed him the keys as his script likely instructed him to.


    Jedediah didnt go directly to the manor; that road was closed off by emergency services and news crews. Instead, he went to the Geist Cemetery, to arge stone mausoleum in the paupers graveyard. He pressed on a hidden stone trigger inside the building, and a passage opened for him.


    A faint puff of ck smoke came out when he opened it.


    He rushed in, flicking on a light that was strung along the path as he ran underground.


    The smoke was getting thicker but still not too thick to breathe.


    After what must have been a few hundred yards, Jedediah started to see bodies. The dead were numerous, fallen as they had tried to escape the ze through the secret tunnel.


    Jed tried to stir each body to life as he passed. He called out their names if he knew them.


    People had tried to get through the passage with such force that their bodies had be pinned together in the tight hallway. He tried in vain to find one that had lived.


    Thats when he heard a cough from somewhere underneath two dead bodies in tuxes. He bent down and saw the body of a woman in a beautiful gown. Her face was burned and ckened, as was much of the rest of her. She struggled to breathe as her mouth was pressed into a puddle of water that had formed from the firefighters attempts to put out the ze.


    Jed picked up the bodies with all his might and pulled the broken body of the woman into his embrace.


    Lillian, he said brokenheartedly. He turned toward the door that led to the main manor and screamed, In here!


    He was about to scream it a second time, but then he heard the muffled voice of an NPC on the other side of the door, a firefighter perhaps. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. He didnt trust NPCs. NPCs led you into traps.


    He lifted Lillian and did his best to pull her back through the tunnel and to the shuttle van waiting in the cemetery parking lot. He managed to get her inside without anyone seeing them.


    He got in the drivers seat and started to drive.


    I didnt know where to go, Jedediah said. The hospital was rife with traps. I couldnt be sure that she would be safe there. The Geists were being targeted. I couldnt trust anyone. I did the only thing I could think of.


    He drove back to his home. There was a path to his house; it was just overgrown. Still, he powered through and rushed Lillian inside, where he immediately picked up the phone and dialed a number.


    Howard, Jed said. I need you toe to my house immediately and bring emergency supplies for burns.


    You burned yourself? Dr. Halle replied on the other side.


    Get here fast And tell Ss Dyrkon I need to see him.


    Halle sounded surprised to hear that. It took him a few seconds to respond. Excuse me, he said. Who?


    Tell him I need to see him now, Jedediah said.


    A few more seconds of silenceter.


    Okay, Halle said. Then he hung up.


    Jedediah shook as he put the phone down. A tear rolled down his cheek. His breaths were quick and shallow.


    He turned his attention to Lillian, whoy unconscious on the couch. She was in bad shape, and her breathing was heavilybored.


    It will be okay, he said softly to her. It will all be okay.


    Jedediahs ount of the story continued.


    It was morning hours when Halle arrived. Ss had not ridden with him but still appeared at the door right after Halle entered.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Jedediah didnt look surprised or afraid to see Ss. He looked resigned to his fate.


    So this is all it took to get you to act, Dyrkon said as he entered. Though he joked, his expression was serious, almost concerned. What can I do for you, Jedediah?


    Save her, Jed said. Heal her or I need you to save her somehow.


    Ss looked at Lillian on the couch. Halle was fast at work attempting to treat her.


    I saw something in Ss eyes that didnt make sense. Sadness?


    I cant do something like that, Ss said. Im a simple banker or however the legend goes.


    Jedediah shook his head. You arent at all what you pretend. I know that. I saw you. I saw you when I was young.


    Ss smiled with restraint. Yes, he said. You werent supposed to be there. You were such a curious child it was hard for us to keep up. That was a wonderful ident, actually. Life finds a way. Or so I believed.


    Jedediah stared at Ss. He was building his courage. You made a deal with my father.


    That was a private meeting you observed, Ss said.


    Still, Jed said, You can make deals. Like in the stories.


    Everyone can make deals, Ss said. I just have more to offer than most, along with a great penchant for keeping my word.


    Jedediah looked at Lillian. I dont want her mixed up in anything. I just want her better.


    Ssughed. Youvee to bargain?


    Ill do anything. Anything, Jedediah said.


    Ss shook his head. Now you want to go all-in when you are out of chips.


    Ill give you my soul, Jedediah said. Thats what people like you want, right?


    Ss smiled. You really are a Geist, after all, he said. But its a littlete to sell your soul, wouldnt you say, Howard?


    Halle looked up from his work on Lillian and said, Quite. Heughed, but I got the sense it was only to humor Dyrkon.


    Jedediah dropped to his knees. I couldnt imagine what was going through his mind. Anything, he said.


    Ss knelt down and said softly, I do have some services that you might be well-suited to provide.


    Jedediah looked him in the eye and said, What? What do you need?


    Halle interrupted.


    I need to get her back to the Hospital, he said.


    Go, Ss said.


    Halle lifted Lillian off the couch and carried her outside.


    No, Jedediah said, Not without a deal. I know what he is I know what hes done in the Carousel Hills. Ive done my research.


    Ss smiled. As I said earlier, you have no chips to wager here. No cards left to y. If you want a deal, then now is the time to make one.


    Jedediah knew he was up against a wall.


    Lillians life, Jedediah said. I need her to be healthy.


    I can arrange that, Ss said. Halle is extraordinarily qualified.


    And he wont take her back to his trap? Jedediah said.


    No, Ss said.


    Ill ask again. What do you need?


    I want you to answer questions, Ss said.


    Jed looked confused. Okay, he said. Ask me anything.


    Not just my questions, he said. I want you to answer any questions that anyone I send your way might think to ask.


    Ss then looked directly at the camera again.


    I will, Jed said, unsure of why he was being asked this. And I dont want this to be a trap. Or for you to send another trap after me. I want peace.


    You drive a hard bargain. In exchange for your services, Ss said, I will guarantee that you do not fall into any traps and that Lillian receives care from Dr. Halle without the trip up north to the Carousel Hills.


    Jed nodded.


    I need to see the terms, he said.


    Ss pulled an unsealed envelope from his pocket and retrieved a letter from within. The camera didnt zoom in on the letter, but the contents did appear on the red wallpaper for us to see.


    Jed looked over the letter as the words formed on their own.


    This, he said. This is not enough. We need to go over everything. I need to know you arent tricking me.


    Ssughed. You never expressed such a desire to be an attorney before. If you had, I might have added aw school to the university. Im sure there are plenty to choose from You are officially out of bargaining power. Read the letter and either sign it or dont. That is your option.


    Jedediah knew he had no power.


    After much solemn meditation, looking down at the letter, he took the pen Ss was holding out and signed it. <blockquote>


    <strong>Contract Between Jedediah Geist and Ss Dyrkon</strong>


    This document hereby enshrines a solemn pact between Jedediah Geist (hereinafter referred to as "The ck Sheep") and Ss Dyrkon (hereafter still referred to as "Ss Dyrkon"), forged in the town of Carousel, on this day, April 11, 1984. The provisions herein are detailed as follows:<ul><li>


    <strong>Obligations of The ck Sheep:</strong><ul><li>


    The ck Sheep shall, without falter, divulge answers to any queries brought forth by souls seeking knowledge of his bloodline or the obscured annals of Carousel''s history. This duty epasses all questions from any seeker, imparted with earnest truth to the limits of his wisdom.</li><li>


    In performing this duty, The ck Sheep pledges to unravel the threads of the past, ensuring that no seeker departs less enlightened than upon their arrival.</li></ul></li><li>


    <strong>Obligations of Ss Dyrkon:</strong><ul><li>


    Ss Dyrkon assures that The ck Sheep will be shielded from being tricked into traps, as he deems them, involving partners of Carousel or any conspirators. This safeguard shall persist steadfastly, encircling The ck Sheep in a cloak of protection against both corporeal and spectral threats by partners, from this moment hence for all of his life.</li><li>


    It is herein promised that such safeguarding shall weave through The ck Sheep''s existence unobtrusively, sparing him from the direct meddling of Carousels ndestine orchestrators.</li><li>


    Ss Dyrkon shall arrange for Dr. Howard Halle to treat and care for Lillian Geist, The ck Sheep''s beloved niece, ensuring her a recovery from her grave injuries. Ss Dyrkon agrees not to involve her in the trap Halle has over in the Carousel Hills.</li></ul></li><li>


    <strong>Duration of Agreement:</strong><ul><li>


    This covenant shall bind from the stroke of this pen onward.</li></ul></li><li>


    <strong>Misceneous Provisions:</strong><ul><li>


    Should contention arise from the depths of this ord, it shall be quelled under the judicious eye of Ss Dyrkon, whose edicts shall reign supreme, cloaked in the guise of fairness and impartiality.</li></ul></li><li>


    <strong>Signatures:</strong><ul><li>


    By affixing their marks below, both entitiesmit to the tsid forth in this document, binding themselves to its fulfillment with a solemn vow, albeit under circumstances that could be described as less than voluntary but with a spirit of adventurous consent.</li></ul></li></ul>


    <strong>Jedediah Geist "The ck Sheep"</strong> Jedediah Geist Date: April 11, 1984


    <strong>Ss Dyrkon</strong> _Ss Dyrkon Date: April 11, 1984</blockquote>


    Ss turned to walk away, folding the contract back into its envelope. Jedediah did not look pleased with his newfound protections.


    As Ss neared the door, Jed asked, Youve tricked me, havent you? This contract doesnt protect us like it sounds, does it?


    Ss, in a moment of shocking earnestness, said, You know, Jedediah, if you wanted answers, you should have started looking a long time ago.


    Then he turned and left, but before he did, he stopped to say, By the way, she did love you. Harriet, I mean. That part was real. The one person in the Many Worlds who was perfect for you, and I brought her here. That part wasnt a trick.


    It didnt sound like he was gloating. It sounded almost like a mercy, answering an old mans greatest question.


    Jedediah stood there for a time and wept.


    None of us were sure if we should keep asking questions. The subject of Lillian was too sensitive. Digging any deeper might draw out the memory of his death and lead to ours. He was emotionally destroyed. Further questions felt dangerous, even those unrted to Lillian.


    We each backed out of the room one at a time. Antoine opened the window. After a few minutes, we heard the window close again. After that, the room was empty, with no ghosts to be seen.


    We continued the game into the morning hours, just in case. The bluentern never made an appearance.


    If we had any more questions, we could always y again, but I suspected we might not have the luxury.

 Arc II, Chapter 55: Cycles

    Arc II, Chapter 55: Cycles


    I was shaking when we returned to our sad excuse of a hotel room on the other side of the hill. We had gotten our fair share of clues from Jedediah Geist. That was literally his eternal job; he answered yers questions. That was the deal he had made.


    The Geists really are different than the others, I said. Even more than we previously thought. NPCs are cast in roles in an instant, but the level of of


    Maniption, Antoine finished my thought. The level of maniption that was needed to get them into their roles was crazy.


    We took our seats in the cramped room. We were hungry, but room service had lost its appeal ever since the resort got retrofitted back to its form from four decades ago.


    Anybody up for The Diner? Isaac suggested. You said that all we had to worry about there was trans fats Or is it saturated fats that are bad?


    If the food doesnt crawl out of the fryer and take hostages, its safe enough for me. Or it would be. We dont have money, Antoine said. Room service is free.


    Kimberly took everyones order and made a call. Intellectually, I knew the food would be safe, but still, I wasnt enthusiastic about it.


    The burnt burger and greasy fries werent so bad. Unfortunately, the resort had not yet discovered chicken wings in this era.


    Bobby mainly had been silent since we got back. He sat on his cot and was deep in thought.


    Then he spoke.


    I know it didnt seem like he knew much about the game, he said, But the thing is, he talked about people going missing a lot. Maybe there is a legend of where they go. Maybe he has all the information we need to find her.


    We can try to ask himter, Antoine said. But I gotta say, that sounds a lot like seeking her, which you arent supposed to do.


    Bobby let out a sigh. That isnt fair. Why would it hide her specifically


    He went back to silence for a while.


    I couldnt imagine what he was going through, but at the time, I was distracted by the Throughline plot.


    What do we think of this mystery woman? Cassie asked. yer?


    I wasnt sure. All we knew was that she had stolen the firece poker to talk to Jed on the anniversary of his death.


    She imed her sister died in the original Centennial thirty years ago, I said. That doesnt sound like a yer. Of course, she could have just been saying that as part of her cover story so he would talk to her.


    She had also talked about a conspiracy, seemingly a more concrete conspiracy than the one shared by all NPCs, to kill the Geists.


    The factory fire happened months before the manor burned, Kimberly said. She was writing on the walls again.


    Someone warned them, ording to the newspaper. Saved all of the workers, Antoine said.


    The newspaper history board made by junior high kids and disyed for the Centennial was filled with facts about the deaths of the Geists. What I had briefly thought was just narrative background was turning out to be directly important to the Throughline plot.


    The factory fire, the movie set disaster, and the Geist Manor ze all involved the Geists, and all happened within months of each other. Now, they wereing up again.


    So if shes the one who warned them, I said, Does that mean she isnt a yer because shes a part of the story?


    I was tossing around a lot of ideas. We needed more information, so we talked for a while about what we might do next.


    The truth was, we had looked up the locations described in the articles when we had free time. We werent stupid. We had enough time on our hands. The factory site was now a mini-mall. We couldnt find the movie set location. The burned Geist Manor was cordoned off and had security guards.


    We had only picked up a lead about one of those things.


    Sounds like we need to give the Geist Manor a look over, I said.


    There was silence for a moment. Exploring the manor could easily trigger the third storyline, and none of us wanted that just yet.


    Maybe after a quick game of Reply the Departed? Isaac said.


    That got someughs.


    The board game had been our only consistent form of entertainment, and we werent in any danger of activating it on ident, but it was anything but quick to y. The alternative was watching the tiny television. Carousels selection of creepy childrens shows was quite extensive, but they gave Kimberly nightmares.


    ~-~


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    We had gotten back around sunrise. We set out for the Geist Cemetery at two in the afternoon. We were ready for a fight, though I would have been more pleased to see some borate puzzle.


    The Cemetery was, as we remembered, quiterge. Instead of turning toward the family plobeled Lost but not forgottenwe turned toward the potters fieldForgotten but not lost.


    However, we soon learned that the endless sea of unmarked graves was not the only thing in that part of the cemetery.


    News crews gathered around arge statue covered in a velvet sheet of some kind. The statue was bronze by the look of what stuck out from beneath the fabric.


    There was arge marble base under the statue. A man with a chisel stood on his knee, begrudgingly posing for photographs from the crowd.


    There was another statue on the other side of the small za that was the same size and rough shape as the one they had covered up. The only difference was that the uncovered one had a course, green patina from age.


    You have to be kidding me! Antoine said with augh.


    The gathering and statue unveiling just happened to be right in front of the mausoleum with the secret passage into Geist Manor. It was blocked off from our ess.


    Today of all days, huh? I said,ughing.


    We knew immediately this was not a coincidence at all. We were excited, though, for two reasons. One, it meant we were getting somewhere. Two, it meant we didnt have to go inside the spooky mansion.


    Soon after we arrived and assimted into the crowd, none other than the mayor of Carousel, 3 Plot Armor edition, arrived to stand on a raised tform before the crowd.


    Mayor Roderick Gray looked out across the crowd. Rhonda Moore, Paragon and City Coordinator, was not far behind him.


    Mayor Gray looked worse for wear. He was still very well-groomed, but the light had left his eyes. All of the criticism he had been facing for the flood (nobody had mentioned the frogs) had taken its toll. He was here to try to save face.


    He stepped up as close as he could to the crowd. A podium was moved out in front of him.


    Ladies and gentlemen, as we gather in the presence of this newly cast statue, its silent bronze form stands as a solemn reminder of the lives lost in the recent flood. This sculpture, identical to one dedicated three decades ago, underscores a haunting message: the tragedies of our past are not just echoes but lessons we must confront if we are to forge a better future. Today, we are not just here to mourn; we are here to affirm ourmitment to remembering our past, with its pain and loss, as a critical step towards preventing history''s cruel repetitions.


    Thismitment means more than just reflection; it demands action. By inscribing the names of the victims on this statue, we do more than memorialize them; we pledge to break the cycle of tragedy that has befallen ourmunity. This act of remembrancepels us to face our past, learn from it, and embrace the changes necessary to reim our city and protect the ones we love. Today, let this dedication serve as a turning point, a moment when we collectively decide to honor those we have lost by creating a future where such losses are no longer inevitable. Together, let''s embrace the lessons of our history to ensure a brighter, more resilient tomorrow.


    There was pping and cheering from some around the crowd, but I recognized some of the loudest as Mayor Grays entourage.


    He waved his hand. The cover was removed.


    Underneath was a shining bronze statue of an abstract humanoid in a tumultuous pose inside arge circle constructed from long, rough shapes.


    Next to the old one, it was telling us a story. I wasnt the only one who recognized what it was meant to look like, the shapes with their energy and motion.


    Its the loop, Cassie said. The two of them. Its about a woman traveling through the continuity loop.


    She was right or close to it. One statue was new, one thirty years old but identical, and one cycle that needed to be broken.


    The speech was over, but the crowd didnt disperse. We spread out and talked to everyone who would speak to us.


    They were all very upset. They thought the mayor was trying to shift me from himself for not fixing the sewers. Yet again, no one mentioned the frogs. One guy thought the statue was of a clock. He might have been giving a hint, but I couldnt tell.


    None of us got a word in with the mayor or Rhonda Moore. We couldnt.


    When we got back together, wepared notes.


    We stuck around for a little longer and nced at the older statue. The names carved in were numerous. Dozens had died at the original Centennial Celebration, though the statue was dedicated to the 70th anniversary celebration. The continuity loop was consistent, at least.


    No names rang a bell as I skimmed, not really. I thought I was familiar with some of the surnames of NPCs, but I wasnt sure if they meant anything.


    Look, Kimberly said. Mercer. Ramona and Pheobe.


    Ooh, the plot thickens, Isaac said. Who are Ramona and Pheobe Mercer?


    Kimberly looked at Antoine, Dina, and I. We had met a few Mercers in our time.


    A family in Carousel, Kimberly answered. We met them in a storyline. They all have the power to summon an invisible monster that kills people. I guess they arent just in that story.


    Indeed. The story we had seen them in never felt like a main Mercer storyline. It was a collection of odds and ends. Two Mercers having died in the tragedy might mean something. It might not mean anything at all.


    We walked away from the crowd.


    Lets visit the Geist plot again, I said. Just to be thorough.


    I had gotten a cemetery plot map and made plenty of notes on it, but I was always open to the idea that I had missed something.


    We made our way to the Geist section and started looking things over again.


    You know, Cassie observed, There is a lot of nk space around here. It almost looks like there should have been more Geists.


    She was right. Several portions ofnd looked like they could have been special sections for the various branches of Geists, but they were now empty grass and leaves.


    Maybe they didnt n on dying all at once in a towering inferno, Isaac said. They thought they would have more bodies to bury.


    A lot of the Geists had no specific grave but had their names on a monument to the Geist fire. This graveyard had many monuments to people who died by the dozen.


    I looked over the names.


    Bensen Geist. Steven Geist. Lillian Geist, of course.


    As before, her name was broken, as if someone had taken a metal implement to it to try and scrape it off.


    A thought urred to me farter than I was happy to say.


    You know how I said that Lillian herself might have tried to scrape her name off this thing? I asked.


    Yeah, Antoine said.


    Lillian Geistes out of sedation for the first time in years and kills Jed after being manipted by Dyrkon. That was the night before the Centennial disaster, the night before the original Centennial, and before the loop started. Lillian says she doesnt know what happened after that. She was just back with Halle and sedated again. We know that, but have we ever really considered how big of a coincidence it is that on the day of the Centennial Celebration disaster, thest living Geist was unounted for?"


    What are you saying? Kimberly said. That Lillian caused the Centennial disaster? She was terrified. How could she be at fault.


    I''m not saying that," I said. "I''m saying that we were told these stories as if they were all separate. Maybe they have more to do with each other than we thought."


    I looked back at the Manor ze memorial and thought about all the possibilities.

 Arc II, Chapter 56: The Die Cast

    Arc II, Chapter 56: The Die Cast


    Are you sure there are no Omens here? Kimberly said for the third time.


    Im sure, I said. Ill keep an eye out.


    She was nervous, but how could I me her? Thest time we had gone to the library, the vets had acted like we were walking into a lions den while covered inmbs blood. The library, which had once been so thick with Omens that turning my head too fast would make me nauseous from the shes of storyline posters on the red wallpaper, was just a normal library. Almost.


    It was under construction.


    We had four days left and we had resorted to checking and rechecking every ce in town that might have a missing clue of what we should do next. What we knew for sure was that we didnt want to wait until the default Omen for the third story arrived. That Omen would not lead us to the real version of the storyline. We wanted the true ending, just as we had gotten the true ending for the second storyline.


    The library shelves were covered in sheets. The hallways were blocked off. The entire ce was being renovated. Even the jobs board outside was under renovation. It would be until after the Centennial. Haha.


    Youre back, Constance Barlow said as she saw us walking up to her desk. I am sorry to say that the library is still being renovated.


    I understood why Paragons had to pretend to be NPCs most of the time. Having them be meta all the time would make things too easy. After all, they did appear to be trying to beat the Throughline, too, in their own way. If they could help, they would.


    Constance was the Researcher Paragon and even when she had been acting as a yer, she couldnt tell us as much as she would like. Carousel limited her script because she knew too much. Her most potent memories were literally locked away from her. She had memories from before Carousel had a death game attached to it. It made sense Carousel would make those off-limits.


    Those werent the memories we were after, though. We wanted help figuring out thest piece of the puzzle for the Tutorial.


    Alright, Constance, Antoine said. Im sorry to do this, but were back to try again.


    Perseverance is key, Constance said. Im sure youll keep digging up the past until something turns up. May I suggest this book on Bartholomew Geist? He was known to be a very effective negotiator.


    Thats not what I remember, Isaac said. He watched her as she stamped library books. You know, Ms. Barlow, if this library has been under renovation for thest thirty years, it would be weird for you to always be stamping returned library books still.


    He was at it again.


    She was mildly entertained but still professional. Thirty years is a long time for anything to happen. If you check the calendar by the door, youll see we only started the renovationsst week. Patrons who checked out books before then would still be returning them, so it makes sense that I am checking them back in.


    Isaac looked over at the calendar. Ill get you one of these days.


    Isaac had really taken a fascination with calling out ces where the continuity loop was broken, as he put it.


    It was interesting when we thought about it. An entire town being reset to the eve of a holiday celebration that would nevere. The logistics were mind-boggling. How could you live your life if every day was New Year''s Eve?


    Look, I said. We want the good ending to the third storyline. That means we have to trigger the storyline before the two-week break is up, right?


    She continued to stamp books and stack them on a cart next to her desk.


    A good ending? Constance asked. Arent you a little old for choose your own adventure books?


    Youd think so, I said. I was feeling brave, ready to go out on a limb. We know the story involves Lillian Geist.


    We didnt know that. I was guessing.


    Constance didnt speak for a moment.


    Lillian Geist, she said. Poor woman. I guess that would make your story non-fiction then, wouldnt it?


    Would it? Was the story of the Geists real or fabricated? The more I learned about them, the more I started to think it was somehow both.


    Is there a way you might let us take a peek in the non-fiction section? Kimberly asked.


    Im afraid not, Constance said. The books in the section you are after had to be sent out for repair. They got extensive smoke damage. I couldnt say how.


    She looked over to the Carousel History nonfiction section, right above the childrens section. She was making a joke. The vets used to start a fire in that section to artificially remove a mobile Omen from the library when they needed toe here.


    We just need to find the true ending, I said.


    I didnt read her as annoyed. She did seem frustrated, though. I couldnt me her. Given what we knew about the Throughline, the answer we were looking for was probably going to be simple even if concealed byyers of distraction.


    The original Tutorial was simple enough. If you figured the story out as you went along, you got the true ending. If you didnt, you got a basic version of the next story Our answer was somewhere, but it was possible we wouldnt think of it until after the Tutorial.


    The true ending to Lillian Geists story, Constance said. The townsfolk must be rubbing off on you if you are that obsessed with the Geists. We''re superstitious here. We never really believed they died off. We always thought there would be more of their story to tell. Then again, maybe not everyone wants the true ending. Maybe burning up in a fire is a better end than the other possibilities. I mean, if she hadnt died in that fire, think of all the worse things that could have happened. You know, its funny. Her uncle Carlyle and cousin Bensen escaped fiery deaths just months before she died. Of course, they ended up dying shortly after, anyway. I guess when your time is up, its up.


    She was referencing the factory fire and the movie set disaster, which preceded the manor ze.


    Are you saying that Carlyle and Bensen would have died in the factory fire? I asked. We didnt know that. The article we had avable didnt say they were there when it happened.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    As the town historian, she answered, That would be the kind of thing I would know, dont you think? I could see her eyes go unfocused as she read her script. Her tone changed to be more hurried. It might be best for you to leave now. We really do have a lot of working up.


    I got the sense that she was cutting things close, but what did that insight actually mean?


    We turned to leave.


    Until next time, Isaac said. I notice that you updated the newspaper rack. Why would you do that if you were under renovation? Why refill it?


    Constance rolled her eyes yfully. We didnt refill it. The newspaper sent one of their delivery men over. Thank goodness, too, because I like to stay informed, she said, grabbing a newspaper off her desk and waving it.


    Isaac smiled a toothy grin. We were just at the newspaper ce looking for clues, he said as he backed out the library door. They said they had shut down a week ago due to the flood and would not be going to print until after the Centennial! Where did the newspaperse from, Constance?


    Isaac did an air pump as if he had finally beaten Carousel by proving that the continuity loop and resets were not perfect.


    Constance smirked and went back to her work.


    We sat on the steps of the library for a couple of hours after that. I felt that if I could just know the edge pieces of the puzzle, I could figure out the middle. I didnt know where to look. There were too many ces to look for clues.


    Which, in itself, was a clue.


    What do we know that no ordinary team would know going through the tutorial for the first time? I asked.


    Antoine took a deep breath. We know who killed Jed Geist, why, and with what weapon. We know someone saved some factory workers using a storyline somehow, and now we know that they also saved Carlyle and Bensen Geist, but those two ended up dying anyway. Someone was trying to kill the Geists actively at the end. Not just the passive bad luck they had been living with before. Im forgetting things.


    We know about Lillian Geist, Kimberly said. She had spoken passionately about Lillian Geists plight many times, but now her energy and emotions had drained. She suffered terribly for years because of Ss Dyrkon. We dont know why.


    Iy back on the warm concrete step. It was somehow morefortable than my cot at the hotel.


    We just need one thing, Bobby said. One thing to trigger whatever is next. Just like when we figured out that the poker was the murder weapon, and we unlocked the second storyline. Easy peasy. Just one thing.


    We thought and spoke out loud. Isaac made jokes. Cassie told him to stop. Antoineforted Kimberly, and Kimberlyforted Antoine. Dina only spoke to correct us when we got a fact wrong. She was vignt that way. Bobby kept saying things like easy peasy every few minutes.


    We needed to know what the murder weapon was to y the version of the storyline we yed. Otherwise, the answer would have been revealed without any effort, I said. A cop had literally picked us up after figuring the clue out, so we couldnt talk to Jed Geist too soon. What could we know that would be necessary for the next storyline.


    I thought about what the story could be about. Parts were obvious. The subject was the death of the Geists; Constance practically confirmed that. The info she had just given us was about the Geists'' deaths, and it was teetering on the edge of being a spoiler. The Centennial was also important, but how could we link those together? I had theorized that Lillian had something to do with it, but I was just missing


    Oh, I said. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the cemetery map. I looked to see where Steven Geist was buried. He was Lillians father and Jedediahs older brother. He had died in the manor fire.


    In the distance, a cars wheels squealed. I looked up to see a tan sports wagon making its way down the street quickly toward us.


    I started tough.


    Easy peasy after all, I said. We were overthinking it.


    Is that? Kimberly asked.


    Yes, I said. <em>That </em>is an Omen.


    The tan car was an old model, but it looked new. It wasnt an exact brand I recognized, but it was in the style of early eighties cars.


    The Omen shed into my mind as I looked at it.


    The movie is called The Die Cast, I said.


    Thats ominous, Isaac said.


    Difficulty is high, I said. We activate it by getting in the car when asked.


    Already? Antoine asked. What was the thing we needed to figure out?


    I started shifting my tropes around. I used Location Scout to find out where in Carousel it was set.


    Its set all over Carousel, I said. Its listing off hundreds of ces. I dont I dont know what it means.


    Location Scout usually only listed a few dozen interconnected locations at most.


    I took a moment to consider how to answer Antoine. What had been the thought in my head to trigger the Omen? I had beenughing before, but one nce at that movie poster had killed myughter in my throat. The poster showed arge, muscr man carrying some kind of weapon. I couldnt see what it was. The man was a silhouette. He was staring at arge window where people danced.


    Thenguage of this poster was familiar to me. It reminded me of the poster for Friday the Thirteenth.


    I could only hope I was wrong. I decided to start telling my friends what I had discovered.


    What connected all of the disasters we have learned about? I asked. It was so simple. We just had to change some facts. Connect the dots.


    What connected them? Kimberly asked. The Geists, right?


    We know someone was killing off Geists starting after Bartholomew died, but it really ramped up in 1984. Most of them were wiped out in a matter of months. The factory fire killed no one. It seemed unrted, but Constance just told us that two of the Geists, Carlyle and his son Bensen, were there and only survived because some mystery woman intervened. But then Carlyle dies in a mysterious film set disaster. Then everyone left dies in the manor fire. Then, Jed is killed by Lillian. Somehow, the Centennial is involved even though it happens eight yearster. Why eight years? These disasters must be rted because Carousel is putting them in front of us, but how?


    Wait, Bobby said. He didnt say anything after that. He must not have figured it out yet.


    Is it a coincidence that the oldest living Geist at any given time bes the target of these disasters? I said. Thats the pattern. Carlyle at the factory, but he survives. Carlyle, at the film set, dies. Steven GeistLillians dad and the middle child of Bartholomew Geistdies at the manor fire along with almost every other Geist. Then nothing. Nothing for eight years. Jed is the oldest Geist during that period. Whatever this is, it cant kill Jed; Ss deal protected him. It doesnt kill Lillian for some reason, even though she was secretly alive the whole time. Maybe it only kills men; maybe Carousel just wanted to torture Lillian. I dont know. On the night before the Centennial, Lillian kills Jed, and then she bes the oldest living Geist right on time for the Centennial disaster, I said.


    They were quiet.


    But that doesnt make sense, Antoine said. Lillian didnt die in the Centennial. She died three yearster because you reminded her of her trauma.


    I didnt say it was perfect, I said.


    If it killed every Geist it went after, Kimberly said, Why didnt it keep going after her?


    I dont know, I said. I came up with the idea, and then the Omen showed up, so I must be on to something.


    The point is, Dina said, speaking up for the first time in a while, We need to know that something is targeting the oldest living Geist, right? Thats the part that matters.


    Exactly, I said. We can figure out how Lillian survivedter. We found the Omen. We''re as ready as we are going to get. Lets go try not to die.


    They didnt seem too excited over what I hade up with. We were missing pieces, but I was excited to have progress of any kind.


    We started to prepare our tropes. It was impossible to get a perfect setup. We figured out our strategy. We had been working on this for some time. We were as ready as we were going to be.


    We approached the car, which had been idling for the length of the time we had been talking.


    A voice rang out, Are youing? We need to get there soon, Antoine.


    Antoine was in the front of the pack as usual. He opened the car door. I leaned down to get a glimpse of the driver before I got in the backseat.


    He was well-dressed, almost dapper. He might have been in his mid-twenties. I recognized him, though he looked different than I remembered. Much younger.


    Roderick Gray. Plot Armor 3. There was no Mayor next to his name.


    And then, in a blink, I wasnt there anymore.


    There was no brown sedan. There was no young Roderick Gray.


    What I saw before me was arge rooma living room. It was peculiar because the walls were fake. I could see them being held up by two-by-fours. There was camera equipment behind me. I was in arge warehouse of some kind. It was dark.


    Do you n on doing anything today? A voice rang out behind me. I recognized it. I had heard it on my way to the Tutorial. I turned to see Carlyle Geist.


    You know, Mr. Lawrence, he said while puffing on a pipe, You really are wasting time. Now get over here. We have to rework our next scene, or the only people well be scaring are the investors.

 Arc II, Chapter 57: Carlyle

    Arc II, Chapter 57: Carlyle


    yer Stats:


    yer


    Plot Armor


    Mettle


    Moxie


    Hustle


    Savvy


    Grit


    Riley


    27/2


    3


    7


    6


    7


    4


    Antoine


    25


    7


    4


    5


    2


    7


    Kimberly


    23


    3


    9


    5


    1


    5


    Dina


    21


    3


    3


    5


    3


    7


    Bobby


    22


    3


    7


    5


    3


    4


    Isaac


    16


    2


    4


    3


    3


    4


    Cassie


    17


    2


    7


    4


    3


    1


    <strong>yer Tropes:</strong>


    <strong>Riley Lawrence is <em>the Film Buff</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>Trope Limit: 9</strong>


    <strong>"Trope Master"</strong> grants him the ability to perceive enemy tropes, but at the cost of sacrificing half of his Plot Armor.


    As an <strong>"Oblivious Bystander,"</strong> Riley remains untargeted by enemies as he convincingly acts oblivious to their presence.


    <strong>"Escape Artist"</strong> buffs his Hustle to help enact usible escape ns.


    <strong>"The Insert Shot"</strong> makes allies aware of an object the yer chooses. The object will be shown to the audience and its use will be buffed in the Finale.


    <strong>Directors Monitor</strong> allows him to watch the rest of the storyline after his demise via Deathwatch.


    <strong>shback Revtion</strong> allows him tomunicate with allies from Deathwatch through shbacks to his past dialogue.


    <strong>Casting Director</strong> gives him a summary of his teams roles in the storyline.


    <strong>"My Grandmother Had the Gift" </strong>A background trope that gives Rileys character some ambiguous connection to The Gift through his heritage.


    <strong>Cutaway Death</strong> sends him Off-Screen before the moment of his characters implied demise and allows him to exist behind the scenes Written Off if he survives the encounter.


    <strong>Dead Man Walking</strong> buffs his Grit substantially after his death bes inevitable, potentially stretching out hisst moments.


    He did <em>not</em> equip <strong>Cinema Seer</strong>, <strong>Coming To A Theater Near You, "I Don''t Like It Here...,"</strong><strong>Out Like a Light, "Location Scout,"</strong><strong>The Wrong Reel, Raised by Television,</strong> <strong>What Doesnt Kill Them Makes Them Angry</strong>, or <strong>Method to the Madness.</strong></blockquote>


    <strong>Kimberly Madison is <em>the Eye Candy</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>Trope Limit: 8.</strong>


    <strong>"Convenient Backstory"</strong> allows her to believably change her backstory to assist with the current task, buffing the relevant stat.


    <strong>"Social Awareness"</strong> allows her to see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs.


    <strong>"Get a Room!"</strong> boosts the odds of important discoveries when exploring with a love interest during the party.


    <strong>"A Hopeless Plea"</strong> forces the captor to explicitly deny her release when she asks to be released.


    <strong>"Pregnancy Reveal"</strong> buffs her Grit when she pretends that she is pregnant and buffs the father''s Mettle if she dies.


    <strong>"When in Rome"</strong> buffs her Grit until Rebirth if her performance matches the tone of the movie.


    <strong>Does anyone have a scrunchie?</strong> allows her to shift Moxie''s points into another stat by putting her hair up.


    <strong>Carousel Academy Awards</strong> buffs her Moxie based on the quality of her performance in the previous storyline.


    She did not equip <strong>A Lip Cease</strong>, <strong>Looks Dont Last</strong>, <strong>Typecast, Breaking the Veil of Silence, The Woman in Mourning, or "That''s What I Said!"</strong>.</blockquote>


    <strong>Antoine Stone is <em>the Athlete</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>Trope Limit: 9</strong>


    His <strong>"You were having a nightmare"</strong> trope allows him to repress or heal mental trauma (he is not strong enough to use its plot-resetting powers yet).


    <strong>"Gym Rat"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory.


    <strong>"It''s Part of the Uniform"</strong> gives him higher Mettle when attacking with sports equipment.


    <strong>"Just Walk It Off"</strong> heals the Hobbled status by walking.


    <strong>Knight in Shining Armor </strong>buffs his Mettle and Grit when defending a love interest.


    <strong>"Time Out!"</strong> allows him to go Off-Screen during a fight, reducing enemy aggression.


    Brandishing a weapon is <strong>Like a Security nket,</strong> buffing his Grit and soothing his and his allies fear. Swinging it will cause his opponents to faulter, if only for a moment based on Moxie because of <strong>Swing Away</strong>.


    <strong>Better Make it Count</strong> greatly buffs thest round of ammunition the yer has avable in a fight.


    He did not equip <strong>Reload After Cut,</strong> <strong>Swing Away</strong>, <strong>Off the Bench</strong>, <strong>Everyone Loves a Winner,</strong><strong>The ybook</strong>, <strong>A Race Against Time, Coyote in a Trap, </strong>or <strong>"Bad Luck Ma." </strong>He also didnt use<strong> y it Cool </strong>because he worried that Carousel was nning something nefarious by giving it to him.</blockquote>


    <strong>Dina Cano is <em>the Outsider</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>Trope Limit: 8</strong>


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    <strong>"Guarded Personality"</strong> resists all insight abilities.


    <strong>"An Outsider''s Perspective"</strong> alerts her to new, out-of-ce, or unusual information.


    <strong>"Better Late Than Never"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle if she waits until the Finale to assist allies On-Screen against the enemy.


    <strong>"A Haunted Past"</strong> A background trope that gives her character some past trauma that haunts her and gives her ess to various tropes.


    <strong>"Encouragement from Beyond"</strong> soothes her when stressed, scared, or in pain and may provide useful information.


    <strong>"Outside Looking In"</strong> grants her the ability to discern ideal spots to linger and observe events without actively participating in the narrative.


    <strong>They Fell Off</strong> allows her to quickly get out of handcuffs and simr restraints.


    She can leave physical or mental messages in the story that her allies can detect when in the location she left them with <strong>Pen Pal.</strong>


    <strong>Light Fingers</strong> buffs the yers attempts at stealing items from the set.


    She did not equip <strong>Savvy Safecracker</strong>, <strong>You dont know me, but,</strong> <strong>Dark Secret</strong>, or <strong>They ruined the shot</strong></blockquote>


    <strong>Bobby Gill is <em>The Wallflower.</em></strong><blockquote>


    <strong>Trope Limit: 8</strong>


    <strong>Background Noise</strong> allows him to get background information from NPCs when Off-Screen.


    <strong>The Good Samaritan </strong>buffs his Mettle and Grit for helping allies in a crisis if they have not met On-Screen and are strangers.


    <strong>Last-Minute Casting</strong> recasts him as an NPC that is moderately involved in the plot. The selection is seemingly random. He will get some limited background information for the character and some ess to the NPC script.


    <strong>From Humble Beginnings</strong> debuffs the yers stats 30% in the Party, then but buffs them 15% in Rebirth, the Finale, and the Final Battle resulting in a 15% buff by the end of the story.


    <strong>Craft Services Are The Real Heroes</strong> ensures that there is edible food and water on set somewhere during the storyline.


    <strong>My Only Role is Exposition</strong> gives him some useful information to be ryed On-Screen but takes it away if he starts to bore the audience.


    <strong>Actually, I''m a Veterinarian</strong> changes his characters background to being an animal doctor and allows certain tropes to be equipped.


    <strong>If you Can''t see it, it Won''t Bleed</strong> allows him to temporarily mend wounds by covering them from the audiences view.


    <strong>Remember Me?</strong> allows him to promote his character to main cast by pretending to know them and introducing himself.


    He did not equip <strong>The Hidden Infection, The Wisdom of Crowds, </strong>or<strong> And Thats Lunch.</strong></blockquote>


    <strong>Cassie Hughes is <em>The Psychic</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>Trope Limit: 8</strong>


    <strong>The Anguish</strong> lets her see her allies health stats from anywhere and lets her take some of their pain by feeling it herself. This can reduce their overall injuries.


    <strong>We are not abandoned</strong> can keep her allies spirits high by weaving a narrative of some higher power in control. When done well, this trope can heal Incapacitation, certain forms of spiritual Infection, and even buff Grit.


    <strong>Reflective Jump Scare</strong> allows her to get a glimpse of the enemy when she looks in a mirror, giving her some small insight into what is in store.


    <strong>Foreboding Signs</strong> gives her insight into who will die next and how in character, allowing her to prepare for what is toe.


    "<strong>Empathic Shield</strong>" buffs an imperiled allys Grit by expressing genuine concern for them On-Screen.


    "<strong>At Your Own Peril</strong>" debuffs characters Grit and Effective Plot Armor if they ignore her psychic warnings.</blockquote>


    <strong>Isaac Hughes is <em>The Comedian</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>Trope Limit: 8</strong>


    <strong>If hes still cracking jokes</strong> allows the yer to reduce or eliminate injuries by using humor the next time he is On-Screen before the audience know how injured he is. Works on allies situationally.


    <strong>Weapons of Mass Absurdity</strong> using humorous weapons Buffs his Mettle and Hustle. The buff extends to weapons that are used if the original weapon fails.


    <strong>Blood Loss Delirium</strong> gives the yer a pleasant drunken stupor when they have major blood loss and provides cover for antics.


    <strong>Gallows Humor</strong> allows him to ease mental pain with dark humor after a tragedy.


    "<strong>Let me get this straight</strong>" allows him to buff their current n by summarizing the situation and n to the audience.


    "<strong>Trash Talk</strong>" allows him to debuff the enemys Mettle by insulting them.</blockquote>


    ~-~


    ~-~


    I hadnt been transported into a role since the anthology. I was dressed differently. My hoodie was gone, reced by a proper coat. I wore semi-professional clothing. On the bright side, the pocket of the coat still contained my luggage ticket, so I was not without my supplies.


    <strong>Casting Director</strong> proved to be moderately useful. I was a director who felt Carlyle Geist was stifling my career.


    That was it. I didnt see anyone elses character descriptions because they werent here with me. I really did need to stop relying on that trope.


    I needed to pay attention. I was On-Screen. Carlyle Geist was on the other side of the room. I walked slowly so I could gather my thoughts.


    On the red wallpaper, he was Carlyle Geist, The Voice.


    He was Plot Armor 30. He was not an enemy as far as I could tell. At the very least, I couldnt see his tropes like I could Jedediah and Lillian, but they had been dangerous.


    He was just a character. Actually, I didnt know what he was.


    We were in a sound stage, arge building used to shoot scenes for movies on constructed sets. Carlyle was sitting in a kitchen set at a small nook table. He watched me as I walked.


    I hate to meet you in person under these circumstances, Carlyle Geist said. I need to get some answers about this script. This scene were supposed to shoot tomorrow is terrible. I was told by Baron that I had you to me.


    Me? I asked. I was a film director in this story. I must have been directing the film in question. I didnt know who Baron was.


    You are Riley Lawrence, the hot-shot young director whos here to bring the studio back to relevance, right?


    He said it with an ironic humor. His voice was deep, clear, and intelligent sounding.


    Thats me, I said.


    He opened the screeny up and spread it out on the little table between us. I read the front quickly. Untitled by Elliot something. December, 1983.


    Carlyle smoked his pipe calmly. He was around the same age Jedediah had been when he died. They looked alike, though Carlyle had a vigor that Jed did not.


    He began to do a mix of reading the script aloud andmenting on it.


    Our heroine exposes her breasts, her honor almost contained within frame. She turns to the mirror and <em>gazes</em> at herself. She is looking for imperfections but finds none. Okay, whatever. Im sure that was a useful direction for casting. Dialogue with mother, basic filler setting up the character. Theres a dance of some kind, it doesnt matter.


    He skimmed through the scene until he found the right page.


    Here it is, he said. While heroine is modeling her tight sweater for the mirror, the camera pans to a face in the window. The face belongs to a mask and the mask belongs to the killer.


    After he was done reading, he looked up at me. What is this? Shes changing clothes in a room with the blinds open. Okay, fine that is not without precedent. This script implies nudity or near nudity which is worse because its cowardly. But this is not tasteful in the least bit. We are meant to cheer for this young woman. Why do we spend two and half pages discussing how full her breasts are?


    It was an eighties script. Carlyle must not have kept up with the times. Artless nudity of that era was a different animal from the stuff from decades prior.


    I think the goal, I said, Is to have the viewer distracted by her assets so that when the face appears, the scare is more effective. Also, every fifteen-year-old and his buddies are going to get their older brothers to buy a ticket for them when they hear there is nudity in it.


    Its disgraceful, he said. Nudity in horror is meant to heighten the sense of vulnerability. Juxtaposing nude characters with clothed ones is supposed to suggest moral turpitude versus innocence. Its shorthand. The stuff in this scene, this is pornography. She is a strong-willed character who fights to the very end to survive. This scene confuses the message and makes our heroine out to be some sort of meat for sale at the butcher. I wont have it.


    It was a strange mix of values, but nothing I hadnt seen expressed in countless horror films. Innocent characters never engage in sex or rock and roll. They never change clothes alone in their rooms, either, apparently.


    You want her to remain clothed, I said.


    I dont want our audience focused on that aspect of her, but the problem is bigger than that, he said. The killer is supposed to be this out of control psych ward patient or something.


    Thats actually a misdirect I think, I said. The script didnt reveal who the killer was exactly in the part I had read, but it ham-fistedly suggested it was an escaped mental patient. I thought it was the psychiatrist framing the mental ward patient based on some subtle clues, but I hadnt read enough to be sure.


    Whatever he is, Carlyle said. He looks like a pervert. The audience will feel like a pervert. Is that what we want?


    Off-Screen. That was an odd ce to go Off-Screen, but I supposed getting lectured by an old school film producer was not the most tititing stuff for the audience. I did my best to look like I was being scolded.


    No, I said.


    Baron tells me you were dead set on this scene being shot the way it was written, he said.


    I shook my head. Sometime Baron uses other peoples names to share his opinions as a shield.


    Carlyle looked at me funny.


    That remark was a mistake. I didnt know Baron. Normally, a yer could improvise a line like that and Carousel would go along with it, but Carlyle was likely not connected to the script. He couldnt adapt to my improvisation.


    I sat as he looked at me and waited to see if my statement about the mysterious Baron was eptable.


    It didnt take too long.


    Carlyle started tough. Iughed with him.


    Baron has been my intermediary for years. I suppose he couldnt have maintained the post unless he knew how to shift me.


    Heughed again.


    You know when I was a decade older than you, I wrote the script for the original <em>Prognosis Terror</em>. This was before it was an anthology. Did you know that?


    I shook my head.


    I put my heart and soul into that script. A mad doctor, killing, butchering, turning his patients into animal-human hybrids. It wasplete garbage, but everyone told me it was wonderful. Everyone, except my father.


    He leaned back as far as the metal chair would let him and his eyes drifted up to the ceiling as he thought back. He took the script and chopped it down,bined it with three other shorts about medical horror and that is what made it into theaters. I didnt even get a credit for it. He told me, Its my name that sells the movie, son. Mine.


    He started tough. I suppose you imagine that that is exactly what Im doing to you?


    I didnt write the script, I said.


    Thats true, he said. But still. I know I am stepping on your toes. I dont do it because I deem you incapable. I watched your directorial debut, you know. <em>Subject of Inquiry</em>, wasnt it? About the Mercers.


    Oh, I said, slightly caught off guard. Yes.


    Not bad. Science Fiction is not something the studio does a lot of. You yed a role in the film too, didnt you? I didnt realize that until I got a look at you in person.


    Iughed nervously. I died in the second act, I said.


    Yes, he said. Torn apart by an invisible monster. Youll have to tell me how you made it look so real.


    I smiled. It felt real too.


    Heughed and picked up the script in his hands and handed it to me. What would you fix about this scene?


    I took the page and opened it up to the marked section and read it quickly. It was a simple, clich scene from a sher. Nothing fancy. Carlyles summary had been urate.


    Well, I said. We dont want to reveal the killer this early into the film, but we need his presence felt. We could do the shot from his point of view.


    Carlyle seemed interested. Expand on that.


    We move the camera around the outside of house from where the killers eyes would be. We see him checking doors, making sure the neighbors lights are off, checking the woodshed. I said. We show he is being meticulous and careful. Then, he sees the light flick on in the main characters room. She is changing but we dont see anything. We see her step up to the window in each outfit, her umm, breast covered each time so she can look in the mirror. We hear her conversation with her mom on the phone. The killer is in a safe spot to hide, or so we think. He tries to move, she hears something. She looks out the window. Shes alert. The audience knows she wont die easy.


    Shes alert, Carlyle repeated. She looks confident, clever.


    She could even say something like, Let me give the phone back to dad. I said.


    But shes alone in the house, Carlyle said.


    The killer doesnt know that, I said. He cant risk it. He leaves out of an abundance of caution, which helps foreshadow that the killer isnt a mental patient but is actually, I flipped to the pages around the ce I felt the reveal would be in the finale, The psychiatrist, like I said. That also exins why he doesnt attack her that night. Theres no exnation for why he moves to his next target in the current script. He just does.


    Carlyleughed. I like it. The killers point of view for the camera Weve done that before, of course. Useful technique if done correctly.


    I nodded. You can use it to tell the audience information about the killer. How they move, what they focus on, how big they are. That sort of thing.


    If the killer was extraordinarily tall, that would be intimidating, he said.


    Or very small can be scary too, I said.


    Who would be afraid of a short sher? Carlyle asked yfully.


    I shrugged my shoulders. Maybe its a childs doll possessed by a voodoo serial killer, I dont know. Could be effective.


    Carlyleughed. Well have to do one like that. Sounds like an absolute ball.


    On-Screen.


    The phone started to ring. I almost ignored it out of habit from our strange phone at the hotel.


    Carlyle wasnt the sort of man to answer his own phone and we appeared to be the only two people in the studio.


    I got up and found a phone on the wall next to a door that lead to some offices.


    Hello? I said.


    Bensen Geist for Carlyle Geist, the other voice said. It was a woman, likely Bensens secretary.


    Ill put him on, I said.


    Carlyle heard what I said, so he was up out of his chair in a moment toe take the phone.


    Who is it?


    Your son. Bensen, I said.


    Carlyle rolled his eyes and took the phone. Yes, Im here.


    I could hear a voice on the other end but I didnt know what it said.


    Son, Carlyle said sternly. I am working at the studio.


    Some more talking.


    You wanted to be CEO, youre CEO. Why are you still calling me?


    The person on the other side spoke again. This time, Carlyle looked rmed.


    I see, he said. Ill take care of it.


    He hung up the phone.


    I am the only person in this family that can handle an emergency, arent I? he said under his breath. He turned to me. Riley, it had urred to me that my driver is away doing errands. Could you drive me up the road?


    I nodded my head.


    Thanks, he said. Theres been a break in at one of the factories.

 Arc II, Chapter 58: The Flask

    Arc II, Chapter 58: The sk


    Take this, Carlyle said, handing me the script. He sounded annoyed at having to break away from our work. Go through it and make sure everything is consistent with what we talked about.


    I tucked the pages into the inside pocket of the jacket I had been dressed in and nodded.


    Carlyle retrieved his coat and a cane that he never actually used and led me out to the parking lot. As we passed by an office, I noticed that some headshots were pinned up on a bulletin board. One wasbeled Final Girl.


    The headshot was of Kimberly. She was ying the main character in the movie we were making. That made sense as far as casting went. I was a film director, and Kimberly was an actress. I saw her casting entry appear on the red wallpaper right under mine.<blockquote>


    Kimberly Madison: A talented up-anding actress who hopes to be seen as more than Eye Candy one day. She ys the lead in the new sher Geist Productions is creating.</blockquote>


    Thanks, <em>Casting Director</em>.


    Off-Screen.


    Have you met her? Carlyle asked.


    He must have seen where I was looking.


    Oh, Miss Madison? Yes, a few times, I said.


    What are your thoughts? Was she just cast for her looks, or do we have a real starlet on our hands?


    I think shes got what it takes to be a real talent, I said. Unfortunately, shes been pigeonholed by roles that are more plot-focused, and she hasnt had the opportunity to show her range.


    That sounded like the kind of answer I should give.


    Perhaps in the future, she will get that opportunity, Carlyle said. Back in the early days we would invest in our stars, give them room to grow. After I had to step back from the movie side of the business, the penny pinchers have just about killed my fathers legacy.


    So this is permanent? I asked. Youre taking back over movie production.


    Oh yes, he answered. Ive been chomping at the bit to get back into showbiz for years. One thing after another needed my attention. Never could spare the time. Always had to make sure there was coin in the coffers, you understand.


    I cant imagine, I said.


    I had no idea what my car was supposed to look like. Luckily, there was only one car in sight. I reached into my pocket, and the car keys were there to greet me.


    The ride there was pleasant. Carlyle talked about his ns to start making proper movies, not just the cheap shers that had overtaken the brand as ofte. He seemed genuinely enthusiastic about it. I got the impression that Carousel had been keeping him from his love of entertainment on purpose. Unlike Jedediah, Carlyle did not appear to believe it was a mystical conspiracy. He was fairly optimistic.


    His attitude soured as we pulled into the parking lot of the factory in question.


    You cane inside, Carlyle said. No need to stay out in the cold. This shouldnt take too long.


    I turned off the car and left the vehicle unlocked. Carousel was keeping an eye on it for me, I was sure.


    I followed Carlyle inside. He continued to carry his cane but did not use it.


    We were let into the factory by a guard who recognized Carlyle.


    I had to suppress a grin as we walked inside therge building. It was a movie factory. I could see half a dozen or more products being moved around on conveyor belts in nonsensical ways. I saw raw metal scrap go inside one side of arge room-sized machine ande out the other side in little pieces that a factory worker quickly assembled into a die-cast horse toy.


    The factory made everything from lunch trays to radios. I didnt know a lot about how these types of ces were engineered in the real world, but it couldnt be efficient to arrange it like that. It was probably great for the camera, though. It was like watching Santas workshop but with more horror memorabilia.


    Look at this, Carlyle said. He grabbed a die-cast kids lunchbox from a stack of boxes as we passed by it and handed it to me.


    My heart nearly leaped from my chest.


    The Mysterious Scarecrow! the letters on the front of the lunch box said.


    I recognized the scarecrow. It was Benny the Haunted Scarecrow from <em>The Final Straw II</em>. He was strung up in his cornfield just as I remembered him.


    Whats this? I said, turning it over. There was more writing on the back.


    Beware! The Patcher''s Family Farm hides a spooky secreta mysterious scarecrow that appeared one dark night amidst the whispering cornfields. Is it a guardian of the farm or a ghostly presence with tricks up its sleeve? Dare to discover the truth at Patcher''s Family Farm in eerie East Carousel.


    Carlyle beamed at it. The Patchers have a small time attraction over past the circus grounds. This is their newest feature. We gave them a deal on the merchandise, and they asked yours truly to voice the recording for their attractionyou know, the audio track that ys over and over near the concessions and whatnot. You should check it out. He changed to his spooky announcer voice, <em>Beware the mysterious scarecrow that walks by the light of the moon and sees more in the dark than you do in the light!</em>


    He smiled, proud of his narration.


    Sounds fun, I said. I couldnt think of something more engaging than that. Ordinarily, I would think this was Carousel teasing me about an old horrifying encounter, but Geists didnt appear connected to the script. I got this strange feeling that Carlyle did that bit of his own free will.


    I was invited to the grand openingst autumn, of course, he said. I ended up not going. I might give it a try this year, health permitting.


    He turned and walked further into the factory. The deeper in we got, the louder things became.


    On-Screen.


    The offices were positioned above the factory floor at the back of the building so that someone standing in them could look out over the floor and watch the workers. We had to take arge set of metal stairs to get to the top.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the vition.


    Before we got there, the door to the office swung open, and I saw none other than Bensen Geist (ording to the red wallpaper). His Plot Armor was level 30. He was neither an NPC, a yer, nor an enemy. He was a Geist. That was all there was to him on the red wallpaper. Bensen Geist, The Businessman.


    Son, Carlyle said.


    Bensen nodded as a greeting. I apologize for calling you away from your hobbies.


    You ought to, Carlyle said. Now tell me about this break-in.


    Bensen looked past Carlyle at me. Perhaps we should speak alone. He held out his arm, weing his father to the office.


    Theres no need, Carlyle said, walking past his son and into the office. We wont be here long.


    They took the file about the nasty businessst autumn, Bensen said.


    Carlyle stopped in his tracks, took a deep breath, and without turning around to look at me, said, Riley, on second thought, you had better get going.


    Will do, I said. I nced over at Bensen as a sort of hello or goodbye, but I was met only by his cold stare.


    I turned and walked down the stairs. I wasnt sure if I remembered the way out. In fact, I was almost positive I didnt, but I still found my way to the parking lot in record time.


    I was still On-Screen.


    I walked back to my car, and before I even opened the door, a pair of headlights shed at me from across the road and down the street. A brown car waited in the parking lot down there. Even from a distance, I recognized it.


    It was the same car that had acted as the Omen, the same car that the future mayor was driving.


    Why did he want my attention?


    ~-~


    I drove my car over to the lot next to the brown car and looked over inside.


    Future mayor Roderick Gray was there, as were Antoine and Isaac. Another man was there, a short man named Ricky Zaragoza. He was a regr NPC with 3 Plot Armor. He wore a button-up shirt with a huge winged cor.<blockquote>


    Antoine Stone: a former Geist foundry worker whose guilt over the loss of his friend and coworker Gale Zaragoza has driven him to take drastic action.</blockquote><blockquote>


    Isaac Hughes: the neer-do-well son of a prominent Carousel business magnate. He seeks revenge for his familys recent financial woes, resulting in his fathers early death, which he mes on the Geists.</blockquote>


    For a moment, I thought Casting Director had finally given me something.


    For a moment.


    Get over here, Roderick said cooly.


    I shut off my engine and stepped out of the vehicle and walked around to the door where they had left me an empty seat.


    The old mans in there, right? Ricky Zaragoza asked.


    I got a sinking feeling.


    Yep, I said.


    Its alling together, Ricky said, pping his hands together. I can feel it.


    He yelled like he was cheering at a hockey game. Ricky was on some vor of narcotic. Or several.


    Theres no backing down now, Roderick said. We came too far for this. Grab the sk.


    Antoine was in the passenger seat. He bent down and grabbed arge, leather-bound sk from his duffel bag.


    It looked old. The body was constructed out of some sort of silvery metal, and the leather stretched over it was hand-stitched, with strange symbols in it. There was arge opening at the top with a cork to seal it.


    We sure about this? I said. Lets go over it one more time.


    I was getting the feeling I knew what was about to happen, but wanted to be sure.


    All of our dreams are about toe true, Roderick said. We cant keep going over this. We have to take action.


    We gotta get revenge on those cocksuckers, Ricky whisper-screamed. They say those Geists get whatever they want because they worship the devil. We got ourselves a bigger devil. The chick who works at the psychic shop told us that.


    I couldnt remember if I had heard an NPC cuss. I almost smiled from surprise. This must have been a serious storyline.


    She also said we shouldnt be messing with it, Antoine said.


    Are you getting cold feet now? Ricky asked.


    No, hes not, Roderick said. Were all in this.


    Right after he said, chick who works at the psychic shop, my Casting Director trope activated.<blockquote>


    Cassie Hughes: a talented practitioner of the ult. She will help any cause for a price. Perhaps even she cannot handle the true cost.</blockquote>


    We all know why were here, Roderick said. Lets get on with it.


    He pulled out a handful of small slips of paper from his pocket. Ballots from that sham election, he said. I know the Geists are behind it. The moment I talked about raising taxes on their businesses, my campaign was dead in the water.


    It was probably dead in the water when he ran for elected office in his mid-twenties.


    Maybe I wouldnt have won, he said. But I know I got more than three percent of the vote.


    He shoved the ballots into the sks wide opening.


    Ricky was next. He had been sitting on a file folder that he produced and grabbed arge paperclipped stack from inside it. It appeared to be some sort of settlement from awsuit with the Geists. This must have been the file stolen from the factory office. He read selected lines from it. Unfortunatepse in judgment from Mr. Zaragoza. Unprecedented risky behavior. Repeated warnings. Improper use of safety equipment.


    He read each line with venom.


    They killed my brother, he said. And they said it was because of because of, an unfortunate convergence of bad luck! Thats bull. Gale was more careful than anybody in that nt. Tell them, Antoine.


    Ricky started shoving bits of the paper into the sk. He couldnt fit the whole thing, but he sure tried.


    He was the best, Antoine said. It was their negligence that killed himfaulty safety equipment, in and simple.


    Why make things safe when you have all thewyers in town on the payroll? Ricky said, crying as he talked. They buried it. They gave us chump change. Gales poor wife was strong-armed. It wasnt even in the newspapers.


    Oh, its about to be in the papers, Roderick said. He started tough.


    I looked at Antoine and then Isaac. We were all freaked out. I wanted to leave at that moment, but it was clear this was the story Carousel wanted to tell.


    Unlike <em>Reply the Departed</em>, which we knew had a veryx, straightforward plot where yers didn''t have to do much, this story probably wouldnt allow us to opt out, at least if we wanted the true ending. We had to go along, and none of us wanted to.


    Antoine, Roderick said, Youre next.


    Antoine pulled out a pink piece of paper. I said one word to that safety inspector after Gale died. I just told the truth. He ratted me out to management. He was corrupt. They fired me that same day.


    He shoved the pink paper into the sk.


    It was Isaacs turn. They undercut my family business. One by one, that bastard Bensen Geist took out all of ourpanies. They could afford to price things at cost. Under cost even. How could wepete with that?


    He shoved what appeared to be a coupon for a set of tires into the sk.


    Antoine leaned the sk toward me.


    I knew what I needed to do. I now understood why every meaningful conversation Carlyle and I had was Off-Screen. They wanted to portray him in a particr way, whether he matched that persona or not.


    He brought me to this town with promises of creative control. He was going to let me make a name for myself. As soon as I got here, it was clear that was a lie. My career is as good as dead unless I do everything he says.


    I ripped off the cover of the script Carlyle had been working on with me and crammed it down into the sk.


    Roderick took the sk from Antoine.


    There are a thousand other people who have legitimate grievances with the Geist family that cant be here tonight. Were doing this for them too. I talked to thewyer, he said. The estate is all wrapped up in a trust controlled by the oldest living Geist and monitored by some banker named Dyrkon. Were going to use this curse to kill the Geists one at a time. When theyre all gone, the estate gets sold. Carousel will be free.


    He started tough.


    The witch said we were supposed to put our intentions into the sk, Isaac said, barely hiding a grin from having called his sister a witch, Have we done that yet?


    I think so, Roderick said. Now lets do our duty.


    Roderick pulled out a match from his pocket.


    Wait, Antoine said. The psychic told us that taking revenge with a curse is risky. Are we sure we want to do this?


    I am, Roderick said. <em>We</em> are.


    He struck the match against the side of the sk and dropped it in the opening.


    Immediately, smoke poured out of the top of the silver canteen, and we all rushed to exit the vehicle.


    Roderick still held the sk as the smoke built and was eventually blown away in the wind.


    For a moment, we stood still and looked at each other.


    Did it work? Ricky asked.


    It worked, Roderick said. I can feel it.


    Antoine, Isaac, and I looked at each other in horror.


    On the red wallpaper, a screen appeared that was all ck. Soon, I saw the night sky. The camera I was watching appeared to be flying through the sky with little wisps of smokeing into frame here and there. I was seeing the smoke fly through the sky from its point of view. The smoke flew over the town and dove into a plot of earth. I couldn''t tell where, but I could have sworn I saw a gravestone. Smoke poured down into grass and dirt. My view changed. I was no longer seeing the world from the point of view of the smoke. I saw dirt flying away from the camera.


    We were seeing from the point of view of a person who crawled from the earth and looked around. I had seen a gravestone; they were in a cemetery. The person whose view the footage wasing from stood up. They were tall. They took huge, steady steps.


    Whose idea was it to see from the killer''s point of view again?


    I looked over at Antoine and Isaac.


    From the look on their faces, they could see it too.

 Arc II, Chapter 59: Fire

    Arc II, Chapter 59: Fire


    Antoine, Isaac, and I jumped into my car. We watched the screens that had appeared in our minds. We were Off-Screen.


    Future Mayor Gray and the coked-out Ricky Zaragoza got back into the brown car and silently watched the factory.


    What is happening? Isaac said, clearly not ready to be watching film footage in his minds eye.


    What <em>was</em> happening? We were seeing the killer, I assumed, making his way through the twilight toward the factory. We were seeing things through his eyes.


    When Carlyle and I were going over the script for the movie were making, I suggested we show a scene from the killers point of view. Carousel must have thought it would be funny to do that for us in this storyline, I said.


    I dont like this, Isaac said. His shield wall of sarcasm and jokery was not equipped to help him deal with the video feed ying in his head. I can hear it breathing.


    Yeah, I said. Imagine that. Hearing a killers breath in your ear. Luckily, this was not the same thing as what I was used to. This was audio ying on the red wallpaper, which sounded like an echo, almost like a radio ying in the next room. The axe murderer sounded like he was right behind you. Which is weird since it did just crawl out of a grave.


    So its not a zombie if its breathing, Antoine said.


    Not the normal kind, at least, I said. I tried to project an air of confidence, as if that might soothe Isaac.


    The truth was it was incredibly scary sitting there in the car waiting for the killer to walk toward its victim.


    Hes on the other side of the factory, Antoine said. Hes walking into the sunset.


    That was a nice observation. The downside was we wouldnt get to see the baddie in action.


    Were safe for now, I said. Were not anywhere near First Blood.


    In fact, the needle had barely ventured into the Party Phase. This was shaping up to be a long story.


    We waited and watched as the killer walked along toward the factory.


    You know, its kind of funny, I said. He hasnt walked past a single civilian. Thats how it is in the movies. No one sees the hulking monster making its way across town.


    It reminded me of one of the enemy tropes I had seen before on Ranger Danger.


    Are we supposed to just sit here? Isaac asked.


    Antoine and I looked at each other. Id let him answer.


    Our characters want the Geists dead. Sitting here and watching it is what our characters would do. You have to be in character, or else Carousel gets mad, he said.


    Isaac had not yet had a taste of ying an actual character with preset motivations and desires. Antoine and I had only had a taste of it.


    Our characters suck, Isaac said. I think mine is supposed to be stupid. Everyone in his family talked to me like I was an idiot earlier today. Apparently, I crashed my car in ake, too. I dont get how were the main characters, either. Arent we like the bad guys? We summoned whatever this thing is.


    Breathe, man, I said. Were alright. Being the main characters does not mean we are good people. Besides, in this story, I get the sense that the killer will eventually turn on us. Its what we deserve.


    I imagined that didnt help calm Isaacs nerves, but he needed to be prepared for that reality. We were the worst kind of horror movie characters: we wereplicit.


    Frankly, I doubted I was a main character. I got the sense that my character was someone the audience would love to see die. The over-sexualized movie script and the terrible motivation for taking a life all added up to me getting the kibosh.


    Theres the factory, Antoine said as the video feed on the red wallpaper finally showed the killer approaching the building in front of us. Should we go take a peek?


    I thought about it. I could use a look for <strong>Trope Master</strong>. I would love to know exactly what we were dealing with, but there were other concerns.


    Maybe we dont want our characters to know too much about what theyve done, I said. They cant see the POV cam of the killer approaching. Do they even know what this thing is supposed to look like? I know it would help my Oblivious Bystander strategy if my character didnt see the killer just yet.


    Antoine nodded.


    I just hate sitting here watching. I dont know where Kimberly is, he said. She might be in there.


    I shook my head.


    Shes an actress in my characters movie. I imagine she wont get center stage untilter, I said. That seemed to soothe his worries.


    The killer''s live feed was very strange from that point forward. He approached a loading dock door and climbed up into the building like it was nothing, even though that involved a five-foot vertical. I heard a sharp snap right before the bay door mmed behind him.


    He walked forward.


    The video changed color. It was the lighting. It was orange and bright all of a sudden.


    This tale has been uwfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    What is happening? Isaac asked.


    I didnt know.


    The camera turned toward a desk with a stack of papers and amp. The bulb in themp burst, catching one of the papers on fire. The fire spread.


    The figure continued walking. I hoped it woulde across a window or mirror so we could see its reflection, but it never did.


    It walked forward. A drinking fountain hanging on the wall lunged forward as a pipe burst behind it. Water started spraying out from the fountain. The waternded on a machine that was pressing metal disks into shapes. The machine began to spark as the killer walked by.


    Carousel was putting on a show for us.


    The sparking machine started spraying oil.


    I could see people in the distance. They were wearing ear protection while they buffed some metal die-cast parts. They had no idea what was happening.


    The killer was not in the same building as the office where Bensen and Carlyle were, but hallways connected the buildings.


    Then, for the first time, I got a glimpse of the killer, though it was only just a quick look at his hand as he grabbed arge rod of metal from a scrap heap. It had a rusty, jagged end.


    The killer continued through the building. Sparks flew. Oil leaked. A light fixture fell from above andnded just to the left of the killer.


    He continued walking miraculously, never crossing paths with a witness until he found himself in the same building as the office.


    I didnt want to watch.


    It turned out I would never have to.


    In the distance, I heard a siren. Then another.


    Pretty soon, the night air was filled with the sound of fire engines.


    Thats some great response time, Antoine said. I could tell he was rattled. They got here already and the smoke isnt even visible in the air.


    Fire trucks started to pour in from every street. Police and ambnces were right after them.


    Soon, the fire started to burn in earnest. I could see an orange glow over the building where the killer had entered.


    A loud crash sounded. The building wasing apart.


    On the red wallpaper, the feed continued. The killer stopped short. It stood in a hallway just in view of the stairs that would lead up to the office.


    Why isnt he moving? Isaac asked.


    I couldnt say.


    The longer it stayed in that spot, the worse the ambient destruction became in that area.


    An rm sounded. Firefighters burst into the factory and started escorting workers out.


    The killer stood still and watched, having found a perfect spot to never be seen by anyone.


    Thats got to be the work of a trope, I said.


    Has to be, Antoine agreed.


    Meanwhile, workers poured out of the factory, coughing and screaming for their friends.


    The killer watched as Carlyle was led down the stairs by a firefighter. Bensen was dragged behind, screaming about how he needed to empty the safe.


    Carlyle and Bensen were evacuated. The firefighters turned their attention to putting out the mes.


    They failed.


    The killer, or whatever it was, never left the factory, even as the walls copsed and everything that could ignite went up in mes.


    Eventually, the feed cut off with a loud crunch.


    Did he just die? Isaac asked.


    I shrugged my shoulders.


    On-Screen.


    Knuckles rapped against Antoines window.


    It was Future Mayor Gray. He looked absolutely ticked off.


    Antoine opened the door.


    Gray started ranting, They didnt even die! Thats Carlyle Geist over there with the cane. He pointed in the distance. What the hell just happened?


    Ricky Zaragoza was in the brown car next to mine, wide-eyed. He had been crying. What did we just do? he kept saying over and over again. It was all too real for him.


    He got out of the car and started pacing in circles. What did we just do, man? What did we just do? It could have killed all of them! He let off a string of expletives. This cant just be coincidence. This was us. Its no good. We might have killed somebody!


    He bent down and threw up.


    We didnt kill the person we were after! Roderick Gray said. Hes right there. He, too, let off a string of curse words, but for different reasons.


    Antoine and I looked at each other.


    This is too real for me, I said. I cant be a part of this anymore.


    We were only supposed to be getting revenge, Antoine said. Those are my friends in there that almost got burned alive.


    Isaac stayed in the back seat, bent over like he had a stomach cramp.


    I didnt think it was going to work, I said. I thought it was just a little game I didnt think it was going to work!


    Antoine let loose a stream of tears. I was caught off guard by that. Since when was he that good of an actor? He immediately tried to hide that he had done it, to wipe away the tears.


    We are not done! Gray said. We started this. We need to finish it. You hear me?


    Ricky was dry-heaving behind the brown car.


    We meet back up at the diner tomorrow, Gray said. We have ns to make. You better show. I dont understand. Why didnt it work? We need to talk to that psychic.


    Off-Screen.


    Ricky and Roderick Gray got in the brown car and left after a few minutes.


    Something strange happened. It felt like we were between the scenes, but for some reason, the scene kept going on over near the factory. The NPCs must have been keeping up their act for the benefit of the Geists.


    Fascinating. I still half-expected the Geists to eventually reveal that on some level, they were controlled and not just manipted, but it hadnt happened yet. When I saw the script while Lillian Geist told her backstory, it had been written as if the scriptwriter knew the gist of what she would say. I couldnt tell if that was her reacting to the script or the script reacting to her.


    I didnt know which possibility was more perplexing.


    We were just scratching the surface of this storyline.


    Even now, the needle on the Plot Cycle had barely moved. This was the backdrop of what was toe. That was the only exnation.


    I opened my car door and got out.


    You guys wait here, I said.


    The factory was a few blocks away. I ran the whole way there until I found Carlyle in the parking lot.


    Riley! Carlyle eximed. What are you doing back here?


    I saw the smoke. I got a funny feeling. Came back as fast as I could, I said, thinking quickly. What happened? Did you guys have a meltdown or something?


    I noticed Carlyle was using his cane and clutching his chest. He didnt answer me at first.


    You alright? I asked, bracing his shoulder with my hand.


    Im fine, Carlyle said. Its nerves. Thats all. Nerves.


    He took a few deep breaths as firefighters ran around us. The ze was still going strong inside. Something in there was sputtering and spitting glowing metal.


    I dont know what caused it, he said. The foundry wasnt even online. The machinery couldnt have caused this; I just dont know.


    Lets get back away from the building, I said. Is everyone alright?


    Carlyle seemed to be off in his own world briefly. He eventually answered.


    Yes. Everyone is alright, he said. Apparently a young woman saw the smoke and called in the fire department. If she hadnt, we would have all been trapped. Ive had some close calls in my life, but this may have been the closest to death I have ever been. I could hear the building falling down as we ran. How could it fall apart that quickly?


    I stood with him for some time more. He was clearly in shock. I waited until a man driving a town car came to bring him home.


    I couldnt help but feel sorry for the Carlyle. I felt guilty; even though I didnt really have a choice in the matter, I still felt a piercing pang in my heart.


    As he left, I had plenty to think about.


    Earlier, when I saw Kimberlys headshot, her Casting Director entry appeared on the red wallpaper. When I heard a reference to a certain witch, Cassies entry had done the same.


    I got another entry while speaking with Carlyle Geist. Specifically, when he said that a young woman had called in the fire department, a new entry appeared on the red wallpaper.


    The entry had intrigued me from the moment I saw it.


    It read, Ramona Mercer: a woman lost in time; she seeks to find her way back to the Centennial, but she will need an escort.

 Arc II, Chapter 60: The Empty Frame

    Arc II, Chapter 60: The Empty Frame


    I froze in ce. Never before had <strong>Casting Director</strong> thrown me a curveball like that.


    Ramona Mercer.


    She was one of the victims of the original Centennial disaster. What kind of link must she have to this storyline and the Throughline itself? I knew who the Mercers were, or at least, I knew that the family could summon a psychokic, parasitic poltergeist. I didnt expect them to be connected to the Throughline or, at the very least, the Tutorial.


    Why was <strong>Casting Director</strong> telling me information about an NPC? It had never done that before. It sounded like this was an escort mission. That could be tricky.


    As I considered this, I realized one thing further: if Ramona Mercer had called the fire department, that meant she must have been nearby.


    I put my head on a swivel and surveyed the crowds of looky-loos who watched the factory burn.


    There were dozens of them.


    Only one of them was looking at me.


    She was a tall woman, I would say. She had dark hair with a streak of red. She dressed practically in a jacket and jeans with Carousel brand Converse all-stars.


    I saw nothing for her on the red wallpaper except for a frame with lights, like the one where a yer poster was meant to go. No tropes, hidden or otherwise. Not ques with names on them.


    The absence of information was revealing in itself. Something was very strange about her.


    I walked toward her slowly.


    She walked toward me.


    As we got closer, I recognized her face from the shback from Jedediah Geists story.


    I kept looking over toward Antoine and Isaac in the car, hoping they would see what I was doing.


    Eventually, we met in the middle. I slowed a bit so I would still be visible to the car. At a nce, I saw Antoine had gotten out and was watching us.


    Ramona Mercer? I asked cautiously.


    She didnt confirm or deny it.


    Youre not supposed to be here, she said. Youre not the director who drives Carlyle Geist to the factory. Hes shorter and has a ponytail. Youre dressed like him, though


    She was gripping something in her jacket pocket. I expected it to be a weapon, so I spoke calmly and slowly.


    Im not the director, I said. Im just ying his character.


    Saying that was enough for her to take a sharp inhale.


    You and the others, the plotters, youre all just? she asked, hoping I would fill in the nk.


    I looked back toward the car with Antoine and Isaac.


    Those two are like me, I said, pointing toward them.


    I was watching you, she said. You didnt say the things they normally say.


    No, I said. We dont know whats on the script. We have to guess.


    She raised an eyebrow.


    Did Mr. Dyrkon send you? she asked.


    She knew about Ss Dyrkon. We might have been on to something.


    More or less, I said. He hinted someone like you might be here. You want to go to the Centennial, right?


    She nodded her head.


    It sounded like we needed to talk.


    I convinced her to go against her better judgment and go with us to the diner. She was afraid of us. I didnt me her. We were probably as alien to her as she was to us.


    What is she? Antoine asked me when she entered the diner before us.


    It almost looks like, I said. I was hesitant to continue that thought.


    She looks like a yer with a missing Archetype poster on the red wallpaper, he said,pleting the thought. Doesnt look like an NPC.


    I had never seen that exact format before. There was the axe murderer who didnt show up on the red wallpaper at all. Outsiders could hide details of their information, but some of it leaked through if you had good Savvy or Moxie.


    A nk frame where a poster should go? That was new.


    We entered in and sat with her at a corner booth.


    So, she said. Tell me what we have to do. Ive been waiting years for this.


    I somehow got elected emissary, so I answered, Were in a storyline. Or a trap, as Jedediahs ghost called it.


    Her eyes went wide. You know about that? Oh damn, this is really happening.


    It couldnt have been that long. She didnt look any older than she had in the shbacks.


    You want to get to the Centennial, I said. We escort you there. I think thats the mission.


    She nodded but didnt speak for a moment. She was clearly waiting for more.


    That cant be it, she said. Youre not going to exin whats going on?


    I looked at Antoine. He shrugged. He was still in a funk.


    Tell us what you think this is, I said. Then Ill tell you what I know.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the vition.


    Hold on, she said. Mr. Dyrkon said that you would arrive to show me the way, assuming he was talking about you. So, enlighten me. I dont know anything.


    We had to break out of the contest for who knew the least. I decided to start.


    This is the Game at Carousel, I said. Everything here looks real, but its fake. Were all ying the game. Maybe even you are, assuming you arent a part of it.


    Game? she asked. Im talking about the time travel, which of course, isnt really time travel.


    She didnt know about the game, but she did know about something.


    Okay, I said. Time travel. You know that this storyline is set in the past.


    Set in the past, she repeated. The factory is. Its not burned down anymore. I guess it is now, but you know what I mean. The Geists are alive again. Trust me, I checked. Its definitely them, as far as I can tell. Every time Ie here, the same events y out. I always intervene because Im supposed to. Then, a few hourster, nothing. I cant get past today.


    She took a deep breath.


    I was really hoping you all would know what was going on, she said. You said your name is Riley?


    I nodded.


    Riley, Antoine, and Isaac, she said, Guys, Im pulling out my hair here. I cant tell you how many times Ive been through this. I know everything that happens today. I know the name of every person who gets evacuated from the factory, every person who watches from the outside. I know as much as I can about that thing tries to kill everyone And it all means nothing. Ive been stuck on this day for years.


    The waitress arrived with some coffee. Ramona must have ordered it for us.


    Look, it took me a year just to get to this point, and every time I look at the calendar, its like another year has passed. I just want to find my sister and save her. I cant do that from 1984. Right now, we should live about twenty blocks that way, she pointed east. Im 19 years old and dating a guy that had a job and a ce for my sis and me to crash. I cant get there because if I walk too far away, I go back to the present. Its useless. I need your help.


    She was doing her best to keep her emotions in.


    Some of the things she said made no sense. If she was trying this storyline over and over, how was she surviving? Was she really able to just walk away from it? It must have had something to do with whatever she was within the gameyer or something else.


    I dont mean to unload on you, she said. God, you guys are basically just kids. You go to Carousel U?


    I shook my head.


    She took a deep breath.


    Look, I am Ramona Mercer. I went to Carousel East High. Never went to college because I had to take care of my sister. I y guitar for fun and tips. I was not prepared for any of this. I just need your help. Can you do that?


    Well help you, Antoine said. You have to help us though. Youre not the only one with questions.


    No one talked for a few minutes. I didnt know what to ask first, and I really didnt want to overwhelm her.


    After enough silence, she started talking anyway.


    I used toe here when I was a teenager to drink coffee and smoke cigarettes, she said, ncing over her shoulder at the cigarette vending machine down the hall near the bathrooms. That was not there normally, but in Carousel 1984, the script said it was. Rebellion came naturally to me. Unfortunately, I had attentive and loving parents who supported me no matter what, so rebelling was kind of a waste. You say this is all fake. What I want to know is how it happened. Things were normal up until 1992. After that, the town got weird. Its hard to exin.


    I wished Anna or even Kimberly were there. How do you tell someone that their entire life was a lie? Was I even sure it was a lie? What if she were a relic of a time before the game?


    Antoine wasnt usually at a loss for words, but he wasnt talking now. He didnt seem to trust Ramona. How could I me him? It was only a matter of time before Carousel did something tricky, and this whole situation looked ripe for maniption.


    My understanding, I said, Is that 1992 was the year thest game started, so it became the year of the original Centennial in this game. I think Carousel uses patterns to decide stuff like that.


    There was no game in 1992, Ramona said. Everything was normal before the Centennial.


    I simply shook my head. Normal was a rtive term.


    People dying mysteriously, I said. Have you ever been able to leave town? Did it seem like everyone knew who you were?


    I was operating under the assumption that she was like Jedediah and that she was the center of everyones attention.


    What are you talking about? Ramona said. I had a normal life. We went on vacation. We went skiing. We went hiking up north. My mom and stepdad werent wealthy enough to go too far. After they died, I had to take care of my sister. She was just a kid. I was all she had. No one knew my name. Well, maybe not my first name.


    She was getting defensive. Convincing Isaac and Cassie that Carousel was an otherworldly entity was only possible because I could show them supernatural things and the red wallpaper. Neither was possible for Ramona. She didnt appear to be able to see the red wallpaper and she was raised to believe the supernatural was normal.


    I have to assume that whatever happened, it was done to keep you in Carousel, I said.


    Because everything is scripted? Ramona asked. You say my life is scripted just like the people here in this fake 1984? And this is the same script you say you cant see.


    She sounded almost receptive, if a little skeptical.


    Okay, she said. Why? Hamm? What is the reason? Just give me an answer, dude. Anything. Why go through all the trouble?


    Why was one of those luxury questions that we couldnt afford. I had no answers. Only guesses, both educated and otherwise.


    To entertain the audience, I said. That was our most solid lead. You are a character central to the story of Carousel.


    Ramona started tough.


    You know, thats not at all what it feels like, she said after a moment. Is the audience enjoying me slowly going crazy?


    It might have been.


    Hey, Isaac interrupted, Is 1984 far enough back in time to be able to order an egg cream? Ive always wanted to try one of those.


    Ramona was temporarily befuddled by that question but then said, How can I be an important character? Im a loser in every way imaginable. Nothing I try seeds. They say its because of the Mercer family curse. I dont know if thats true, but its starting to feel like it.


    Carousel and family curses, what a pair.


    That how your parents died? Antoine asked. Your family curse? The big invisible guy who goes berserk on every perceived threat?


    That caught Ramona off-guard.


    Thats just a rumor, she said. Look, boys, I need to make it to the Centennial in 1992. So far, Ive never been able to make it past January 1st, 1984. In a few hours, I find myself back in the present. Ive even seen them haul the cigarette machine onto a truck every time the day resets. Mr. Dyrkon said people woulde help me if I just triggered the storyline every day. Ive done my part every morning for longer than I can remember. Ive never made it to the Centennial. Now, its your turn to do your part.


    We already are, Antoine said. The next scene is set in this Diner on January 2nd, 1984. Carousel might expect us to actually wait all night, but if it did, it would have shown us to a ce to sleep. Since it didnt, I suspect that if we just wait here, the next scene will get here soon.


    No, Ramona said, shaking her head. Ive waited in this diner all night before. It doesnt work.


    That was an interesting point. She was clearly yer-adjacent, if not a yer outright. Could it be a simple answer?


    You dont have a role, I said. You arent ying a character in this story. If the next scene has all of the dirtbags meeting at the diner, but there are no yers cast as dirtbags, does the scene even happen?


    Minor roles dont have to be cast. Perhaps Major ones didnt either, but to have no roles at all filled by yers? Maybe that was why she couldnt move the story forward.


    Antoine and I discussed the matter in more depth. Isaac stayed quiet. Something was bothering him. Perhaps it was just nerves.


    After a bit, the bell on the door rang, and we looked up to see Cassie walking in dressed an awful lot like Madam Celia.


    There you are! Cassie said, rushing to our table. I came as soon as I knew the next scene was at the diner. The mayor guy told me we were meeting to discuss something about the sk. I saw something on the red wallp


    She stopped speaking as soon as she saw Ramona.


    What is she? Cassie asked. I have her as an ally on the red wallpaper.


    Cassie could see her allies health on the red wallpaper thanks to her <em>The Anguish</em> trope. Normally, only yers and Paragons acting as yers were affected by that trope. Same as with <em>Casting Director</em>.


    Were still trying to figure that out, I said.


    I quickly exined what we knew so far.


    Cassie listened intently and then looked Ramona over.


    I dont normally wear dresses, she said. I just woke up in this.


    Okay, Ramona said.


    I tapped the table gently.


    I know you dont trust us, I said. You dont have the luxury of that mattering. I need to know what happened to you. Can you please tell us?


    Ramona looked down at her coffee. You wont believe me, she said. Or maybe you will. I cant believe Im saying this.


    Then, she drank her coffee and began telling the story.

 Interlude--Ramona Part One

    Interlude--Ramona Part One


    Carousel, Carousel.


    April 12,  1992


    The Original Centennial


    (before the continuity loop)


    ~-~


    Ramona Mercer looked over the crowd at the Bewitching Pavilion. It was mostly families, with lots of young children in cutesy costumes. One little boy in a stroller was dressed as the Edding Swamp Monster, which was said to look like a mutant catfish with spider legs for whiskers. His mother had stuckrge, hairy spider legs sprawling out of his stroller, while the stroller''s opening looked like the mouth of the jagged-toothed monster itself.


    <em>Huh</em>, Ramona thought<em>. I guess that means the baby wasnt really dressed as the monster but was being eaten by the creaturea strange choice.</em>


    <em>Still, very cute</em>.


    The bigger the children got, the less cute their costumes were.


    Some of the absolutely least cute children at the pavilion were the teenagers who were throwing popcorn at each other at a table far in the back. Their costumes werent meant to solicit awws and oohs, they were meant to scare or even gross out anyone who looked at them.


    They didnt even have the decency to put effort in. They were just covered in fake blood. Most of them were just wearing street clothes, not real costumes other than the blood and some errant fake guts. Shame. Dressing up on the anniversary of the founding used to be something everyone went all out for when Ramona was a kid.


    The pavilion was a pitiful sight. It was a glorified food court.


    It was also loud. Too loud.


    The venues weak sound system could not carry over the noise of the crowd and the rides, but Ramona wasnt going to let that stop her.


    She approached the microphone and yelled, Wee to the Carousel Centennial Bewitching Pavilion!


    There was nothing bewitching about this ce other than some tacky streamers. Ramona felt like a fool in her ck dress and pointy hat. The fake warts on her nose and cheekbones itched. She was hired to dress like a witch and sing songs for children. Lucky her.


    Still, when it came down to it, she was going to be able to y <em>her</em> music and pay her bills from it. That was the dream, right? She had forged a patchwork career doing odd jobs around Carousel, working at carnivals, ying music at birthday parties, ying extras in the cheap horror movies made in town, and anything else she could do and still have time to pick her sister up from school.


    She grabbed her most prized possessionher electric guitarand took a deep breath.


    Im Ramona, and these are the Zombies, she said, pointing to her bandmates behind her. They were not very convincing zombies. One of the few things the venue was clear about was that they needed a cheesy, horror-themed band name, and the rotund gentleman who told her this was very set on it being <em>Ramona and the Zombies</em>. She was embarrassed to even say it. She had begged to make it Ramona and the Corpses or, better yet, just the Zombies so she could leave her name out of it, but no dice.


    The crowd didnt react.


    Ramona Mercer, that is, she said. Suddenly, the crowd was interested. They werent standing and cheering, but they were at least paying attention.


    Herst name was well known, even if she wasnt.


    She thenunched into her set. It was just a bunch of her original music augmented with fresh, spooky lyrics for the asion. Her soulful melody about losing her parents at a young age became a song about a haunted convertible. Her heartfelt bad to her sister became a song about an evil siren. Her love songs were changed to be about vampires, werewolves, and a mummys boy who would never choose her.


    You do what you have to do to make ends meet.


    The kids loved it. Every time she said some ridiculous line about a vampire not knowing whether to kiss her or drink her blood or about a werewolf who needed to shave, theyughed like it was the best thing they had ever heard.


    Between the kids, the parents who were happy because their kids were happy, and the old men who stopped by to ogle, she was really growing a crowd.


    While she sang, she looked off-stage to where her sister sat at one of the pic tables at the pavilion. She was doing her homework.


    Phoebe Mercer. Sixteen years old. The only living person Ramona lovedpletely.


    Ramona had gotten permission to leave arge tip jar near the entrance of the venue. Experience had taught her to bolt it down and make sure the opening was too small for those damn teenagers to get their hands in.


    She watched as people generously awarded her their change from buying lunch at the booths in the area. There were more than a fewrger denominations being stuffed inside, too.


    It was all going to be worth it.


    That is if she didnt w her face off to get rid of these stupid fake warts.


    She sang and yed her heart out.


    When her time slot was over, a barbershop quartet with fake slits on their throats was chomping at the bit to get on stage and do their act.


    Theyre all yours, she said as she unplugged her guitar from the venues system and helped her bandmates carry their instruments down the stairs.


    Her drummer, Tony, came running over with the tip jar. He held out the tip jar and shook it with great effort while smiling. He wore a ponytail and a graphic T-shirt. Ramona had dated him back in his pre-ponytail days, but they had just been friends for half a decade.


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    Were eating good tonight, he said. What are you buying with your share of the treasure, Ramona?


    Ramona took the jar and shook it. He wasnt kidding. It was quite a haul.


    Rent, she said.


    Her bass guitarist was off trying to talk an innocent carnival game worker out of her phone number, probably by purposely not mentioning that he was a bass yer. Her keyboardist had stayed behind to assist the barbershop quartet with a couple of their songs that had a part for someedic piano riffs.


    You guys were amazing, Phoebe said, carrying her math textbook under one arm.


    You had your headphones on the whole time, Tony said, pointing to the metal band and yellow foam pads still around her neck.


    That was just so boys wouldnt talk to me, Phoebe said. And it helped muffle when you tried to y the drums.


    Tonys eyes dimmed. Children are so mean. What are they teaching you in schools.


    Rhythm, Phoebe answered back with a smile.


    Tony grabbed at his heart. That one hurt. Well have to get you a tambourine so you can keep me in check, he said. Ramona, did you hear what happened yesterday?


    Ramona, who had been stuffing cables in her guitar bag, absentmindedly said, Lots of things happened yesterday. Which of them are you talking about?


    Jedediah Geist, Tony said. You hear about this?


    Geist, Geist, she said, That name sounds familiar.


    Oh, shut up, Tony said. Jedediah Geist was murdered yesterday.


    That <em>was</em> interesting.


    Why do you look so pleased about that? Ramona asked with augh.


    Im not, Tony said. Its just he was thest living Geist. Thats a big deal. Thats a big <em>name</em>. Its interesting that he died under mysterious circumstances. You know, they have lots of skeletons in their closets.


    Tell me, Phoebe asked. Do people say stuff like that when Mercers die, too?


    She wasnt being yful. Her mothersst name was Mercer, and her death had generated its own rumors.


    Tony shifted into damage control. No, he said. I mean, there are no more Mercersexcept for you guys. I mean, I dont say stuff like that. People might say youre cursed, but I dont because I think its bad. Its bad to do


    Nice recovery, Ramona said. She wrapped Phoebe up in a hug and made intense eye contact with Tony. <em>My</em> family doesn''t have any skeletons in our closets. And if we were truly cursed, how could I be killing it on the stage and screen right now? You dont reach this level of stardom without some cosmic vibes on your side.


    She started tough. Phoebe did, too.


    Phoebe leaned back and, with two fingers, plucked one of the fake warts off of Ramonas face.


    Good point, Phoebe said.


    They finished packing up and waited for their keyboardist and bass guitarist. Eventually, Dustin and Emelio respectively returned. Dustin made a few bucks for helping the quartet. Emelio learned another way how not to seduce a woman.


    And they were off.


    How about we put our stuff in the car and thene back to ride some of the rides? Ramona asked Phoebe as they trudged toward the exits.


    Can we afford it? Phoebe asked softly.


    Oh yeah, Ramona said.


    They walked hand in hand.


    Before they got close to their destination, they heard a scream. There was amotion in the distance. The crowd was separating.


    Whats going on? Phoebe asked.


    I dont know, Ramona said, But it probably involves alcohol. Or teenagers. Or both.


    Tony, Phoebe said, Whats happening? Do you see anything?


    Tony, who was pulling a cart with his drum kit on it, was just as confused as Phoebe. I dont see anything We need to go.


    He sounded worried.


    He and Phoebe grabbed Ramona by her arms and started to drag her away from the crowd.


    Tony, your drums, Ramona said, looking back at the cart he was leaving behind.


    Ille back for them, he said. Lets get out of the way.


    As much as they tried, though, the crowd got thicker in front of them. It was almost like everyone around them was standing back, waiting to see what was about to happen.


    Let us through, Tony said.


    The people in front of them looked at them as if they didnt know how to respond.


    Let us through! Tony screamed.


    One of the men blocking their path, a big, burly guy, looked like he wanted to say something, but he didnt.


    No, Tony said. Please, let us through.


    When the man didnt budge, Tony pulled Ramona back to the left.


    Where are we going? Ramona asked.


    Tony didnt have an answer. He looked in every direction, but nothing he saw gave him any hope.


    Suddenly, both Tony and Phoebe stopped moving. For a moment, they both paused as if there was a sound only they could hear.


    No, Phoebe said softly. She held onto Ramona tightly.


    What are you two doing? Ramona asked.


    She looked around the crowd. People were watching something that was making their way toward them.


    We lost Emelio and Du she started to say about her two absent bandmates.


    Then she saw what everyone was looking at.


    A woman in a ck dress stumbled through the crowd. She wore a strange veil, but it had been pulled back over the top of her head, revealing a bizarre mask of some kind.


    Help! she screamed. I need help. I need a hospital. No, no, I need a doctor, please. Take me away, please!


    Ramona was taken aback by the sight. People were watching, confused, and no one was trying to help.


    As the woman got near to people, they would see her face, and some would react by pping their hands at the detail of her mask.


    It looked to Ramona like she had a mask made of snakes. No, it couldnt be a mask. It was some sort oftex prop glued to her face.


    No, the tiny snakes were wriggling as if they had been sewn right on her face, still alive.


    Oh my god, Ramona said.


    The crowd reacted in different ways. Some looked horrified, some concerned. Still, some must have thought it was a very good costume. ncing around the crowd, there were many people dressed for the asion. None of them had a costume this convincing, however.


    Finally, one of the women in the crowd asked, Is this real or is it part of the celebration?


    Many of the crowd appeared interested in the answer.


    I think its real, a man said.


    As if waiting for permission, many in the crowd rushed forward, including a woman wearing a badge that signified she was a staff nurse working at the Centennial.


    Maam, she said, notpletely sure what she was supposed to be doing but eager to help. Come here, maam. Let me take a look.


    The woman with the strange things on her face screamed out, Help me. My name is Lillian Geist. Ive been held against my will and I just escaped. I need help.


    Boos rang out through the crowd. Suddenly, their concern evaporated.


    Oh,e on, a man in the crowd said with augh, Thats too far. Lillian Geist. Wait


    Suddenly, the color drained from the mans face. It wasnt just him. Many in the crowd took an instinctive step back.


    Gasps ran through the crowd.


    Lillian screamed, Help me, help me, please!


    Now, the crowd stood their ground and watched as Lillian fell down sobbing, ugly, tearless sobs.


    Someone help her, Ramona said. She looked around at the people who just stood and stared. Wait, is this real?


    Ramona, Phoebe whispered sharply. Be quiet, please be quiet.


    Ramona looked around therge circle of people, confused as they did nothing.


    She was shy at first, unsure whether this was some kind of performance.


    Ramona saw a young child asking its mother what to do. The mother put a finger to her lips and whispered, Just watch.


    The crowd was quiet. The entire Centennial Celebration had gone silent except for the sounds of rides and machines. No people, even far in the distance, were making a noise.


    Ramona didnt know what to do. She stepped out toward the woman, and the people watched.


    What is going on here? she asked.


    No one answered except Phoebe, whose eyes were filled with tears. She mouthed something at Ramona but didnt speak.


    This woman needs help, Ramona said quietly at first, but then repeated herself louder, This woman needs help. What are you all doing? Tony, whats going on?


    Ramona, he said as if it took great effort.


    He looked her in the eye. He was crying.


    And then, all at once, the sounds of the crowd in the distance returned. People screamed in joy on the rides.


    Then screams started up that werent out of joy. They were screams of terror.


    Ramona turned in the direction of the cries.


    Just as she did, arge snapping sound could be heard, and, in the distance, the massive Ferris wheel started to tilt dramatically.


    Oh my god, Ramona said.


    In the distance, something was burning.

 Interlude--Ramona Part Two

    Interlude--Ramona Part Two


    <em>Whats going on over there, Paul?</em> the voice on the radio called out. The voice had been asking about the misced mayor for several hours, but now it asked only about the loud booming in the distance and themotion of crowds.


    Paul, who stood and watched, did not know what was going on. He was merely going about his day when, for no particr reason, he ran across the Centennial Celebration at high speed, pushed the festivity goers out of his way, and stood at the edge of arge circle of people who were focused solely on a ranting, screaming woman who called herself Lillian Geist.


    But that wasnt possible. The Geists were dead. After the death of Jedediah Geist the day before, all of them were gone.


    Lillian, Lillian, he thought. Which one was that? Oh, right, the beauty queen. The one who had broken her opponents leg in order to get the crown. How was he supposed to know if this really was her? She was wearing a mask of some kind, maybe prosthetics. It wasn''t easy to keep the peace on the anniversary with all of the costumes.


    Paul needed to step up and bring calm and order to the situation.


    Except he didnt.


    But why not? Was he scared? No, no, that didnt work. Paul was arger guy. He wouldnt be afraid. Maybe he was just assessing the situation. Yes, that could be itno need to rush things. The woman did not appear to be in danger or have any wounds to be attended to. He could merely assess the situation and stay where he was. At some point, though, he would have to step forward and get things under control. He held one hand on his pistol and the other on his radio, ready for action.


    He never actually did intervene. There was no telling why. In some strange way, he felt he was on his mark, right where he was supposed to be.


    Even as the young woman next to the alleged Lillian Geist pleaded with the crowd to help, Paul never left his mark.


    An explosion in the distance. No, not an explosion. It was the sound of arge structure breaking all at once.


    Paul turned to see what it was.


    Oh, god, he said into his radio, the first thing he had said into it since running over here.


    The Ferris wheel broke loose.


    At that moment, everyone in the park started to panic. The concerned citizens and looky-loos lost all interest in that desperate woman who called herself Lillian Geist, all of them, except for the young woman with the red streak in her hair.


    Officer Paul stood his ground. He found himself yelling at people not to panic and to proceed in an orderly fashion toward the exit as the Ferris wheel started to roll freely into other park rides, knocking them loose from their fastenings and causing them to copse.


    The people, of course, ignored his warnings. They ran and pushed and shoved without a care for the safety of those around them. Mothers took their children into their arms and ran, leaving strollers and purses behind. Teenagers temporarily left their rebellious phases and cried for help as they were pushed against guard rails and all manner of obstacles.


    Still, Paul, having found the ce he was meant to stand, held his ground, waving people around as needed. Paul was arge man, after all, and his blue uniform was visible. He eventually managed to bring some semnce of order to the egress, as much as could be allowed.


    The woman, Lillian, stilly copsed on the ground. The young woman, whose name he didnt know, tried to help her against the advice of her sister and bandmate. Paul didnt know how those people were rted to her, of course. Paul was a local policeman, but he didnt know everyone.


    He only knew what he needed to know, and right now, he didnt have reason or exnation to know that Phoebe and Tony were desperately trying to get the nameless woman away from Lillian Geist. Those thoughts slid through his mind without making purchase.


    Eventually, the crowds cleared, and Paul could see one of the many things that people were running from.


    It was a man.


    <em>Was</em>.


    Paul froze, not because some cosmic script had told him to. He was actually that afraid of what he was looking at.


    The man was even bigger than Paul. He was well-built, and he was rebuilt with rusting metal that must have been poured onto his skin while still molten. The metal enveloped his torso and arms, creating jagged tooths that cut and poked the man as he walked.


    The left half of the mans face was burnt or gone, one of the first casualties of whatever ident had befallen him. Metal held firm to the mans empty left eye socket and cheekbones. It engrossed and encased his jaw on that side of his face.


    Paul feared for his life and the lives of those around him.


    Still, he did not leave his mark.


    Sir, he said, Im going to have to ask you to put down the metal strut.


    Was it a strut? Paul couldnt be sure. It looked like It looked like it hade right off of the Ferris wheel. The color of the metal, the shape But that wasnt possible because this metal was rusted to a sharp point. The Ferris wheel had looked practically new.


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    The man did not answer.


    Paul looked in the distance and saw a trail of bloody corpses. He had not noticed how they had gotten there in themotion, but he knew enough now. Blood dripped from the mans makeshift weapon.


    I need backup near the haunted house and the funnel cake kiosk on the west end, he said.


    And that was thest thing he ever said.


    On the script, he was supposed to cry for his wife, but as the jagged, rusty piece of metal pierced his torso under his ribcage and exited up near his corbone, he didnt say anything at all.


    Hisst thoughts were of his wife, though. And, in the mess that was his dyingmentations, he wondered to himself for thest time but not the first, Why did I evene here?


    ~-~


    Ramona tried to peel the poor woman off the ground, but the woman wasnt helping at all. She had given up.


    Have I seen him before? Lillian asked, dazed. No, but surely Ive felt him. Can you feel the sinking feeling?


    Ramona paused her efforts to help the woman and considered this. She looked back at the man covered in rusted metal and realized she felt a sinking feeling as if there was no hope.


    Youre just scared, she lied. Were going to be okay. Well get you


    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the police officer get skewered by the strange man.


    She screamed.


    Lets go, Phoebe said, We can go now, I promise.


    Shh, Tony scolded Phoebe, who had said too much.


    Unlike the ill-fated Officer Paul, they knew exactly why they were standing in those very spots.


    Ramona relented.


    She couldnt get Lillian off the ground. The woman was heavier than she looked.


    What was Ramona supposed to do?


    She decided to stand and make a run for it, but as she tried, the strap around her neck held firm. Lillian was holding onto her guitar bag.


    Let go! Phoebe screamed at Lillian.


    Lillian didnt let go. Instead, as Ramona tried to free herself from the grasp of the woman, Lillian looked her in the eye and said, Maybe this is the only way out.


    Ramona, energized by a fresh spike of what the hell, pulled free from her guitar bag and left it to Lillian.


    Lillian got to her knees and waited as the Die Cast walked slowly toward her.


    Its you, Lillian said softly.


    On the script, a note asked if anyone knew what she meant by this, but no one had an answer.


    All she had meant was that she had finally met the savior who would save her from this life by sending her to death.


    As he approached Lillian, an explosion went off nearby. A propane tank at the funnel cake kiosk had suffered a catastrophic meltdown and blown. The kiosk was reduced to splinters and ash, but the haunted house attraction, one of those put together from pieces hauled to the location on the backs ofrge trucks, was hit by the st so hard that it let loose from the fastening holding it down and fell forward, a ming heap.


    Itnded on Phoebe Mercer and Tony, who had moved ahead of Ramona for reasons even they didnt know.


    Ramona was just in the right ce to avoid the falling structure. She let loose a scream.


    Phoebe!


    Ramona looked back at the metal-covered man.


    He lifted his rusty metal weapon and cleaved, in one swing, Lillian Geists head from her body. With such force that both the head and the body were flung into the burning remnants of the haunted house attraction.


    The man looked at Ramona for only a moment and turned to leave.


    Phoebe! Ramona screamed.


    With all her might, she lifted the sheet metal panel off of the ce where Phoebe and Tony were.


    There they were. Phoebe choked on her blood from underneath a metal girder. Tony had gotten struck in the head. He was beyond saving.


    Ramona approached the girder and attempted to lift it off of her crushed sister. It was no use. The metal didnt even budge.


    Thinking quickly, she grabbed a two-by-four to try and pry the metal structure off of Phoebe, but the board broke.


    Ramona got down as close as she could to her sister and reached out for her.


    The sound of her sistersbored breathing enraged her.


    She looked to the sky and said, Where are you?


    There was no answer.


    Arent you supposed to help us? she asked. Her mother had always told her that the invisible man that haunted to Mercer line was a good guy, not a bad one.


    She closed her eyes and tried to feel for the presence of the invisible thing passed from one Mercer to the next. Her sister was always the one with the strong connection. Ramona was deemed a skeptic by her mother.


    Help her! Ramona screamed, but the Mercer Poltergeist did not make an appearance.


    She looked back at her sister and realized that what she thought was breathing was actually some kind of spasm. There was no way Phoebe could be breathing. She was crushed. Her chest was almost t underneath the girder.


    Ramona cursed at her useless family protector and got to her feet.


    At that point, the script had Ramona being aided by police and firefighters, but Ramona did not know of nor care for the script.


    She got to her feet and turned in the direction of the metal man.


    Anguish to anger was an easy transition for some. Ramona felt anger beyond anything she had ever felt.


    She knew that the man coated in metal was at fault. She could feel it, the wisps of destructioning off his body like radiation.


    She rushed after him, to which the script noted, Dyrkon will handle it.


    ~-~


    The man had no concern for Ramona. He didnt even turn his head as she pursued him.


    Everyone else, though, they were very concerned. People appeared out of nowhere. Entire crowds made a beeline for the festival grounds. They didnt approach her directly, but they did approach her. They filled in the space between her and her quarry like water taking the shape of its container.


    She dodged every person.


    Some even had the nerve to ask if she was okay. Some of these people were injured themselves, but they suddenly became very concerned about Ramonas well-being.


    She dodged them and picked up the pace.


    She wasnt going to let the man get away.


    He was only walking. Why was it so difficult for her to get near him? It didnt even make sense to her. He cleared a field in the distance, and then when she got to that field, it would take her even longer than it did him despite her running and him walking.


    She thought she was losing her mind.


    Still, she pursued. What would she do when she got to him? She didnt know.


    She must have pursued halfway across town. They ended up near the old Geist factory before she finally appeared to be gaining on him.


    When she thought she was near, he turned around.


    With one singed hand, he reached to the other and grabbed what she assumed was a wedding ring based on the finger it was attached to.


    He lifted it and dropped it into the grass. Then, he turned and continued on his path around the factory.


    Ramonas curiosity was piqued. Why drop a ring in that spot? What could it mean?


    She approached the ce where he had dropped it quickly and looked down at the little gold ring, which had been melted and malformed but still held a small brown jewel.


    How odd.


    It was a simple ring, and the love it represented was buried in the past.


    She bent down and grabbed the ring on April 12,  1992, but when she stood back up, the sun jumped across the sky.


    It was getting dark on January 1, 1984.


    In the distance, she could hear men plotting.

 Interlude--Ramona Part Three

    Interlude--Ramona Part Three


    Ramona looked to where the terrible metal-covered man had been only moments earlier. He was no longer there. It felt as if she had been standing in that very spot for hours. Her joints were stiff, and she was parched.


    The voices continued.


    Where was the murmuringing from? From her vantage point, she couldnt see anyone. She ducked down and looked around. They were thirty feet away from her, at least, yet she could hear them whispering as if she were far closer.


    Ramona had seen enough movies to know that if the plot required it, characters could overhear more than physics ought to allow, but she had no idea that she was in a movie. In fact, she had no idea she was in a different decade.


    Still, she couldnt help but listen. She was hidden from the view of the car as she crouched in the field behind a row of poorly trimmed bushes. Ignoring human speech is easy, but human whispers have a way of catching ones attention.


    When is he supposed to get here? one man asked.


    Geist is tearing him a new one about some movie scene, another voice said. He let the air out of Geists town cars tires to make sure ol Carlyle would need a ride. If Im right about Bensen calling Daddy for help, Carlyle will be here soon.


    Carlyle Geist? Ramona thought. Everyone knew that Carlyle Geist was dead. What was the rhyme about the Geists deaths again? Middle school in Carousel was quite an odd experience.


    She tried to remember


    ~-~<blockquote>


    <em>Bart met his end, scared by his own shadow,</em>


    <em>Lost in the night, alone in a meadow.</em>


    <em></em>


    <em>Ellie fell in a well, left there to dwell,</em>


    <em>Tom got caught in a spell, rang heaven''s bell.</em>


    <em></em>


    <em>Children gone missing, some snatched in the night,</em>


    <em>Vanished from beds, amunity''s fright.</em>


    <em></em>


    <em>Cherise, they do say, was gnawed by a rat,</em>


    <em>In the asylum''s halls, her habitat.</em>


    <em></em>


    <em>Carlyle and Bensen, with gears and a crash,</em>


    <em>In the factory''s grave, they turned to ash.</em>


    <em></em>


    <em>The rest were charred in the manor''s fierce ze,</em>


    <em>Smoke, mes, and just deserts ended their days.</em>


    <em></em>


    <em>Old Jed remains, with a grin ear to ear,</em>


    <em>He''s ousting them all, year after year.</em></blockquote>


    ~-~


    That was right. There were more, of course, though the deaths before Bartholomew were not as sensationalized.


    Carlyle Geist had died in a factory ident. She looked at the building in the direction the men were staringa factory. The word Geist was painted on the buildingrge enough that she could read it from where she was, even in the dying sunlight.


    That couldnt be. Ramona refused to believe the picture her mind was piecing together. What proof could she find, though?


    She listened further to the men as they sat in the car and repeated their ns over and over in different ways. If she didnt know better, it almost sounded like they wanted her to understand what was going on.


    That couldnt be it. If she had been thinking about movies, she might have called thiszy writing. Having men of ill intent speak their intentions in earshot of a hiding main character. She wasnt thinking of movies. She was thinking that these men had, to the best of her understanding, hired someone to burn down the factory.


    She couldnt believe they were after Carlyle Geist. He was dead. This had to be some kind of misunderstanding.


    And then she saw the car arrive. It was a mid-size car, fairly well-kept. It pulled up to the front entrance of the factory, and the passenger door opened. An older man with a cane stepped out.


    Did she recognize him? She couldnt tell in the distance. She had definitely seen Carlyle Geist before. He was famous when she grew up. He had been in a lot of Geist films, though he usually just did introductions for things like double features.


    She recognized the cane. That was his trademark essory. What were the odds that this man carried a cane, just like Carlyle Geist?


    He walked into the building and the car that delivered him left.


    No, it wasnt leaving. It wasing in her direction. It ended up parking right next to the brown car with the men talking.


    A man stepped out. He wore a brown jacket and had a ratty goatee.


    If he is still alive in the morning, Ill kill him myself, the man said as he slid into the backseat.


    As they spoke, she learned that he was a film director who hated Carlyle Geist for some petty reason or another.


    Then, after learning more than she could have hoped about these odd men, she saw them light a fire in a sk and then jump out of the vehicle as it smoked and spat.


    She practically crawled away from her hiding spot and ran down the street, hoping that they didnt see her. She needed to find a pay phone or a newspaper stand or something to confirm that she wasnt going mad.


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    Luckily, pay phones and newspaper dispensers were amon sight in those days. She never did find something to prove she wasnt going mad.


    The newspaper told her the days date: January 1, 1984.


    Either this was the worlds most borate prank, or she really was lost in time.


    Resolute, she called the fire department and told them there was about to be a fire at the Geist Factory.


    After she called, she ran to find a ce to watch everything go down.


    Eventually, she saw the man covered in metal walking toward the factory, but the adrenaline had worn off, and she did not dare approach him.


    Moments after he entered the factory, a fire started. Moments after that, the fire department arrived and evacuated everyone.


    All the while, Ramona fought off thoughts about her sisters fate, her chest crushed under the weight of a metal girder.


    She couldnt bear it.


    Having done her good deed, she needed to get back to the festival. This time, she walked, observing the world of the past. She had been neen years old in 1984. She couldnt tell if everything was the same. Time was funny that way. Change happens slowly, and the past fades. Dates get blurry.


    By the time she arrived back at the town square, it wasnt 1984 anymore. It also wasnt April 12, 1992, the date of the real Centennial, where her sister had died.


    It was March 15, 1993. She had been gone for nearly a year.


    ~-~


    The next few days were some of the strangest of her life. Officially, she was dead. Her name had even been etched into the side of a monument for those who had been killed. She slept in motels and abandoned houses while she nned on what to do next.


    It also turned out that Carlyle Geist hadnt died in the factory fire after all. No, he diedter in a film set ident. She hadnt changed his fate; she had merely nudged it.


    During this time, she consulted a psychic, who led her tomunicate with Jedediah Geists spirit. She always hoped that she might find a way to change her sister''s past like she had for Carlyle Geist.


    Even as Jedediah Geist rambled on and on about his understanding of Carousel, her hopes grew dimmer. The doomed spirit was little help to her. She dropped the fire poker that had been used to kill Jed in the house with so many other weapons as she left. All the trouble she went through to sneak it out of the Cold Case Museum without being caught was for nothing.


    All would have been lost if it had not been for the man she found standing outside Jedediah Geists home when she left her seance.


    Good evening, Ramona, he said courteously in his deep voice, Or should I say morning, now?


    He smiled warmly.


    She froze in panic. In the month since she had gotten back, she had not been recognized by anyone. It had almost been like they had been ignoring her.


    Dont be afraid, he said. Not of me, at least.


    But she was afraid because, in a strange way, she felt like she had seen him before.


    The less I say, the less likely things go off track, he said. Dj vu, yes?


    She nodded.


    For me as well, he said. You take it well. Otherwise, this whole thing might have been trouble.


    Where do I know you? she asked.


    He chuckled. I suppose you might recognize me because you paid attention in your history ss. Ss Dyrkon, in the flesh. He held out his hand.


    Ramona didnt shake it. Had she had this conversation before?


    Yes, you have, he said.


    She took a step back. Had her intense curiosity not been triggered, she would have already run.


    You were about to ask me if we had this conversation before, Ss said. Yes. We have.


    Did I


    No, this is the only part you have to repeat anymore. We found the right preparations long ago. Trying to control a yer is difficult. Trying to control you, doubly so. You all cant be controlled, only positioned.


    He was so familiar to her. Stepping out onto that porch and seeing Ss Dyrkon. She had done that before. It wasnt until she took the step that she remembered it.


    I failed, she said. I dont remember what happened. You were going to help me save my sister.


    Ss shook his head. I wouldnt say you failed. For your part, you did wonderfully. But you arent the only cog in this timepiece.


    Ramona could barely breathe as she took it all in. That moment in time took hold of her brain in a way she could not understand, even though she had lived through it many times before.


    Im sorry, she said, a tear falling down her cheek. She had yet to remember what she was sorry for except that she felt she had failed her sister. She never would remember the details.


    There is no need to cry about past mistakes, Ss said. Eternity is a hell of a thing to fall back on. Trust me. He turned and faced the overgrown path that led away from Jeds house. Walk with me, he said, never looking back to see if she would.


    Of course, she did follow him.


    You want me to do something, is that right? she asked. You want me to do something for you, and you will help save my sister.


    Ss held up a hand with a smile. Language, my dear,nguage. I merely suggest that if you want to save your sister, there is a way it can be done. I suggested nothing of an official arrangement nor promise.


    Ramona suddenly remembered him having said that before. She strained to try to remember why that was.


    You dont make deals? she asked, trying to remember how he had described it before.


    I promise; you do not want me to make you a promise, he said with augh.


    They continued talking in their own odd way. Much of the conversation happened in Ramonas memories and continued into the present. Ss Dyrkon was patient and had a good idea of where her train of thought was headed at any given time. They found themselves sitting on a park bench.


    It was when you tried to help Lillian Geist, he said. That was all the proof we needed. Then, when your actions got your sister killed, you chased her killer. That, too, took us aback.


    I got my sister killed? she asked.


    Ss solemnly responded, Yes, you hold part of the me, though Ill dly take the lions share. You couldnt have known what would happen, but ifck of foreknowledge were an excuse for consequences, no man would be liable for anything. Yes, you could have escaped with her then before the Die Cast arrived. We only wanted you there for the yers to meet you, if only briefly, when their time came. You chose to try to help a stranger. That was very noble of you. You can never predict which person will ovee their casting.


    Ramona began to cry again.


    Im sorry, she said.


    Wipe your tears, my dear Ramona; there will be time to cryter. Now is the time for me to tell you what you must do, Ss said sternly. He handed her a handkerchief so she could wipe her tears away.


    You want me to pick up the ring, she responded. She wrapped her arms around herself. She couldnt remember past that moment, the moment he told her what to do to save her sister. Over and over, right?


    Ss nodded.


    I dont remember what happens after that, she said.


    No, you wouldnt, he said. Free will is a strange thing. If you know what you didst time, you might be bound to it or repelled from it. Free will is a preciousmodity in this ce, and you ought never to give it away, not for promises or reassurances. When you rescue your sister, it must be you who does it if you wish to truly save her.


    Ramona sat in silence and watched as the sun rose. Ss watched with her.


    What arent you saying? she asked. Even without her full memory, she knew a liar when she met one, even if he was well-spoken. He wasnt telling the whole truth.


    Most everything, he replied softly.


    She nodded. So I pick up the ring.


    You pick up that Omen every day, he said. Its easier if we have you do it. Don''t ask questions. It''s political. You pick it up. Everyone will start preparing for <em>a</em> Centennial. Save Carlyle Geist, just like you did before; we liked that. If you do it every day, you will prepare the way for those who wille to help you. Youll be one of them. Every single day, the real Centennial, your Centennial, will be close to appearing. It may take them a few tries, but eventually, they will seek you out and help you whether they know thats what theyre doing or not. When that happens, your sister can be saved.


    But no promises, she said.


    None at all, Ramona, Ss said.


    She didnt understand why he wanted that, but her memories of that momentpounded, and she knew he would exin no more.


    How long will I have to keep picking up the ring? she asked.


    You will do it every day until something unusual happens, he said. Dont you worry; time will fly by when you arent looking.


    Ramonas anger had faded to resolve. Her stomach filled with butterflies.


    Can I seed? she asked.


    Ss took in a deep breath. There have been sesses before. Fleeting sess, but sess nheless. Those who areing may be different. They are unorthodox. Carousel may hold a grudge against them; who could say? I should warn you, though, there hasnt been a happy ending in Carousel yet.


    She furrowed her brow, but Ss didnt exin any further.


    But we have eternity to fall back on? Ramona asked.


    Ssughed.


    That we do, he said. That we do.

 Arc II, Chapter 61: Grease Fire

    Arc II, Chapter 61: Grease Fire


    The more Ramona spoke about her sister''s death and Ss Dyrkon, the more I felt like the entire Tutorial was a row of dominoes or, better yet, a Rube Goldberg machine with a hundred little pieces waiting to do their part, their ultimate purpose unknown. We were seeing behind the curtain how it was all being put together. The question we still had to answer was, why?


    Ramona definitely had a part, though I couldnt understand it at first. She entered the final storyline again every day, waiting for a team toe through and help her beat it.


    Strange.


    We talked about her upbringing in Carousel. She described a rtively normal life. Even after her mom and stepdad died, her life was normal, if a little rough. Of course, there were odd things. This was Carousel, after all. People going missing and legends of horrifying monsters were just a part of her life. They were normal to her.


    When we told her it was all fake, all orchestrated, that was still beyond what she was willing to ept even with everything she had seen.


    How do you exin Ss Dyrkon, then? I asked.


    That part she was ready to talk about.


    Ss Dyrkon is clearly some kind of genie or something. Maybe hes a crossroads demon. I know it sounds crazy, but Ive heard stories about them existing, Ramona said.


    Antoine and I knew very well that crossroads demons existed. Dina had beaten one at poker.


    We believe they exist here, Antoine said. But thats part of the reason this ce is weird.


    I know something weird is happening, Ramona said. This ce was normal once. To me, at least. It doesnt really feel the same anymore. Maybe thats just because Phoebe is gone. I dont know.


    Can we put a pin in this part? I asked. I dont mean to be rude, but you just said something that cant be true. You said Lillian Geist was killed by the guy covered in metal. Are you sure about that?


    Ramona nodded. If that woman with the things on her face was Lillian Geist, she definitely died.


    In 1992? I asked.


    Yes.


    So, are the Geists like ordinary NPCs that get revived at the end of their stories? I asked in frustration. The Geists were not normal for Carousel. They were not aware of their situation; they were not attached to the script, and they did not see the red wallpaperthese were all conclusions I hade to. I had assumed that they were basically normal people trapped at the mercy of Carousel. I thought they were different. We saw Lillian die in 1995 at the end of thest storyline. She couldnt have died in 1992. I mean, if Lillian cane back after dying in 1992 so she could live to die in 1995, why didnt the other Geistse back?


    Antoine drank his coffee in one big gulp. Its a game, he said. Maybe youre hoping it''s more than it is. Lillian Geist was alive for thest story because she was in that story.


    It cant be that simple, I said.


    Didnt you learn anything from us running all over town trying to figure things out? Antoine said. Maybe Carousel wants us to think that we can be clever enough to figure this whole thing out, but whatever it decides will happen will happen, and were just rats in a maze without cheese at the end.


    No, Ramona said. Mr. Dyrkon talked about positioning yers to try to manipte them. If you, if we cant find a way to seed, why do that?


    I let loose a sigh. It was possible this whole thing was part of some mundane torture. I couldnt just ept that, though.


    Every day, you pick up the ring and do your part for the storyline, I said. That sounded like an Omen to me. A strange ring in a field would fit right in with Carousel''s cursed collection. That meant there were multiple Omens to enter the third storyline. We already knew that about the second storyline. Tell me again why Dyrkon said to do that.


    Ramona shrugged. He said it would make people get ready for the Centennial. No, actually, he always said they would get ready for <em>a </em>Centennial. He said that you all would help me find the real Centennial. He always said it that way. A instead of the. It had to have been on purpose.


    There were multiple Centennials. We already knew that, more or less. The town had been preparing Centennials forever.


    So the true ending is when we go to the original Centennial in 1992, I said. The generic ending is the Centennial that the town has been setting up. That sound right? Which would mean Wait, every day you pick up that ring, is it always the anniversary of Jedediah Geist''s death?


    Ramona nodded. Its always the anniversary of his death after I get back from 1984. Sometimes after Ive saved Carlyle Geist, I do the ritual and talk to Jed. He only talks about his life and his family. Thats how I know what I know about Carlyle and the others. Plus a bunch of asking around.


    Antoine startedughing. We all did it one by one.


    It was you the whole time! Antoine said.


    What? Ramon asked.


    I felt both relieved and a little ashamed for not having predicted it.


    The continuity loop wasnt time travelwe figured that out on the first dayand it wasnt reality warping, either, with a few exceptions. The continuity loop was Carousels script forcing all the NPCs to prepare for the Centennial every day. We didnt know why it was happening, what was causing it, or how to stop it.


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    The reason the loop existed was simple: Ramona had been picking up that ring every day. Something about the plot of the third storyline required it to be both the anniversary of Jedediah Geist''s death and the day before the Centennial. When Ramona triggered the storyline every day, it became that. <em>The Die Cast</em> was a huge story that spanned time and space. My <strong>Location Scout</strong> trope told me this story could go all over town.


    Ss Dyrkon recruited you to cause a continuity loop for, well, thest thirty years, I said. Just saying it felt odd.


    Ramona said, Time skipped forward for me. It feels like its been over a year, maybe, but not decades.


    I dont know how any of this works, Antoine said. There was no loop or whatever when we got here. Even with the ring, time is not what we think it is here. Its all pretend.


    That part was true. The Throughline acted as if it had been waiting for yers for thirty years. That was just for the story. Who could say what Ramona had experienced? Maybe it actually had been thirty years in some manner of timey wimey nonsense. Maybe Ramona existed as some sort of magical save state they could restart whenever they wanted. Who knew?


    Ramona asked about how things had been when we got here. Antoine exined it to her. Anna would have been better, I thought. Kimberly also. Antoine was trying to be too vague about the your hometown is literally our best approximation of hell part of the exnation. Anna would have navigated it better.


    Damn, Ramona said after we got to the end. Antoine had left out specifics of the stories we had yed through. It was probably for the best, as one of them featured other Mercers.


    We talked further for a few hours. It wasnt long before the sun was up and bright, and a well-dressed man who would one day be mayor came by to get our attention. He didnte inside. Instead, he waved for us to follow him out behind the diner.


    You had better stay here, I said as Ramona tried to follow us.


    Why? she asked. You all are supposed to help me.


    I dont know if you were On-Screen while calling for emergency services, but if you were, it would be really weird if you are suddenly helping the same people you just thwarted.


    Hes right, Antoine said. Gotta y our parts.


    I didnt know if I was right, but there was a risk. That being said, if she were caught on camera, it would be easy enough for Carousels editor to just cut that part out of the final film. I didnt want to try to y around that just yet.


    Ramona held up her hands in surrender and returned to the booth.


    Time to get into character. I had to put myself in the head of a pervy director who wanted his boss dead for asinine reasons.


    And ACTION.


    ~-~


    Last night went worse than I could have hoped, future mayor Gray said as we rounded the back of the diner. I talked to some of my contacts. They say someone warned the fire department of the fire. They say it was a woman who had heard men talking about hiring someone to burn down the factory.


    I was happy with my decision to keep Ramona away. I just hoped he hadnt seen her when he waved to us. That had been Off-Screen, so we were probably in the clear.


    That was a bad break, I said. Or maybe we got lucky. That curse or whatever we did wasnt just going to kill the Geists.


    Exactly, Ricky Zaragoza said. He had been behind the diner waiting. My brother would not have wanted this. He was not some crazed killer. What was that about? he asked, looking at Cassie. You didnt tell us anything about that.


    Cassie tried her best to y her part while wearing the mboyant getup she had been wearing for her role as a shady psychic.


    Look, I tried to warn you seven ways to Sunday, but you all heard what the sk could do, and you stopped listening.


    You told us the curse would be under <em>our</em> control, Ricky said. It was the thing we were so excited about. We didnt know it would kill anyone in its path.


    Cassie didnt seem ready to respond. I wasnt sure how much knowledge she had actually managed to acquire about the sk or the Die Cast before being thrust on screen.


    Isaac tried to help out. Look, you said we could only use it to target one person at a time. Thats what we told it. Why didnt it work?


    He <em>had </em>helped her.


    One person at a time? she asked. Wait, I told you it could be used to kill one person. What do you mean at a time? Did you give it more than one target?


    I almostughed. I didnt really like our characters in this one. It was almost funny that we had messed up.


    I wasnt there when you gave them the warning, I said. I turned to the future mayor. You sent that thing after the whole Geist family tree, Roderick. Every one of them.


    Cassie cursed.


    No! Roderick said. This is not my fault. You said one at a time. I swear you did!


    No, she didnt, Antoine said. She said one target.


    Roderick did not like being the butt of criticism. Whats the difference? I told it to kill one at a time. The oldest living Geist and nobody else. Thats one target.


    Cassie rolled her eyes. I dont even know what youve done. I need to talk to Celia. She knew more about the Spirit of Vengeance than I ever did. I dont know whats going to happen now. I told you how to do it. How did you mess this up? You do a ritual: kill a target. Do a ritual, kill a target. One ritual, one target. No one has ever messed up that part. You asked it to kill a bunch of people one at a time? You moron!


    So that was the premise, huh? A gang of idiots messes up a revenge spell and lets loose some kind of supernatural sher. I could work with that. Kinda wished I wasnt one of the idiots, though.


    Whys it matter? Isaac said. It failed. Its gone now.


    Gone? Why do you think its gone? Cassie asked.


    It burnt up, Isaac said. He almost said too much. His character wouldnt know the Die Cast had stayed in the fire. We did because Carousel had shown us its point of view. Fires gone.


    Right on cue, the back door to the restaurant burst open, and a cook jumped out, carrying a skillet that was burning to high heaven. He tossed it on the ground under a water spigot and turned the spigot on.


    The skillet had grease, so the water made the fire worse at first. It spat, boiled, and roared, and the cook himself was singed.


    Damn thing, he said. Damn thing just wont go out.


    We watched as the mes grew and taunted us, almost as if alive. The water could not quench them, not for at least ten seconds. Then, with a hiss, it finally subsided to nothing but greasy water.


    Everyone was rmed. We werent acting.


    Its a sign. The Die Cast shall run its course, Cassie said. Im going back to tarot cards. This is too much.


    Its your fault, Roderick said. You didnt warn us well enough. Its your fault! You told us we could control it!


    You could control it, Cassie said as she started walking away. One ritual, one target. Thats how you control it.


    Fuck! Ricky Zaragoza screamed. He was on the verge of tears. Roderick, what are we gonna do? I gotta go find something. I need something.


    He started patting through his pockets and then went out to Rodericks brown card and jumped into the back seat. I could only imagine what he was doing out there.


    Roderick looked scared and angry. Its not our fault. She should have told us. She didnt say it would do this.


    I imagine he was right. Cassie might not have even known. More than that, Cassie had a trope that would have debuffed anyone who didnt heed her warnings. She likely hadnt warned them well enough.


    Then again, if she had warned them, there might be no story.

 Arc II, Chapter 62: A Close Shave

    Arc II, Chapter 62: A Close Shave


    Living in Carousel was odd in so many ways, but the thing that stuck out the most to me wasnt the constant feeling of impending doom or the mysterious residents; it was the petty thievery.


    Everywhere we went, we found ourselves reaching out and grabbing things we wanted and shoving them in our bags. Chapstick for sale at a neighborhood newspaper stand? Better grab it.


    Hand sanitizer in the bathroom at the diner? I think Ill take it.


    Pillow from the nice hotel we stayed at? It goes in the bag. Pillows dont weigh much and our magical luggage tags only cared about weight. Unfortunately for me, I had used my luggage tag in my hoodie pockets, which made pillow pilfering impractical.


    Still, I always had everything I needed with me. Off-brand candy bars from the hotel mini bar? Mine. Carousel demanded coin for items at its special stores like the psychic emporium or the pawn shop. Even the Eternal Savers Club took money for bulk purchases unless you beat the storyline there.


    Set dressing, though, it could be piged cautiously.


    Roxy was said to have been so good at stealing from storyline sets that watching her go through movies was like watching a spy get chased through an open-air bazaar. She picked up a scarf here and sunsses there. Before you knew it, she had a total wardrobe change between scenes.


    I mostly used thievery to get toiletries, candy, and batteries for my off-brand Walkman.


    That was what I was thinking about as I woke up over a month after the factory fire. It hadnt actually been a month, but the calendar said it had. February 12th, 1984. The set disaster would soon be upon us.


    I was sleeping on the couch of my characters rented home, looking toward the Carousel Hillsnot quite in the Carousel Hills, but the upper-middle-ss neighborhood closest to it. Yes, my character had an overpriced, modernist home that would make a miniature Bond viin proud.


    It was one of those ces with a t roof and ss walls. I hated it. We lived in a horror movie hellscape. I couldnt leave lights on because I knew I was getting stared at by things that went bump in the night.


    I couldnt sleep in the bedroom of the house either because that was where Ramona slept. She liked to have a locked door between herself and the world at night. I didnt me her. She was a nice enough roommate, but we werent friends yet. When we talked, it was friendly but distant. As odd as she was to me, I was even odder to her.


    The couch I slept on was on the second story, and I got a great view of the open wilderness. I didnt see much of Ramona. I could hear her strumming on a guitar in the bedroom below my couch pretty regrly. It was my characters guitar, but it didnt look like he yed much. Like most of his possessions, it was meant to suggest a rich and fulfilling life that I didnt believe he actually had. He was shallow, even for an NPC.


    As I stretched, I rubbed my hand over my face and jolted awake at the realization that something was there that shouldn''t have been. It was dark outside. ncing at the wall-sized clock in his house, I saw that it was three in the morning.


    I felt around my mouth and chin. It was a goatee. I had a goatee.


    What the heck, Carousel?


    Where was my hoodie? I hoped and prayed I had stolen more shaving cream recently. I was going to need it.


    A month before I woke up with new facial hair, I was justing to terms with how this storyline was going to work.


    Much of the time between the fire and the film set disaster was spent actually making the movie for Carlyles productionpany. I had a shooting schedule in my car, along with my house key and aplete itinerary for making the film.


    I had to actually do work for this story.


    Kimberly appeared in her trailerthe kind movie stars get on film shootsthe day of my first shoot. I was nervous as heck when I arrived, and all eyes were on me. I had a whole team of NPCs at my beck and call.


    Carousel really wanted me to make the flick.


    We were in the production lot shooting on a sound stage that contained an entire neighborhood and the impression of a forest behind the houses. This ce was recycled for different movies. Today, we were shooting the inside shots for the scene Carlyle and I had discussed previouslythe heroine talking to her mother as the killer stalked outside.


    Gather around people, one of the NPCs said. Her name was Beverly. She was the films Assistant Director.


    As the cast and crew gathered, I saw Kimberly stagger out of her trailer and take in her surroundings. An NPC urged her to join the huddle. When she saw me, a calm came over her.


    Beverly, the Assistant Director, continued calling people over to herself. Then, she said, Everyone, this is Riley Lawrence, our new director. Everyone give him your attention.


    Then they all turned to me.


    Wait a second, wasnt my character already the director? We werent on screen, so I guess that was okay, but it was weird to introduce me when I had already directed the first part of the movie.


    Whatever.


    What was I supposed to say?


    Folks, we all know what were doing. Were going to all hit it hard and get things done on schedule, I said, willing it into existence. Now, lets get ready for the shoot. Has the new script been distributed?


    It will be soon, Beverly said. No sooner did she say it than an assistant of some kind came from an office in the distant corner of the lot and started distributing the rewritten version of the scene I had talked to Carlyle about. The pages said<em> I</em> had rewritten them. I didnt remember doing that, but the end result was pretty close to what I would have done.


    Alright, people, I said, looking over at Kimberly. Were going to take ten.


    They obeyed, giving Kimberly and me time to talk.


    This is the movie set, Kimberly said. The news article about the film set identdo you think thats what this is?


    She was a little behind.


    It isnt right now, I said. But it will be.


    We were barely into the Party Phase. She didnt know of everything that had happened the day or so before at the factory. I did my best to exin it to her.


    Were Off-Screen, she said. The NPCs are still in character.


    It was strange enough. We were Off-Screen for all of this. Scenes that wouldnt make the final film were usually just not done at all. It would be a few moments before I realized the reason.


    Carlyle was on set. He had to be. The Geists seemed to be unaware of Carousels nature. The NPCs didnt turn off around them. It was that simple. Everyone was in character around the Geists.


    The Geists are living the plot of The Truman Show, I said. We cant let them know this is all fake or I dont know what will happen.


    Ive heard of The Truman Show, Kimberly said. Was it a horror movie?


    Yes, I said. Just in disguise.


    Im an actress? she asked.


    She was taking it all in and trying to project calmness. Still, it was a lot to be told all at once.


    Yes. I told Carlyle you''re good, so do your best, I said.


    Okay, she said, taking a deep breath. You know I was in an ad on YouTube once.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    I didnt know that, I said.


    It was for a skin cleanser. They wanted us to film ourselves using it. I shot a whole demonstration. They only used a shot of it where my face was covered in suds, she said. I hated that cleanser. It was sticky.


    Hmm, I said. Our lives back in the real world were so far behind us I had forgotten about Kimberlys whole mini-influencer thing. If Carlyle asks, tell him youve been in more than that. There is a headshot over in the office with your films on it. Hes also seen at least some of our storyline performances.


    Thanks, she said. Wait, which storyline?


    The undergroundb one, Subject of Inquiry, is all I know. I guess he was told it was a real movie.


    She nodded nervously.


    I couldnt me her. I was nervous, too. Normally, knowing the audience is watching was something you could push out of your mind. Heck, I was so angry at them for whatever role they yed in getting us stuck here that I didnt care if they were entertained beyond what was required for our survival.


    Carlyle was different. I felt nervous about whether he would like my work. It felt so unlikely. I had only worked on a few student films back in college, and those were just assigned projects. Directing a real fake movie was a huge step up.


    Riley, Carlyle called from the distance. He sounded hoarse.


    Mr. Geist, I said. I was wondering where you were.


    Crawling out of a thousand tons of molten metal, he said. Metaphorically, if not literally. Hows the script? Did you get that scene rewritten?


    I nodded and handed him my copy of the revised script.


    He started reading it immediately. Kimberly and I just watched as he tore through page after page.


    Wonderful, he said. Now, if the rest of the script gets this treatment, I think well be onto something.


    This is Miss Madison, I said. Our leadingdy.


    Kimberly Madison, of course, he said. You will have to forgive my manners. I have a one-track mind sometimes. I am very excited to see what you can do.


    So am I, she said. Ive got to go run my lines. If youll excuse me.


    She made a beeline for her trailer. Some NPCs pointed her out like she was a celebrity.


    I will see you on set. I am expecting a phone call about that nasty businessst night, Carlyle said.


    He wandered off with my copy of the script. Momentster, that same assistant from earlier returned and ced a new copy in my hand. Carousel was always watching.


    Now remember, Kimberly, I said. We cant hear what youre saying in this shot. We are focusing on the shot from the outside. Youll sound distant. Youll be doing all of your acting with your face and your body here.


    Kimberly nodded and took a deep breath.


    Action, I said.


    Kimberly started talking on the phone to her character''s character''s mother. I was down beneath, getting a visual of the scene from near the camera. Funnily enough, I could see what the cameras saw on the red wallpaper. My Directors Monitor trope didnt mention that ability. It was funny. That was technically what a directors monitor was for.


    Carousel, or at least whoever made the tropes, had a sense of humor.


    What are you thinking? Carlyle asked as the scene went on. The camera was being moved around, following the path the killer would take.


    Were ying this like shes nervous about the big dance, I said. Id like to try it where she is confident. I mean, she doesnt know she is being watched yet. I would like to see her excited but self-assured as she looks into the mirror.


    Lets try it, Carlyle said.


    So we did.


    We tried that and a dozen other ideas I had. Carlyle could afford the film because money was nonsense in this dimension.


    We put a camera where the mirror was; we ran it again.


    Kimberly did very well. She was always the best actor on the team.


    Time flew. I wasnt even sure that it was because of Carousels magic. I watched as Kimberly worked. We shot some of the scenes of her character realizing she was being watched. Kimberly was very good at being afraid. I supposed we all were. Looking afraid was the most natural thing in the world.


    Thats how Kimberly and I spent the next few months. She really was a star. Carlyle was truly impressed.


    We had to reshoot some of the scenes of the house and Kimberlys mirror scene over again on location in northern Carousel. This time, we were shooting the real house, having the camera stalk around like the killer. Kimberly was mostly just standing around in case she came into view for those scenes.


    We shot chase scenes running through the woods. We shot fight scenes. We shot Kimberly kissing her characters romantic interest right before he was disemboweled.


    Carlyle yelled cut. That was my job. I felt ashamed for having disappointed him.


    The scream is weird, he said. It doesnt have an identity. Every scream queen should have an arsenal of screams. This is too generic.


    He wasnt wrong. I thought for a moment.


    Kimberly took the critique in stride, though I could tell she felt bad for messing up.


    We should do it in stages, then, I said. First, she screams out of pure terror. Thats stage one. Then, starting after the chase to the docks, she screams not out of fear but for help. Shes trying to attract attention. Then, in the finale, she screams not out of fear but out of rage. The final stage.


    Carlyle considered this. Like a Valkyrie, he said.


    I nodded.


    Kimberly, I said. You got that?


    She nodded. So this scene would be a scared scream, right?


    Cram those guts back inside that guy, I said. We have another take. Well do one for practice, okay? Then we do the real one.


    Kimberly smiled at me for some reason.


    The scene was reset, and away we went.


    We shot more scenes in the finale. Ramona still hung out around my characters house. She had chosen to go home with me because she knew my character lived in a good neighborhood due to her years of research. We only spoke about basic things. Food. Work. The meaning of free will. Normal roommate stuff.


    During that time, I didnt see Antoine, Cassie, or Isaac. I was confident that they were out there doing scenes and exploring the world of the story. They were just doing it away from me.


    I wasnt On-Screen much. When I was, it was with Kimberly. She was likely a main character. Antoine was, too. I hadnt seen Dina. I had only seen hints of Bobby. There was a shooting up with the killer attacking Kimberly, but she cleverly unleashed some hounds on him.


    I assumed he was the guy providing the hounds to production. Time would tell.


    The needle on the Plot Cycle barely pushed forward. This version of the storyline was designed for people who had tried it before. It was doing all kinds of things that would freak out newbies.


    Carlyle was enjoying himself. We got to talking a lot, the two of us. He would regale me with tales of movies past. Stories about his fathers era of filmmaking. Heughed and spoke fondly of his early years. He never mentioned being the CEO of any of thepanies he had run.


    He resented being forced to take care of those businesses.


    Having money doesnt mean you can do anything you like, he said with a distant gaze. Theres always something going on that gets in the way.


    Perhaps that was the trap Carousel had set for him. All the money in the world and no time to spend it doing what he loved. That wasnt the worst fate, but unhappy rich people are a staple of cinema. Maybe we liked movies about miserable rich folks out of a form of schadenfreude. Maybe it was just because all else being equal, we didnt want to be reminded of our own financial misery. We watch sad, rich people because its a form of escapism.


    And people did watch Carlyle. Someone did, at least, because his life never stopped. There was always something going on: traffic idents, dramatic arguments between lovers, things were always happening. Once, a man with a taste for narcotics bumped into him when we went out to lunch. He recognized the man as an old-school friend.


    That was what his life was. Drama. Tension. The longer I spent with Carlyle, the more I understood Jed just wanting to get away from it all.


    Eventually, Carlyle told me he was taking a week at a spa in the west. He would be back to help shoot the finale, he promised.


    Of course, that week never happened to me. I woke up a week after our conversation. Time skipped like a child at recess. Carousel had given me a puny little goatee to show time had passed.


    I got up from the couch and found my itinerary and confirmed time had passed. "I" had drawn little red "X"s on all of the days that passed without my knowledge.


    I kept touching the facial hair over and over. I didnt like it. It was itchy, and there was no way it looked good. Why had Carousel made me grow it?


    I took my time, though, because as I walked to the restroom, I realized I was On-Screen.


    First Blood was near, but not near enough.


    Still, I got a chill down my spine. My character was minor. I could easily be killed before First Blood, and then my body could be revealedter. That was something I had not considered possible before. It felt like something that would need a special trope to happen. I hadnt gotten a look at the enemy yet, so as I tiptoed through my terrible rented abode, I felt inevitable death in my future.


    I made my way to the upstairs bathroom because its light was on for some reason. On the way, my hoodie (or at least the jacket Carosel had reced it with) was hanging in the closet. I grabbed it and put it on. I didnt want to die wearing nothing but boxers. My jeans were crumpled on the floor. On those went. My shoes were near the door. Why didnt I keep them nearby?


    I continued stroking my strange facial hair. I nced in the bathroom. I saw a metal razor on the counter near the sink. Carousel was being clear. It wanted me to shave. I wanted to shave, too, but I was hoping to do it Off-Screen.


    A loud ring sounded. It was the phone. My character had andline with one of those long cords from the olden days.


    I answered.


    Hey, Riley, Kimberly said on the other end.


    Kimberly, I said. Whats up?


    Do you remember that scene where my character tries on clothes near some windows? she asked.


    Yes.


    And the killer is watching from outside?


    Yes.


    I was thinking that was a really good scene and we should do something like that again. I mean not that, but something like that. It was a really spooky scene, you know.


    I know what you mean, I said. Really made the character menacing.


    You understand what I mean, right? Not that scene, but something like it. Can you see what I mean? she asked.


    She wasying it on thick.


    She saw something. I knew she saw the killers point of view right then, just as I had seen the killer on the red wallpaper at the factory. The killer could probably see me right then, but I couldnt see them because of the light being on inside.


    I hoped Ramona stayed in her room.


    I knew what Carousel wanted; it just so happened I wanted it, too. If I could get a nce at the enemy, I could finally get a good idea of what it was up to. That was the offer being made. I get a look at the enemy''s tropes. Carousel gets.... what, exactly? A chance to kill me? A tense scene? Maybe it just wanted to say hello after a long hiatus.


    I walked across the bathroom slowly. The sink and mirror were in a stupid ceright in the corner of the room next to two windows. The bath and toilet were not visible from the outside, but the sink was.


    I walked up to the sink and made sure to keep an eye on the mirror.


    The killer watching from outside was just so scary, Kimberly said.


    I gotcha, I said.


    I looked down at the sink counter and saw the razor and a little canister of shaving cream. I would be stealing those.


    Yeah, I said. Were going to have to do another scene like that real soon.

 Arc II, Chapter 63: The Peeping Tom

    Arc II, Chapter 63: The Peeping Tom


    Carousel definitely had a sense of humor. I could appreciate that, but in the end, the joke was always on us.


    My feet were wet. I must have left a puddle on the floor from some shower I had hypothetically taken earlier. The water had spread like long, thin fingers as it dribbled across the bathroom floor.


    I tried to avoid the little puddles of water as I walked across the room.


    The mirror was cleaner than I remembered. There had been little spots of toothpaste from where I had brushed my teeth earlier, and the springy bristlesunched spittle all around. Carousel had cleaned that off. Did that mean an NPC hade in here expressly to wipe it down, or did Carousel actually use its vast magical powers for that one?


    On either side of the mirror were windows. Beyond them were darkness and shifting shadows from the forest. The phone was resting on the countertop next to the sink. Kimberly was still on the other line in case I needed her insights.


    I turned on the water and sshed it on my face. I tried to keep my eyes on the mirror as much as I could without looking like Patrick Bateman. Deep breaths. In and out.


    I wished the enemy would just appear soon. The waiting was killing me. To be fair, he might also kill me.


    I had to y my part. I was shaving in the middle of the night. How was I supposed to act that out? I was a hotshot director now. How would I tell an actor to do it?


    Step One: Feel the scraggly hairs on your face.


    Step Two: Look in the mirror. Look at the left side of your face, right side of your face.


    Step Three: Shake your head; its no good. This hair has to go.


    Step Four: Shave.


    It felt like something right out of amercial.


    The shaving cream was some kind of designer brand. I didnt even know there was fancy shaving cream, but as Ithered the cream in the canister against its metal lid with the little brush that was next to it, I found myself with a plethora of perfumed wisps that I painted my silly little goatee with.


    And then it was time to cut it off.


    The silver razor was high-quality and expensive-looking, but it was also deadly sharp. I had never used a long razor before. I always bought those little stic shavers from the store. Even in Carousel, I used the cheap options out of habit.


    I opened the de. I swore I could hear ringing in the air, like the sound swords make in samurai movies.


    As I studied the de, I saw him in the corner of my eye, standing at the edge of the forest. My hands were shaking.


    Him. The man of the hour. The undead, hulking figure straight out of a nightmare.


    He was tall. I knew that from the POV cam, but even from up on the second story, he looked giant next to a little ornamental tree that was in my characters backyard.


    It was like how Ramona had described. He was covered in twisted, rusted metal. Of course, it wasnt enough to hinder his movement, but it singed the clothing he wore and gave him the look of a man who had just survived a nuclear meltdown.


    Except he surely was not alive. Part of his face had melted away. Even by the moonlight, it was gruesome. I could see his metal-covered teeth through a hole where his cheek used to be.


    When did he get the metal augmentations? Was it from when the Geist Factory burned down around him? Or had he gotten this from the supposed ident that took his life?


    It didnt matter. I looked at his tropes on the red wallpaper.


    Gale Zaragoza


    is


    The Die Cast (Spirit of Vengeance)


    Plot Armor: 32


    __________


    Tropes


    Quick Between Sets


    When moving Off-Screen from one shooting location to the next, this enemys Hustle will double.


    No Neighborhood Watch


    The viin will not be seen by NPC witnesses when off-screen


    Anyone Can Die


    This enemy operates under a chilling rule: no character is safe. Whether it''s because this film is a rule-breaking reboot or a narrative without a true protagonist, this enemy can target or kill any character without ceremony or hesitation.


    Checking it Twice


    This enemy has a set of tasks they must aplish. They will be buffed in all relevant stats when trying toplete them.


    Self-Sharpener


    Stolen story; please report.


    Any weapon that could conceivably be described as ded will be unrealistically sharp based on the enemys Mettle.


    Genie out of the Bottle


    This enemy has been set free. The longer they are free, the more powerful and/or free willed they will be.


    Not Yours to Control


    Characters who encounter this beings power will misunderstand it in their attempts to harness it, to disastrous ends.


    Huge Special Effects Budget


    All of this enemys actions arerger, more destructive, and more cinematic than makes sense in universe because the director loves a spectacle.


    Adaptable Lore


    This enemys abilities adapt to the story they are in and are liable to change from film to film.


    Enemy POV


    At all times this enemy is stalking prey, yers who are not targeted will be able to see its POV on the red wallpaper. Can cause Incapacitation from fear.


    He Always Comes Back


    This enemy can be killed. For a while.


    Dark Aura


    This being has an aura with wide-ranging affects, from fear to somebination of status ailments. Bypasses stats on first exposure.


    Just Your Luck


    This enemy does not have to kill yers directly. It can cause bad luck with a curse or simr power that leaves yers dead by a bad roll of the dice.


    Just as I feared. He had the ability to cause bad luck. The POV view of him walking through the factory had been enough to make that assumption. His <strong>Just Your Luck</strong> trope was a worst-case scenario. Normally, I wouldnt expect Carousel to ept an indirect kill. It was a rare type of kill in a horror film. It wasnt personal enough most of the time.


    The Die Cast had no such limitation. I could die from any old ident right now.


    Oh.


    There was wet bathroom tile behind me. I had dragged the phone cord through it. The phone didnt draw enough power to kill me, did it? Or would it matter? The Die Cast tropes seemed to imply a sparkly electrocution might be exactly what the director ordered.


    My hand trembled. I had to keep moving. If I let it be shown that I saw him, my only protection from him might be blown. He had the <strong>Anyone Can Die</strong> trope that the Mercer Poltergeist had. I had briefly determined that <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong> worked against that trope, as OB didnt actually prevent me from being targeted; it just dyed the dastardly deed.


    The silver de was so sharp.


    I touched the de to my skin. One bump, one slip, and this de would conveniently find its way into my jugr.


    Why had I done this? So I could see his tropes? I hoped it was worth it.


    I needed to calm my hands.


    I put the razor down on the counter and closed it. I wasnt risking it. I didnt care if I lost all of the performance points in the world. Knowing a bad luck tornado was outside my window, I couldnt force myself to shave with that death trap of a razor without any practice.


    I preferred my deaths to be violent, not idental, thanks.


    Why did I buy this thing? I said. I must have been nuts.


    I walked calmly back toward a shelving unit and opened it. A pack of disposable razors was sitting on a shelf at eye level. How convenient.


    There we go, I said.


    y it foredy, y it foredy.


    I took a razor out of the pack (5 for 79 cents) and went back to the mirror.


    I shaved off my ratty little goatee quickly.


    A few sshes of waterter and a wipe down with a towel, I was good to go.


    Off-Screen.


    As soon as I opened my eyes after wiping off my face, a screen appeared on the red wallpaper. It was a POV from The Die Cast. He was walking away.


    Thank goodness. I told Kimberly what had happened to bid her goodnight.


    I lived to die another day or maybeter that day, whichever came first.


    ~-~


    Riley? Ramona called from downstairs.


    Are you okay? I asked promptly.


    I walked over to the staircase and peered down it.


    She was crying.


    I just There was this feeling that I cant describe, she said. I remember that feeling. Maybe it was a nightmare


    I walked down the stairs.


    No, I said. The Die Cast was outside earlier. You felt its aura.


    It was here? she asked.


    Yes, I said. Its gone now. You okay?


    She nodded.


    I didnt know how muchforting was normal. I decided to go to the kitchen instead. I had stolen an entire sub sandwich from Craft Services. It was one of those multiple-foot-long sandwiches. I had been eating on it for days.


    When I opened the fridge, it was gone.


    The time skip. I hadnt been around for a week because Carlyle Geist was on vacation. The sandwich was gone and reced by a rotisserie chicken on a te with aluminum foil over it.


    I hadnt put it there.


    While I pondered if it was safe to eat, I noticed that Ramona was still standing by.


    You okay? I asked again.


    She nodded.


    Something you want to talk about?


    She hesitated for a moment.


    Why am I doing this? she asked. I thought I was saving Phoebe, but what do we do after? If Carousel is what you say, why bother? If this ce is really hell, how is death worse?


    Those were the types of thoughts I like to push out of my head.


    I needed her to keep her head straight. The fact was I had been gued by simr questions for months. Anna and Camden had been killed, but they hadnt been attacked by ghosts or mutated frogs. They hadnt been subjected to the ufortable strangeness of an awakened Carousel that made the off-putting ambiance of Camp Dyer look cheery. They could be done.


    Why rescue anyone if it only means more of this?


    I dont know, I said. I guess I have to believe that there is something after. Something worth being alive for. You want your sister around for that, dont you?


    She didnt answer at first.


    I think I want to save her because its my fault she died. She wanted to leave Lillian Geist and escape. If I hadnt forced her to stay I dont know where she would be.


    Ss Dyrkon had exined to her how they hadnt nned to kill her sister when making the Throughline or whatever.


    You can take anything that man told you and throw it out, I said. The only reason he would tell you that is to manipte you. If you feel guilty, he can trick you into helping him. Its that simple.


    I think it was my fault, too, she said. It doesnt matter what he said. I was there. Everyone else who ran lived.


    I didnt even know if her sister was really dead. From the sound of her story, her sister could very well have been an NPC. For all I knew, Phoebe Mercer had been the NPC who wiped the spittle off my mirror so it would be clean for my scene earlier. How could I say that to Ramona, though? She had not fully pieced together that Phoebe was likely connected to the script or understood the implications of it.


    Im sorry. I can understand how you want to save her. I guess what you can tell yourself is that its her choice of whether to be a part of this world. You cant choose for her. Give her the chance to live, and then let her decide whether its worth it.


    She had transferred to a little chair in a nook near the dining room while we talked. I followed her, leaving the rotisserie chicken behind.


    It started to rain. We sat and watched the drops flow over the giant windows of the dumb modernist house my character called home.


    I know your friends are dead, she said. Why do you want to rescue them?


    Theyre my oldest friends, I said. For a long time, my only friends. I was never good at talking about it.


    Is it your fault they died? she asked. Wait, Im sorry. That didnte out how I meant for it to.


    I didnt mind her asking. It was clearly a subject she had been thinking about for a long time.


    Not them, no, I said.


    Iid down on a long bench that was like a Victorian fainting couch but way too long.


    We talked for hours until we fell asleep. The needle on the Plot Cycle ticked so close to First Blood that I expected someone to die any minute, but when I woke up the next morning, it still hadnte.

 Arc II, Chapter 64: Dreary Street

    Arc II, Chapter 64: Dreary Street


    I got dressed for myst day as a director. Because this would surely be myst day. First Blood was upon us. It was so close I could feel it in my skin like static electricity. With this enemy, death coulde from anywhere.


    All I could think about was the person who I knew was going to die today¡ªCarlyle Geist.


    I felt so ashamed of my role in his death. I was also embarrassed by how much dread I had. I needed to be stronger than this. Carlyle was as much a victim as me or anyone else. He might have been even more victimized in a way. At least I stood a fighting chance. I wasn¡¯t kept in the dark (notpletely, at least).


    Carlyle¡¯s death was a plot device, not even a proper plot beat, despite him likely serving as First Blood or something close to it.


    As I picked out the best clothes I could from my character¡¯s closet, I was left with a question I hated to ask: Did Carlyle have to die?


    I wanted to be able to swallow my concerns and just move forward. My head told me we couldn¡¯t save him. If Carlyle didn¡¯t die, then there would be no party held in his honor at the Geist Manor. No party meant no fire.


    If the Manor ze was necessary, then so was Carlyle¡¯s death.


    And yet, I felt some part of myself mourning the man. It wasn¡¯t out of raw loneliness in the way I mourned Anna and Camden. It was a soft, tender pain. I liked Carlyle as a friend, and he seemed to like me. He reminded me of my grandfather. We shared a passion for filmmaking. I didn¡¯t even register I had a passion in filmmaking. I thought it was a hobby or an interest, but as I directed my first feature film, I realized it was more than that.


    I felt guilt, knowing that if his death were necessary, I would allow it. More than that, I would make sure it happened.


    I could put my emotions in my back pocket better than anyone. If he had to die, he would.


    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± Ramona asked as she rode in my passenger seat on the way to the film lot.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t know if I can willingly stand there while that thing kills people,¡± she said.


    I had thought about this for weeks. I didn¡¯t know <em>what</em> Ramona was. I had nothing but educated guesses that all led to different answers.


    Calling her an NPC would be urate in one way but felt wrong in another. Assuming she really did have free will, the fact that she was born in Carousel meant nothing. She was clearly something more. Even Ss Dyrkon treated her differently.


    She almost seemed like a yer. She talked like a normal person caught in a terrible situation, almost like the Geists, but unlike the Geists, she appeared to have a yer poster frame on the red wallpaper. Even without an archetype, she might still have been a yer as far as Carousel was concerned.


    To me, that exined how she was being treated in this story.


    I knew that roles in storylines were assigned based on archetypes more than anything else. The fact that Carousel had not stuck her in a role might simply be caused by her not having one. The way she described just walking out of the storyline if she strayed too far from it might have simply been because, without a role, she was not bound by our rules.


    All the same, I knew that First Blood posed a risk to her.


    ¡°I understand your reservations,¡± I said. ¡°But we have to deliver you to the Centennial. If I die at First Blood, and you are still crashing at my character¡¯s ce, you might get Written Off because the story will no longer return to that house. You have toe with me.¡±


    ¡°I understand that. What I don¡¯t understand is how you can be so nonchnt about dying,¡± she said.


    ¡°Death is a bummer; I¡¯d rather not do it,¡± I said. ¡°Is that better?¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s a very realistic emotional response to your impending doom.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, I¡¯ve been working on it.¡±


    I drove slowly that morning. I was not in any hurry to get to work.


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re not an NPC?¡± she asked. ¡°Maybe the twist is that you aren¡¯t real.¡±


    Iughed.


    ¡°Not much of a twist,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t do much back in my real life anyway. Might as well be a fake backstory.¡±


    We drove in silence for a few blocks. Then she picked the conversation back up again.


    ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡±


    I nced at her. I could see dread on her face.


    ¡°What¡¯s what like? My life before Carousel?¡± I asked.


    She shook her head. ¡°Death.¡±


    Not as bad as nearly dying, I wanted to say. Worse than just getting injured. I thought better of it.


    ¡°The pain goes away, and I wake up in a theater watching my friends,¡± I said. ¡°Really, it kind of depends how I die.¡±


    She chuckled.


    ¡°Can I put ck eyeliner on you?¡± she asked. ¡°The casual talk about dying is something only guys in eyeliner did when I was growing up.¡±


    Uwfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    I shook my head. ¡°I don¡¯t think I could pull it off. I can¡¯t even y guitar.¡±


    ¡°Bobby!¡± I screamed from across the lot. I had tried just talking loudly, but he was so concerned with his pack of dogs he didn¡¯t hear me.


    He had them all on leashes.


    The Carousel As discussed how strong Background tropes were for Wallflowers. These tropes were more than casual details; they changed everything about how the Wallflower was cast. In a way, this was limiting because Bobby could only be a veterinarian because of his background.


    The bright side was that he really did like those dogs. It was dog tongue therapy and he responded to it well. Those dogs sure seemed to love him, too, the way they looked at him and followed hismands so eagerly.


    ¡°There you are,¡± he said. ¡°I knew you were director, but you haven¡¯t been here all week while we were setting things up.¡±


    ¡°Everyone is spread to the wind,¡± I said. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen Antoine, Cassie, or Isaac in a month. Kimberly has been with me off and on. I have no idea where Dina is. I haven¡¯t seen a trace of her.¡±


    ¡°This one is so exciting,¡± he said. ¡°Making a movie. I wonder if you¡¯ll actually get to direct someth¡ª¡±


    He stopped talking as he nced over at Ramona.


    He darted his eyes at Ramona and then back at me as if saying, do you see the person behind you?


    ¡°This is Ramona Mercer,¡± I said. ¡°Ramona, this is Bobby Gill. Resident Wallflower and veterinarian.¡±


    Bobby stuck out one of his hands to shake hers. It would have been more normal if he didn¡¯t have a handful of leashes. Ramona yed along and shook his hand.


    ¡°Mercer,¡± he said. ¡°Why does that name sound familiar?¡±


    Bobby wasn¡¯t around when we met some of the Mercers.


    I quickly gave him a backstory. Just the cliff¡¯s notes.


    ¡°Wow,¡± he said. ¡°She¡¯s not on the red wallpaper except for that gold frame. She¡¯s not even on the script that I can see. That¡¯s spooky.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m what¡¯s spooky?¡± she asked.


    Kinda, yeah. There was still a fifty-fifty shot that she was a Carousel infiltrator or something.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait for our scene,¡± Bobby said. ¡°We¡¯ve been going over it for so long. I got my little stars all trained. They''re naturals, you¡¯ll see.¡±


    The fact that the dogs were controlled at least partially by the script mitigated how impressed I was, but still, they were adorable dogs.


    ¡°Bobby, we need to talk,¡± I said.


    ¡°Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of the dogs,¡± he said with augh.


    He must have been having a good week to be joking around.


    ¡°I need to talk about Carlyle Geist,¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Bobby said. ¡°I hear he¡¯s a real scrooge.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°No, he¡¯s not. The NPCs make stuff up. It¡¯s not true. He¡¯s a nice man.¡±


    ¡°I gotcha,¡± he said. ¡°He dies today, right?¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± I said. ¡°If he has to. I need you to keep an eye on the script. If he doesn¡¯t have to die for the true ending, tell me.¡±


    Bobby seemed to be contemting what I was saying.


    ¡°Well, we know he dies today,¡± Bobby said. ¡°How can the manor party happen if¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know all that,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m asking you to keep an eye on it. If there is any chance he doesn¡¯t have to die, you tell me. I don¡¯t care if you have to break character a little bit. Tell me.¡±


    ¡°Ok, Riley,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s just my trope doesn¡¯t give me good ess to the script. Sometimes, choices fly by, and I miss things. Thest time I was able to stare at that part of the script for hours before I had to make a choice, I don¡¯t know if I will be able to see it in time today.¡±


    Bobby could see the script, but only a few lines at a time. Wallflowers had better tropes for script reading; he just had a beginner one. Still, I needed him to try.


    ¡°Keep an eye on it,¡± I said. ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± he answered.


    I nodded.


    He nodded.


    We both knew I was hoping for too much. We were not heroes. This was not the kind of story with happy endings.


    ¡°Kimberly,¡± I said. ¡°You ready for this?


    ¡°Born ready,¡± she said.


    We were talking about the finale of our movie, but also about First Blood of the storyline. It was that close.


    ¡°Run through the beats,¡± I said.


    Behind me, Carlyle Geist sat watching from his golf cart. We were in a part of the production lot called ¡°Dreary Street¡± by the crew. It was a partial replica of a neighborhood built for the sole purpose of filming scenes like the one we were in. It wasrge,rger than any real-world productionpany would ever make. The houses were mostly hollow, and yards were purposefully littered with children¡¯s bicycles,wn gnomes, water sprinklers, and every other bit of suburban decoration I could hope for to dress my movie.


    I got the odd urge to find some paintball guns when I looked around it. It would make a great ce for that sort of thing.


    Carlyle needed his golf cart. Vacation had worn him out. Lots of hiking and swimming.


    I had to believe that was intentional. Carousel had sent him to get worn out. He couldn¡¯t be controlled; he could only be positioned in the right spot to die on cue.


    ¡°I run through the alley,¡± she said. ¡°Then he tackles me, trips me up, stabs me in the leg. I reach up and open the gate so the dogs can get out and maul him while I limp away.¡±


    ¡°You got it,¡± I said. ¡°Now, let¡¯s take it from the top in slow motion. I want to see it in the viewfinder before we start¡ª¡±


    I was interrupted by a loud crash behind me. I turned to see that one of the prop master¡¯s assistants had dropped arge tackle box or tool box or something. All manner of prop knife fell out with a tter on the floor.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said as the quickly picked up all of the knives.


    The idents were starting.


    The Die Cast wasing.


    My character didn¡¯t know that, though.


    Kimberly and the stuntman ying the masked attacker went through their paces. I watched on the monitor and gave notes.


    I couldn¡¯t put it off any longer. It was time to move forward.


    ¡°Action!¡± I yelled.


    Kimberly ran through a narrow alley between tall fences. She was scared and determined. As soon as she got to the end of the alley, she got in view of Bobby¡¯s dogs, who barked and snarled from behind a chain-link fence.


    She realized the dogs must have been barking at something. Just in time, she strafed to the right. The killer jumped out from an adjoining alley and missed his big tackle but tripped her. She kicked him in the face and looked up at therge dogs. She got an idea. If she could only reach the gate, she could be safe. She reached for it, but the killer lifted up a knife.


    Wait a second!


    ¡°Cut!¡± I scream as urgently and loudly as I can.


    The action stopped. Everyone was looking at me.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter,¡± Carlyle said. ¡°That was perfect. Absolutely perfect!¡±


    I got up from my director¡¯s chair and walked onto the set. Kimberly and the stuntman were stillying on the ground.


    I reached down to the knife the man was holding. I felt the cold metal, stuck my finger against the de, and pressed.


    ¡°It¡¯s real!¡± I screamed, ¡°Someone identally mixed up the prop knife with the real one.¡±


    The crowd gasped.


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Carlyle screamed. He got up from his golf cart and made his way to where I was. I met him halfway. ¡°Quiet the dogs.¡±


    Bobbymanded, ¡°Hush,¡± and they hushed.


    Carlyle took the knife and examined it. He put a hand on my arm to steady himself. ¡°Barny!¡± he yelled.


    The prop master appeared as quickly as he could.


    ¡°How on the gods¡¯ green earth did this happen?¡± he asked more calmly than his face suggested he wanted to.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said. ¡°I sent my assistant over with the knives. They were all inbeled sections.¡±


    ¡°She dropped them earlier,¡± I said. ¡°She must have gotten them mixed up. I just had this gut instinct.¡±


    ¡°Thank goodness you did,¡± Carlyle said. ¡°Maybe your grandmother isn¡¯t the only one with the gift.¡±


    I had shared my background with him.


    The fact was, real knives did have a ce on film sets, especially back in our era. Close-ups of knives would reveal a fake. Rubber knives wobble when moved. Retractable knives have a visible seam where the de retracts. You needed real ones for some scenes. You just needed a protocol to keep them separated.


    Otherwise, you might just have an ident if you got unlucky.


    And I knew we were about to be very unlucky.

 Arc II, Chapter 65: On the Fence

    Arc II, Chapter 65: On the Fence


    The cast and crew went about resetting to get the rest of the scene. I got close to Bobby in case he saw something on the script that might indicate Carlyle could survive the day. He didn¡¯t say anything on the subject.


    ¡°The dogs are worried about something,¡± he said. ¡°I feel worried about something.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the Die Cast,¡± I said, exining its tropes in more detail. We had time to kill Off-Screen, so why not give him more information than I had previously?


    ¡°Gale Zaragoza?¡± Bobby asked. ¡°Got it. Jason Voorhees with the powers of Death in the Final Destination series. No big deal. Why would we worry?¡±


    I had fallen behind in the references department. d Bobby was there to pick up the ck. Iughed.


    ¡°It has an aura. You¡¯ll take the full st of it when it gets close,¡± I said. ¡°After that, your Grit might help mitigate it. The first hit is intense, though.¡±


    I had seen that same aura trope before. It was the one the Unknowable Host had, but not nearly as powerful.


    Still, we were mere mortals.


    ¡°Gotcha,¡± he said. ¡°The dogs must be extra sensitive. Oh, and Riley?¡±¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°When things go wrong, I have to get the dogs out first,¡± he said.


    ¡°I know,¡± I said.


    Bobby''s keeping his dogs around might have been an impediment, but this was not the time to have that conversation. I needed him alert.


    ¡°I work for the Geists,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m their personal vet for animals. They have all kinds. I had to manually check a horse for impaction. You know what that involves?¡±


    ¡°Nope. Don¡¯t want to either,¡± I said.


    He nodded andughed. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to either. I handle animals for their movies, too, obviously. I know some things. Not a lot, but some things. I¡¯ve been on their property all the way to where the manor is. I saw the asylum, too. Lots of screaming in there.¡±


    ¡°Anything I need to know?¡± I asked.


    He shook his head. ¡°Not now. We¡¯ll talkter. If we live, that is.¡±


    That was a n.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°Alright, my friends,¡± Carlyle said loudly. ¡°We have straightened out the knife issue and reset everything. Let¡¯s not have any more dys.¡±


    He started pping. Everyone else pped, too.


    We all got back into positions. I was over behind the camera watching things on a little screen both in real life and on the red wallpaper, thanks to my Director¡¯s Monitor trope.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Mr. Lawrence,¡± the prop master¡¯s assistant said as she walked away with the real knife held out in front of her for extra safety.


    Safety, yeah, that was the reason.


    The dogs started barking. First Blood was here. The moment that had been teased for so long was upon us.


    ¡°Action!¡± I screamed. Because the story wouldn¡¯t move forward without it.


    Everything went into motion.


    We had already done the running scenes. We started back from when the cameras changed angle after Kimberly had been tripped. It was no use redoing everything.


    The killer reached out for her with the prop knife. Kimberly desperately reached for the gate with the barking dogs behind it. She trembled with a deep, palpable fear. Maybe that was her being good at acting. Maybe she trembled because she knew that the dogs weren¡¯t acting. They were terrified of something, something that approached from the west side of the building.


    I could feel the aura.


    Kimberly almost had thetch on the gate when thergest of Bobby¡¯s dogs, a wolfhound, threw itself against the gate, and thetch opened on its own from the hit.


    The dogs tore out of the opening all at once, and they didn¡¯t pretend to attack the stuntman wearing the killer¡¯s costume like they had been trained to.


    They bolted eastward.


    Bobby went screaming after them.


    ¡°Bobby!¡± I yelled. My character would be screaming because my animal handler just messed up. I was screaming because I wanted to know what the script said.


    Bobby turned to me for a brief moment. He shook his head, then returned to tracking down his dogs.


    A ck pit formed deep in my stomach. Carlyle was going to die. I knew not to get my hopes up. This wasn¡¯t drunk teenagers performing some hokey s¨¦ance in an abandoned house while ghosts and ghouls tiptoed around. Carousel had a story to tell here.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the vition.


    The dogs had torn out of the pen and past the crew so quickly that many had been startled. One assistant fell down.


    It was the prop master¡¯s assistant.


    She would never get back up. The knife she had been carrying so carefully had stuck in her chest. She was dead.


    The whole crew panicked at the sight, and many gathered around her, screaming for a medic.


    In the distance, a light fell from the ceiling of therge warehouse onto one of the fake houses that I wouldter learn was filled with boxes of costumes. Perfect kindling.


    The house ignited quickly.


    As the fire burned and smoke filled the air, the crew panicked to leave.


    Gale Zaragoza, the Die Cast, was near.


    ¡°Riley!¡± a voice called out. I recognized the voice immediately. It was Carlyle.


    I searched for him. He had run a distance toward the exit, but one of the crew had identally knocked him over, and he was struggling to get up. He looked back at me from the ground and asked for help. The crewmember who had hit him was running off, looking back at him with a guilty nce.


    On-Screen, Off-Screen, it didn¡¯t matter. Staying in character didn¡¯t matter. Carlyle didn¡¯t know the greedy director I was pretending to be hated him. He saw me as a friend.


    I ran to him.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said.


    I helped him up and put his arm over my shoulder just as an explosion sounded off in the distance.


    ¡°It¡¯s happening again,¡± Carlyle said. ¡°You have to run. Leave me.¡±


    Wait a second, did he know what was going on?


    ¡°Carlyle, we have to get out of here,¡± I said.


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t understand,¡± replied, out of breath. ¡°The Geist family curse. I¡¯ll be fine. You need to leave.¡±


    As a Giest, he had lived his whole life watching his friends and acquaintances befall terrible fates while he was unhurt. He must not have realized that this time, the terrible fate was his.


    ¡°Even so,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    I pulled him forward. As I did, the main lights in the warehouse went dark. I could only see by the lights of the fires that had grown around the set. I had to give Carousel credit. The setting had turned from a suburban paradise to a hellish maze in an instant.


    ¡°Riley!¡± Kimberly screamed from somewhere in the distance. Smoke was building. I couldn¡¯t see in any direction for too far.


    Luckily, we were yers and were able to see each other on the red wallpaper if we had a line of sight, even without good visibility. She ran to me.


    ¡°Where is the exit?¡± she asked.


    I looked around. There was smoke and random suburban homes built to match all around. I was disoriented.


    Still, we hadn¡¯t moved that far. We could retrace our steps, but doing so would bring us back toward the Die Cast.


    ¡°This way,¡± I said.


    I started pulling Carlyle along as quickly as I could. I felt the dark aura of our pursuer.


    ¡°Oh, my god,¡± Kimberly screamed. She must have felt it, too, and turned to look behind us.


    Because he was there. Walking with a big stride.


    Carlyle saw him too and eximed something like, ¡°Dear gods, it¡¯s here, isn¡¯t it? The end.¡±


    Gale Zaragoza. No emotion in his eyes. He was there to cause death, and nothing I could do would stop him.


    I knew I couldn¡¯t stop him. I hoped that Carousel would see me trying to save Carlyle and extend some proof that it approved, that it would warp the story based on my improvisation. Could I convince Carousel to change the story to save him?


    There was no such luck.


    I would go on to tell myself that I got lost, that the smoke, chaos, and firelight had confused me so badly that I had taken a wrong turn.


    The truth was, I knew what I was doing. I was directing. I did my best to turn off my emotions and just get the shot Carousel wanted.


    Carlyle had to die.


    The street I took him down dead-ended at a row of fences. If Carousel were going to change its mind, it would have by the time we got to the fences. If it didn¡¯t, the fences provided us with the perfect setup to survive, even without Carlyle.


    I had no choice.


    We stumbled further until we saw the row of tall wooden fences. A dead end for at least one of us.


    Luckily, Kimberly and I could climb a fence. Hustle or adrenaline made it easy.


    I left Carlyle with Kimberly, and I jumped up, putting my feet against the fence so I could see over the other side.


    I saw a deck chair.


    I quickly pulled myself over the fence, grabbed the chair, and dragged it near the wall. I stood on it and reached over the top.


    ¡°Kimberly,¡± I said, ¡°Give me your hand.¡±


    She did as I asked. I pulled her up with ease. The Die Cast was right there..


    I felt like throwing up. I had doomed Carlyle. It was one thing to know he had to die and another to help set it up.


    Kimberly was over.


    I reached back for Carlyle. If I timed it right, I wouldn¡¯t be able to save him. I hated that it came so easy for me to n such a thing that way.


    He didn¡¯t reach for me.


    I probably wouldn¡¯t have had time to pull him over anyway. The Die Cast was upon us.


    Still, Carlyle said, ¡°Run. Don¡¯t stay here for me.¡± He turned back toward therge stalker.


    ¡°Carlyle,¡± I screamed.


    He thought he was saving me. That was the real gut punch. I set the whole thing up so he could die dramatically like Carousel wanted. His trying to save me made it all feel worse. So much worse.


    Instinctively, I pulled myself up and reached out for him. It was no use. He was too far away.


    Carousel did always have a sense of humor.


    Just as I pulled back from my useless attempt to grab Carlyle, therge wooden fence I was reaching over buckled from my weight.


    Talk about your bad luck.


    The whole thing, the entire fence panel, started to fall forward toward Carlyle and the Die Cast.


    I had thought the fence would be a dramatic barrier that would protect Kimberly and me while letting Carousel get what it wanted. Apparently, that wasn¡¯t enough.


    The fence fell forward. Carlyle wasn¡¯t fast enough to get out of the way. The top of the fence hit him in the upper back, and I wasn¡¯t able to get off the fence fast enough. Inded right on top of him with a crunch.


    Three feet away, the Die Cast watched, uncaring.


    His job was nearly done.


    When the wooden fence panel and I hadnded on Carlyle, something had broken. I could hear it.


    I scrambled away as fast as I could. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to!¡± I said instinctively.


    What I had intended was for the Die Cast to kill Carlyle as Carousel demanded while I watched helplessly from the other side of the fence.


    This was too much. I could still feel echoes of the disgusting crunch of Carlyle¡¯s ribs or spine on my hands. I felt it right through the fence.


    The Die Cast paid me no mind.


    He knelt down over Carlyle and picked up the man¡¯s head just long enough to make eye contact. That¡¯s when I saw that Carlyle¡¯s cane had been under him when he fell. The head of the cane had made contact with Carlyle¡¯s forehead and caused a sizable welt.


    Carlyle was out of it. He didn¡¯t look Gale in the eye. He was too injured.


    The killer grabbed the back of Carlyle¡¯s hair and then mmed his head back down on the cane with tremendous force. That was more than enough. Carlyle was well on his way to the grave just from me falling on him. Gale Zaragoza finished Carlyle off just like that. Carlyle¡¯s name became Carlyle Geist (Deceased).


    Someone was pulling on my arm. It was Kimberly.


    I was so distracted watching Carlyle die that I barely noticed that the giant stalker was not turning around and leaving after his kill.


    He was looking for new targets.


    He was looking at us.

 Arc II, Chapter 66: Sparks Fly

    Arc II, Chapter 66: Sparks Fly


    I didn¡¯t have time to mourn Carlyle. The Die Cast, far removed from its original purpose, was not sated by the death of the eldest Geist. It wanted more.


    Kimberly and I scrambled back over the fence toward the exit. The air was thick with smoke.


    The Die Cast followed.


    Its tropes held clues on how to beat it or at least how to survive a little longer. I knew it could outspeed us to a new shooting location. On that note, we were good. This whole ce was likely one shooting location, if I were to guess. He wouldn¡¯t get a Hustle boost as long as we were here.


    My strategy? Find a way to slow him down and then get far enough away for the scene to end and First Blood to officially have passed. We would get a reprieve then, however minor.


    That was all well and good, but how would we stop this thing? He was bigger than me and built like a truck (and that wasn¡¯t even counting the metal parts). The bad luck aura was the real problem. Anything could fail. Anything could be a deadly weapon in its vicinity.


    Anything. A gun, a fence, a¡­ golf cart.


    I barely heard the whir of the electric golf cart as it whizzed through the artificial streets, dodging obstacles and building up speed.


    Bobby was at the helm. He must have gotten his dogs sorted out.As he got close to the Die Cast and it turned to see him, Bobby¡¯s eyes got wide, and he lost some of his conviction from the effects of the aura. Still, he put all his effort into keeping the gas pedal down, and then, with hisst bit of bravery, he jumped from the seat.


    Interestingly, I had yed around on an electric cart like the ones on the movie studio lot. Unlike their gas-powered cousins, they didn¡¯t really maintain speed when the elerator was notpressed. I half expected the cart to slow down to a dull jog before it hit its target.


    It didn¡¯t. The cart mmed into the Die Cast and took him off his feet, pushing him away from us and into the wall of a nearby brick house, which crumbled.


    The crash was loud and filled the air with dust and debris. The Die Cast was covered in bricks, to the point that I could not see him.


    Bobby didn¡¯t have a great Savvy stat. He had spent his stats elsewhere, so that wasn¡¯t why the golf cart n worked. What Bobby did right was give Carousel something to work with. Gale Zaragoza had a trope that made his actions more cinematic and explosive, but as the golf cart began spewing white-hot molten globs as its battery burst, I realized that things like ¡°getting hit by a golf cart¡± must have counted as an action.


    He had a weakness.


    Another point for the Wallflower.


    Bobby was still recovering from his run-in with the concrete sidewalk he had rolled onto when he left the golf cart.


    I ran to help him up.


    ¡°I was looking for Mr. Geist,¡± he said as he got to his feet.


    ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±


    Bobby nodded, ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not surprised. What is that thing?¡±


    Oh, right, horror movie banter. He was a clueless side character.


    ¡°A mistake,¡± I said glumly.


    That should help rehabilitate my character a bit. Admitting guilt is a great first step. The second step was surviving long enough for the audience to remember you.


    As Gale Zaragoza¡¯s undead body started throwing bricks, timber, and a golf cart off of himself, I realized that would be easier said than done.


    I expected Gale to roar or something. He didn¡¯t. He was silent as the grave. His mouth was basically welded shut, so that made sense.


    ¡°Kimberly,¡± I said. ¡°Run. Get out of here!¡±


    I tried helping Bobby forward. Only then did I realize he was Hobbled from his fall. His knee cap stuck out funny.


    Our best shot was if Kimberly left. She was a main character, a truly innocent person who got wrapped up in all of this.


    If she were gone, there was a good chance we might go Off-Screen. An even better chance, thanks to my Offscreen Death ability. If I could just take this fight Off-Screen, I might have a chance at getting away. The enemy would still pursue me, but it would be different. I had learned that with the Grotesques. They stopped beingrger than life Off-Screen. There was no other way to exin it.


    I had to believe that was the way forward.


    We couldn¡¯t go Off-Screen, though, unless Kimberly left, if even then.


    ¡°Just leave us!¡± I screamed.


    I was rehabilitating my character so, so well.


    It might have worked, too.


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    Kimberly leaves, and I ¡°die¡± Off-Screen. It could have worked out well.


    The Die Cast had other ns.


    He picked up the golf cart and threw it into a treehouse that was in a ster tree near where Kimberly was standing.


    The crash was louder than a lightweight cart would merit. The fake tree wasn¡¯t held down by much, apparently, because it fell over, peeling up a fake grass as it did. Its treehouse broke apart and created a debris field of pallet boards and plywood from which Kimberly had to back away.


    The treehouse had Christmas lights as decorations. The power was out to the building, but those lights were lit. When they became a tangled mess on the ground, they started sparking.


    This was too frustrating. It was almost as if this entire building was designed to make this Chase/Fight scene as difficult as possible.


    Kimberly couldn¡¯t go over the debris field. That was surely a good way to get electrocuted.


    As it walked toward her, I leaned Bobby up against a stop sign and took off toward the Die Cast.


    I grabbed a brick from the wall that had fallen. It was rubber or foam of some kind. Of course, it was. This was a movie set. The realization that the falling bricks I had heard had been a real-life sound effect caused by the Die Cast¡¯s cinema trope almost made me smile. Almost.


    I threw the foam brick at the Die Cast. It nged off the creature¡¯s metal fixtures as if it were made of actual brick.


    The Spirit of Vengeance could target everyone. Anyone could die. Unlike most enemies, it didn¡¯t pick a target and kill it before moving on. It could pick any target.


    A yer could defend his ally with nothing but bravery and a foam brick. Normally, you would need a trope to make an enemy truly target you on purpose.


    ¡°It¡¯s my fault you¡¯re here,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t think the curse was real. I don¡¯t know what I thought. I was just angry, and I did something unforgivable. Take me and leave her alone.¡±


    To my surprise, the Die Cast paused. Was he considering my offer? Was Carousel?


    Carousel decided to pick a third option.


    A man stumbled toward the wreckage and said, ¡°We have to get out of here. The whole ce is going to burn!¡±


    It was the stuntman ying the killer in our movie. He still wore his mask.


    His name was Tommy on the red wallpaper. I didn¡¯t even have time to tell him to run before the Die Cast turned to him, grabbed him by the arm, and threw him onto the pile of treehouse debris with the Christmas lights.


    Tommy, the stuntman, started to fry. Poor guy.


    Kimberly and I didn¡¯t waste any time getting away. We ran around the Die Cast and scooped up Bobby.


    He could move on his own, just not fast.


    We ran with him around the debris and toward therge exit in the distance.


    The Die Cast just walked over the sparking heap.


    He stood in front of the ming wastnd that had once been a neat little fake neighborhood. He stood there posing so that when the others got inside, they could see him clearly.


    Antoine, Cassie, Isaac, and Ricky Zaragoza hade to save us. Ricky was in his usual emotional state. He yelped at the sight of his brother.


    Antoine ushered us to him. Kimberly almost went in for a hug, but Antoine had the presence of mind to remember that their characters didn¡¯t know each other.


    ¡°You¡¯re safe now, this way,¡± he said. She got the message.


    Isaac was dressed like he was going to swing by the Roxbury after we were done. He was hit by the aura so hard he might as well have run into closeline.


    Cassie had taken her month-long break to dress her character in the least mboyant clothing she owned, which was apparently a purple zer and skirtbo that Whoopi Goldberg might have worn in the movie Ghost.


    They were all scared except for Antoine, who looked more wired than anything. Maybe angry at the undead thing that had just tried to hurt Kimberly.


    ¡°Gale!¡± Antoine screamed as he rushed past Kimberly. ¡°What have we done to you? I didn¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t know it would do this to you. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    The man who had once been Gale Zaragoza looked at Antoine. He had picked up a piece of lumber with roofing tin attached to the end. In his hands, it was a lethal weapon.


    Was there a glimmer of recognition there? I couldn¡¯t tell. I saw nothing in his eyes.


    ¡°Gale!¡± echoed throughout the warehouse. This time, it was Ricky Zaragoza who screamed it. He ran closer to his brother. ¡°Oh, god, no. Not like this. Are you okay, does it hurt?¡±


    Ricky, neverpletely without some illicit substance coursing through his veins, was sober at that moment. Tears flowed down his cheeks.


    ¡°We were just trying to get revenge on them,¡± Ricky said. ¡°I can¡¯t believe this happened. Gale, it¡¯s me, Ricky. Don¡¯t you know your own brother?¡±


    If he did, he didn¡¯t show it.


    He walked closer to Ricky.


    ¡°Your wife is still messed up about you,¡± Ricky said. ¡°You gotta remember. Look, look,¡± he added, digging through his pockets. He pulled out a photograph that I was too far away from to see. ¡°It¡¯s me and you and Dina. Don¡¯t you remember Dina?¡±


    Dina? Was she ying Gale Zaragoza¡¯s widow? I had no way of knowing. Casting Director didn¡¯t activate for reasons I couldn¡¯t understand at that moment. What could cause that? Her Guarded Personality trope might have been blocking it. Was that it?


    Ricky waited patiently in front of his brother, holding out the picture. Gale had been a head or more taller than Ricky in life. After he swung his gnarled board with a roofing tin de, he was another head taller.


    Ricky¡¯s body fell to the ground as his shocked face rolled across the room. The picture took flight andnded five feet away from me. I grabbed at it.


    Gale Zaragoza was no longer there. All that was left was this undead murderous fiend.


    ¡°We have to go!¡± Cassie screamed.


    I wasn¡¯t one to argue. We all took off to the exit, arge bay door with a door that lowered with a pull chain.


    As the others ran, I saw the contraption ahead.


    ¡°All at once!¡± I screamed. ¡°We exit all at once!¡±


    Maybe that was a little too inside baseball for my character, but I just knew that door was going to slide down and kill somebody if we ran under it one at a time.


    The others seemed to understand, and we more or less exited the door at the same time. It slid closed suddenly behind us with a force that would have killed anyone caught underneath.


    Ramona was sitting outside in my car. She had pulled it up near the door.


    She cursed as the door mmed shut. I realized that she nned to ram the Die Cast much as Bobby had done.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t even kill it?¡± she screamed as I opened the driver¡¯s door and beckoned her to scoot over.


    ¡°I am a Film Buff,¡± I said sternly as I sat in the driver¡¯s seat.


    We needed to get out of there as fast as possible, faster than on foot. If the Die Cast got too close, the car could simply malfunction.


    ¡°Follow me!¡± I screamed out the door at Antoine as he, Cassie, and Isaac loaded into the brown car that had belonged to the future mayor. I would have to ask about how they got it. I would have a lot of questions. I hadn¡¯t seen them in weeks.


    Ramona and Kimberly got in my car, though Kimberly only did so out of habit because her character didn¡¯t know Antoine. We had been Off-Screen since running out of the warehouse, but it could be hard to tell. Perhaps that was why the red wallpaper had an Off-Screen indicator instead of an On-Screen one.


    They followed me. Antoine in the brown car, Bobby in a travel trailer filled with scared dogs. I looked at the picture Ricky had shown his undead brother. That was Dina, alright. Why did I know nothing about her? Was she not in 1984 with us? Was she already dead? I couldn¡¯t figure it out.


    When we arrived back at my house¡ªforck of a better location¡ªwe found someone waiting for us there.


    She was much younger than I remembered her.


    It was Madam Celia.


    She looked upset.

 Arc II, Chapter 67: Up to Speed

    Arc II, Chapter 67: Up to Speed


    ¡°The Spirit of Vengeance requires a delicate touch,¡± Madam Celia said after we had gathered inside and settled in the downstairs living room. ¡°You were supposed to use its magic once and then return the sk. My sister tells me that you have sent it after half the town and now the sk is missing?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say it was missing,¡± Cassie said. ¡°The guy who had it said he ditched it, but I don¡¯t know.¡±


    The conversation involved a little bit of backtracking. I got the feeling Carousel was just using it to provide editing options to help tell the story.


    Madam Celia was apparently Cassie¡¯s sister in this story. She was also an NPC, not a yer, so there were no meta-chats. There were plenty of lore chats, though.


    ¡°The Spirit takes on the essence of that sin it avenges,¡± she said. ¡°It chokes drowners with a watery grave, arsonists with ashes, and all manner of evil with evil in kind.¡±


    We let that realization wash over us. We kind of figured that, but it was good for our characters to understand.


    ¡°Gale Zaragoza died in a supposed ident,¡± I said. ¡°Hence the bad luck wafting every which way.¡±


    Isaac cursed.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Cassie said. ¡°If the Spirit grows too strong, then the town is doomed. Not just the Geists. Everyone.¡±¡°That is not our concern, sister,¡± Celia said. ¡°We will be moving on. If what you say is true, then we have no further business here.¡±


    Madam Celia was ying a shady evil psychic in this story, but she still stood with the poise and elegance she always had. She was not much of an actor. I could tell she felt it was beneath her.


    Cassie and Celia bickered for a while longer until Celia said, ¡°The Spirit needs a host. As long as it has one, it will only grow in power until it haspleted its duty.¡±


    ¡°How do we take away its host?¡± I asked. ¡°Can its body be killed?¡±


    Celia paused and then said, ¡°It will maintain authority over its host regardless of your actions. None of you have a better im to the host than it does.¡±


    There was a brief pause of confusion.


    ¡°You never told me about this. Who could have a im to the host?¡± Cassie asked.


    We were suddenly Off-Screen.


    That was odd. Premature. Something else must have happened to take attention away from us. Normally, we would just wait for our turn again, but then Celia picked up her bags and started to leave.


    She couldn¡¯t speak out of character; even Off-Screen, she was limited. She turned to Cassia and then to each of us. She rested on Ramona, who had sat cross-armed in a chair for the entire scene, perplexed.


    ¡°Venture forth. Tiny victories. Tiny defeats. That is the way. Do not lose heart.¡±


    Then she left.


    ~-~


    When the door closed, Isaac said, ¡°Wait, is that thedy who writes the fortunes for the fortune cookies? I need her autograph.¡±


    Cassie shoved him. ¡°Be serious.¡±


    ¡°Things are going pretty well, aren¡¯t they?¡± Kimberly asked. She moved next to Antoine. They had not seen each other in weeks, though Antoine had reportedly been ¡°taken off the board¡± for much of that time. He was really starting to withdraw inward, but he definitely perked up now that Kimberly was back around.


    No one had seen Dina. The phot of her with pre-Die Cast Gale Zaragoza was the only clue we had that she existed. Cassie didn''t even have her vitals on the red wallpaper. She was in the wind.


    Bobby was in the kitchen looking through my shelves and fridge for food. There was a ton of it.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been parking out on a farmer¡¯snd out east,¡± Bobby said. ¡°His wife makes me fresh-cooked meals, and they have a fenced-in ce for the dogs. I just woke up there and never left. Still, I can¡¯t say I¡¯m not jealous of what you¡¯ve got going on here.¡± He eyeballed the pseudo-modernist ss house my character lived in.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said.


    Now that someone hadmented on it, everyone piled on.


    ¡°Oh my god, Riley, this ce is so tacky,¡± Kimberlyughed. It was hard to argue when she and Antoine were sitting in a chair that was shaped like a giant red hand.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, it¡¯s home,¡± I said as I scooped some torti chips into a bowl and started making nachos.


    We shared our ounts of the ces we had been staying.


    Ramona and I were in the ss house my tool of a character had designed, likely with his eyes closed.


    Antoine slept in a spare room of a halfway house, and the woman who owned the ce provided meals.


    ¡°There are multiple unmarked graves in the back,¡± he said. ¡°There are spots where the grass grows greener, and thendy always has a creepy smile.¡±


    He concluded that she belonged to a horror story of her own and was just filling in for this one.


    ¡°Between that and seeing my daughter every other weekend, I¡¯ve had work at a mill a couple of days, but mostly, I just jumped forward weeks at a time.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t under the scrutiny of a Geist. He didn¡¯t need to be around all the time like I did. We all knew Carousel could put us in stasis or whatever it did. It had demonstrated that power multiple times. It had never done so to this extent, however.


    Cassie slept in a travel trailer with her ¡°sister.¡± They were fly-by-night psychics who sold magic elixirs and palm readings. Of course, if you asked correctly, they sold more than that.


    ¡°She used magic to make a man break up with his fianc¨¦,¡± Cassie said. ¡°It was a whole ordeal. The first thing we did in the story. I guess we aren¡¯t nice little witches.¡±


    ¡°Carousel really has your number, huh?¡± Isaac said. He got punched.


    Kimberly had a loft in the entertainment district with a tab at the bar downstairs paid for by Geist Productions. She wanted for nothing except Antoine. She could even plunder the costume department for clothes. She was happier than she had ever been. I couldn¡¯t me her. I would have taken clothes too if I had thought of it.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Most of their month had been uneventful, if it happened at all. Except one thing. Future Mayor Roderick Gray. He had been in and out of Antoine, Cassie, and Isaac¡¯s stories.


    ¡°Acted funny,¡± Cassie said. ¡°Asked Celia about the sk, weird questions. He said he threw it away. He was lying. I didn¡¯t need Moxie to tell me that. Said he was worried someone else might find it and use it. He wondered if that was something to worry about. Celia brushed him off.¡±


    Isaac and Antoine reported simr encounters.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t talk to me,¡± I said. ¡°Wasn¡¯t I a part of the cabal?¡±


    ¡°Maybe he saw the house and thought better than toe,¡± Isaac said.


    They were just jealous.


    ¡°You¡¯re just jealous,¡± I said.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Where have you been staying, Isaac?¡±


    Isaac had fixed himself a te of nachos and salsa dip. He sat on the long fainting couch with a great big grin and started telling his tale.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been crashing in a furniture store,¡± Isaac chuckled. ¡°They''ve got snacks in the vending machine that I¡¯ve been munching on. I guess I have Bobby¡¯s food trope to thank for that.¡±


    Cassieughed. ¡°You¡¯ve been eating like, cheese puffs and beef jerky or what?¡±


    ¡°No. Wrapped subs and tuna and crackers. Fresh-cut fruit snacks. Cobb sd. This ce has ridiculous snacks. It¡¯s one of those machines with revolving tes, and you pick a te, and it spins to your selection and opens up.¡±


    ¡°How has that been free?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°Doesn¡¯t a vending machine cost money?¡±


    We had no money anymore.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It¡¯s broken. Customers have to ask us to unlock it, and then they pay at the register. All I have to do is write down what I take and pay the guy that fills it right from the till.¡±


    ¡°Wait, do you work at this furniture store?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yep.¡± He started tough.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been stealing from your character¡¯s job?¡± Antoine asked.


    Isaac smiled and shook his head. ¡°Nah, I own the ce.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Your character¡¯s family is rich?¡±


    Isaac shoved a chip loaded with salsa into his mouth and said, ¡°Yeah, well, no. They were. I started out living in this big house in a nice part of town about a month ago. Then, I got evicted by the sheriff, who is like a level thirty NPC, by the way.¡±


    ¡°You got evicted?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°They threw me out of the house like two days after the factory fire. On Screen and everything.¡±


    Iughed at Isaac¡¯s misfortune, but everyone did.


    ¡°So, how¡¯d you get to the furniture store?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Carousel sent me on this goose hunt looking for a ce to stay. I had an address book. Is that what it¡¯s called?¡± He grabbed a small ck book from his pocket. ¡°It listed everyone I know, but all the names except for three were crossed out, so I just started going down them one by one. The first one was an ex-girlfriend who was dating an ountant. Not interested in me anymore.¡±


    ¡°Because she wised up,¡± Cassie said.


    ¡°Cause she was a gold digger,¡± Isaac corrected. ¡°Then my uncle, who just med me for the family money troubles and got madder and madder at me every time I asked about what happened because I never got the full story. I didn¡¯t know what I was supposed to be doing. Had to leave so he didn¡¯t throttle me. I think he embezzled money from thepany, but I didn¡¯t pull that thread because it waste, and I was tired.¡±


    ¡°Then the furniture store?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Then the furniture store,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It was thest property my character owned. I had a key to the back door. I unlocked the back, went in, and slept on a giant bed.¡±


    ¡°Was this On-Screen?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Enough of it was,¡± Isaac confirmed. He ate another chip. ¡°I figure Carousel is trying to make me look pitiable.¡±


    ¡°Did you wake up with shoppers walking around?¡± Kimberly asked.


    Isaacughed, ¡°Yep. I swear, the ce was closed down when I crawled in there. Windows were boarded up. Dust everywhere. Then I woke up. The guy there says, ¡®Hey boss didn¡¯t see you there,¡¯ and I thought he meant ¡®boss¡¯ as in buddy or pal or sir, but was really calling me boss. I owned the ce. I wake up and there are customers browsing around the store. So I put my pants on¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Cassie said with a chuckle.


    ¡°So I put my pants on, and the guy, my employee, an NPC named Earl, says that my character had fired the sales staff, and now it¡¯s my job to sell the furniture,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Is that what you¡¯ve been doing between scenes?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯ve been selling furniture?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s easy, too, because my Moxie beats their Moxie. Piece of cake.¡±


    Isaac''s story was funny, and just about everyoneughed¡ªeveryone except Ramona, of course. She was genuinely disturbed by the tale. It made sense. Carousel as a vengeful, evil hell was something you could wrap your head around. Carousel, purveyor of petty torments, was something else, something even harder to understand.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Antoine said. ¡°So why were you running when I saw you?¡±


    ¡°Cops,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± Cassie asked.


    ¡°I punched a guy. He wouldn¡¯t leave me alone. Kept hounding me for money. He was a creditor. Called himself that constantly. Followed me day and night. Watched me in the furniture store. Wouldn¡¯t leave me alone.¡±


    ¡°In front of customers?¡± I asked, acting appalled.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Isaac admitted. ¡°He got more and more aggressive until, eventually, I punched him. I tried smooth-talking him, but he was level 10, and it all must have been in Moxie or Savvy or something because I could not convince him to leave me alone. I punched him and knocked him out in one hit.¡±


    ¡°He definitely didn¡¯t have any Grit if you knocked him out,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Must not have,¡± Isaac said solemnly. ¡°A woman nearby called the police. Now, there¡¯s a cop posted up outside the store. They¡¯ve been looking for me for days. Haven¡¯t gotten any sleep. I have no idea what¡¯s happening.¡±


    And there it was. The funny story of a ne''er-do-well heir down on his luck became part of the plot of a horror story.


    ¡°Jail?¡± Cassie eximed. ¡°I saw a silhouette of someone hanging behind jail bars. I¡¯ve been seeing so many premonitions. Dozens every day. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s in my head or what.¡±


    That made some sense. Cassie could see premonitions of death, but the Die Cast was not bound to kill any particr character. Her premonitions changing rapidly was understandable.


    So jail was Carousel¡¯s n, apparently. Put Isaac in jail, where he was a sitting duck. The Die Cast wouldn¡¯t even have to get to him. Just get close enough for Isaac to die of bad luck.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Cassie asked.


    I closed my eyes while I thought things through. When I opened them again, everyone else was looking at me again.


    ¡°So we know what Carousel¡¯s ns are, or at least one of the scenes it¡¯s setting up,¡± I said. ¡°Rebirth. The moment we learn that Future Mayor Roderick Gray has used the sk thing to target us. You said he was acting weird?¡±


    ¡°Suspicious,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°As you might expect, he¡¯s turning on us. Thinks we might rat him out. The cops did get there too quickly with the factory fire. He¡¯s going to get paranoid. When he sees Isaac go to jail, that¡¯s going to be the moment that pushes him over the edge because he thinks you¡¯ll talk for a reduced sentence. He sends the Die Cast after you. We learn that we are now being hunted. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll find a way to tie Kimberly and Bobby in with it somehow. Just wait.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t know for sure, but it was my best guess. I had heard their descriptions of his behavior. Gray was a liability, and he saw all of us as liabilities, too.


    ¡°I can¡¯t die in jail,¡± Isaac said. At first, I thought he was telling a joke, but he was serious. ¡°I can¡¯t deal with that. Trapped, nowhere to run. I¡ª¡±


    The jovial storyteller from moments ago was gone. He was suddenly facing his own mortality again.


    ¡°We may not want to prevent itpletely,¡± I said.


    ¡°Carousel will just change ns,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Or escte the danger.¡±


    I nodded. Adeline had drilled that part into our heads during our stay at Dyer¡¯s Lodge. Carousel was the type of ce where you could win a battle and lose a war.


    ¡°So, sacrifice me?¡± Isaac said.


    I put my hands up. ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°This isn¡¯t Second Blood. No one has to die. Or at least none of us do.¡±


    I ryed to them my experience with the Die Cast and the razor de.


    I whipped the de out of my pocket. ¡°Carousel set me up with a kind of test. I could see the killer¡¯s tropes, but I might die if I wasn¡¯t careful. This is simr. We need the revtion that Gray has turned on us, that he is the guy pulling the strings. It¡¯s so much easier to beat a person. If that is never revealed, we will have a much harder time winning.¡±


    The Die Cast was a really tough customer. The guy holding the sk, not so much.


    ¡°So we just kill him?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°He¡¯s not even an enemy. He¡¯s a level 3 NPC. I could kill him.¡±


    That was an option. Carousel did make him an NPC instead of a proper enemy.


    ¡°That¡¯s a trap,¡± I said. ¡°We would kill him, and then Carousel would make the Die Cast himself even more dangerous somehow. We need Gray to be pulling the strings. We can win under those circumstances. Plus, that is probably necessary to get the true ending.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to die,¡± Isaac said. He was having a minor freak-out, but I didn¡¯t me him.


    ¡°Well, then, we¡¯re just going to have to take special care of you,¡± I said.


    Then, the nning began.

 Arc II, Chapter 68: Moonlight

    Arc II, Chapter 68: Moonlight


    This wasn¡¯t the kind of story where slumber parties made sense. Our characters were bound together by having some connection to the Die Cast. Some of us had helped summon it; others had merely witnessed it. Still, hanging out in a giant ss house together was probably notpletely in character.


    It didn¡¯t matter. We needed it. Spending time alone in Carousel was grating, even with Carousel moving you forward days at a time. It was easy to get lonely even with so many unseen eyes on you.


    So we had our slumber party. My character¡¯s house was as good as any ce we had stayed at. Antoine and Kimberly took the bedroom at Kimberly''s request. It was all jokes when they asked for it, ¡°Haha,¡± have a good time, but really, the reason they needed the bedroom was so Antoine could get his past-due dose of <strong>You were having a nightmare¡­</strong>


    And there were smaller windows in the bedroom. Windows that could be covered.


    Otherwise, Antoine would be stuck in a giant terrarium staring at trees. I wasn¡¯t going to make him admit to anything, but I knew he was still haunted by his time in the Straggler Forest by more than just mental fatigue or panic attacks.


    I didn¡¯t know how haunted he was until that night.


    Bobby let his dogs sleep everywhere. They seemed to think we all wanted their attention. Cassie didn¡¯t seem to mind, but Ramona did. Isaac was awake with dread from his part in our ns most of the night until he took a whiskey luby.


    ¡°You can use Riley¡¯s sleeping trope,¡± Antoine had offered.


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Isaac said with obvious regret as heid out in a t-shirt and shorts on the fainting couch. I could tell he wanted to take it, but he knew Antoine needed it more. Everyone did.It was hard to understand what Antoine was going through. The trope we used to keep his demons at bay was supposed to suppress memories down to barely remembered dreams. We thought that would quash them. The Insider apparently had, too.


    It turned out that barely remembered dreams had their own toll.


    When I heard them talking, everyone had gone to sleep. My couch was above an air vent that connected to their room.


    Kimberly whispered something like, ¡°No, no, we¡¯re not there anymore.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to open my eyes,¡± he would respond.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, it¡¯s okay, you¡¯re in Riley¡¯s house, remember.¡±


    No response.


    ¡°You¡¯re just having a nightmare,¡± she would repeat over and over. ¡°You¡¯re just having a nightmare.¡±


    And he was.


    Carousel had warned or teased him about his secret, the one that, if it got out, would cause people to lose trust in him.


    As Iy on the couch, I could almost hear something in his voice. The way he whispered, the way Kimberly reassured him.


    The way he said a word over and over again. I couldn¡¯t tell what he was saying for the longest time.


    I felt something in my pocket. It wasn¡¯t really there. I wasn¡¯t even wearing the jacket Carousel had reced my hoodie with. I felt something appear in the sub-space we put our tropes in.


    It was my <strong>Out like a light</strong> trope. Antoine had used it before but had woken up since then. Now, it had returned to me.


    I listened to see if they would say something.


    Whispers. I couldn¡¯t make them out.


    He was still awake. Maybe Kimberly woulde up and ask for it? No dice.


    I got up from the couch and took the stairs down to the bedroom door. I had to step over one of Bobby¡¯s smaller dogs. It didn¡¯t pay me any mind.


    I knocked on the door, and Kimberly answered. Antoine was standing, looking out the covered window.


    There, with the door open, I heard the word he had been saying.


    ¡°Trees. No trees. No trees,¡± he chanted like he was trying to convince himself. He was reaching out, caressing the nket that had been thrown over the window. It seemed tofort him.


    I handed her the sleeping trope and walked away without even making eye contact.


    No wonder Antoine had been kept ¡°off the board¡± for most of thest month. He was having trouble none of us could understand.


    His trope made it feel like his time in the Straggler Forest had just been a nightmare. s, the cure was iplete.


    What good was turning trauma into a mere nightmare when you were in the one ce where nightmares were real?


    As I walked up the stairs to my couch, I realized what Antoine¡¯s secret was. I knew why his Incapacitation indicator was ring even when we were just rxing.


    Antoine believed, on some level, that he was still stuck in that forest, and in a way, he was right.


    Uwfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ~-~


    Early morning. Breakfast. Bobby¡¯s sunny-side-up eggs got turned into scrambled after a mishap with a jumping dog that caused him to break a yolk.


    I didn¡¯t mind.


    ¡°Why do I have to leave?¡± Isaac asked. He was being a good sport, and I was making the best promises I could that we would protect him.


    ¡°We need you as bait,¡± I said. Carousel wasn¡¯t a ce for sugarcoating.


    We needed Roderick Gray to use the sk to target one of us so that we could have the revtion that Gray was the guy behind the curtain. We knew he was, but our characters needed to know, too.


    ¡°No, I mean, why am I leaving the protection of greater numbers so that the police have the opportunity to arrest me and throw me in a cage? Why would my character do that?¡± he asked.


    It was a good question. Carousel had prepped a subplot of Isaac getting arrested. We just needed an excuse to serve him up on a silver tter.


    ¡°Maybe he¡¯s trying to skip town,¡± Antoine said with a smile. His old confidence was back. His eyes were bright. His smile was wide. You could hardly tell he was struggling. I wasn¡¯t going to ask him about it.


    ¡°I thought of that,¡± I said. ¡°The problem is that skipping town, while logical, will make the audience hate him.¡±


    ¡°Good point,¡± Antoine said.


    Ramona tapped the table.


    ¡°Exin that logic,¡± she said. She was eating one of the grapefruit that my character must have bought while I was off the board. She had taken an interest in understanding everything about how stories worked.


    I was going to exin, but Kimberly got there first. ¡°If a character abandons everyone like a coward, it gives the audience an excuse not to care if they D I E,¡± she said, spelling out the word die.


    ¡°Stop that, it¡¯s not funny,¡± Isaac said.


    It wasn¡¯t, but he had been the one to start it after reacting poorly to the word earlier that morning.


    ¡°And we¡¯re all on thin ice anyway, seeing as our characters summoned the killer,¡± I added.


    I had a map of Carousel in the Carousel As opened up on the table. ¡°Which is why I think you should go directly to Roderick himself. Get some talking in. Really make him nervous. The meeting is in a public ce, so he can¡¯t hurt you. If we¡¯re right about Carousel¡¯s ns (or we¡¯re wrong, and Carousel likes our idea), then the cops will scoop you up right there in front of him. He sees you go to jail and thinks you¡¯ll rat on him. Recipe for a midpoint.¡±


    ¡°I get put in a cage and identally strangled with dental floss,¡± Isaac added.


    ¡°That part¡¯s optional,¡± I said. Gallows humor was more than just one of Isaac¡¯s tropes. It was a necessity when nning a friend¡¯s dance with destiny.


    ¡°And then you guys save me,¡± Isaac said.


    Antoine and I looked at each other,, and he said, ¡°I guess we could do that if we have time.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t joke about that part,¡± Isaac said.


    He had been asking us to promise him his survival. We would not make that promise. We couldn¡¯t. We would try our best, but we could not promise. At some point in time, we would have no tricks left up our sleeves.


    ¡°I can help keep you alive,¡± Cassie said. ¡°With <strong>Anguish</strong>.¡±


    ¡°Not if it starts to kill you, though,¡± Isaac said.


    Cassie didn¡¯t respond.


    Cassie¡¯s <strong>Anguish</strong> trope could kill her and it might not be enough to save Isaac. She could share his pain and injury. In a story as supernatural as this one, her Psychic tropes would be at their strongest. She needed to be careful.


    Ramona sat back and took in the tension. She kept looking at me for some reason. I couldn¡¯t say why. I had been here long enough that I was used to these hard conversations. In a weird way, Ramona might have been the most normal person there.


    ~-~


    ¡°Clear out,¡± I said. It was time for Isaac to set up his meeting with Roderick. Unnecessary personnel had to wait outside.


    Antoine and I were at the table. Our scenario was that we would get together to see if Roderick knew anything about the attack at the movie studio. Of course, it wasn¡¯t a conversation for the phone. Isaac would need to meet in person.


    ¡°Action,¡± I said.


    Nothing happened. I didn¡¯t have that ability; I just thought maybe Carousel would take things On-Screen for the phone call.


    It never did. It was just as well. We didn¡¯t necessarily want the audience to see us there.


    ¡°What number do I dial?¡± Isaac asked. We didn¡¯t have Roderick¡¯s number memorized. I theorized it wouldn¡¯t matter, given that our characters should know it, and it wasn¡¯t a clue in a mystery that had to be earned.


    ¡°Just dial something with intention,¡± I said.


    He did.


    ¡°Eight six seven¡ªfive three oh nine,¡± Isaac said as he dialed. I was surprised he didn¡¯t choose a 555 number.


    ¡°It¡¯s ringing,¡± he said.


    ¡°It¡¯s on speaker; we know,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Riley?¡± Roderick Gray asked quickly when he picked up.


    Was Caller ID a thing in 1984?


    Isaac¡¯s eyes bulged. He looked at me like I might answer. I didn¡¯t.


    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s Isaac. Riley¡¯s¡­ in the shower.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just calling because you see,¡± he said, looking down at the notes he had made for him. ¡°Have you seen the papers?¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°I guess I haven¡¯ttely,¡± Roderick said nervously.


    ¡°Oh. I gotcha. I was thinking we might meet for lunch. To catch up.¡±


    Another pause.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why we would need to do that,¡± Roderick said. He was paranoid as ever.


    ¡°There¡¯s something you need to know. Maybe we meet at the Italian bistro on South Kareem Avenue? ASAP. Trust me.¡±


    A final pause as we waited to see if Carousel would go along with things.


    If he were wise and cautious, he would never agree. I didn¡¯t read that from him. I thought he would be paranoid and reckless. I was counting on it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to see if I can make time,¡± Roderick said.


    ¡°Okay. Just know it¡¯s important,¡± Isaac said. That might have been too much.


    ¡°Will our friend, the director, be joining us?¡±


    He was talking about me.


    And there was the kicker.


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It¡¯s better he note.¡±


    ¡°I see. I¡¯ll head there now,¡± Roderick said.


    Bingo.


    I figured that Roderick might not want to go if he thought we were going to rat on him. I figured that maybe if Isaac implied I was untrustworthy, he would be curious enough to hear what Isaac had to say. Isaac¡¯s decent Moxie was enough to sell it, even if Carousel might not have wanted it.


    Now, we needed to see how Carousel would respond.


    Isaac hung up.


    ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t know why I said you were in the shower.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± I said.


    The conversation wasn''t On-Screen, so that meant Isaac and Roderick would probably summarize it when they met.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get moving,¡± Antoine said.


    ~-~


    The Italian ce on S. Kareem Avenue had no name, but that wasn¡¯t an oversight. It had several different menus and could serve as any kind of restaurant. We read about it in the As.


    When we got there, we sent Isaac ahead. He had memorized his talking points. He only needed to stick around long enough to look suspicious and then get arrested. I thought he could handle it.


    Of course, that was assuming that Carousel went along with our idea.


    It did. In a way, it did.


    But it had its own vor to add.


    As Isaac was walking toward the caf¨¦, I noticed that Future Mayor Roderick Gray was already there.


    He wasn¡¯t alone.


    He was talking to a smiling, well-dressed ck man wearing a period-appropriate mustache and a hairstyle that could not have been aplished without pomade. I had never seen him before, but I knew he was at least part of the story.


    His name was Elliot ¡°Moonlight¡± Morrow.


    <strong><em>Mayor</em></strong> Elliot ¡°Moonlight¡± Morrow.


    His Plot Armor was 27, just like mine.


    His poster showed a silvery version of himself standing over his own axe-impaled body.


    It read simply:


    Moonlight Morrow is <em>The Departed.</em>

 Arc II, Chapter 69: A Slight Change of Plans

    Arc II, Chapter 69: A Slight Change of ns


    Carousel wanted Isaac in jail. We needed a way for our characters to find out that future mayor Roderick Gray was instigating the recent Die Cast attacks. It seemed so straightforward. Let Isaac be captured, rescue him, regroup...


    As the <em>current</em> mayor walked down the sidewalk toward us, I immediately suspected it wouldn''t be that simple.


    Moonlight Morrow was a Paragon, the Departed Paragon, but in this story he was acting as a yer, which was why he had the same Plot Armor as me.


    That made some sense. Advanced Archetypes like the Departed change the nature of the stories they enter. Detectives like Grace made things into murder mysteries. Monster Hunters like Arthur made things into action-filled hunts. A story filled with spirituality like this one could have certainly been the result of some Advanced Archetype rearranging.


    Isaac, caught off guard, watched as Moonlight Morrow passed him. The Paragon exchanged a wave with Roderick Gray as he walked away. It was only after he had moved on that Isaac''s senses tingled with something amiss. He did a double take, his gaze darting first to Moonlight and then back to our hiding spot across the street.


    After Moonlight was done waving at him, Roderick Gray stopped smiling. He started to scowl. He was ever the sore loser.


    Isaac managed to get his bearings eventually because he moved forward and greeted Roderick just as nned.


    I tried keeping an eye on him as best I could, but I was distracted because our new ally, the Departed Paragon, had apparently spotted us and was making his way to us.


    I looked at his tropes.


    ~-~<blockquote>


    ¡°<strong>The Other Side</strong>¡± changes the nature of death; deceased characters in the story return as spirits in some form.


    ¡°<strong>He was the nicest guy¡­</strong>¡± Buffs his Moxie and increases the odds that NPCs will have positive feelings toward him before and after his death.


    ¡°<strong>Almost Made It</strong>¡± guarantees he survives to the Finale and ensures that he dies there.</blockquote>


    ~-~


    That added wrinkles. Every character returned as a ghost? That had to have been included for a reason, but what was it?


    I checked Casting Director.<blockquote>


    Elliot ¡°Moonlight¡± Morrow: the well-liked new mayor of Carousel. He won the popr vote by andslide, but due to his friendliness with the Geist family, there are those who believe he has unclean hands.</blockquote>


    We had chosen a table in a restaurant near the caf¨¦ where Isaac was meeting with Roderick. Moonlight found his way to us easily.


    As he entered, the other customers got excited to see their beloved mayor. It was a big deal. He smiled and greeted them all in kind.


    ¡°Folks, I sure am d to be able to see you here today, but I got to be about my business with these fine voters in the corner,¡± he said. He gestured toward me, Ramona, Kimberly, Antoine, and Cassie. Bobby had stayed behind with his dogs. That way, if the Die Cast targeted all of us, he would see its POV on the red wallpaper and would be able to call the restaurant and warn us.


    As Moonlight approached, he gestured for a patron at the restaurant to stand up. The man, who had been wolfing down on a bread bowl, stood. Moonlight grabbed the man¡¯s chair and whirled it around gracefully next to our booth so he could sit down. The NPC looked around, his mouth still full, as if he had no idea how to respond. He picked up his bread bowl and left.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been dying to meet you folks,¡± Moonlight said. ¡°The word around the neighborhood is that you have been cruising right along to the Centennial. That¡¯s mighty nice to hear.¡±


    He then shook each of our hands individually. ¡°Nice to meet you, young man. Are you taking things okay?¡± he asked Antoine. Antoine nodded his head, and Moonlight continued his handshakes and greetings. The only other person to whom he said anything differently was Ramona, to whom he said, ¡°Nice to meet you again.¡±


    When I shook his hand, I noticed that he wore a thin ck cord tied around his ring finger, though I didn¡¯t find out why.


    ¡°You''ve started heading to the finish line. That means it was my time toe out and y. It has been quite a while, hasn¡¯t it?¡± he asked, though thatst part might have been a question for himself.


    ¡°The Other Side,¡± I said, reciting the name of his trope. ¡°When we die here, we stick around?¡±


    ¡°Youy it down straight, don¡¯t you? No small talk?¡± Moonlight asked. ¡°That¡¯s the rule here. You die, the fight¡¯s not over. None of you are afraid of dying by this point, are you? That should be old hat to you by now."


    If Carousel had the Departed Paragon acting as a yer, and gave it a trope to bring everyone back as ghosts, that wasn¡¯t a casual thing. It served some plot purpose. Carousel worked like a clock. That trope was a cog in the machine. What was its purpose?


    ¡°Ghosts get their power from Moxie,¡± I said, wasting no time. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t be using Isaac as bait.¡±


    Moonlight looked over at Isaac, who was sitting down talking to Roderick Gray. ¡°You may be right. Comedian usually gets sent through the paces of ying a fool in this storyline. I guess he¡¯s going out with the cymbal crash? A darkly humorous death. Is that what Carousel cooked up?¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the vition.


    I nodded. Carousel nned it. We¡­ didn¡¯t exactly argue. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°You''re going to tell us this story has a lot of yer deaths. What normally happens during rebirth?¡±


    ¡°Hold up, now,¡± he said. ¡°First, you need toy it all out for me. As a yer, the script is silent as the grave. Tell me what I need to hear, and tell me what you know about our enemy and the sk.¡±


    So we did. We told him everything we knew about the sk, the plot, future mayor Gray, the n with Isaac, and everything else.


    Moonlight looked over each of us individually and then Isaac. ¡°The conspirators get killed one by one until only the leads are left. Usually. Lot of death in this one. We need toe up with a n. Luckily, I have some information about that magical ¡ª¡±


    He was interrupted as police sirens sounded down the street. Squad cars moved in. Police approached the caf¨¦ where Isaac was meeting with Roderick Gray. Everything was going ording to n. The old n back when we didn''t know how stong this story was on yers dying.


    Moonlight watched as they hauled away Isaac. He was calm, if slightly amused. His eyes had seen things. What kind of person would Carousel pick as the Paragon of the dead? I could only imagine. A waitress brought him a coffee and a piece of pie. He thanked her warmly and didn¡¯t hesitate to indulge.


    Once Isaac was in the squad car, he continued. ¡°Cassie, you need to pretend to find out some information from your psychic connections. Do you understand how that works, dear? The psychic is our best source for rying information to the audience since you have no schr. I¡¯ll go ahead and tell you what you need to find. The sk needs to be drowned. Put it in running water. That will pause its power, but it will not shut it down for good. Nothing will. Of course, if you want the true ending, you need to act on this information at the proper time. I cannot tell you when that is. It is one of my few restrictions, you understand?¡±


    He took a deep breath.


    ¡°Now, as for the afterlife. I don¡¯t know whether you all have been ghosts before, but this one is turbulent. The fighting doesn''t stop at death. Now, I don¡¯t mean to presume, but you may want to rethink sending your Comedian to the grave unless you think he can handle it.¡±


    We weren''t exactly nning on killing him. We were just using him as bait.


    ¡°I can go,¡± Cassie said. ¡°I have a trope that might be able to save him and let me take his ce.¡±


    He looked her over with a sly smile. He was reading something on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°Hughes,¡± Moonlight said. ¡°He was a Hughes, too. Was that young man your old man?¡±


    ¡°Old man? Like my... Wait, yuck,¡± Cassie said. ¡°He¡¯s my brother. My brother. I can save him.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t a good idea. This was a story where having a psychic was an asset. I didn¡¯t have to say anything. Moonlight did.


    ¡°Cassie, dear, you are far too important to die this early. You have to go research some information so we can use it in this film we¡¯re making. Now,¡± he said, looking to the rest of us. ¡°You said your n was to rescue him before he died?¡±


    We nodded.


    ¡°Well, let''s give it a go. I am the Mayor. I might be able to rustle up an opportunity,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll save getting to know each other forter.¡±


    So that was Carousel¡¯s y. Push the story toward Isaac getting killed so that we would build a n around it and then reveal that Isaac may have been the wrong person to die. Moonlight was vague about what the afterlife meant in this storyline. I did ask him one thing.


    ¡°Is this ghost world the same as the one from the first storyline?¡±


    If I was going to be a ghost, I really hoped it wouldn¡¯t be like those ghosts we saw in the first storyline.


    Heughed. ¡°No, no, that was a different animal. This isn¡¯t a separate world like what you get with thentern.¡±


    He didn¡¯t borate.


    I couldn¡¯t press him. I had other things to deal with.


    There were two jails that Isaac could have been sent to that we could find in Carousel 1984. There was a city jail downtown that was older and smaller and more decrepit. Then, there was a proper jail in southeast Carousel.


    We wanted the downtown jail. Not only did it have no fence, it was absurdly designed. I had not seen a jail like this one outside of movies set many decades before I was born.


    The jail cells were in the basement, with barred windows close to the streets. From those basement windows, Inmates could yell at people walking down the street from their cells, and those passing by outside could toss contraband inside the jail.


    If I didn¡¯t know for certain that jails like these existed I would have thought they were an artifact of movies.


    That was the major reason we nned the meeting as close as possible to downtown. We hoped that the nearer the jail, the more likely it would be chosen.


    We just had to wait until Isaac ended up in one of the cells. That had been our n. We were going to attach a chain to the back of Roderick Gray¡¯s car (he still didn¡¯t know Isaac and Antoine had taken it) and pull out the bars. Grab Isaac and get away using our superior stats over the NPCs. Ridiculous, but by movie standards, it was doable.


    When fighting horror movie monsters, crime got a pass.


    It would make a good scene, too.


    Cassie woulde to us with a premonition. ¡°If it¡¯s going after him, then it will go after all of us,¡± she would say. We would decide to help. We were bonded by our rtionship to the Die Cast, after all.


    We would get in and out quickly. Isaac would act humorously. As a Comedian, he would lend legitimacy to our n, which required humor to pull off.


    Carousel should have liked it. We were ying along, improvising. It should have worked.


    But it had other ns. It wanted a little more effort on our part.


    To our credit, Isaac was brought to the jail we wanted him in.


    The only problem was that when we arrived, we saw the barricades.


    Large stone structures had been installed near the building. They were cylindrical and strategically positioned to block ess to the road we needed to drive down to get the car close enough to pull off our n.


    ¡°These weren¡¯t here,¡± Cassie said. ¡°How could this happen?¡±


    She wasn¡¯t really asking how it happened. She was just realizing that things would be harder than we initially intended. I let her vent.


    ¡°Carousel does not half-ass things,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Coffee shops, a donut ce. A nail salon. Cobblestone. It changed everything.¡±


    The side road next to the jail downtown was always near shops, but they were blocks away. Now, the building next door, which had been some kind of business park, was filled with shops that attracted pedestrians and warranted the cylinders to stop vehicles. There were too many pedestrians.


    Our n A was ruined.


    Fortunately, thanks to Moonlight, we now had a n B.


    We walked down the cobblestone road to where the barred windows had been. They were still there.


    Isaac had been moved to the cell already, which seemed quick, but time was weird in Carousel.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± he yelled. ¡°When did those columns get put in?¡± he asked, standing on his tiptoes so he could see out of the window. ¡°There¡¯s one in the flower bed!¡±


    Carousel had indeed put one in a flowerbed and another in the middle of the sidewalk. It was literally impossible to get a car anywhere near the jail window.


    Isaac was scared. He knew that this was a death sentence.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to get you,¡± I said.


    ¡°Please, I¡­ Please,¡± he said.


    I felt stupid and powerless. Carousel had been so incredibly petty. I thought this was one of its little games, like when it gave me a goatee or when it gave the Die Cast that POV trope because I had mentioned it. This wasn¡¯t a game, though.


    If we had done things Isaac¡¯s way, we might have prevented him from being arrested at all. It wouldn''t have worked. If Carousel wanted Isaac in jail, it would put him there. We could have at least tried to hide him. Instead, I insisted that giving Carousel its best story was worth the risk. I had no idea how death-centric this story was. Now, he was going to pay the price. He was a sitting duck.


    Unless I could do something about it.

 Book Two moving to KU!

    Book Two moving to KU!


    On June 7, Book II will be moving to Kindle Unlimited. That book goes through the end of Subject of Inquiry. The series will be stubbed to Arc I chapter 85.


    Thank you all so much for reading. The book will be titled The Invitation.


    Publisher''s Summary:<blockquote>


    <strong>Five heroes trapped in a horror movie must find their way out¡ªand avoid dying for</strong>


    <strong>good¡ªin the second installment of this imaginative LitRPG series.</strong>


    Since they were lured to the festival at Carousel, Riley (the Film Buff), Antoine (the Athlete),


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.Camden (the Schr), Anna (the Final Girl), and Kimberly (the Eye Candy) have lived


    through entire horror movie plots. So far, Riley¡¯s survival strategy is working. He¡¯s high on


    his Moxie, Hustle, and Savvy stats. But his Mettle and Grit have dropped dangerously low,


    leaving him vulnerable. If he gets caught by a killer, he¡¯s done for. Plus, no one seems to


    understand what use Film Buffs are to begin with. What good is knowing the killer is


    Worse, the stakes are only getting higher. Die in a sessful storyline and you¡¯ll be back for


    the next one. But die in the wrong storyline and you won¡¯te back at all. Because Riley


    has learned the secret of Carousel: that behind them every step of the way is a man with an


    ax, there to ensure any wrong storylines are immediately culled. And now Riley¡¯s beginning


    to think Carousel itself may be talking to him . . .</blockquote>

 Book Two moving to KU! (The story is currently at the end of Book Four)

    Book Two moving to KU! (The story is currently at the end of Book Four)


    On June 7, Book II will be moving to Kindle Unlimited. That book goes through the end of Subject of Inquiry (The story in the undergroundb). The series will be stubbed to Arc I chapter 85.


    <strong>Book II, not Arc II.</strong>


    Thank you all so much for reading. The book will be titled The Invitation.


    Publisher''s Summary:<blockquote>


    <strong>Five heroes trapped in a horror movie must find their way out¡ªand avoid dying for</strong>


    <strong>good¡ªin the second installment of this imaginative LitRPG series.</strong>


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.Since they were lured to the festival at Carousel, Riley (the Film Buff), Antoine (the Athlete),


    Camden (the Schr), Anna (the Final Girl), and Kimberly (the Eye Candy) have lived


    through entire horror movie plots. So far, Riley¡¯s survival strategy is working. He¡¯s high on


    his Moxie, Hustle, and Savvy stats. But his Mettle and Grit have dropped dangerously low,


    leaving him vulnerable. If he gets caught by a killer, he¡¯s done for. Plus, no one seems to


    understand what use Film Buffs are to begin with. What good is knowing the killer is


    Worse, the stakes are only getting higher. Die in a sessful storyline and you¡¯ll be back for


    the next one. But die in the wrong storyline and you won¡¯te back at all. Because Riley


    has learned the secret of Carousel: that behind them every step of the way is a man with an


    ax, there to ensure any wrong storylines are immediately culled. And now Riley¡¯s beginning


    to think Carousel itself may be talking to him . . .</blockquote>

 Arc II, Chapter 70: The Secret Sixth Principle

    Arc II, Chapter 70: The Secret Sixth Principle


    I liked to read the Carousel As when I was doing anything else. I had brought it with me during our month-long holiday as we portrayed our characters'' lives.


    The knowledge inside was always qualified with disimers. No matter how much our predecessors knew about Carousel, they never really <em>believed</em> they knew anything. The history of the book was marked with change.


    Rules that had been ced inside the book years earlier were liable to be crossed out, with long exnations of why the rule was not true and what the true rule was.


    CW usually did it, Curtis. He was a Doctor Archetype who left entries on any number of subjects, but especially Advanced Archetypes. He collected them like trading cards.


    He had advice for Monster Hunters and Adventurers, Witch Doctors, and Mad Scientists, and half a dozen other AAs, which had such minuscule use cases that I was surprised to find out they were real. He had been something called a Death Negotiator, which could have you bargaining with serial killers, demons, or even fate itself. He had a rare one called Child Psychologist, which only had five tropes as far as he could tell.


    His notes were always very clear, technical, and somehow sentimental. Having read his journal entries, I felt like I knew him. He had been there in the midst of Project Rewind¡¯s formtion and had taken himself off the board to ensure its sess¡ªor, should I say, put himself on the missing poster board.


    His entries were a delight to find, like getting a letter from an old friend. He had written a funny anecdote on a piece of notebook paper and taped it in the entry for The Final Straw storyline. It imed to have no spoilers, so I read it. The enemy of the storyline¡ªBenny the Haunted Scarecrow¡ªhad apparently handed him the sses that he had dropped. He said it was like an episode of Scooby Doo.


    He thought Carousel was setting up a joke scene, so he put on the sses and acted shocked to see Benny, but then he realized the whole interaction was Off-Screen.


    Having had my own interactions with Benny, I could picture the whole thing in my mind.CW had written an entry in the ¡°Improvisation¡± section entitled ¡°The Limits of Improvisation.¡± I read it hungrily, as the subject matter and the author both interested me.


    The article contained several ideas I liked to consider, one of which was his assertion that he believed the audience knew what we were going through. I had thought about that myself. How much did the audience know? If they knew everything about our suffering, that was interesting. If they knew nothing, that was somehow even more interesting.


    No one believed the audience waspletely unwitting, but thinking of these amorphous, all-powerful judges who watched us as actual people made my mind spin. What were their lives like? Who were they?


    Were they the people I had seen in the theater when I died, thanks to Deathwatch?


    In his essay, he outlined the five principles he believed Carousel took into consideration when deciding if your improvisation would make it into the final cut.


    While he said it much more eloquently, he believed Carousel wanted to:


    1. Entertain the Audience,


    2. Challenge yers,


    3. Keep the Story Coherent,


    4. Engage yers¡¯ Minds, and


    5. Preserve Key Story Elements


    Those points lined up with my experience. He also identified a ¡°secret sixth principle.¡±


    The secret principle was this: ¡°Sometimes, Carousel just wants the win.¡±


    He didn¡¯t borate on that.


    As we scoped out the jail, finding dead end after dead end in our ns for getting Isaac out, I thought about that secret sixth principle.


    We sat in one of the coffee shops across from the small jail downtown where Isaac was being held.


    Antoine was getting in the groove, belting out ideas.


    Most of them were iplete or impractical in the time we had. One was theoretically workable, at least in a movie. It wasn¡¯t an option, but I had to believe it could work under different circumstances.


    Until Carousel rubbed our noses in it.


    ¡°We could get cop uniforms and sneak him out ourselves,¡± he said.


    Five minutester, a cop with a mustard stain on his uniform came in and, when speaking with the barista about the stain, said theundromat that the city contracted with to clean their uniforms had burned down. All of their spare uniforms had gone up in mes.


    Haha. Very funny.


    Carousel wanted the win. It wanted Isaac. After its stunt renovating the street to thwart our ns I was sure of it.


    Or maybe it just did not want a jailbreak. Maybe there was no way it would let one into its movie. It would disrupt the pacing, after all. Jailbreaks need to be set up in some way. We had none. It was also an odd tone for a movie about relentless death, even a campy one.


    This was a simple scene. One of our own was to die. It wasn¡¯t supposed to be climactic or clever. It wasn¡¯t supposed to be the moment we came together as allies. Our characters were mostly not good people. Why would they try to rescue Isaac¡¯s character?


    A rescue at a police station was something the brothers might do on Supernatural, but Isaac¡¯s character wasn¡¯t family or even strongly linked to the group.


    I could feel the creative juices in my mind start to slow as I came to the realization that Carousel was not going to give him up. It never was. Isaac had sealed his fate already by giving into Carousel¡¯s nudging. He had yed the unlikable stooge who got bitten by bad luck.


    He had already whacked his face on every rung as he fell down the metaphoricaldder. The only stop left was the bottom.


    If youe across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    He was a Comedian, sure, but not a lovable jokester. That had been his path out of the line of fire. He could have made the audience like him for being funny. He could have embarked on a character arc that would lead to his being saved by allies.


    Instead, he had yed up his unlikable qualities. The debt collector was a test, just like my potential bad luck with a razor was a test.


    I had passed mine.


    He hadn¡¯t. He punched a man he owed money to in the face and set up his eventual, somewhat humorous death.


    Carousel was going to ensure this fate no matter what we had done. Even if we had locked Isaac in the basement, I doubted he would be safe.


    The sun went down, and the night came upon us.


    Cassie panicked as she realized it would be showtime soon, and all we had was the first part of a n. Moonlight Morrow was going to visit the jail and y nice with the police. He was the mayor, after all. He could walk into any government building, and a story would form around him. He seemed confident enough in his ability to make a distraction.


    He was also very quiet about our hopes to save Isaac. That had been telling.


    We left the coffee shop and moved to where we would start the scene. We knew the time was soon. The NPC who owned the coffee shop told us the ce closed at ¡°6:38 P.M., right at sundown,¡± which was a standard NPC nudge.


    I had to return Ramona to my character¡¯s house. Kimberly and I would be at the production lot working on some voice corrections (she was going to scream into the microphone so we could get good audio for her screams).


    Antoine and Cassie would be together. They would drive and get us when Cassie started having ¡°visions¡± of Isaac¡¯s impending doom. We would drive to the jail to try to save him. It would be the first time our characters had been to the jail.


    The clock ticked. It felt like everything was slowing down. It was dark outside. Kimberly and I were working with an audio engineer who showed up just as we got to the production lot. Bobby tagged along and started filling out some insurance stuff rted to the set disaster. We needed to keep him injected into the story forter.


    A screen appeared on the red wallpaper. It started out staticky, but then the view was clear. I was seeing the enemy''s POV.


    Action!


    ~-~


    On-Screen.


    Kimberly screamed as loud as she could. It was her scared scream. She was watching footage of her scream in the movie, trying to match up her mouth movement. We were rerecording it.


    Tires squealed in the parking lot.


    ¡°What was that?¡± I said. I pushed an inte button. ¡°Go ahead and stop Kimberly.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like someone raising hell out there,¡± the audio engineer said.


    We sat in a booth in a small building where the recording equipment was. Kimberly was in a soundproof chamber, screaming like a serial killer was attacking her.


    They had apparently neglected to soundproof the audio booth itself, though, because I could hear yelling outside.


    I waved at Kimberly through the ss window that separated us, gesturing that I was going outside.


    She took off her headphones and followed.


    I recognized the vehicle immediately. It was Antoine and Cassie in Roderick Gray¡¯s brown car.


    I had expected a phone call. We had a telephone in the booth. This worked too.


    As soon as I saw it was them, I looked at Kimberly. We pretended to be worried. Not these people. Our characters knew that their arrival meant the worst.


    ¡°Not again,¡± Kimberly said.


    I gave a poignant pause. My character knew we weren¡¯t getting off that easy. They had witnessed the destruction of the Die Cast as it killed Carlyle Geist. It wasn¡¯t over.


    A security guard chased them down from the entrance of the lot a few lots away. Antoine had somehow gotten past the barrier gate arm that kept cars from entering without breaking it.


    At a nce, I would guess he had reached up and pressed the green button that opened the entrance and then driven in. Since this was a movie, he wasn¡¯t shot for it.


    ¡°They¡¯re okay,¡± I said to the guard. ¡°We¡¯ll take care of it.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t visiting hours,¡± the guard yelled


    I got close to him and whispered, ¡°This is the guy who¡¯s a crucial witness with thatwsuit the Geists are involved with fromst year. Let¡¯s not give him any trouble. You understand? I¡¯ll escort him off the property.¡±


    I knew there was a settlement from Gale Zaragoza¡¯s death. That had been established. I didn¡¯t know if the audience would hear me, but if they did, it would sound like my character made up an excuse on the fly.


    The guard looked at me and then at Antoine, then back to me, and nodded. He returned to his post.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I whisper-yelled at Antoine. ¡°Tell me he¡¯s not back.¡±


    My character wasn¡¯t as directly involved in the efforts to stop the Die Cast. That was Cassie and Antoine. I figured my character would hope it would all go away. He would still be reactive.


    Thest thing the audience knew, we had all escaped the Die Cast and met with Madam Celia. What happened after that was mostly off-screen.


    ¡°He¡¯s back!¡± Cassie screamed.


    I looked in the car.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Isaac?¡± I said.


    Cassie looked at me intensely. ¡°He¡¯s next.¡±


    ¡°Oh, god,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me. I thought it was going after Geists still. Why would it attack one of us? Heck, I was starting to think it was all over, that maybe it would just disappear.¡±


    Cassie shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t understand it either. I just know he¡¯s next. I was researching the Spirit of Vengeance. The spirit shouldn¡¯t be strong enough to manifest on its own yet. It should still need to be summoned. If it¡¯s gotten strong enough to rise on its own and attack us, we may be toote.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure he¡¯s this way?¡± Kimberly asked as Antoine gunned the engine. We hadn¡¯t thoroughly exined why Kimberly woulde with us, but I didn¡¯t think we had to. As I had found before, once you have a team of characters, they tend to stick together even if they would head for the hills in real life.


    Her character had seen the Die Cast and was willing to help stop it. She was the only innocent among us. That meant a lot in a story.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure this is the way,¡± Cassie said. We were all sure. We could see the Die Cast¡¯s POV as it slowly walked downtown from its grave.


    Bobby had note with us. He was the least connected to the group, and there wasn¡¯t room in the car. He did watch us pull out of the lot, though. He needed to be preserved for the Manor ze, anyway. His character actually knew some of the Geists.


    ¡°He¡¯s downtown?¡± I asked incredulously.


    ¡°Stop asking,¡± Cassie said. ¡°Take a left here.¡±


    Antoine pulled the car right up to the metal barricade that blocked off the street near the police station.


    We jumped out of the car. We didn¡¯t need it.


    Cassie ran, and the rest of us followed.


    We arrived at the basement window where Isaac stood, slumped up against the window ledge, his arms dangling out the window.


    ¡°Isaac Hughes, you¡¯ve doomed yourself!¡± Cassie said as she saw him.


    ¡°What are doing in jail?¡± I asked. ¡°When you left my ce, you said you were going to grab a bite to eat, and then you disappeared.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It¡¯s the bad luck demon guy. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. Bad luck.¡±


    We all looked at each other as we stood near the jail window.


    ¡°How exactly did bad luck end you up in jail?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°I punched a guy, and a cop was walking by,¡± he said. ¡°What are the odds?¡±


    We collectively groaned.


    Was Isaac ying his character as a plucky, unlucky sidekick who gets saved or as a jinx who gets the worst of everything and dies with the punchline?


    I had to be honest. His character had no redemption arc. My character was unlikable, but even so, trying to save Carlyle Geist and having instant remorse was something.


    Isaac didn¡¯t have that.


    I was d I hadn¡¯t promised Isaac we would save him. It wasn¡¯t looking good. I wasn¡¯t sure if the others had realized it yet.


    I did promise, however, that I would try to save him.


    As Cassie exined that the Die Cast was on his way, I saw Moonlight Morrow walking toward the police station.


    Isaac¡¯s panic and dread were palpable. He didn¡¯t have to pretend.


    ¡°I can¡¯t die here,¡± he said. ¡°What am I supposed to do?¡±


    I knelt down next to Cassie, got close to Isaac¡¯s face, and said, ¡°I¡¯m always here for you, buddy,¡± I said solemnly. Grasping onto his hand like we were going to arm wrestle, I gripped tight, a gesture of friendship. ¡°Everything¡¯s going to be okay.¡±


    I looked him in the eye.


    The only way we were going to save him now was to make the audience care about him. If I was right, our connections as coconspirators were not strong enough to do this. I needed to show I cared about him, that we were old friends. We hadn¡¯t established that. The odds were against us.


    Even if we managed to improvise our way down to him. Even if we were exceedingly clever. Even if it made the story better and checked every box on Carousels Improvisation Principles, we might still not be able to save him.


    Carousel might just want the win.

 Arc II, Chapter 71: Them

    Arc II, Chapter 71: Them


    This wasn¡¯t a heist movie. There would be no repelling down from the ceiling to get past aser beam security system. We weren¡¯t going to grift our way past the five or so police officers in the building. We wouldn¡¯t rece Isaac with a holographic replica.


    But we weren¡¯t without options. The jail was small. There was an office of sorts with a uniformed officer at reception. There were desks for the officers, an interrogation room, and an entire room devoted to phone banks and vending machines. Downstairs, the cells were lined up one by one, with each of them getting their little window. Isaac said there were a lot of cells and some of them were behind arge steel door that no one walked through.


    Everything in the ce had a fresh coat of white, rubbery-looking paint. Without that, the ce looked old both inside and out, and it smelled old. If I had seen this ce back in the real world, I would have thought it was in some sparsely popted panhandle town.


    That¡¯s just what we could see through the windows. Knowing how Carousel worked, this ce had probablye from the historic downtown of some sinister little haunted world. It fit in the patchwork of the Carousel downtown well enough from the outside.


    We had to get through a door with an electric lock that the receptionist would buzz you through, find the keys to Isaac¡¯s cell, and get him up the stairs and out.


    And that was just the first set of problems. This wasn¡¯t a heist movie or a crime thriller. It was a horror movie, and as we took ourst few moments to prepare, the horror showed up.


    It started with a man screaming.


    The Die Cast must have gotten powerful enough that it was targeting anyone and everyone.


    The barista from across the street who had just recently closed the shop down, came out of his shop followed by a waft of steam. His face was boiled red. He clutched at it as he screamed. It looked like there had been a terrible ident.¡°It¡¯s almost here,¡± I said. ¡°We have to move.¡±


    And that was about as far as we got.


    Whoever said failure wasn¡¯t an option had never been to Carousel.


    We had a n. It never even got off the ground.


    Carousel had a n too. I had to admit, it wasn¡¯t bad. It used us. I couldn¡¯t even say whether things would have happened this way had we not tried to break Isaac out.


    The first thing I did was go to the station¡¯s entrance. The others stayed back. We didn¡¯t need lots of people. I had good Hustle and Moxie, and that was what was needed to make this work.


    I noticed that Moonlight Morrow was standing in the waiting room, giving a rousing speech to the officers. There wasn¡¯t much room, so they propped open the electric locked door, and a couple of officers were standing behind it, hanging on Moonlight¡¯s words. They really did seem to like him. His tropes and high Moxie probably had something to do with it, but more than that, Moonlight had a captivating way of speaking.


    It was so captivating that when the rm started going off on the electric door because they had held it open too long, one of the officers on the other side of it reached up and unplugged a small wire at the top of the door.


    That was where the problems started.


    Moonlight ended his speech with a wave and told them to keep doing their jobs to keep Carousel safe. Even in character, he knew how much irony was in that statement. Carousel was never safe.


    The officers waved him goodbye, and he left.


    He moved Off-Screen as he walked out the door. He reached out and grabbed my shoulder. Before I could question why he didn¡¯t make the distraction we were expecting him to, he said, ¡°It just isn¡¯t in the cards today, my friend. They wouldn¡¯t even let me in the room. Carousel is putting its foot down and we best not be under it.¡±


    ¡°Isaac¡¯s still in there,¡± I said. ¡°His death should not be guaranteed. This isn¡¯t Second Blood yet.¡±


    ¡°Come on now, you¡¯re lying to yourself,¡± Moonlight said. ¡°Nothing guaranteed about it. Young Mr. Hughes sealed his own fate already. He had every choice, and there ain¡¯t nothing you can do about that.¡±


    In the back of my mind, I heard the barista still crying. A car crash had happened in the distance, but all I could focus on was my own heartbeat.


    I felt the dark aura of the Die Cast. I didn¡¯t care. I should have prepared Isaac better. He punched a guy On-Screen? He had to have known there would be consequences even if the guy he punched was a debt collector. Spoiled rich heirs like his character were on a tight leash in a story like this. They were below debt collectors in the pecking order. I was enraged. How was he supposed to recover from that on top of all the other marks against his character? The audience was going to enjoy watching Isaac get hiseuppance. I was an idiot to think I could prevent it.


    Maybe if we had hidden him away instead of serving him up to the police to try to take the initiative from Carousel¡­ I couldn¡¯t think about it. If we weren¡¯t going to save Isaac, there was still something else we could do.


    ¡°You said the battle continues after death?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I did,¡± Moonlight said. ¡°I¡¯ll be therete. You think Mr. Hughes is ready to see the other side and help win the day?¡±


    I didn¡¯t.


    ¡°I will see you in the finale one way or the other, my friend,¡± Moonlight said. He started to walk away, but then he turned around and said, ¡°Remember, dying ain¡¯t the worst part, Mr. Lawrence. It¡¯s the waiting around that really kills you.¡±


    He gave a wink and walked off into the descending night.


    As he did, I heard banginging from inside the building.


    I looked in through the ss door and saw what Carousel was up to. The plug that the police officer had unhooked had gotten caught in the door when it closed and was hanging out the other side. The officer in the reception area was desperately smashing the unlock button, but, of course, it couldn¡¯t work because someone on the inside had unplugged it.


    The officers rammed the electric door, but it held firm.


    Somewhere inside, I heard sloshing. I heard watering down the stairs.


    I ran around to the side of the building where Isaac¡¯s cell window was.


    ¡°What the fuck is going on!¡± he screamed. He was spooked. ¡°The idiot cop handcuffed a guy to the water pipe for some reason, and he broke the damn thing. It¡¯s flooding in here!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t get inside,¡± I said. ¡°The door is jammed shut. The officers can¡¯t bust it down.¡±


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Isaac asked desperately.


    I looked around. I needed a n. What was all of this Savvy for if I couldn¡¯te up with a n to use it on?


    Past Isaac, the water rose faster than it could in real life. That was movie magic.


    ¡°Keep your head out and keep breathing,¡± I said. As long as he had the window, he couldn¡¯t drown unless he exhausted himself. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    Maybe if I got arge pipe, I could pry the bars apart. No. That wasn¡¯t a real ¡°n¡± in the sense that Savvy would help it work. That was something you needed Mettle for. Heck, that was something you needed a Bruiser for. Maybe two of them.


    Stolen story; please report.


    I ran around the building as fast as I could. I kept my inner eye firmly nted on the POV of the Die Cast to make sure I wasn¡¯t running into it. I had a pretty good idea of where it was. It wasn¡¯t moving. My worry was that it coulde up to Isaac and kill him if he was sticking his head out for breath, but the Die Cast was standing still, its view steady on the police station.


    If it wasn¡¯t going to kill him physically, then what was the n?


    I didn¡¯t see anything that could help. I thought I might try to steal a police car and ram the building, but the cars were gone. They had been parked there previously on the side of the building opposite Isaac¡¯s window, but they were gone now. Carousel really saw meing.


    I spotted the brown car with Antoine, Kimberly, and Cassie in the distance. Antoine shed the lights at me.


    I ran over to them. Since I was Off-Screen, I didn¡¯t need to look cool or calm, and I certainly wasn¡¯t going to look collected.


    When I got to them, Cassie was already out of the car and looking at me. ¡°Where¡¯s Isaac?¡±


    ¡°Cassie,¡± I said. I couldn¡¯t think of the right way to let her down easy.


    ¡°No!¡± she said. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you get him?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not happening,¡± I said. ¡°The door is locked down. Not even the cops could get out.¡±


    There was no back door because, of course, there wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°The Die Cast isn¡¯t moving,¡± she said. ¡°Does that mean there is something you are supposed to be doing?¡±


    ¡°The basement is flooding,¡± I said.


    Her eyes widened. ¡°I can breathe for him,¡± she said. She wanted to use her <strong>Anguish</strong> trope to share his injuries. That would work for a time, but only a time.


    ¡°No!¡± I said. Cassie, all you will do is kill yourself, too. This is bad luck. We have to get to the end of the story to help him.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t just give up,¡± she said, crying.


    ¡°I¡¯m not giving up,¡± I said. ¡°You guys have to go. I¡¯ll take things from here.¡±


    Antoine and Kimberly had gotten out of the car and were trying to help Cassie.


    I looked at them. I knew what I needed to do.


    ¡°Listen to everything I am about to say,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not going to make much sense, just listen.¡±


    They waited for me.


    ¡°You had better run. Hide now. Follow my voice. It¡¯s time to fight. I¡¯m here with you. Don¡¯t be afraid. It¡¯sing,¡± I said. Each phrase, I said slowly and deliberately with pauses in between. They didn¡¯t make sense all spoken together, but I needed to have said them forter.


    I had been thinking about this for some time.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Cassie asked.


    I took a deep breath and looked back at Kimberly and Antoine. They understood what I was doing. ¡°It¡¯s all up to you now,¡± I said.


    Then I ran back to Isaac. It wasn¡¯t toote, but the water was already pouring out of the window. He was floundering in some impossible turbulence in the water.


    ¡°Did you get something?¡± he asked.


    He was swimming now instead of standing.


    ¡°I¡¯m good here,¡± he said. ¡°I can hold to the bars. You just have to get inside and find the keys.¡±


    On Screen.


    I jumped down to the ground, sshing in the water. I grabbed Isaac¡¯s hands and arms and held onto him firm.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give up,¡± I said. ¡°Keep swimming. I¡¯ve got you. I know you¡¯re tired. I''ll hold you. Just keep going until help gets here.¡±


    Isaac looked at me curiously. He wasn¡¯t that tired. Not yet. He could hold himself to the bars for a while longer, or at least he thought.


    I had realized Carousel¡¯s ns, however, and I knew what was actually going on. He wasn¡¯t going to hang in there for much longer.


    I pulled at the bars pathetically but with as much desperation as I could convey. The water surged, covering much of the window and pouring all over me.


    Carousel had epted my small contribution.


    Isaac began spitting water.


    ¡°Go,¡± he said. ¡°Get help!¡±


    But there was no help to get. Isaac was going to die. He wasn¡¯t going to drown, though. I had figured that out already. I held him up so he could get little sips of air despite the surging water.


    He was going fry.


    I looked past him at the light in the center of the room. It was wet and almost submerged.


    In movies, water is the perfect conductor of electricity, even more so than in real life.


    I reached back over Isaac¡¯s arms and said, ¡°I got you; just breathe.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ok¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, god!¡± I screamed.


    The water hit the light fixture, and the room got bright.


    Suddenly I was watching myself convulse on the ground. The electricity killed me so quickly that I was on Deathwatch in the mysterious theater before my body stopped twitching. Isaac was dead, too, of course.


    The POV of the Die Cast took over as it turned to leave.


    Next, the scene changed to Antoine, Kimberly, and Cassie driving away from the jailhouse. Antoine looked intense. From the angle of the shot, they had just seen Roderick Gray, so their characters could realize he was behind the attack, and it wasn''t just the Die Cast going awol. Cassie was sobbing. Kimberly was in the back seat with her,forting her.


    Cassie was crying because her brother was dead. Why was her character crying? Perhaps having seen the consequences of selling ck magic to creeps. That was good, even if these tears expressed the wrong kind of sadness for that.


    I wanted to use shback Revtion to let them know that I was watching, but I didn¡¯t. That trope had limited uses, and I didn¡¯t know how limited. I needed to save my advice for when it really mattered. Before I died, I had given a few canned phrases to the others in anticipation of Deathwatch.


    As before, I started straining my eyes to the left and then the right. I could see theater seats in front of me, but none of them had people in them. The people who had pped at the conclusion of previous movies were never in my line of sight.


    It was useless. I couldn¡¯t will myself to look at anything but the screen.


    Something strange happened as the scene of them driving away ended.


    I saw everything go dark, not just on the screen but throughout my vision. Then, there was a white light, which dimmed like a light bulb bursting.


    Then I could see again, but the theater screen was not showing the movie. It showed a dozen different shots of different exteriors, interiors, and sets from the story we were in, allid out in separate squares on the screen. I saw the burned remains of the movie set. I saw the flooded jail that was being drained by NPCs at that moment. I saw Antoine and the others driving wordlessly from several angles.


    Everyone was Off-Screen.


    Usually, with Deathwatch, I couldn¡¯t see anything but what might end up in the final movie. It was always On-Screen.


    I was watching them and a dozen other camera angles Off-Screen, including the Die Cast POV.


    And then I realized that I wasn¡¯t restricted anymore. I could look around. I put my hand in front of my face out of reflex. I could move! I was free.


    For the first time, I could see the people who had been with me in the theater. I just had to look.


    The thought of it thrilled me and terrified me in equal parts. Who were those people in the theater with me?


    I turned to look.


    To my surprise, the thing I saw first was thest thing I could ever expect.


    I saw my dead face. My eyes were open, but I was dead. My head was slumped over.


    I stood up immediately and screamed.


    What I saw was my own dead corpse sitting in a theater seat with anyard around its neck. I was so shocked to see it that I couldn¡¯t look at anything else for a time. I backed away and found myself falling.


    I didn¡¯t hit the row of seats in front of me; I passed right through them and fell onto the ground in front of them.


    I had phased through solid matter.


    I stood up and looked at my body more. I looked at my hands again. They looked normal. I reached out and touched the seat I had just passed through. Sure enough, my hand went right through.


    I was a spirit. My first thought was something about astral projection, but that was unlikely as my body was not asleep. It was dead.


    I was dead.


    It took longer than I would have liked to admit for me to remember why this was happening.


    Moonlight Morrow. He had a trope that made every character who died turn into a ghost. It must have activated as soon as the scene at the jail ended.


    I wasn¡¯t just dead. I was a ghost.


    Something about my Deathwatch trope,bined with his afterlife trope, had caused this. I knew that when I sat in the theater seat to watch the movie y out, it felt real. It felt like I was really there. I could never have anticipated how real it was.


    The shock of my mundane afterlife distracted me enough that I didn¡¯t notice something strange about the theater at first.


    While it looked normal when you faced the front, looking back was odd. It wasn¡¯t a full theater. The room was the right size, more or less, but the back half of the seating area wasn¡¯t there. Instead, there was arge t floor with a door in the back.


    This was a mock-up, a set designed for the Film Buff¡¯s version of Deathwatch, nothing more. It was built for me to watch the movie when I died¡ªor maybe it was built for more than just Film Buffs.


    The floor was empty. No one was there watching, but as I looked around, the door in the back of the room opened, and a woman walked through.


    She was dressed fancy, but I couldn¡¯t ce the style. It looked old, professional, odd. If she could see me, she didn¡¯t show it.


    She walked down the aisle my body was on and stopped, leaning over me.


    With a hand, she brushed my hair out of my face and closed my eyes. She was sad, tired, and stressed.


    The red wallpaper was off. I couldn¡¯t even see it.


    The woman grabbed a ticket attached to thenyard around my neck and produced a small, silver object out of nowhere.


    As she held the object toward the ticket, I realized it was one of those hole punchers that ticket inspectors used on trains.


    I tried reading the ticket, but the only thing I could read was the word ¡°Disillusion,¡± which wouldter assume was a pun.


    She ced the hole punch over the word and clicked it, causing a small hole to appear in the ticket.


    As it did, my body disappeared. No explosion. Not dust. Nothing at all. It was just gone.


    Soon, so was I.


    I was floating, picking up speed. I rose so fast I was out of the room in the blink of an eye. I saw a blur of violet light, ake at sunset, trees zooming by, and I heard children singing.


    In an instant, I was lying on the ground next to my body, my <em>real </em>body. EMTs were walking around surveying the damage. They couldn¡¯t see me.


    Luckily, I could see myself on the red wallpaper again. Dead, as expected.


    I sat there for a while before I went to find Isaac, digesting what I had just seen.


    That was the first time I would see one, the special little workers who helped administer so much pain to us yers. I knew they existed, the people who worked behind the scenes. I had seen signs, strange phrasings in trope text, and oddments on the script that were clearly written by and for someone other than the yers.


    I had wondered who the people had been to p at the end of a storyline somewhere just out of my view. I thought it might have been the audience, that they were there to watch the show. Instead, it must have been more people like her, people who were only pping to congratte themselves.


    It was Them.

 Keep reading the series on Kindle Unlimited and Audible!

    Keep reading the series on Kindle Unlimited and Audible!


    Hello Reader!


    <strong>Book One of the Game at Carousel has been moved to KU and Audible.</strong>


    In a town where horror movie tropese to life, one¡¯s only chance to survive is to y their role in the first book of a spine-tingling gamelit series.


    When horror-obsessed Riley Lawrence and his group of college friends arrive in the small town of Carousel for their Centennial Celebration, the few decrepit cars parked in the street don¡¯t scare them. But when they enter a locked building, an animatronic usher hands them each a ticket, and the lights dim, Riley realizes they¡¯ve entered the inescapable patchwork of a horror movie set. And they¡¯ve each been assigned an archetype¡ªSchr, Athlete, Eye Candy, Final Girl¡ªto y out as the curtains rise.


    This story has been uwfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Assigned the Film Buff archetype, Riley¡¯s doomed to repeat a pattern: knowing exactly who the killer is but never surviving the attacks himself. After all, film buffs may know what¡¯sing, but they¡¯re always the first to be hunted down. Until that is, Riley learns he can avoid a death or two by exploiting the Oblivious Bystander trope. It seems monsters and killers won¡¯t harm him as long as he can convincingly pretend he hasn¡¯t noticed them.


    To make it through this deadly game, Riley and his friends will need to leverage their tropes effectively to determine what¡¯s trapping them there in the first ce. But as the rounds continue and escape seems farther and farther out of reach, they¡¯ll be forced to ask themselves: Would they survive in a horror movie?


    <strong>Book Two has been removed in anticipation of publication on KU. It will be avable on July 9th, but it needed to be removed before that. Preorder here.</strong>

 Arc II, Chapter 72: Manors Blaze Eve

    Arc II, Chapter 72: Manor''s ze Eve


    Two bodies.


    I had died twice in less than a few minutes. First, I got electrocuted. I couldn¡¯t me anyone but myself for that one. Moonlight Morrow said we needed people to man the ghostly defense and I answered the call.


    Second, I got ced in another body and propped up in a theater. That body died of¡­ something. Magic? Evil? Convenience? And suddenly, I was a ghost.


    I had to sit and think through everything I had just experienced even toprehend it. My body¡ªmy real body¡ªwas still smoking when a bunch of NPCs started to haul it away.


    That whole ordeal made me feel so small and powerless. Knowing that these people¡ªif they could be called people¡ªwere so powerful that they could casually create a new body for me to use while on Deathwatch. Even after having died ande back, having been injured and healed, seeing the cold, casual way in which our captors wielded enormous power shook me to my core.


    But I didn¡¯t have time to shake for long.


    Isaac was still standing in the rapidly draining jail cell, watching his body sink further and further down toward the ground.


    I walked to the jail cell window and crouched down.


    ¡°Youing with me?¡± I asked.He didn¡¯t answer, but he did walk over to the window. Now, for the test, could ghosts touch each other?


    My movie-watching experience said yes.


    I reached in toward him with my hand. He reached out and grabbed it. It felt¡­ not normal, but not that strange. Instead of feeling his hand properly, I felt a tingling sensation along with it. I pulled, and he rose up through the cell bars as if they were made of smoke.


    Soon, he was standing next to me on the ground.


    He looked around.


    ¡°It¡¯s weird out here,¡± he said solemnly.


    I followed his gaze.


    All around us, we saw nothing but whiteness. White fog banks covered everything. It was bright, too, almost ufortably bright.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I said. ¡°We still have a job to do.¡±


    The fog banks blocked us from going anywhere we wanted. In fact, they only showed us one path. Out of curiosity, I tried to defy Carousels'' prodding and walked into one of the white, bright clouds that prevented me from crossing the street.


    I couldn¡¯t pass through it.


    This was how Carousel must have controlled Departed during their dead walks.


    ¡°So I guess we really died,¡± Isaac said.


    Kind of a bted revtion, but I couldn¡¯t me him for having a hard time with it. If I wasn¡¯t trying to look tough like I thought I ought to, I might have been just as dazed.


    I had something to focus on. I had a goal.


    There was a reason that this scene had existed, after all. Isaac¡¯s death had a purpose in the narrative. Well, our deaths.


    This death was supposed to reveal information about our enemy. Not the Die Cast, but Roderick Gray.


    It just so happened that I knew where Roderick was. When I saw all of the off-screen cameras back in the theater, I saw him sitting on a wooden bench a few blocks from the jail.


    When I saw the direction the path in the fog banks led us, I knew where Carousel was leading us. It had an idea for the story.


    On-Screen.


    I was caught off-guard. I hadn¡¯t thought about how we were supposed to act once dead. Surely, Carousel didn¡¯t want us to do the whole ¡°in denial of death¡± thing. That was tiresome. I went a different route.


    Serene acknowledgment.


    We were going to y it as if we understood what had happened to us. We would know we were dead and we were at peace with it. That should cut out a lot of the melodrama.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s Roderick.¡±


    Isaac followed my gaze. He didn¡¯t say anything. He just took a deep breath.


    ¡°What are the odds that he just happened to be a few blocks away when that thing attacked you?¡± I asked.


    Thankfully, Isaac understood his role in the conversation.


    ¡°He was there when I got arrested,¡± Isaac said. ¡°He was acting strange. At the time, I thought he was just nervous, but now, I think it was more than that.¡±


    Iughed. ¡°Being dead is strange. It¡¯s like when you think of a goodeback in the shower, except it¡¯s with everything. Suddenly, my whole life is in perspective.¡±


    He nodded as we walked along toward Roderick.


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think I was the one who was wrong a whole lot more than I knew before. I think I was kind of a jerk,¡± he said.


    I wondered if he was just saying that or if he actually had figured out why his character was killed.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    The whole putting life into perspective thing wasn¡¯t just something I was doing because I thought it would work well for the story. It was real.


    Even as we walked along our vibrant path toward the future mayor, things started jumping out at me. Realizations I never made in life danced around in front of me: memories, fears, and long-lost dreams.


    I almost choked up. I had to force myself not to think back to my years growing up or my way of rting to people. I had a job to do.


    ¡°What is that; is that the sk?¡± I asked, pointing at the object Roderick had sitting next to him on the bench.


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said. ¡°He said he got rid of it.¡±


    We got closer and saw the look of regret on Roderick¡¯s face. He looked ashamed. Maybe even sad.


    ¡°There¡¯s smokeing out of the sk,¡± I said.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be,¡± Isaac said, walking closer and observing the sk. ¡°That would mean¡­¡±


    I sat down on the bench next to Roderick as I pretended to have a wave of disbelief move over me.


    The bench held my weight, just as the ground did. Ghost movies were funny like that. The seat of your pants and the soles of your shoes were not intangible, it would seem.


    ¡°That means he did this,¡± I said. ¡°It wasn¡¯t just the spirit going out of control. He sent it after you.¡±


    Isaac screamed in Roderick¡¯s face, but the man did not see or hear anything. We were ghosts. He wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to haunt him until he dies, and then I¡¯m going to kick his ass,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s not done yet. He¡¯s still got Antoine and the Geists. God forbid, he may be going after everyone who knows of his involvement. That¡¯s the psychic and her sister. Maybe even¡­ Oh god, maybe even Kimbe¡ª¡±


    ¡°Riley,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I think I know where his next target is.¡±


    I looked at him, confused.


    He was staring at a newspaper that was on the bench on the other side of Roderick. The article was circled with the title, ¡°Geists Throw Party in Honor of Dead Carlyle.¡±


    ¡°The guest list is set to include prominent members of themunity, including the entire Geist family. Some invitees include famed director Riley Lawrence¡ª¡±


    ¡°Aw shucks,¡± I said.


    ¡°¡ªand rising star actress Kimberly Madison.¡±


    ¡°Kimberly,¡± I said.


    Somehow, blood rushed into my ears, and all I saw was white.


    Off-Screen.


    Then we weren¡¯t there anymore.


    Isaac was still next to me, but we were somewhere else altogether. We were at my house. Carousel was keeping us on a tight spectral leash. I could see Antoine, Cassie, Kimberly, Ramona, and Bobby in the house. Bobby¡¯s dogs had made a presence there and spread their toys all about. My character¡¯s shoes were destroyed.


    ¡°We just lost some time,¡± I said. ¡°The Plot Cycle jumped forward.¡±


    Where it had been in the middle of Rebirth, it was now a few clicks away from Second Blood.


    ¡°What are we supposed to do?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°Next scene,¡± I said. ¡°We have to guide them in the right direction.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the right direction?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°Not sure.¡±


    We were in a dilemma. Our characters knew that Roderick was attacking the manor party. That wasn¡¯t news to Antoine and the others. We just had to warn them in character¡ªno big deal.


    That wasn¡¯t the problem. Despite the uing danger, we needed them to go to the manor party because that was the next big scene. That was Second Blood, almost certainly.


    ¡°We could try to tell them that Roderick will be there, and they need to take the sk from him,¡± I said. ¡°It does seem like the spirit has to be summoned from nearby, and we need them to get the sk.¡±


    That was the only way to save lives. Take the sk and throw it in a river. sh forward to the Centennial. It''s a piece of cake.


    The problem was, how were we supposed to convey that to the others? Luckily, this had been a very long storyline, and I had said lots of things I could repeat to them using shback Revtion. The trope didn¡¯t require me to have said it On-Screen as long as I didn¡¯t expect the audience to see the shback.


    ¡°Let¡¯s give it a go,¡± I said.


    We walked through the walls of my home, and as soon as we did, Bobby¡¯s dogs started going nuts.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on over there?¡± Antoine yelled, trying to be heard over the baying of hounds.


    ¡°Hush, Carmen. Whiskey, shhhh,¡± Bobby said fiercely.


    Carmen and Whiskey were the most annoying dogs. I didn¡¯t even know which one was which, only that Carmen barked because Whiskey barked, and then Whiskey barked because Carmen barked, and so on and so forth.


    I decided to activate shback Revtion. The trope ran on Savvy, which I had my fair share of. That meant I should have a few uses of it, but I didn¡¯t want to waste any of them.


    I needed to let them know it was us and that we were ready to make a n.


    I started thinking about what I wanted to say, and little ques with phrases came onto the red wallpaper. I was going to choose, ¡°I¡¯m here with you,¡± but before I could, I heard screaming.


    ¡°They¡¯re back!¡± Cassie screamed.


    Wait, was she looking at us?


    ¡°Riley and Isaac are here,¡± she said even louder. ¡°Look at the red wallpaper. You can see their posters.¡±


    Of course. The red wallpaper. yers were able to see other yers with more ease than seeing enemies. You could see a fellow yer on the red wallpaper even in pitch ckness as long as you had a line of sight. While at your base, you could even see a fellow yer through walls.


    Apparently, you could see them even if they were specters.


    ¡°Oh, my god!¡± Kimberly said as she rushed into the kitchen where we had appeared. ¡°Riley?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here with you,¡± I said, using shback Revtion.


    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Cassie asked.


    Antoine and Kimberly had. They were around when I had said it previously.


    Ramona, who wandered into the kitchen, could neither hear the echo of my voice nor see me on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°Riley and Isaac are back,¡± Kimberly said, gesturing over toward me and Isaac.


    Ramona was incredulous, to say the least.


    I thought about using a shback to confirm I was here, but I had basically already wasted one already.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°The world''s worst game of charades,¡± I suggested jokingly.


    You never know what things you should discuss before a storyline. In retrospect, it seemed obvious that we should have some kind of code for talking to each other while ghosts, but we had not taken the time for such a contingency.


    Luckily, none of us were dummies. Antoine had an idea.


    ¡°We could do yes and no questions,¡± he said. ¡°For yes, stand over there,¡± he said, pointing to one wall. ¡°For no, over there.¡± He pointed to the other wall.¡±


    That worked.


    I wondered if it would be worth it to try the bell from Reply the Departed, but I had no way of suggesting it.


    And so the nning began.


    ¡°Riley,¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°Are we still going to the party?¡±


    I stopped for a second, having nearly forgotten which wall meant yes. I trotted over to the yes wall and stood. They followed me, making sure to see me on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Antoine said. ¡°That¡¯s what we thought. We just don¡¯t know why our characters would go near the ce where our deaths are certain. What do we say?¡±


    He had nailed down our dilemma.


    Luckily, I had spoken about the sk before. I decided to use a shback on Kimberly. When she had first appeared, I had exined things to her very carefully.


    ¡°There¡¯s this sk, like a sk you would drink hooch out of, that is used to summon a terrible spirit,¡± I said. My voice echoed. Only Kimberly and I could hear it.


    ¡°He¡¯s talking about the sk,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°We need to go for the sk, I think, is what he¡¯s saying.¡±


    Antoine nodded his head. ¡°Gray has the sk. He¡¯s going to use it at the party. We need to get the sk and throw it in a river,¡± he said, putting together all of the things we knew about the sk.


    I moved over to the wall.


    ¡°That lines up with what we kind of knew,¡± he said. ¡°Now, how do we get our characters to know that?¡±


    Instead of answering yes or no, I moved over toward the red-hand chair where Cassie was sitting.


    She nced up at me and said, ¡°Oh, of course. Just have the psychic have a vision. What would you all do without me?¡±


    It was simple. Isaac and I could spend hours trying to show them On-Screen what we are supposed to do, or we can ¡°talk¡± to the psychic and have her say it. How many times were we going to use that trick without consequences?


    Psychics really are the saviors ofzy writers.

 Arc II, Chapter 73: Hard Mode Initiated

    Arc II, Chapter 73: Hard Mode Initiated


    On-Screen.


    ¡°So let me get this straight,¡± Isaac said as we stood outside the Geist Mansion, ¡°We¡¯re sending them to a ce we know the Die Cast is going to strike because we think Roderick will be skulking around outside with the sk because the psychic who got us into this mess believes that throwing the sk into a river will stop the Die Cast from being summoned?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the long and short of it,¡± I said.


    Isaac sighed. ¡°And we¡¯re here because you think we can¡­ what, be lookouts?¡±


    I shrugged my shoulders. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much help we¡¯ll be, but at least we¡¯ll get to watch.¡±


    My Savvy ticked up a bit. It wasn¡¯t much, but the buff wasn¡¯t even the point. Isaac¡¯s trope for summarizing the plot would help buff our ns in general, and frankly, we needed all of the help we could get.


    A line of fancy cars paraded slowly down the mile-long driveway. A valet would take their keys and give them a receipt. Their cars would be parked, and they would elegantly walk into the mansion after showing their invitation.


    They were all dressed in tuxes and fancy dresses and having the time of their lives.


    ¡°And I don¡¯t think it¡¯s fair to say the psychic got us into this,¡± I said. ¡°We did this. We¡¯re getting everything we deserve.¡±Isaac shook his head. ¡°Speak for yourself. It wasn¡¯t too long ago my family would be invited to parties like this. It¡¯s the Geists¡¯ fault we weren¡¯t. They could have yed fair. Geists aren¡¯t going to be happy until everyone in Carousel is their employee. You¡¯ll see.¡±


    Iughed. ¡°All the rity thates with dying, and you still hold a grudge.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes grudges need to be held,¡± he said somberly. ¡°There¡¯s Kimberly. Why is sheing with the dog walker? I thought she and Antoine were a package.¡±


    ¡°Antoine has a bad history with the family after thewsuit and all. Luckily, Bobby knew a secret way in,¡± I said.


    ~-~


    We had done all of the setup we could for this scene. Second Blood was upon us. We had shot a scene in which we contacted Cassie from beyond the grave to inform her that Roderick Gray was behind all of the attacks and that it wasn¡¯t just the Spirit of Vengeance gone haywire, as our characters had previously believed.


    We exined it as best we could. The Die Cast was a loose cannon. Every time it was summoned, it became more willful and violent. Until it had killed all of the Geists, it would continue to get wilder and more dangerous until, eventually, it wouldn¡¯t need to be summoned from the sk.


    We had patched its lore together, and I was 80% sure I understood it. If we had a schr to do proper research, I would feel much more confident.


    They had their group meeting, Bobby included and decided to ambush Gray at his next target. Bobby had done some decent improv to exin that he knew there were secret passages in and out of the mansion. Apparently, one of the Geist granddaughters would use one of them toe visit the horseste at night (as rich horse girls do), and he knew where to find it. Given that he was a Geist employee, that sounded like a clever exnation for how we knew about the passage from the Paupers¡¯ Grave to inside the Geist mansion.


    We didn¡¯t have a great reason for Bobby to be in our group, per se, but we were not shooting for a perfect run. He helped because he was a nice guy who <em>might</em> be in danger.


    Now, we stood outside the party that we knew would end in disaster.


    ¡°You know,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It probably is weird for Bobby to be arriving with Kimberly, given that he works for the Geists. They¡¯ll think it awfully low ss.¡±


    ¡°If they want to look down on him, they¡¯ll look down on him. The reasons are just pretense,¡± I said.


    I jumped as I stared in through the window and saw a face I recognized, though it had not looked like this thest time I had seen it in person. Lillian Geist was walking down the stairs like an angel descending from the heavens.


    She really was pretty. As I stared at her, I recognized something in her that I usually only saw in the mirror¡ªa profound loneliness. She hid it behind a smile and sparkly makeup of some kind, but it was there.


    If we couldn¡¯t save Carlyle, then we certainly couldn¡¯t save Lillian. Getting to the true ending was the goal. Heroics were for other genres.


    Just thinking of Carlyle filled me with a dark guilt. It wasn¡¯t my fault. It wasn¡¯t my script. Why did I feel guilty?


    ¡°She had such a crush on me,¡± Isaac said, following my gaze, ¡°You know, back when I had money and power and standing. I should have married her then, and I would still be alive today. I¡¯d be wearing a tux and drinking one of those blue drinks.¡±


    He looked into the window longingly. He was doing his best to act like his character, but he was having difficulty notughing at the ridiculousness of it all. His character was a punching bag, so he might as well lean into it by acting like a tool.


    ¡°You thinking you would have taken herst name?¡± I asked. ¡°I hear they pay men to change theirst name to Geist when they enter the family. Some go for it.¡±


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the vition.


    ¡°If that¡¯s what it took,¡± he said.


    Iughed. ¡°Never change, pal, never change.¡±


    You didn¡¯t need the red wallpaper to sort the NPCs from the Geists. It was easy. The Geists were the happy ones. Some NPCs knew what wasing, and those that look like when you walk into a room and forget why you''re there.


    We were Off-Screen, so we walked through the walls of the mansion and took in the ambiance.


    Kimberly had a huge crowd around her. She was famous, after all.


    ¡°Is this going to work?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°I mean, only Antoine and Kimberly have to survive. Literally, everyone else here is going to be joining us very soon.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t satisfied. Being a ghost might have helped dull his sense of impending doom, but it certainly didn¡¯t eliminate it.


    ¡°You know there¡¯s something strange about these Geists,¡± I said.


    ¡°Just one thing?¡± he asked.


    ¡°The spouses,¡± I said. ¡°I thought all of the spouses were going to be NPCs, but look at Bensen¡¯s wife.¡± I pointed to the shrew-faced woman standing next to Bensen. ¡°She¡¯sbeled as a Geist on the red wallpaper.¡±


    Isaac took a moment to soak in the implications. ¡°Gross. Are you saying they kept it in the family?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Incest. She¡¯s a Geist.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Look at Robert Green,¡± I said, pointing to a man who was unashamedly flirting with a cocktail waitress. ¡°That was Cherise¡¯s husband. She passed years ago, but he¡¯sbeled as a Geist too. Look at Steven¡¯s wife; Moira is just an NPC. That¡¯s Lillians¡­ stepmom, I think.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I¡¯ll let you obsess on that for a few weeks, and then you can give us your conclusions.¡±


    I waved him off. It was interesting. But it wasn¡¯t relevant.


    ¡°We need to spread out and look for Roderick,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re acting on the assumption that he has to be nearby to activate the sk, which was all but confirmed to be true. Even if it wasn¡¯t true for lore reasons, I suspected it would be true for story reasons.¡±


    Roderick would want to see the effects of his malice. He was an angry boy.


    Somewhere below us, Antoine and Cassie were making their way through a hidden tunnel to find their way into the party. We doubted they would be checking invitations at the secret entrance. Security was tight, but not that tight.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we just follow a path in the clouds?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°If it¡¯s a scene, Carousel should lead us right to it.¡±


    ¡°Do you see a path?¡± I asked.


    He looked around. We were standing over in the corner behind amp so that people wouldn¡¯t walk through us and make us feel all funny. ¡°I mean, we haven¡¯t really explored.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°Assuming Roderick is here already, we should be able to find him pretty quickly. Security is really beefed up. I doubt he found a way inside, but still, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to check. Go find the caterers and see if he snuck in with them. I¡¯m taking ap around the perimeter. Meet back here in ten minutes or if anything strange happens.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha,¡± he said. And he headed out.


    The odds were in my favor here. Dying had its advantages. In fact, it had more than I had ever realized. My Effective Plot Armor was full. I had not noticed this effect before in the couple of times I had died and gotten to stick around because of Off-Screen Death. I just hadn¡¯t thought to look.


    Now, as a disembodied spirit, staring at the red wallpaper was one of my only forms of entertainment. So I had noticed.


    The negative effects of Trope Master had subsided. Normally, it split my Plot Armor in half. I was dead. That restriction had been lifted. Of course, Plot Armor wasn¡¯t as useful as a ghost. The Die Cast wasn¡¯t going to target me anyway.


    High PA still had one advantage, however. It made the plote to you. This usually manifested as bonuses during Exploration or additional dialogue options with NPCs.


    I suspected that it would help me find our dear friend Roderick Gray pretty easily.


    I would soon find just how right I was. And how wrong I was about other things.


    ~-~


    I found him walking toward the mansion from the cemetery. He would have to pass through a security checkpoint. He was dressed well¡ªtoo well. There was no way he had an invitation. His entire political tform had been a thinly veiled attack on the Geist family. Why would they invite him?


    Yet, he wore a tux (which was only marginally more fancy than the clothes he normally wore). I saw an invitation sticking out of his pocket.


    I followed him in disbelief.


    We hadn¡¯t counted on him getting good ess to the party. Heck, we didn¡¯t even think he would want to go inside. We were hoping he would set up in a dark corner of the estate where Antoine could give him a good thump on the head and steal the sk. Thisplicated things.


    I followed him as he made his way to the entrance of the mansion. He was allowed to pass through the various checkpoints simply by shing his invitation. At the entrance, they would be more thorough.


    On-Screen.


    Roderick took his invitation out of his pocket as he approached the man at the door.


    It looked authentic enough. It looked like he really was invited.


    Carousel simply hadn¡¯t filmed him receiving it, and therefore, it didn¡¯t happen On-Screen, so I didn¡¯t see it. That was probably intentional. We were being forced to react. This didn¡¯t change our ns too much. We already had a way to get Antoine inside.


    The timing was going to be a pain. We had to wait until after the Die Cast was summoned so we would get the true ending. Then, Antoine, Cassie, Kimberly, and Bobby would have to get the sk from Roderick and then get out before everyone died.


    Carousel sends its strongest battles to its most frazzled yers. That was said somewhere in the As, I was pretty sure.


    Suddenly, the screen on the red wallpaper cut away to a scene of Mayor Morrow standing outside the clock tower where the Mayor¡¯s offices were located.


    ¡°I have no idea what all they took,¡± Moonlight said. ¡°Marge, we need to do a full ounting. How much petty cash was in the safe box?¡±


    They continued discussing what was an apparent robbery.


    The camera panned around the scene, showing broken windows, papers strewn about, and all manner of vandalism.


    The camera rested an envelope addressed to the office of the mayor from The Geists. It was the envelope the invitations hade in. I had one sitting on my dining room table that had been delivered after my death.


    This one was torn open and empty.


    The screen switched back to the entrance of the mansion.


    When Roderick got to the door, he held out the invite and said, ¡°I¡¯vee on behalf of the mayor. He couldn¡¯t make it.¡±


    The screen jumped back to the scene of the robbery. The camera showed something it hadn¡¯t before. A bodyy on the sidewalk. It was a security guard. He had a bullet hole just above his left eye.


    Roderick was getting serious.


    I watched him walk in, and I noticed something had changed. He wasn¡¯t an NPC anymore. We had chosen the true ending, so we were getting the true viin.


    Roderick was an enemy. Plot Armor 27. The distinction between NPCs and enemies was always for gamey reasons, after all. Enemies were NPCs; technically, tropes just acted on them differently. Things looked differently on the red wallpaper.


    I didn¡¯t get a chance to see his tropes before I lost line of sight, but I imagined there was a trope there that made him appear as an NPC. We had seen more than one that could aplish that.


    I had to hope that Antoine and the others were ready for a fight because things were going to be far more difficult than we originally nned.


    I had managed to see one trope.


    <strong>Intoxicated by Power</strong>: This viin is possessed, literally or figuratively, by the power they wield. Beware. This exorcism will be dangerous.

 Arc II, Chapter 74: Gray

    Arc II, Chapter 74: Gray


    Roderick was now officially a threat. I didn¡¯t like that wrinkle. Most of our ns assumed that future mayor Gray would be a pushover.


    I rushed in through the wall. Being able to phase through solid objects was quite handy. I was getting used to it.


    On the other side of the wall, I looked to where I knew Gray was supposed to be, and¡­ he wasn¡¯t there. He had seemingly vanished into thin air. I looked all through the crowd and I couldn¡¯t see him.


    There must have been a trope at y. yers often develop an instinct for such things. yers who couldn¡¯t see enemy tropes were probably better at it than I was.


    Antoine and Cassie were out of the secret passage ording to my Deathwatch trope. I had to go find them.


    They weren¡¯t that difficult to locate. Cassie¡¯s character¡¯s closet must not have held one normal-looking dress because she was dressed like a bruise. Purple, ck, and a hint of sickly green. She didn¡¯t look happy to be wearing it.


    Antoine was wearing a tux, but not a good one.


    ¡°It¡¯s time to fight,¡± I said using shback Revtion.


    Antoine immediately perked up.¡°The Die Cast?¡± he asked quickly. He looked from side to side until he found where I was when my poster appeared on the red wallpaper.


    Which direction were yes and no again?


    I moved. He followed me with his eyes. Cassie was watching too.


    ¡°No?¡± Cassie asked.


    ¡°Gray,¡± Antoine said knowingly.


    I moved in the other direction to say yes.


    ¡°Lead us to him,¡± Antoine said.


    Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t do that. I had lost him.


    I moved again to say no.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Cassie asked. ¡°Oh, right. We need to look for him?¡±


    Yes, I said. They must have looked like fools watching me walk from side to side like that. Luckily, we were all Off-Screen.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get Kimberly and Bobby,¡± Antoine said. ¡°You find Gray so you can show us the way.¡±


    Sounded like a n.


    I ran past Antoine and Cassie, through the hallway where the hidden entrance to the secret passage was, and into the kitchens where Isaac walked aimlessly.


    What was he doing? He had a job.


    And then I saw it.


    Someone or something stood directly behind Isaac. It was so close that I could barely see the outline of his silhouette.


    Not now. Please not now.


    Isaac startedughing.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while,¡± he said. But it wasn¡¯t just Isaac¡¯s voice. I heard another person talking, someone with an electric, sarcastic crackle.


    ¡°Strander ke,¡± I said mostly out of shock at the sudden realization. I had tried my best not to think about him ever since he fouled up the Ten Second Game at the beginning of the Tutorial.


    ¡°I was just in the neighborhood,¡± Strander made Isaac say. ¡°I read ahead on that little script in my head. There will be some wonderful additions to my collection in this story.¡±


    I was suddenly very aware of how vulnerable I was at that moment. Strander collected spirits. Thest time we met, I was flesh and blood. This time, I was a ghost. From what I had seen, he could simply sew me into his menagerie without a second thought.


    There was no way Carousel would let that cretin get in our way. I looked closely. There was a good sign. Isaac¡¯s spirit was not sewn to the writhing mass that was Strander ke. He was held there by threads, but his ghostly form had not been grafted onto the spectral Frankenstein as far as I could tell.


    ¡°Let him go,¡± I said. ¡°We have things to do. I don¡¯t have time for this.¡±


    Even as a ghost, I could feel the fear rising up inside me. If he attacked me, I would be relying on Carousel and its all-powerful script to save myself and Isaac.


    Fortunately, there was no need.


    With a sickening sound like the rending of flesh, the little ck threads that wound over Isaac retracted.


    He fell forward, but I still didn¡¯t get a good view of what Strander actually looked like because another ghost reced Isaac in an instant. It was the same drowned woman that Strander had been so fond of before.


    ¡°Just having fun,¡± she said with Strander¡¯s actual voice in the back. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to be here. My abilities are useful. It would seem the Spirit of Vengeance, as it¡¯s called here, is a pain to Carousel. I¡¯m only here to help out.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± I said. ¡°So now you¡¯re friends with Carousel. That makes sense, you two have so much inmon.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± Strander said, water dripping to the floor from his puppet¡¯s face. I could feel I had hit a sensitive spot.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    There were NPCs in the room. It was a kitchen during a party after all. If they could see the dripping ghost, they didn¡¯t show it. She was a different kind of ghost from me or Isaac. In thest story, she was visible. Her tropes had not changed. I wasn¡¯t sure how that all worked.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    Strander got closer to me. My dead heart beat faster than it had ever done before.


    ¡°Carousel sent me to control the Spirit of Vengeance a little while ago. To make it mind its manners. Apparently, it doesn¡¯t like doing anything unless it gets to kill someone at the end of it, a sentiment I can understand. That didn¡¯t work for Carousel, so it had me take the big bad over and take it on a walk. A walk, to watch you shave. I thought it odd.¡±


    He started tough.


    ¡°Seemed like a joke between friends to me,¡± he said.


    Carousel had deviated from the true script just to mess with me back before First Blood. Having an errand boy who could control powerful spirits must have allowed Carousel to cut through some of the magical bureaucracy.


    ¡°Personally,¡± he said. ¡°I was hoping you would identally fall on your razor so I could say hello. I was almost disappointed when you didn¡¯t fall for it. I see you managed to die all the same though.¡±


    The whole time we talked, Roderick Gray never showed up on the screen on the red wallpaper. That meant he hadn¡¯t been On-Screen.


    ¡°We have work to do,¡± I said. ¡°If all you wanted to do was say hello, then, we¡¯ll be leaving.¡±


    ¡°Just as well,¡± he said. ¡°I was going to tell you where that wretched man was, but I suppose you don¡¯t need my help.¡±


    I paused. ¡°Roderick Gray? You know where he is?¡±


    It was a big mansion. I needed all the help I could get.


    ¡°You should know too,¡± he said. Heughed maniacally. ¡°After all, you know he is supposed to survive.¡±


    That was actually a useful hint.


    Roderick Gray lived past the manor ze. Now that we knew he was in the building, then we could conclude that he was somewhere in the house that wasn¡¯t destroyed, a ce where he would be safe from the fire.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said out of instinct. I turned to Isaac. ¡°Come on.¡±


    In Carousel, you take help where you get it.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Isaac asked frantically. Strander¡¯s treatment had rattled him something fierce.


    ¡°The main hall is in ruins after the fire. We saw pictures of the manor after the fire, remember?¡± I asked. Even without ess to the library, there was plenty of information about the ze. It was one of the most famous events in Carousel history. Pictures of the caved-in floor near the entrance were very popr. ¡°One of the wings gets smoked out. A bunch of Geists die in another. The upstairs is a death trap. And thest wing is practically untouched.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Which wing?¡±


    I shrugged my shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m guessing whichever one people aren¡¯t in.¡±


    We searched each one until we found a wing that was closed off to the public. Giant doors blocked anyone from entering. They didn¡¯t stop Isaac and I, of course.


    We searched therge, empty rooms of the wing until we found him. Roderick Gray with an evil smile on his face.


    I looked at his tropes.


    Roderick Gray


    Plot Armor: 27


    __________


    Tropes


    Intoxicated by Power


    This viin is possessed, literally or figuratively, by the power they wield. Beware. This exorcism will be dangerous. Buffs physical saving rolls. Debuffs Moxie and Savvy saving rolls.


    Hidden In


    in Sight


    This viin cannot be attacked On-Screen until it attacks the yer or is otherwise identified as hostile. Attacking it will not be effective, nor will it change the story. It will cause the yer to go Off-Screen for a time.


    Weasel


    This viin cannot be killed while escaping.


    Mirror Match


    This viin¡¯s stats will match up with their opponent¡¯s corresponding stat. Grit/Mettle, Savvy/Savvy, Moxie/Moxie, Hustle/Hustle.


    Face in a Crowd


    This viin can slip away unnoticed when entering a group of people.


    The Descent


    Every evil act drives this viin further from redemption but makes them more powerful narratively.


    Just as I did, he dropped a match into the sk.


    Smoke rose out of it quickly, just as it had before when we did the original ritual. The difference was that this time, I was a ghost, and I could see that the smoke was not really just smoke.


    As it emerged, I hoped it was some kind of smoke monster. That, at least, would be easier to look at.


    What came out was a man, or at least something vaguely shaped like a man. It looked like burnt meat. It was burnt so badly that the flesh was unrecognizable, but the ce where the flesh would have been underneath was not unrecognizable. It was red and blistered. Blood oozed from the cracks in its ashen skin.


    Luckily, it was gone in a sh. It was on its way to wherever the remains of Gale Zaragoza had ended up after the jail flood¡ªmost likely, some hole in the woods.


    Before long, I could see the POV of the Die Cast. It wasn¡¯t far away. We didn¡¯t have much time.


    ¡°Find the others,¡± I said. ¡°Lead them here.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t talk to them,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Then just jump in front of them until they notice you!¡± I yelled.


    We ran back through the abandoned wing of the mansion. Isaac went one way, I went another.


    When we were separated, I heard a familiar voice.


    ¡°Riley?¡± it said. ¡°My god, Riley, is that you?¡±


    Carlyle.


    I turned to where I heard him from.


    There he was. He didn¡¯t look dead. He looked scared and sad. Not dead. Ghosts in this story didn¡¯t look dead. They just looked strangely lit by an unseen light.


    ¡°Carlyle,¡± I said.


    ¡°It got you too?¡± he asked.


    Carousel was not ying fair. I had known in the back of my mind that I would see him one day. Carousel was a small world for the dead. We were going to cross paths. I had only hoped it would not be so soon.


    The party raged around us. Geists and celebrities danced and celebrated, all in honor of the ghost that stood among them without a single spark of joy.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t find them,¡± Carlyle said. He started to cry. ¡°I couldn¡¯t find my wife or my children. I searched all over, but they aren¡¯t anywhere.¡±


    Carlyle was predeceased by several members of his family. Whatever peace had met me when I became a ghost had not graced Carlyle.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where they would be,¡± he said. ¡°I looked for so long.¡±


    Even in death, Carousel wasn¡¯t done with punishing the Geists.


    I tried my best to soothe him. ¡°They must have moved on to a better ce,¡± I said. ¡°I need to move that thing ising again.¡±


    Carlyle¡¯s face turned from misery to fear. ¡°We have to warn them,¡± he said. ¡°My entire family is here. If that monster of a man ising, we need to warn them.¡±


    Except I couldn¡¯t.


    His family was going to die. They had to. That was how we got to the true ending. I wished it wasn¡¯t true.


    ¡°Carlyle,¡± I said. I thought about telling him the truth. Or even just the in-story truth. I couldn¡¯t bear it. ¡°I¡¯m going to try to stop it.¡±


    I turned and ran as fast as I could into the crowd. Even as ghosts, my Hustle would help me lose him for a while. I couldn¡¯t think about Carlyle or my massive guilt right then.

 Arc II, Chapter 75: Mirror Match

    Arc II, Chapter 75: Mirror Match


    I found Kimberly and Antoine. They must have met up and split back apart to look for Gray. I didn¡¯t know where Bobby and Cassie were. They had only just noticed me when I used shback Revtion to say, ¡°Follow my voice.¡±


    I should have been more cautious about using that trope. At some point, it could run out, but I needed to get their attention.


    I had to walk slowly so that they could follow. Even when I was trying to avoid running into people, I could move through the crowd fast enough that they would lose track of me.


    As I took a break to wait for them to catch up, the Deathwatch screen flickered to life. Something was happening On-Screen. It was a bit of a montage, actually.


    The mansion had arge garage filled with expensive cars. No surprise there. Two NPCs, young men, were working on a town car, one of the vehicles that had been dropped off by a Geist from what I could tell.


    One of them took a nozzle from a fuel pump in a carport outside the garage and dragged a long hose toward the town car. The hose was attached to arge suspender arm above that would help it reach without dragging on the ground. Fancy stuff.


    He took the fuel cap off of the car, and right before he started to fuel it, the other NPC swatted it out of his hands, putting pressure on the suspender arm and causing something to snap, though I couldn¡¯t see what.


    ¡°Don¡¯t use that, you idiot,¡± the second NPC said. ¡°That¡¯s practically jet fuel. It¡¯s the other one.¡±


    The NPC had grabbed the wrong type of fuel.¡°Sorry,¡± the first NPC said. He went to return the nozzle to the fuel pump, but the suspension arm was stuck. He pulled on it and tugged on it to no avail. He couldn¡¯t guide it back over to the pump. Embarrassed and in a hurry, he gingerly ced the nozzle on the ground and ran back to grab the other nozzle and hose to fill up the car.


    The hose he had just tugged on started to leak, unseen by the workers. It poured into a seam in the garage''s concrete and moved downhill toward the mansion.


    ¡°It¡¯s happening,¡± I said forgetting that no one could hear me. I used shback Revtion to say, ¡°It¡¯sing.¡±


    Antoine and Kimberly stopped being polite and began forcing their way through the crowd.


    The screen jumped to another scene. Again, two NPCs. These were making out in one of the upstairs rooms, based on the camera shot through a window.


    ¡°What do they have all of these candles for?¡± the woman said, taking a drag from her cigarette.


    The room was filled with candles, mostly in boxes and unused, but also spread out fashionably.


    ¡°They¡¯re goddamn devil worshipers,¡± the man said. ¡°They have a huge candle budget because of their rituals or whatever. Let¡¯s be quick, I have to get back to the party. My absence will be noticed.¡±


    The woman sighed, put out her cigarette on a cardboard box, and threw it into a crack between two boxes. The cigarette, notpletely extinguished,nded in some melted wax leaking out of one of the boxes.


    It was going to be a big fire.


    Therge doors to the closed-off wing were in sight.


    The screen showed the third and final source of the ze.


    A valet driver wasn¡¯t used to driving the nice car he was given control of. He identally swiped arge metal box sticking out of the ground next to the parking lot.


    The box contained a gas meter. The indicator of the meter started fluctuating rapidly.


    In the kitchens, the cooks were hard at work making more and more food for the party. Suddenly, the gas pressure blew, causing the stovetops to create a fireball. The NPCs cursed, but the real problem started when the fire suppression system above the stove triggered and doused the entire stovetop.


    The pilot light on the stoves went out, but gas could still be heard leaking rapidly.


    Carousel didn¡¯t have modern safety features, especially in 1984.


    Gas was invisibly creeping along the main floor from the kitchens, gallons of candle wax melting and spreading from above, and high-octane fuel leaking into the basement from the fuel pump outside. The party was really about to go off.


    They needed to get into the abandoned wing immediately and shut the doors behind them. I hated how automatically my mind went to that reality. If the doors opened, the fire could spread and kill more people than intended. It might end up killing fewer people than intended. I didn¡¯t know which was worse for our case.


    The door was roped off, but not locked. It was closed off to discourage guests from hooking up in the unfinished halls, not to stop yers.


    Antoine opened the door just enough for him and Kimberly to squeeze through.


    Then he locked the doors with arge brass key that was already in the door.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°Bobby and Cassie are still out there.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t let him escape with the sk,¡± Antoine said.


    He knew that he could have doomed Cassie and Bobby by not waiting for them, but they didn¡¯t have time to wait around.


    His eyes shed over to where I was.


    ¡°It¡¯s all up to you now,¡± I said with shback Revtion. Then, I ran back through the doors to try and warn Bobby and Cassie.


    As I did, I saw the POV of the Die Cast. He was just outside. He was here, and everyone I could see was about to die.


    I needed to warn Cassie and Bobby, then get back to help Antoine and Kimberly. I had seen Gray¡¯s enemy tropes. There was nothing too dangerous. Mirror Match would make him hard to beat, but not a threat.


    I had to hope I hadn¡¯t overlooked something.


    Luckily, it didn¡¯t take long for me to find them. Knowing they couldn¡¯t get through the locked door, I immediately used the shback Revtion trope to tell them, ¡°Follow my voice.¡±


    Cassie heard me, and I led them back toward the front door as I used Deathwatch to watch the disaster about to happen. The fire was about to break out.


    ¡°We need to go outside?¡± Bobby asked.


    Good Bobby.


    ¡°You had better run,¡± I said using my trope.


    Bobby didn¡¯t hear it, because he wasn¡¯t around when I originally said it, but Cassie did.


    She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the exit.


    Not fast enough.


    I couldn¡¯t tell what happened where. All I knew, was that the entire floor was at once covered in fire. The drapes were burning. Everything was burning.


    Luckily, Bobby and Cassie were near the door when the stampede started. Unfortunately, Bobby didn¡¯t have a mean bone in his body.


    When a little olddy was pushed up against arge piano on her way to the exit, Bobby stopped to help her.


    It was instinct, I¡¯m sure. He reached out an arm to try to scoop her forward. He was immediately punished for it.


    What might have been a narrow escape stopped being an escape at all.


    Bobby was lifted off his feet as the floor ten feet in front of him burst open in a fire ball of splinters. The fuel that had leaked into the basement had ignited.


    He wasn¡¯t the worst off. While he definitely got some splinters, he wasn¡¯t near the actual st. The people that were became debris. Those close by were burned beyond human recognition.


    Bobby was okay. He could have stood up and left. He was in bad shape, but it was survivable.


    Except, of course, for the fact that he was right below the room with the candles.


    A tin ceiling tile¡ªone of the fancy antique kind¡ªcame loose right above him. It hadn''t fallen on its own. Something I was sure only I could see had helped it. It was a ky, crusty, soot-covered hand. The hand was connected to something at the back of the mansion by a tendril of flesh and elbow joints. It was the Spirit of Vengeance and its little hands of bad luck


    A flood of molten wax poured down on Bobby from where the tile had been.


    Cassie screamed from outside the doors.


    People panicked. They fell into the hole. They tripped on each other. Before long, many abandoned trying to leave through the front door because of the explosion and molten wax and started venturing elsewhere for sanctuary.


    I saw dozens of smoky, ky, bloody hands wreaking havoc, causing bad luck wherever they went.


    The screams would never leave my mind.


    The mansion was aze. People were dying before they could even reach fresh air. Bodies piled up near the exit, crushed by the weight of the crowd.


    I thought I was ready for it.


    I was not.


    Bobby didn¡¯t die quickly, I¡¯m sad to say.


    He made it outside after Cassie pulled him out, one of the few who did. Like them, though, he didn¡¯t make it much further than that.


    Cassie shrieked as she realized just how injured he was.


    ¡°I can help,¡± she said, crying, ¡°I can help, I can help.¡±


    I tried telling her not to, that it was toote, but she tried anyway. She started sharing his pain.


    Bobby¡¯s breaths were agonizing, even shared by Cassie.


    Isaac stared, unable to process what he was seeing.


    Bobby¡¯s skin was just¡­ falling off, but he wasn¡¯t dying.


    I had to leave. I was useless here. I had to find Antoine and Kimberly. That was what I would do.


    That was all I could do.


    Out of the frying pan and into the fire.


    Gray was evenly matched with Antoine. Of course, he was. He had a trope for just that.


    Mirror Match made any fight, whether a battle of the brain or brawn, a tie. There was hope though. There was a puzzle, that, if solved, could help you beat him.


    His Intoxicated by Power trope buffed his physical stat saving throws and debuffed his others. That meant that, even though it was a tie, the tiebreaker in the fight would go to him more times than not. He would eventually win.


    But if the fight wasn¡¯t just an all-out brawl? If it was a battle of Savvy or Moxie, It worked the other way.


    They had found Gray and were fighting him, trying to get the sk. Antoine had been taking a beating. I had watched them with Deathwatch.


    How was I supposed to tell them about his trope? It wasn¡¯t a powerful trope by any means, but it was terrific for stalling, and that was exactly what he needed¡ªto stall until we lost.


    Antoine just wouldn¡¯t stay down. ¡°Get back,¡± he said. ¡°I got him.¡±


    He jumped toward Gray andnded a blow to his face, but Gray returned it in kind, sending Antoine falling backward into a rolltop desk, which shattered dramatically. Antoine tumbled to the floor on the other side of the desk out of sight.


    Kimberly jumped forward with a coat stand that had been at the entrance of the wing and knocked it against Gray¡¯s back, but all that did was break some of the wooden arms on the stand.


    I tried searching through my lines for something to tell Kimberly that might help her figure out what they needed to do.


    Luckily, I had spent a lot of time with her on this storyline. We had spoken at length about the fake movie we made. I just needed to figure out the right line and fast.


    As Gray grabbed the coat stand and managed to throw it, along with Kimberly, across the room, I had an idea.


    I saw his Mirror Match trope activate. His stats changed from Antoine¡¯s physical ones to Kimberly¡¯s social ones. I couldn¡¯t actually see his stats, but he held himself differently. He was slyer and quicker. Less intimidating. It was night and day if you knew what to look for.


    I settled on something I had told Kimberly during filming to get her in the right mindset. ¡°You¡¯ll never beat him at his game,¡± I said. ¡°You need to make your own game. So you scan the room and figure out how to put him on the back foot. You size him up. You look around. Really show the audience how smart you are.¡±


    Carousel must have liked it because we went Off-Screen and the actual shback yed On-Screen. That was strange, given I didn¡¯t actually remember that exchange being On-Screen in the first ce, which meant that Carousel triggered the shback on its merits, not just because of my trope.


    Kimberly stumbled to the ground near Antoine. They were still Off-Screen, so she whispered something in his ear.


    The shback ended.


    We didn¡¯t go back On-Screen immediately.


    Instead, I saw a camera panning over the destruction, resting on someone I didn¡¯t expect to see.


    Lillian Geist.


    She was burned and coughing. The problem was that she was out in the main hall, not in the secret passage where she was supposed to be.


    That meant she was going to die from smoke inhtion.


    We needed her to survive. After all this, we were about to lose anyway.

 Arc II, Chapter 76: Double Team

    Arc II, Chapter 76: Double Team


    Lillian was supposed to be in the secret passage, injured but not dying. If she sumbed to the smoke or if the Die Cast injured her further, Doctor Halle would not transform her into a monster, and, to my understanding, we would not get the true ending of the storyline.


    I could do nothing for her. I was a ghost.


    I looked around. The air was thick with smoke. I ran outside right through the wall. I needed someone, any of the living yers to help. There was only one left.


    Cassie.


    Bobby was still alive, but not exactly living.


    I spotted her. She was lying on the ground, coughing, in pain from sharing Bobby¡¯s injuries. Her skin was bright red, but she was alive. On the red wallpaper, she was fine, with an asional touch of Incapacitation. Isaac was speechless by her side.


    ¡°Follow my voice,¡± I said using shback Revtion.


    She stopped coughing immediately.


    She looked around, hazily until she saw me on the red wallpaper.¡°Hello?¡± she asked.


    I saw that while she was On-Screen, I was not. To the audience, this would look like a psychic episode.


    ¡°Follow my voice,¡± I said again.


    She climbed to her feet. It was a struggle, either from residual pain from her Anguish ability or she was just acting.


    I led her to the door.


    ¡°No!¡± she said. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    I understood. Smoke was pouring out the doorway. It was so thick that people inside couldn¡¯t even find the exit. Bodies piled up near the door. She would have to step over some to get back inside.


    ¡°It¡¯s all up to you now,¡± I said. I had said that a lot.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make her go inside,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice,¡± I said.


    Terror lit up Cassie¡¯s face. Going inside an inferno without a good exnation, without help from anyone but a disembodied spirit. This wasn¡¯t just a game. Not in that moment. It was a true nightmare. The fire roared from within. The structure strained; it was buckling from the heat.


    Cassie stepped over one of the bodies of a Geist who had almost made it through the door if she had not been pinned down by arge lectern that had been ced near the door.


    Cassie took a deep breath and walked inside. As soon as she was past the initial pile of bodies, she dropped to the floor and crawled, blindly, following nothing but the direction the red wallpaper showed her.


    I led her across the main hall to where Lillian was.


    Lillian was still alive, but she wasn¡¯t going to be for long.


    ¡°What am I here for?¡± Cassie cried, coughing and spitting up.


    I stood in front of Lillian. It took her a moment to notice.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± she said.


    She knew what to do. She grabbed the prone Lillian and started to drag her. It was difficult staying below the smoke and even that did not afford her good air, just less hot ash.


    She dragged and pulled Lillian across the ground. It felt like it was taking ages.


    Just before she made it to the hallway with the secret passage, one of the Die Cast¡¯s ky, fleshy, bloody arms lurked its way toward a bookshelf that was leaning precariously. If it fell, it wouldnd on Cassie and Lillian.


    Before the tendril could make purchase on the shelf, I jumped in front of it. It burned and sizzled against my ghostly form. The pain felt like bone pain more than skin pain; it was deep and reverberated all over my body, but the arm did not make it through.


    The tendril withdrew and stretched upstairs. Momentster, someone fell down the stairs. It must have been an ident.


    Eventually, running on nothing but pure determination, Cassie managed to crawl into the right hallway. The door was already open, as many Geists had piled into it. That was not good. Cassie plowed through their bodies as best she could before pulling Lillian¡¯s body in after her.


    Lillian was still alive. In fact, many of the corpses were still alive but twitching. That would change with time.


    Cassie reached back up and closed the secret door with all her might.


    She was done. All of her health indicators were shing. Incapacitated, Hobbled, even Mutted flicked on and off as she whimpered on the floor.


    Getting electrocuted wasn¡¯t so bad inparison.


    ¡°Run,¡± I said. It was the best way I could tell her she was done and she could get away. There was nothing left for her to give.


    As I helped Cassie, the fight between Antoine, Kimberly, and Roderick Gray still went on.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I watched it on the Deathwatch screen.


    Antoine stayed down where he had been thrown before. All indications were that he was unconscious.


    Kimberly was up though.


    I didn¡¯t know exactly what she was nning. I thought the right solution was tobine efforts and hope they could defeat him together. If they could find a way that made sense, like pushing arge piece of furniture on him together, that might allow victory. The rules for how stats stacked together were hard to predict on the fly and Carousel had some byzantine form the vets barely understood.


    Still, they could try it.


    But somehow, I had underestimated Kimberly.


    Her Social Awareness trope, which usually just served to help her in the party phase as she evaluated Moxie and analyzed social rtionships, had a use case in this fight.


    She had seen his Moxie change when his trope activated. I was sure of it. Whether she knew exactly what happened or not I couldn¡¯t have said, but it was clear she recognized a change. Maybe she saw the adjustment in the way he held himself.


    Either way, my message had helped her.


    ¡°You have to give me the sk,¡± she said. A tear fell from her eye. ¡°People are getting hurt. So many have died. You can stop everything. I know you don¡¯t want to be remembered as a monster.¡±


    She backed down the corridor away from Antoine.


    Roderick was incensed. He followed her, never losing eye contact.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be remembered as a monster because I will get rid of everyone who knows that I am,¡± he said. Intoxicated by Power indeed. He was practically giddy.


    ¡°You¡¯ll know,¡± Kimberly said, angling her body to the left, sidestepping. ¡°How will you live with yourself?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll remember it fondly,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s the story of Carousel, after all. People wanting something and being willing to do anything to get it. What I am doing is no different.¡±


    Kimberly backed her way into a small alcove with a narrow entrance. ¡°Please,¡± she said. ¡°Just let me go. I won¡¯t tell anyone.¡±


    Gray started tough. ¡°That¡¯s how it always is. People doubt you. Then they fight you. In the end, though, people recognize your power. That¡¯s all that matters. Whether you¡¯re a Geist or some other killer. Everyone eventually respects power. I¡¯ve always known that and that is why I will win. Unfortunately, you aren¡¯t as good of an actress as you seem to think. I know a lie when I hea¡ª¡±


    Just as Gray stepped into the alcove, Antoine appeared behind him and grabbed his head. He mmed it into the stone column that made up the entrance.


    Against Antoine, Gray had been a perfect Mirror Match. Seven Grit, Seven Mettle. It was an impasse. Against Kimberly, his Grit was only Three to match her Mettle.


    If Gray had only taken a moment to look at Antoine, Kimberly¡¯s high Moxie might have let him know Antoine was faking being knocked out. If he had been able to let go of his pride, if he wasn¡¯t Intoxicated by Power, he might have known Kimberly was leading him into a trap.


    Their Moxie tie went in Kimberly¡¯s favor. She couldn¡¯t have done a better job if I was able to tell her what to do.


    She was giving Antoine an opening.


    Unfortunately for Gray, as he scrambled to try to stand, it was toote. Antoine grabbed the sk from within his coat pocket.


    As a roar echoed throughout the mansion, it was apparent the Die Cast had noticed.


    ¡°We need to get in there and protect them,¡± I said.


    Isaac was focused on watching his sister crawl away down the secret passage.


    ¡°Isaac!¡± I said.


    ¡°Right,¡± he answered.


    We took off and got to Antoine and Kimberly just as they were throwing a chair through a window to escape the manor.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Kimberly asked. She already knew. This was for the audience.


    ¡°North,¡± Antoine said. ¡°There¡¯s a river to the north.¡±


    Cassie had given the lore info that the sk was weak to water, which we had learned from Moonlight Morrow. Everything was set up. We just needed to execute.


    Then Antoine started to run.


    Unfortunately, the Die Cast was just around the corner in the direction they were running. He had a woman in his hands. She had escaped the fire. He¡­ unescaped her by throwing her right back inside through a window.


    The Die Cast looked different in person now that I could see the spirit that controlled him. Those same tendril hands used to create bad luck also puppeted therge body of Gale Zaragoza around.


    More hands shot off in every direction.


    Antoine and Kimberly couldn¡¯t see it.


    I was considering telling them to run, but that was unnecessary. Antoine took off. Kimberly was right behind him.


    He left her in the dust.


    I told Kimberly to hide using shback Revtion. We didn¡¯t need her anymore. All she could do was get injured. This was a race. Antoine was the best one of us for it.


    She turned off the path and wound back around the mansion.


    The Die Cast continued following Antoine.


    I followed him too.


    Luckily, I was faster than the enemy.


    As Antoine broke out of the long driveway of the Geist Manor, a fleshy tendril crept out toward a car that was driving on the street outside the wrought iron fence that surrounded the Geist property.


    It was going to make the car hit Antoine somehow.


    Not on my watch.


    I jumped into the ashy arm and wrangled it.


    The maneuver was effective. The limb never hit its mark. The tendril dried up into a mess of charcoal and blood.


    From the Die Cast¡¯s tropes, I knew it could appear ahead of us once we changed filming locations. We had changed locations several times, so that was a real risk.


    It didn¡¯t move until we got to the river, and we ran through a public waterside park.


    It was there waiting for us.


    Antoine had the sk tucked under his arm like a football yer would. The Die Cast was directly in our way.


    There was no way we were getting past it.


    I knew that because its burnt, fleshy arms were ready to give Antoine the bad luck required to stop him.


    Antoine was none the wiser. He saw only the physical Die Cast.


    He was going right for it.


    Maybe he nned to juke, to dodge, to evade, I didn¡¯t know.


    What I knew was that I had to do something.


    Normally, I wasn¡¯t much use in a fight, but this time, I was a ghost. Ghost strength scales off Moxie.


    And I had plenty of that.


    I also had one point more Hustle than Antoine.


    I ran as fast as I could.


    I ran past Antoine, right through him, actually.


    ¡°Follow my voice,¡± I said onest time. Antoine listened.


    I kept going until I got right to the Die Cast, and I put every ounce of passion and enthusiasm into a full-body tackle.


    I went right through Gale Zaragoza¡¯s body and struck the Spirit controlling him squarely.


    His tendril arms withdrew as the spirit and I went into the water. Its hold on Gale¡¯s body stayed, but that didn¡¯t help anchor it.


    Antoine was right behind me, tackling the Die Cast physically.


    We both fell at once from the concrete ledge that separated the river from the park.


    Wended in the water, the shallow end.


    There was hardly a struggle. As soon as the sk took in water, the spirit started to writhe and shake, creating waves that even Antoine could see as the river broke it down into nothing by spectral debris.


    Gale Zaragoza¡¯s body, of course, never moved. It wasn¡¯t possessed any more.


    Antoine and Iughed, though he couldn¡¯t hear me. He stood in the water and let the sk go. The river took, who knew where?


    ¡°Ruined my tux,¡± he said.


    We were Off-Screen.


    We walked back to the Mansion and found Kimberly and Isaac.


    Two among the living and two among the dead. We walked together.


    Screams echoed from within the Mansion still, but they were not the screams of the living. I doubted Kimberly and Antoine could hear them properly. One wing of the mansion had copsed, granting a view inside.


    A stolen nce at the carnage within told me that not all who died in this story became pristine ghosts. Some became fiery wraiths, which were like skeletons that floated aze in the basement of the mansion.


    They were ssed as NPCs, remarkably. There was probably a reason for that, but I didn¡¯t want to think about it at the time.


    I saw the dripping woman that Strander ke often used as his face. She walked through the house, absorbed a fiery wraith into a mass of ck thread, and turned to give me a smile.


    Second Blood was over.


    The Finale had just begun.

 Arc II, Chapter 77: The Outsider Returns

    Arc II, Chapter 77: The Outsider Returns


    When we arrived back at the mansion, I expected to find Bobby¡¯s ghost. He was fatally injured; surely, he would join us on the other side soon. He had to have burns to much of his body and was missing chunks of skin.


    But he lingered.


    His Grit, I noticed, was through the roof. I couldn¡¯t figure out why until I realized what had happened.


    Cassie had done it.


    After he was injured, Cassie had identally activated her Empathic Shield ability when she showed such genuine concern for him. Then, when she used The Anguish to share his pain, it must have doubled up. It was a greatbo to use <em>before someone was fatally injured</em>. She used it afterward.


    She buffed his Grit by five points. Luckily, that meant he didn¡¯t feel much pain. Unluckily, it meant he was taking forever to die.


    I had been there. Pain-free injuries still took their toll. My brain struggled to understand what was going on in some deep, primal way.


    ¡°How do we help him?¡± Kimberly asked tearfully.


    Antoine shook his head. Bobby twitched and gurgled.¡°I don¡¯t think¡­ I don¡¯t think we can.¡±


    If memory served, Arthur had a trope just for that.


    We watched as his Dead indicator lit up for longer and longer periods of time.


    ¡°Cassie still needs help,¡± Isaac said, cutting through the silence.


    He was right. She was severely injured, too. She had breathed in a lot of smoke. Her Grit was still very low (that made her Anguish trope stronger), which meant she was going to have a fairly realistic reaction to the damage. No movie magic would protect her.


    I got Antoine and Kimberly to follow me to the entrance to the secret passage. We found Cassie there, awake but coughing and ill.


    ¡°Are we supposed to bring her to the hospital?¡± Antoine asked.


    It seemed obvious that she needed medical attention, but Carousel¡¯s hospital system had some major shorings.


    They opted to bring her anyway. Isaac and I didn¡¯t get to follow. The white, glowing fog stopped us like a brick wall.


    It was just us ghosts again.


    ¡°How are you doing, Isaac?¡± I asked.


    He was stone-faced for a while but then said, ¡°I never thought I would be caught dead wearing a shirt like this.¡±


    He flipped therge wing cor of his shirt and smirked.


    If he wanted to crack jokes and power through, I wasn¡¯t going to stop him.


    We found Bobby sitting with his knees in his chest next to his body. He had a peaceful yet distant look on his face.


    ¡°Bad break there,¡± I said.


    ¡°Bad break,¡± he repeated. After a bit of silence, he added, ¡°Why does Carousel bother to keep us alive once we¡¯re useless? It¡¯s telling a story. Did it keep me alive just to watch me squirm? I wasn¡¯t even On-Screen most of the time.¡±


    I exined my theory about Cassie buffing his Grit to him.


    He nodded. ¡°That makes sense. Don¡¯t tell her I said anything. No use making her feel bad.¡± He looked around. ¡°I guess the others survived?¡±


    ¡°Cassie is injured, but I don¡¯t know how bad.¡±


    ¡°And the Die Cast?¡± he asked. ¡°The script wasn¡¯t clear.¡±


    I nodded in the direction of the river. ¡°sk drowned. Gale Zaragoza¡¯s body is in the river, too. Antoine couldn¡¯t haul him out. The body was just too heavy, the stream too strong. He tried having an emotional moment with his old friend¡¯s body, but Carousel didn¡¯t go for it.¡±


    Bobby nodded.


    With nothing else to spend our time doing, Isaac and I sat next to Bobby right there at the entrance to the burned-out mansion. NPC firemen and EMTs ran this way and that. News crews showed up to report on the carnage. Ghosts of Geists and friends wandered aimlessly. They mourned their deaths in their own ways. Bobby¡¯s body was taken away.


    I watched for Carlyle, but I didn¡¯t see him. I didn¡¯t want to see him. When he died, I remembered thinking that at least I wouldn¡¯t have to face him about my character¡¯s betrayal. Now, I feared that confrontation.


    Would Carousel let me exin that I was just acting under duress? Would he understand?


    I had to let go of the thought.


    The three of us didn¡¯t talk to each other that much. There was peace in the silence. Even the ghosts that walked by us crying did so silently. Silent as the grave, the saying goes.


    We were in the Finale and appeared to be heading toward the true ending. Project Rewind was working.


    The secrets of this universe of pain were never closer to being revealed than they were right at that moment. Yet, I didn¡¯t want to focus on that. I didn¡¯t want to dwell on any of it. I had not had the opportunity to just sit silently and think about nothing in a very long time.


    The thoughts that ran through my mind every moment since we arrived at Carousel raced no longer.


    I didn¡¯t even notice when all signs of life left the area, when the smoke stopped rising from the heap.


    I didn¡¯t notice time passing. It may not have. Carousel had enough control over us to dupe our perception of everything.


    The peace was long and unbroken until Bobby said, ¡°Eight Years Later!¡±


    He was reading off the script.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Oh lord,¡± I said.


    ¡°Where are the ambnces?¡± Isaac said. ¡°They were just here.¡±


    I took a few moments to take in our surroundings again.


    ¡°We got taken off the board,¡± I said. ¡°Carousel set everything up for the Finale.¡±


    I knew it was going to happen, but I had not noticed it when it did.


    ¡°My dogs!¡± Bobby said. ¡°Oh no, I forgot about my dogs!¡±


    ¡°Bobby,¡± I said.


    ¡°I left them back at the farm,¡± he said. ¡°Oh god, eight years.¡±


    ¡°Bobby,¡± I said. ¡°It hasn¡¯t been eight years. I know it feels like it, but that¡¯s just Carousel. It¡¯s probably been thirty minutes for all we know.¡±


    Whatever stillness had moved over him from dying had left.


    ¡°Bobby, it¡¯s okay,¡± I said.


    He was up on his feet and pacing.


    ¡°I meant to go check on them,¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to leave them alone. What if it was a test and I failed? What if I died because I left them alone? Maybe Carousel punished me?¡±


    Bobby, the anxious ghost, turned to me and said, ¡°I have to go find the dogs. Just to check on them.¡±


    I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. Not very well.


    ¡°Bobby, they are NPCs. They are not normal dogs. They do not need you. When the story ends, they¡¯ll be right there waiting for you, tails-a-wagging.¡±


    Bobby was having none of it. ¡°You can just talk yourself out of caring about anything, can¡¯t you,¡± he said. He was muttering to himself. ¡°I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t do that. I can¡¯t talk myself out of looking everywhere for¡­ I¡­ I need to care about the people I love, like actively caring about them. I can¡¯t put that out of my mind just because it¡¯s convenient. You are all weird, all of you. ¡®Just let it go.¡¯ If we let everything go, what¡¯s the point?¡±


    Death had a way of making you rethink your life. Bobby had faced his life and came to much the same conclusions he had when he was living. There he was. This was the Bobby who almost got his whole team killed looking for his wife.


    I was just going to let him blow off steam.


    He turned to leave, but the bright, white fog didn¡¯t let him go. No path opened up for him.


    ¡°I¡¯m just going to take a look,¡± he said.


    Carousel didn¡¯t budge.


    Bobby paced and circled to no avail.


    I might have said more, but as soon as Bobby saw ¡°Eight Years Later¡± on the script, I saw it on the red wallpaper using Deathwatch.


    ¡°Bobby, quit,¡± I said. ¡°Something¡¯s happening.¡±


    He didn¡¯t exactly quit, but I stopped paying attention to him.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Isaac asked.


    I started tough as the scene unfolded in my mind. Carousel was being cute again; I was sure of it.


    I saw Dyer¡¯s Lake. I saw Camp Dyer again for the first time in a long time.


    I saw those creepy little girls who had harassed me so much back when we lived in Dyer¡¯s Lodge.


    A group of them were walking along thekeside poking things with sticks and teasing their overweight friend.


    Then, one of them spotted something. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    She pointed to a muddy object that was bobbing in the water.


    ¡°It¡¯s got silver on it,¡± one of them said.


    Indeed, it did. As they walked closer and examined the object, one brave one reached out and picked it up. The camera did not yet show what it was.


    ¡°It¡¯s filthy,¡± she said. She plunged it into the water and brushed away some of the mud.


    It was the sk.


    She popped it open and poured out the water from within. Little bits of burned debris flowed out.


    The scene ended. Nothing else was On-Screen, so Deathwatch went nk.


    ¡°The sk¡¯s been found,¡± I said. ¡°Campers found it on Dyer¡¯s Lake.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a surprise,¡± Isaac said.


    We knew something was going to happen. The Die Cast had a trope to alwayse back. Our victory over it in Second Blood was always going to be short-lived. After all, if Ramona¡¯s ims about the real Centennial were correct, the Die Cast still had onest party to crash.


    We just didn¡¯t know how it would happen. In fact, that part still wasn¡¯t clear. Roderick Gray no longer had the sk. If no one did the ritual, how would the Die Cast return?


    The three of us discussed the dilemma, which is to say, Isaac and I did. Bobby was still focused inward.


    Eventually, a path opened up in the fog. Bobby was the first to follow it. Isaac and I hurried after him.


    ¡°It¡¯s going in the wrong direction,¡± Bobby said after a while. ¡°It¡¯s going north.¡±


    Indeed it was. After a few blocks, it was clear we were going toward the river. In fact, we were going right back to where thest fight had happened.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry you didn¡¯t get to see your dogs,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Me too,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Sorry about all that... I just wasn¡¯t built to be alone.¡±


    Sure enough, we approached the river right where Gale¡¯s body had been left. The park, which had been lush and well-kept when we tackled the Die Cast into the water, was now unused and overgrown with thick, woody nts.


    I wondered how that could be, but a quick nce at the graffitied little que at the entrance of the area answered my question. ¡°Maintained by the Geist Foundation.¡±


    Ah. No more Geists, no more pretty riverside parks.


    That would exin why I wouldter see Gale Zaragoza¡¯s body still submerged in the deep part of the water where it had been. If the park had been more crowded, some little kid might have found that body. As it was, no one was around anymore. The neighborhood near the park had been boarded up.


    Yes, Carousel had done some redecorating, though I didn¡¯t know if it was done by NPCs or some other magic.


    As we got to the water¡¯s edge, I saw why we were being led here.


    A woman sat on the concrete barrier next to the water.


    It was Dina.


    I couldn¡¯t see her on the red wallpaper. Everything was grayed out. I was blocked.


    That must have been the work of Guarded Personality, her trope that prevented insight abilities from working, including basic red wallpaper information.


    Even so, Dina was not what concerned me the most.


    She sat on the ledge, her feet in the water.


    Next to her, there was a ghost. I recognized him.


    I had seen his body.


    It was Gale Zaragoza. The real Gale Zaragoza.


    As we approached, he whispered something soft and gentle in her ear: ¡°In the final battle, it¡¯ll be up to you.¡±


    Dina looked over at him.


    I swear I had never seen her look this way before. She looked vulnerable, tender.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can,¡± she said. ¡°I have trouble showing real emotion anymore. It¡¯s like I have a wall, and I put everything behind it so that I could do what it took toe here. I don¡¯t know if I can do what you¡¯re asking me to.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not as far gone as you think, Dina,¡± Gale said. ¡°Most of the yers that take your role don¡¯t have the emotional strength you do. They don¡¯t have the determination. I see the passion hidden in you. You have to reach in and channel it like a flowing river. I saw something in you on our wedding day behind the fa?ade. The audience will see what I see.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m most afraid of,¡± she said. ¡°I have seen the way Carousel likes to twist the knife.¡±


    ¡°You will get past this,¡± he said. ¡°You will call for me, tell me you love me, and I will do the rest. Don¡¯t let Carousel fool you; love can win here. I have seen it.¡±


    ¡°On the other yers who got this role,¡± Dina said. ¡°Your other wives.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you get started with that again,¡± Gale said with a smile.


    Dinaughed, and then she stoppedughing abruptly.


    She had a trope called An Outsider¡¯s Perspective that made her aware of odd things and changes very quickly.


    That meant she noticed Bobby, Isaac, and I on the red wallpaper out of the corner of her eye.


    ¡°My team¡¯s here,¡± she said. She pulled away from Gale and stood up.


    ¡°Riley?¡± she said loudly. ¡°I can see your poster. Are you here?¡±


    I didn¡¯t have any dialogue to shback with her because I had shared no scenes with her either On-Screen or off.


    I looked at Gale.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming she can hear you?¡± I said. She had the trope called Encouragement from Beyond, which would normally providefortable memories or vague reminders of her character¡¯s dead loved ones, but this storyline apparently allowed her to carry on a love affair with her character¡¯s dead husband.


    Gale nodded.


    ¡°They¡¯re here,¡± he said.


    ¡°Things must not have gone too well if we have three dead already,¡± she said.


    ¡°We¡¯re on track, I think,¡± I said. ¡°We managed to get this far. Why can¡¯t I see information about her on the red wallpaper?¡±


    Gale ryed my question, and then she answered. ¡°Sorry. All I knew about this storyline back in ¡¯84 was that there was a spirit that possessed people. Gale wasn¡¯t allowed to tell me too much at first. I took you off the whitelist in case you got possessed. Guess now that you¡¯re dead, that isn¡¯t so risky.¡±


    Instantly, I could see her poster again. I could also see the Casting Director entry for her.<blockquote>


    Dina Zaragoza (Cano): the grieving wife of Gale Zaragoza, who tried to run away from her sorrows until a mysterious message from beyond led her to fight for love onest time.</blockquote>


    ¡°So that¡¯s where you¡¯ve been,¡± I said.


    After the message was ryed to her, she nodded. ¡°Gale¡¯s been telling me how we can beat this thing and set him free.¡±


    Of course, he has.


    Gale was an NPC on the red wallpaper. Despite that, he was apparently very aware of what was going on. It made sense that he would have meta-awareness if his job was to walk a yer through their role. We sat down and ryed our experiences back and forth.


    It was time to see exactly how Dina¡¯s character fit into this story.

 Arc II, Chapter 78: Late Casting

    Arc II, Chapter 78: Late Casting


    "Having a conversation with ghosts makes me feel like a crazy person," Dina said as she sat back on the concrete ledge next to the river. She wasn¡¯t wearing her usual leather jacket and cut-up jeans. She wore a loose floral blouse tucked into high-waisted mom jeans, reminiscent of a housewife in the early nies. Her hair was styled long and straight, with a hint of makeup that made her look like a hippie who grew up.


    I was sure that look was Carousel¡¯s idea. Or maybe it wasn¡¯t. I had never really known Dina, not the Dina who had a kid and a life before tragedy struck.


    It was like the difference between Sarah Connor in Terminator I and Terminator II. I had missed out on the helpless waitress and only knew the paranoid resistance fighter.


    I felt like I was seeing a bit of her old self now. Normally, I tended to just ept whatever people showed me. I assumed that if I didn¡¯t try to figure them out, they wouldn¡¯t try to figure me out. It usually worked.


    Gale, the tall, handsome ghost who had seemingly spent time ying lovebirds with Dina for the shbacks to before his idental death, looked at her with an adoration that seemed too perfect. But beneath the surface, I sensed he might have just been a charmer.


    Isaac leaned over to me and whispered, ¡°Just because there are actually ghosts here doesn¡¯t mean she isn¡¯t crazy.¡± He giggled to himself. I didn¡¯t take it as a dig at Dina so much as a silly little retort. I would never discourage him from leaning on humor. He would need to practice whatever wit he had for future storylines.


    ¡°So I woke up in 1983 the day of my wedding to Gale,¡± Dina said. ¡°We took pictures, went on a bunch of dates, had a honeymoon at Snowblind, that sort of stuff. I yed my part. Then Gale died,¡± she said. I swore I heard her voice crack. ¡°Excuse me,¡± she said, clearing her throat. ¡°Anyway. Carlyle Geist sent a bunch of men to ransack our home. They threatened me to take a settlement and sign an NDA. They bought me a ce in Snowblind to move to. They got me a job at the resort. I guess he died under suspicious circumstances so they wanted me out of the picture. That¡¯s where my character has been for thest eight years. Except, of course, every time that the possessing spirit came around, I started seeing Gale¡¯s spirit. Eventually, he convinced me toe back here and help put him to rest.¡±


    ¡°How romantic,¡± I said. I got the sense that she was glossing over some things, like an exnation for how close she had seemed to the ghost when we showed up.


    Gale didn¡¯t pass my message along.Instead, he said, ¡°I can regain control of my body from the spirit, but it requires a dramatic scene between myself and Dina. We need you and your teammates to help us set it up. Do you understand?¡±


    I did understand.


    All in all, it was good news. Really good news.


    I was worried about how we were going to defeat the Die Cast a second time. Normally, an enemy got more dangerous when it returned from the grave to wreak havoc.


    But this opened up an opportunity. We weren¡¯t having a fight against the Die Cast likest time. We had a new way to defeat it. Dina and Gale¡¯s love subplot was going to beat it somehow.


    I sure hoped Dina was prepared to cry onmand.


    ¡°How did you guys end up dying already?¡± Dina asked. ¡°Gale said no one has to die in First Blood. Was Second Blood that hard?¡±


    Second Blood was actually hard. I was thankful that I got to be dead for it.


    ¡°Tell her I didn¡¯t want to die at first, but Carousel insisted,¡± I said.


    I could give her a real exnationter once I had a more ttering way of describing it.


    Gale ryed my message and then said, ¡°Yes, Carousel is a trickster.¡±


    We talked some more about the final battle. There weren¡¯t many specific details that Gale could give. It was possible there weren¡¯t specific details to be had. Love Beats Evil is not the type of finale that is heavy on specifics.


    As much as I wanted to stick around and pick Gale¡¯s brain about the Tutorial, a path opened up in the glowing fog. It was time to leave.


    When we went to go, Gale and Dina stayed behind. She was going to find his grave. Gale said she had a scene where she mourned him.


    I longed for the days of old when we just all went to fight the bad guy together.


    Bobby, Isaac, and I wished her good luck and then went on our way.


    Dina¡¯s role in the story would not be a surprise to the audience. They would have seen the love story y out so that there could be a payoff in the Finale. Interestingly, Antoine had not seen Dina yet. He was supposed to be Gale¡¯s best friend. Was he not at their wedding? Or Gale¡¯s funeral? Either Carousel was getting sloppy, or those scenes were all close-ups used in a montage.


    Antoine¡¯s arc began in medias res. He was informed about his past but had reenacted little of it. I had overlooked that. Dina had actually lived a lot of her character¡¯s story. There had to be a reason for that.


    The more I thought about it, the more certain I became that victory was not guaranteed in the Final Battle.


    If Dina failed, Carousel was setting things up so that her entire side plot could be cut from the final movie. That¡¯s why she was kept away from us, and that¡¯s why we shared no scenes. Dina was either going to step up and be a main character of this movie, or she would be cut from it entirely.


    Carousel always had its contingencies.


    As I walked along the foggy path, I wondered if I should develop a contingency, too.


    ~-~


    We walked for hours, maybe. All I saw were neighborhoods surrounded by glowing fog.


    Eventually, we reached our destination, a row of cheap houses in a bad part of town.


    Ramona was standing outside. She wasn¡¯t moving. She stood still with her eyes closed. She wasn¡¯t dressed the same way she had when we had met. She was dressed like some kind of wannabe rocker from the early nies, which, technically, she was.


    She didn¡¯t move when we arrived.


    It wasn¡¯t until she heard a voice behind her that she budged at all.


    ¡°Ramona?¡± a young girl called to her from behind. ¡°What are you doing, Ramona, just standing there?¡±


    Her eyes opened. She took a deep breath and looked around.


    When she looked at the girl, she was shocked beyond belief. Then she started to cry.


    ¡°Phoebe,¡± she said softly. Ramona jumped toward the young girl and wrapped her in a hug.


    Phoebe Mercer.


    Ramona hadn¡¯t seen her in an incalcble amount of time.


    Phoebe Mercer. Plot Armor 3. An NPC. An ordinary one at that, save for whatever meta-knowledge she was permitted to keep. My best guess from Ramona¡¯s stories was that she knew a lot, but I couldn¡¯t begin to understand how that would work with a young teenager. How long did she know about her situation?


    I expected Ramona to ask her sister about the storyline or the Centennial.


    She didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m just so happy to see you. Let¡¯s go inside.¡±


    Phoebe yed along.


    Isaac and I went to follow. When we did, I saw Bobby running away. He gave no exnation, but a path did open up for him, so Carousel must have been okay with whatever he was doing.


    Inside the Mercer apartment, things were cramped. Isaac and I barely had a ce to stand. There were magazines, music equipment, textbooks, and an old television. The furniture looked like it had been through several sets of owners.


    It was small, but it had the touches of home. Ramona looked absolutely thrilled to see it.


    They talked about mundane things for a while. Ramona asked Phoebe about school and boys. Phoebe answered with an embarrassed giggle.


    Ramona asked her what she wanted to eat.


    It was macaroni and cheese.


    If youe across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Ramona delighted in preparing a box of neon orange noodles on their tiny stovetop. Phoebe helped.


    ¡°Do we just leave her here?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°I mean, what else do we need to do? Why are we even being shown this? It has nothing to do with the storyline.¡±


    ¡°This is all make-believe,¡± I said. ¡°Ramona is ying like nothing ever happened. Phoebe is going along with it. Something must be about to happen or else Carousel wouldn¡¯t have brought us here.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Isaac asked.


    I nodded over to the calendar on the fridge. ¡°It¡¯s the day before the Centennial. The real day before, or as close as we¡¯ll ever get to it. Ramona ends up at the Centennial one way or another. That means sister bonding has to end. Eventually, Phoebe has to confirm for her that she is an NPC.¡±


    Isaac and I watched them. They continued chatting and cooking and eating. Everything was normal, or at least they made it appear that way.


    "I still think it''s weird that we are being forced to watch it. There is an actual plot brewing out there that this is distracting us from."


    I shrugged.


    There was a tension that was unspoken. Ramona wasn¡¯t a fool. She knew she wasn¡¯t back in her old life.


    ¡°We need to talk,¡± Phoebe said eventually. ¡°I have homework to do. A lot of it. Can I bring it to your show at the Centennial tomorrow?¡±


    Ramona sidestepped. ¡°I think if you have homework, you probably should stay home and work on it. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s no big deal. You¡¯ve heard all my songs before. Really, I¡¯m not even sure I¡¯m going to go.¡±


    Phoebe looked her in the eye and said, ¡°Ramona. You have to go. It¡¯s a big opportunity. You can¡¯t miss it. You¡¯ve been working your whole life for this.¡±


    Ramona froze, wide-eyed.


    ¡°Phoebe,¡± she said. ¡°Please no.¡±


    Phoebe hugged her.


    ¡°Talk to me,¡± Ramona said. Then the dam burst. ¡°Just say something. Don¡¯t tell me you are really a part of this. Please.¡±


    Phoebe didn¡¯t know what to say. I could almost see the words caught in her throat.


    I thought maybe she was restricted. NPCs, even ones with meta-knowledge, were restricted. Surely, she had been unable to reveal the truth to her sister for all the years they had lived before the Centennial.


    If the script had limited her before, it didn¡¯t now.


    Phoebe began to speak. She was crying and emotional, so she rushed the words out like she had been holding them in for a long time.


    ¡°I was thirty-eight. A man attacked me in an elevator. I identally conjured our family¡¯s spirit. It killed the man. The blow was so powerful that the elevator¡¯s brakes gave in and I tumbled eighteen floors. I died. Years earlier, Mom died because the ghost identally caused a multi-car pile-up after some college kid with road rage flipped her off.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying?¡± Ramona asked.


    ¡°I remember life beforeing to Carousel. Not a lot of it. Just enough. Mercers sometimes do. Maybe it¡¯s better if we know. The killer spirit we carry around probably has something to do with it. I remember when Mom died and earlier than that when Dad left. He kept waking up with unexined bruises. Who could me him for leaving? It was just me then. Me and mom. You weren¡¯t there, not exactly. I remember you being my sister when we got here. You practically raised me after Mom died the second time around. Somehow, the two memories, they get all mixed together and I can¡¯t tell which is real, but¡­¡±


    At that point, Phoebe was crying harder.


    Ramona was crying. She looked dreadfully confused, but at the same time, she didn¡¯t interrupt.


    ¡°Ramona, you were supposed to die three days after being born. That¡¯s how it happened the first time. Mom¡¯s grave was right beside yours. I remember seeing it every time I visited her to pay respects. I brought you a lcs. The poltergeist identally killed you when you were young back before Carousel. That¡¯s why you don¡¯t fit in. Somehow, you didn¡¯t die. When they folded our world into this one, you lived. When they bring in a new world, they don¡¯t just bring in the living. They bring in everyone from that storyline, Ramona. They bring in everyone who will be born. Descendants, everything they will need. Every single person is ounted for. Mr. Dyrkon told me. No new souls. Carousel won¡¯t create life. It refuses. It¡¯s only willing to borrow them and when it brought the Mercers over, everyone thought that things would be the same.¡±


    ¡°The same?¡± Ramona asked.


    ¡°You die. I¡¯m born. Dad leaves. Mom dies. I die in an elevator twenty years from now. Just like the first time. That was how it was supposed to be. Every person brought here follows the pattern they would have before unless they are killed off early or get major rewrites. Except you. You lived when you weren¡¯t supposed to. Mr. Dyrkon said it was an anomaly. He came up with a n for you. My job is to make sure you y your part. I have to make sure you end up at the Centennial. I didn¡¯t know why, not until it was toote. Now we have to go back.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go,¡± Ramona said. ¡°I came here to save you. If we don¡¯t go to the Centennial, then I¡¯ve done what I was supposed to do.¡±


    Phoebe continued to argue with her. Ramona was having none of it.


    ¡°That¡¯s rough for her,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Did you call that? I don¡¯t remember.¡±


    I shrugged my shoulders. ¡°It was going to be something like that. I mean, Carousel would love a special character to y with. Horror movies love messing withdy protagonists. I¡¯m betting that if she really was unintended, that was a mouth-watering proposition.¡±


    ¡°Like catnip for a horror movie,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Although the real fridge horror is the part about how everyone in Carousel is from a storyline. We pretty much assumed that some were born here, but from the sound of it, Carousel brings over a lot more than just monsters and props from its worlds.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°Spooky. So that¡¯s like a big deal?¡±


    ¡°Obviously,¡± I said. ¡°You realize what the implication of that is, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I am having trouble putting it into words.¡±


    Suddenly, Phoebe¡¯s gentle voice cut through our conversation. ¡°Your world is folded into Carousel too,¡± she said. ¡°Riley fears the implications.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Can she hear us?¡±


    ¡°Who are you talking to?¡± Ramona asked. They had been arguing fiercely.


    ¡°I can see your ghost teammates talking to each other. Their lines appear on the script,¡± Phoebe said.


    She must have had the premium script package. Most versions of the script are vaguer. Bobby¡¯s was apparently one step above subtitles.


    ¡°Riley is in the room?¡± Ramona asked. ¡°You were listening to that whole conversation?¡±


    ¡°We can leave,¡± I said.


    I meant it, but, of course, who could predict Carousel?


    As I went to leave, something appeared from thin air.


    Ss, the Mechanical Showman, arrived, blocking the door.


    ¡°Wee to Carousel, the town where moviese to life. The show¡¯s about to start, and you¡¯re in the front row!¡± he said in a slightly warped mechanical voice.


    ¡°What the heck,¡± I said.


    ¡°Come on up and get your tickets. The Centennial Celebration awaits.¡±


    Ramona bing a yer was a curveball but a wee one. I didn¡¯t predict what Archetype she would be in the slightest.


    She pressed the red button and grabbed the handful of tickets as they came out. Suddenly, she grew weak in the knees, and her sister rushed to grab her before she fell.


    Ss disappeared, and I started reading her tropes on the red wallpaper.


    The Hysteric


    Minor Archetype


    You are the Hysteric¡ªa maelstrom of raw emotion and heightened sensitivity. In the face of terror, your reactions are not mere panic or willfulness but a powerful force that can sway the very fabric of the narrative. Your heightened senses alert you to unseen dangers, and your frantic energy can be harnessed in moments of dire need. You are not afraid to go against the consensus.


    Where others see fear as a hindrance, you transform it into a weapon, steering the course of events with your visceral responses. Your stubbornness and strength of will are shields as strong as steel. But beware, for the line between harnessing your hysteria and sumbing to it is perilously thin¡­


    Will your raw emotional power be the key to survival, or will it lead you and your allies to the brink of madness?


    Base Stats


    <strong>Mettle</strong>-For Feats of Strength and Offensive ability


    0


    <strong>Moxie</strong>-To make your performance convincing


    3


    <strong>Hustle</strong>-To be Quick, Deft, and to always hit your mark


    3


    <strong>Savvy</strong>-For Intelligence, nning, and Deduction


    3


    <strong>Grit</strong>-For Durability, Toughness, and Endurance


    1


    <strong>Plot Armor</strong>- Mastering all five aspects of plot armor will make you a master of horror.


    10 (total of all stats)


    Just Us Monsters


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Hysteric


    Aspect: Defiant


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Violence boils just under the surface of some characters. Others are better trained at keeping their darker tendencies and the trauma that caused them hidden from view. But if no one that matters is looking, where¡¯s the harm in letting it out?


    When the user is alone with an enemy, they may drop their civil fa?ade and reveal a normally hidden violent or malevolent nature. Buffs Mettle and Grit.


    Could you imagine if the other mothers in the PTA saw you now?


    Afraid for Others


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Hysteric


    Aspect: Craven


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Fear can be a chain around one¡¯s ankle or a sword in one''s hand. It just depends on what you are afraid of and who you are afraid <em>for</em>.


    With this trope equipped, a previously fearful or anxious character may channel their fear for an ally into the will to act. Allows the user to use their Moxie as Mettle in the pursuit of protecting a loved one until the character¡¯s loved one is safe or dead. Requires a strong bond between the characters.


    Sure, you¡¯re still afraid, but the enemy should be too.


    Pride Before The Fall


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Hysteric


    Aspect: Defiant


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Sometimes, to be brave is not but a simpleck of humility.


    When the user triggers an Omen intentionally out of cocksureness or stubbornness, and this attitude carries forth into their character portrayal, they will guarantee themselves to be the target for Second Blood.


    ¡°How was I supposed to know what would happen?¡±


    ¡°We told you!¡±


    Before you get us killed


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Hysteric


    Aspect: Defiant


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Many horror films would not have such disastrous endings if the characters in charge had made better decisions. A maverick''s decision to diverge from the group or defy orders may be what keeps them alive.


    When the user splits the party under the pretense of believing the current course of action is a doomed n, the group without the main viewpoint character will go Off-Screen except to show their deaths or milestones until the two groups¡¯ plotlines re-converge.


    When one group ¡°fails,¡± the other group will be guaranteed some limited sess and longevity. yers can survive being in the failed group, though there will be consequences.


    One of us just made a really dumb decision.


    Well, that answered some questions.


    Before I could discuss the tropes or the Archetype itself, the room went white with fog.


    I couldn¡¯t tell if I was falling or flying, but before I knew it, Isaac and I were alone outside in the grass, surrounded by an imprable wall of bright white fog.


    Though we could not predict why at the time, we would be trapped in that bubble of fog for what felt like days with nothing to do but talk.


    Even as we walked in circles, waiting for a path to open up, I did not start to understand what was happening, or what had been happening.


    I didn''t understand, that is, until Isaac and I really got the chance to talk.

 Arc II, Chapter 79: The Cynic

    Arc II, Chapter 79: The Cynic


    Hours passed in that circle of fog. Days.


    "What the hell is going on!" Isaac screamed into the void. "Hello! Riley, Riley, I think they lost the storyline and we''re just stuck forever. Riley... I can''t...."


    "Calm down," I said. "That''s ridiculous. The plot cycle still says it''s the Finale. Why would that not have changed? Think about it."


    "That''s what you said yesterday!" Isaac said. "Was it even yesterday?"


    All I could see was light and a patch of grass under my feet. It was just Isaac and me, and there was nothing to do. Unlike previous ghostly waiting parties, time did not pass quickly. Isaac''s theory that we were stuck here for eternity was slowly bing more usible.


    I had to ignore that possibility. If I was going to be stuck here, I might as well make it productive.


    ¡°I can see it,¡± I said. ¡°I really can. A Hysteric is driven by emotion. They aren¡¯t just scared; that¡¯s just part of what they are.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Isaac said. "Will you stop ying the game for ten seconds? What the hell is wrong with you? Hysteric, not Hysteric, how does that matter now? It¡¯s all part of the same scam. The details don¡¯t matter. I don¡¯t care if they give her an Archetype. I don''t care if she''s a demon or an NPC. It''s all bull. I still don¡¯t trust her. I still think this is all an exercise in misery. I still think the Paragons are bastards and Carousel is the eleventh circle of hell. You sit there just trusting everything in front of you. I can''t believe I followed you. We''re never getting out of here!¡±


    Dying and bing a ghost had a calming effect on me. Isaac, however, had moved past that stage.¡°Trust has nothing to do with it,¡± I said. "If this is all a lie, and we''re just in hell, that fucking sucks, but the moment you stop believing you can do something about it, the moment you give up, you lose any chance of a happy ending. I''ve seen enough--"


    "If you say you saw all of this in a horror movie, I swear to god I will find a way to hurt you," Isaac said.


    "It''s not about movies. It''s not stories. It''s life. Life sucks, but if you don''t believe there''s some way you can scrape out some semnce of happiness, you... you might as well--"


    "Be dead?" Isaac said. "We are dead."


    He started tough andugh andugh. "Were you going to say we might as well be dead? Oh my god. This is hell and you are my personal devil. I knew when you would always tell us that ying the game was the way out, that we were just going to get stuck further in. We are trapped in quicksand and you kept telling us to wiggle a little more, like that would help us. I knew you were wrong! I knew you were just going to get me and Cassie hurt! Why didn''t I stop us. Why didn''t I just tell you that this was all a trap and we weren''t doing anything to go along with it.... Because I am a coward. I''m a coward..."


    He looked at me with tears in his eyes. I wasn''t ready for this.


    Isaac didn¡¯t say anything more for a while.


    Where was this hostilitying from? He had beenyabout for most of the Tutorial, making quips about how pointless everything was, for sure, but every time he expressed his doubts, it was in the form of ame joke. Now he suddenly wanted to make noise and gnash teeth?


    ¡°Whatever the case,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s still worth thinking about. You don¡¯t mind me thinking about stuff, do you?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer at first. I expected some haughty answer, but he thought about it.


    ¡°It makes me nervous,¡± he said gently.


    ¡°How does it make you nervous?¡± I asked.


    Isaac shrugged his shoulders. ¡°I just feel like you are putting in more effort than this whole charade deserves. Makes me feel bad. Every instinct I have says that we should just refuse to go along with this whole thing. In the end, the joke is on us, why should we go along with it?¡±


    This wasn¡¯t the first time Isaac had brought this up, though usually when he said it, he was, again, just joking. He believed, as we all sort of did, that this whole exercise¡ªeverything rted to Carousel¡ªwas some kind of trick. When I engaged in solving the Tutorial or pondering the reality of Carousel, he would go out of his way to be disinterested.


    ¡°Officially, when we find out this is all just some endless, pointless torture, I will tell whoever is involved that you were never fooled. You saw right through it all. Is that what you were hoping for?¡± I asked.


    He started tough. ¡°That works. If you believe it¡¯s all a lie, you can never be fooled. I wasn''t fooled. I never trusted anyone. I just can''t figure out why I went along with it. How could I set myself up for this?¡±


    If I had been alive, I might have been annoyed, but death, as I had learned over and over again, brought rity (at least in this storyline). As a ghost, I was able to empathize with Isaac¡ªmostly because I wished I was in his position. If Camden had been here to overthink things instead of me, I wondered if I would be able toy back and crack jokes and act like I was too smart to be optimistic.


    But Camden wasn¡¯t here. I was the guy who had to think about everything from every angle and try to make sense of it all. I didn''t have the privilege of being a skeptic.


    We sat in the grass, still surrounded by fog.


    The Plot Cycle had not moved in days. Weeks? I had no idea. Even as ghosts, we were going insane. I worried that our confinement would have us at each other¡¯s throats for all eternity.


    I could feel the tension rising.


    ¡°It¡¯s almost over,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s all I can say.¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± he said with a chuckle. ¡°The other shoe is about to drop, though. At least we might get an exnation.¡±


    Probably.


    I decided to indulge him.


    ¡°How about the big reveal? What do you think it will be? Do you really think we''ve been in hell this whole time? You?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even want to guess,¡± he said. ¡°Now that I¡¯m thinking clearly, all I know is that the pursuit of understanding is a torture worse than hell. Whatever¡¯sing, I¡¯m ready.¡±


    "You think there''s no way out?" I asked. "The Tutorial means nothing. The Throughline is a sham? Saving Lillian Geist to get the true ending? It does seem a little inane, doesn''t it?"


    "Yeah," Isaac said. "I mean, if all we had to do was save Lillian Geist at the Centennial so that the timeline was corrected, why hide it like this? Why make us jump through hoops blindfolded? Where was our guy?"


    "Our guy?" I asked.


    "You know, in movies," he said. "Where was our guy who was supposed to say, ''This is what''s happening, this is how to solve it. It''ll be really hard. Good luck?'' Our guy. That''s what the Paragons should have done. It''s almost like the whole point was to make us act without knowing what we were doing."


    "Could have used a guy like that," I said. "I did always think that when the Paragons showed up, one of them would reveal what this whole thing was about. They never did."


    Even though he was a ghost, I could still hear the crackle in his voice. He was afraid. We all go to different ces when afraid. I tried to find answers. I threw myself into the Tutorial, into the Throughline, in hopes of getting through it and rescuing Anna and Camden.


    Isaac ran from answers because he couldn¡¯t imagine a world where the answers were something he wanted to hear.


    Still, it was weird that he waited this long to try to hash it out. Maybe ghost Isaac was bolder. Maybe he just sensed the ending.


    Or maybe... it was something else.


    ¡°Whatever the case,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll be happy just to know what the answer is.¡±


    Isaac chuckled. ¡°Then maybe that¡¯s what you will never learn. There will always be one more storyline. One more mystery. Another and another. I think you want to find a way to make the numbers add up so bad that you might never have just considered that you have the wrong numbers.¡±


    We had avoided this conversation for so long. What if everything <em>was </em>a lie? Wasn¡¯t that Jete¡¯s thesis that had gotten her killed? In life, we were too afraid to face the worst possibilities. As spirits, we could finally talk about them freely.


    So we did.


    ¡°The wrong numbers¡ªyou mean lies. We¡¯re being lied to. That¡¯s what you have to say?¡± I said. ¡°The Throughline, Project Rewind, the Tutorial, all lies?¡±


    ¡°What does it matter what I have to say?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°We die no matter what. That¡¯s what I figure. The only question is, who¡¯s going to be thereughing when we finally realize how pathetic we were for thinking we stood a chance? How many times have we used the phrase ¡®rats in a maze¡¯?¡±


    Was he picking a fight?


    Well, if there was ever a time to have this conversation, it was then. The Final Battle of the storyline and Tutorial itself wasing up sometime in the next millennia, and Carousel seemed to have stuck us together, leaving us without anything else to do.


    I took a deep breath. I was not some doe-eyed believer. I knew this whole ce was some gruesome theater. Was he saying that I didn¡¯t know how foolish it was to believe everything would be okay?


    ¡°Don¡¯t confuse my pragmatism with optimism,¡± I said. ¡°Somebody has to be the one to put our foot forward. The only thing I know to do is hope that I can figure this out. If the truth at the end is that the numbers don¡¯t add up, we don¡¯t lose anything for trying.¡±


    This tale has been uwfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°What if we do? This ce is a nightmare. Now that I¡¯m dead, I finally have time to really think about this ce. You know, Cassie and Kimberly and Antoine¡ªthey talk about this ce like it¡¯s hell because of the gore and the misery. To me, it¡¯s hell because my one defense in life¡ªmy cynicism¡ªis useless here. Distrusting everyone doesn¡¯t keep you safe when trusting was never an option. We know we¡¯re being tricked. We just don¡¯t know the punchline.¡±


    ¡°Do you trust me?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Isaac said. ¡°How can I trust you? How can I trust anyone? Used to be, the only people I knew were on my side were Cassie and Andrew, but Andrew¡¯s dead and I saw Cassie die too. How do I know the Cassie that came back is actually my sister? Don¡¯t get me wrong, I ignore that question just fine. I decided to go along with you guys because when a person gets scared, they¡¯ve got to cling to theforting truths. Now I¡¯m dead and I don¡¯t needfort right now. So I¡¯m back to my old philosophy. It¡¯s all a lie. I just don¡¯t know which lie.¡±


    Cassie and Isaac had it worse in so many ways than the rest of us. They never had one moment of normalcy. Camp Dyer had been our shelter in the storm. The Hughes siblings didn¡¯t have that. They had nothing to anchor themselves to. They had no image of Carousel in their mind that they could hold onto and tell themselves they understood.


    Iid back on the ground.


    ¡°I¡¯m not na?ve,¡± I said. ¡°I feel like I am being led around. I get sick to my stomach just thinking about all the hours I wasted trying to figure out what secrets about the tutorial or the Throughline might be the ones that we need to know the most, only to find out most of that work was meaningless. The deeper truths feel so arbitrary that I start to wonder if I am just too stupid to figure it out. I kept looking for some fundamental thing totch onto, something that would inspire people to sacrifice themselves for Project Rewind, but all we learn about are the Geists or Ramona and I just have more questions. Where¡¯s the aha moment?¡±


    He sat down next to me, and we stared into the bright fog that surrounded us. The Plot Cycle was still frozen. It didn¡¯t budge a hair.


    ¡°I never said you were na?ve,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I just get mad when you take this obvious bullshit so seriously. I get angry that we don¡¯t have an option to just not care. We can¡¯t just opt out, you know? To wait until we know why we¡¯re doing stuff. I don¡¯t care what you say, the Paragons have been starving us for information. Maybe they''re just puppets anyway. Even when they were pretending to be yers, I¡¯m pretty sure everything they said was scripted. Cassie told me not to say that because it might cause a fight, but you guys are just way too trusting.¡±


    I hated when he said that. I had never been a trusting person.


    ¡°It¡¯s all a lie,¡± I said, lying back on the grass.


    ¡°Damn right,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It¡¯s all a lie.¡±


    ¡°I know the Paragons are sketchy, but they¡¯re the friendliest faces I¡¯ve seen aroundtely,¡± I said.


    ¡°The Paragons are full of it,¡± Isaac said. ¡°When our heads are on the execution block, and one of those friendly faces is holding an ax, I am saying I told you so.¡±


    Iughed. They weren¡¯t the ones with the axe but he didn''t know that.


    More time passed. Hours, days, weeks, I honestly couldn''t tell. Ghosts don''t have internal clocks. I only felt like our stay in Club Fogsted somewhere between a few weeks and forever. I started trying to force the Centennial to start by sheer force of will, but I was not sessful. I had no power here. Deathwatch showed me nothing.


    Why were we stuck there in the fog? All I could think about was the Final Battle. Carousel had decided to stick us in time-out at the worst moment.


    Iid my head back and tried to sleep there on the grass. As a ghost, I didn¡¯t feel like I was sleeping, but time passed, I thought. When I looked at the Plot Cycle, it was still stuck in the same ce.


    I started to think about what Isaac was saying. Everything was a lie. He really thought he got the exclusive rights to that sentiment. To be fair, he was a Comedian and Comedians had a Cynic aspect. Maybe he was a true Cynic. That would exin why he wasn''t that funny. Of course the truth was being hidden from us. That wasn¡¯t a unique thought.


    The Geists were clearly important to Carousel. They were basically normal humans being used as pin cushions. They were unique. They were special. So special that NPCs brought them up in conversation years after their deaths.


    So important that you could find books about them on park benches. Just lying around.


    And they were the subject of the Throughline? Did that make sense?


    ¡°If everything is a lie, then what¡¯s the lie?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Hell if I know,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Sit up. Listen to me. Assume everything is a lie and then guess what the lie is.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m there already,¡± he said.


    ¡°What¡¯s the lie? What¡¯s the purpose? What has been aplished with this whole thing? I can grant that this is odd. The Ramona thing is out of nowhere. The Geists are interesting, I guess, but I¡¯m not getting much to grasp onto as far as plots go. They¡¯re dead and we kind of understand that Bart made a deal, but nothing is gripping me about them yet. And I <em>have </em>tried.¡±


    Isaac got up and took a deep breath. ¡°I can say anything and you won¡¯t be offended?¡±


    ¡°No. Maybe. I don¡¯t know. Say it anyway,¡± I said.


    ¡°The way we found the ¡®true versions¡¯ of the stories was weird. They don¡¯t make sense,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not saying it wasn¡¯t cool. The way you figured out what Jimbo Geist¡¯s murder weapon was, Cassie thought you were a genius; she was gushing. Then ten minutes into the next movie, we are told what the murder weapon was. Howme is that? We didn¡¯t need that info; we would have found it out anyway.¡±


    I had figured out that his murder weapon was the fire poker by looking through the old newspapers.


    ¡°It¡¯s a tutorial,¡± I said. ¡°I figure they want to reward detective wo¡ª"


    He held up his hand to cut me off.


    ¡°But, whatever. I can ept that. Then when we were looking to do the same thing to get the third movie, I was thinking oh god, oh god, Riley¡¯s gonna do some National Treasure nonsense to bust this thing wide open and we¡¯re going to figure out what the buzz is on these Geists and the founding of Carousel, and then youe up with some half-guess that Lillian Geist was at or near the original Centennial because you can put two dates together and bingo. You solved it again. Apletely useless piece of trivia that we would learnter anyway. The first one I can grant kind of. The second one legitimately made me think you were in on the whole thing like you were an NPC.¡±


    How could I defend that? It was an odd trigger for the Omen of the third storyline. Sure, knowing that Lillian Geist was involved in the Centennial disaster in some way was nice, but Ramona would go on to tell us that anyway.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say the Lillian Geist thing was genius. I just figured it was the clue that Constance was trying to get at and¡­ it worked. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m going to look a gift horse in the mouth in our situation.¡±


    He pointed at me. ¡°Exactly. I¡¯m not trying to downy your aplishments here, bro, I¡¯m saying that if everything is a lie, that¡¯s the lie. We were always going to figure out our way into the true version of the stories just in the nick of time. Guaranteed. It was all designed to make us think we had earned it. You try to fill in every nk you see. They tell you that you were such a bright boy, and of course, we believe them because we want to¡­ Don¡¯t be mad.¡±


    It did hit my pride a bit. I wished I had said it first so it would have been ¡°my idea.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not mad,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not. I¡­ That fits as well as any theory I had. The game was designed to make us think we were progressing. I can buy that. I gotta say though. If the fix was in on this Tutorial, then why were the storylines so hard? We almost got ttened over and over.¡±


    He nodded in agreement.


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying the storylines were easy,¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t really do much, so they were kind of easy for me.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re new,¡± I said. ¡°You get a pass.¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    I shrugged my shoulders.


    ¡°Maybe they want¡­ I don¡¯t know. Speaking of ¡®they,¡¯ who¡¯s ¡®they¡¯? Who is behind it all? Is Carousel pulling all the strings?¡±


    He threw his hands in the air. ¡°It¡¯s at least the Paragons. I never trusted them. I liked having a face to go along with my suspicion though. That was nice. ming Carousel itself feels like screaming into the wind.¡±


    For a moment I stopped andughed. I took a deep breath and thought for a moment.


    ¡°If everything¡¯s a lie. Here¡¯s the lie,¡± I said. ¡°The ultra-secret Throughline, the hidden current running underneath it all. The story that if you even learn a fraction of it, adds itself to your quest log automatically. It¡¯s about the Geists. The Geist family. Really? The most powerful and famous family in Carousel. How could the Throughline be about the most talked about people in the whole mythos? I learned about the Geists before Project Rewind. It was only a little, but still. That¡¯s the subject of the big secret? How was anybody not ¡®on the Throughline¡¯ if it was about the Geists?¡±


    Isaac nodded. ¡°That¡¯s a good question. I didn¡¯t think about that. And a Mercer. And a Halle. All families from your war stories. Yet you weren¡¯t on the Throughline yet but you interacted with plenty of big names.¡±


    We sat in silence for a moment, our minds really beginning to race.


    ¡°If everything¡¯s a lie, here¡¯s the lie,¡± he said. ¡°The Paragons pretend to be yers. The Stranger was supposedly a yer, but he was using tropes that were not on the red wallpaper. That trope that made it so you couldn¡¯t remember what he looked like? That was equipped the whole time.¡±


    That was true. The Stranger was a yer in The Ten Second Game storyline. Even when rewatching the movie on the red wallpaper, I couldn¡¯t recall what he looked like from scene to scene.


    ¡°So maybe it¡¯s a little vor,¡± I said. ¡°They say those are the only tropes they have, but it¡¯s a white lie they use to y their part.¡±


    ¡°Still a lie. If they can fake what¡¯s on the red wallpaper, why would we ever believe anything we saw on it?¡±


    I didn¡¯t like that. Filling in the nks usually didn¡¯t involve making new nks, but we were having a thought experiment. Assume it was all a lie and go from there.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got another,¡± I said.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hear it,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°If it¡¯s all a lie, here¡¯s the lie. The Ten Second Game storyline was not actually made just for us,¡± I said.


    ¡°Who said it was made for us?¡±


    ¡°The Paragons either directly said it or implied it, I can¡¯t remember. Maybe I said it, and they confirmed it. It was supposedly punishment, you know, for cheating or something. To bnce the game.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why it went off the rails. It wasn¡¯t a real game?¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe. I meant because the ritual, the ten-second game ritual for talking to ghosts, that definitely wasn¡¯t just for us. Ramona used the same thing with the bell in the shback. That shback supposedly took ce in a previous game from the current one before any of us got the Carousel. I kind of dismissed that because maybe Carousel built the storyline around the ritual. I don¡¯t know. Anyway, that¡¯s the lie.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It was also used by other yers. I mean, The ghost man, whose name escapes me, said other yers visited him. That meant previous yers also had the ten-second game ritual.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t remember how true that was.


    ¡°Well, they might have used the Reply, The Departed board game tomunicate with him instead. That one would work, kind of. It¡¯s just more luck-based.¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± he said. ¡°Everything is a lie.¡±


    ¡°Of course. That¡¯s the lie,¡± I said. ¡°But why lie about the Reply, The Departed storyline being rebooted? What does that aplish?¡±


    I looked up at the sky and thought for a moment. What was achieved by the introduction of The Ten Second Game storyline that wouldn¡¯t have been achieved by the original Reply, The Departed storyline? We did end up ying both, after all.


    ¡°If we never got the Ten Second bell for the updated ritual, we probably wouldn¡¯t have gotten to speak to Jedediah Geist directly. We would have missed out on the shbacks,¡± I said.


    ¡°Which one is Jedediah?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°Jimbo,¡± I said.


    ¡°Right. The ghost. So, what did we learn that was so important? Wait,¡± Isaac said. ¡°He told us about Ramona, right? Well, he told you about Ramona while I hid in the other room, but I saw the shbacks.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°No, we were first told about Ramona by Madam Celia, the Psychic.¡±


    ¡°Would that be the Psychic <em>Paragon</em>?¡± he asked with a grin.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got me there,¡± I said. ¡°Those Paragons are behind it all.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± he said. ¡°It never sat right that they used tropes to manipte us. They could have just asked us nicely. Why use tropes? They knew we would y along.¡±


    At the time, I marveled at how the Tutorial forced us along with those tropes. It made sense for new yers. That¡¯s what I told myself.


    ¡°The Team Leader Paragon¡ªthe one who worked for the government¡ªshe used a trope to make us do what she wanted, yeah. Unnecessary. The Stranger. He met us at the Diner. He used a trope there, too, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°It was a weird one, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Made my head feel funny.¡±


    It was a trope that Antoine and I immediately deduced forced us not to believe whatever the Stranger said. If he said water was wet, we wouldn¡¯t believe it. We told ourselves it didn¡¯t affect us because we already knew what was true.


    What had he told us all that time ago?


    As I remembered that meeting, a dam burst in my mind.


    I started thinking that his trope didn¡¯t work on ghosts because as I remembered what he told us, I started to think that much of what he said <em>was </em>the truth, and we were forced not to believe it.


    How much of what he told us was actually true? If that trope worked the way I thought it did, he could tell us the t-out truth, and we would refuse to believe it.


    We thought he was just doing his normal performance that every new yer had to watch. Much of what he had said was nonsense, but if heyered in a few key phrases... He had told us so many things that... if we refused to believe them, we would never be able to see even an obvious trap.


    That was the lie.

 Arc II, Chapter 80: The Lillian Scorned Contingency

    Arc II, Chapter 80: The Lillian Scorned Contingency


    What had the Stranger said to us? What truths had we been forced to be skeptical of?


    I remembered he said this was a trap. He said it was a trick.


    He said those things to our faces.


    He said a lot of things. Which ones were truths masquerading as inane rantings I couldn''t say.


    We thought we weren¡¯t affected. We believed we knew what he was talking about, that Carousel was a trap, and that we had been tricked.


    Suddenly, the veil lifted from my eyes, and I realized that The Stranger was telling us that we were currently being trapped¡ªthat some other trap was in the works.


    But what?


    Isaac started tough. ¡°Does that mean that Project Rewind was bullshit?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that!¡± I screamed. I got up and paced around. ¡°No, why would it be a trap? It already had us. What was the point of Carousel tricking us again?¡±Isaac continued tough. Heid back on the grass.


    ¡°For the fun of it,¡± he said. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? To give you hope and watch it melt away.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t believe that¡ªI wouldn¡¯t believe that.


    No.


    The Geists didn¡¯t fit the Throughline described in the As, and the "tutorial" was askew in some way I could not determine.


    <em>That</em> was the trap. I refused to believe that this thing--Project Rewind--so many of us had put our hopes in had been a ruse from the beginning. That didn¡¯t make sense. Carousel was harsh and evil, but rarely mean.


    I sat and thought for some exnation that would make the world upright again. None came.


    Not at first.


    ¡°Hello, boys,¡± a man said. I hadn¡¯t noticed him arrive.


    It was Moonlight Morrow.


    Even as a ghost, my blood froze in my veins.


    He stood among us in the patch of grass surrounded by fog. He was still alive.


    ¡°See,¡± Isaac said, pointing to Moonlight. ¡°He can talk to ghosts, but he has no trope for that on the red wallpaper. He¡¯s been deceiving us this whole time.¡±


    Moonlight watched my eyes as if looking for a reaction. He had been wearing a hat, but he took it off to talk to us.


    When I gave no response, he spoke. ¡°I do have tropes formunicating with ghosts. I am the Departed Paragon, after all. I hate to disappoint you, Isaac. I don¡¯t need a trope to speak to the dead. Trust me when I say I earned my Archetype the old-fashioned way.¡±


    Part of me wanted to theorize on that, but I had bigger fish to fry.


    ¡°Death,¡± I said. ¡°It frees us from tropes that controlled us, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    Moonlight looked at me with a small smile. Was he happy with what I had said? Was he messing with me?


    ¡°Not all death frees you from what bound you in life, but this one did, yes,¡± Moonlight said. "You never really know yourself until you''ve seen the other side, I''ve found."


    Death. Were we set up to die precisely so that our existence as spirits could give us the rity to see through the deception?


    ¡°So that¡¯s the game, huh?¡± I asked, seething. ¡°We discover the truth toote. Just soon enough to know that something wasing, some grand humiliation.¡±


    Moonlight shook his head.


    ¡°You¡¯re the yer. In Carousel, the yer chooses the game,¡± Moonlight said. ¡°This scheme, using Paragons to manipte yers¡­ It was artless. Carousel would know better.¡±


    I froze.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°Carousel would know better¡­ Does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said before I could finish my sentence. ¡°This was not done by Carousel, but Carousel is no man''s fool.¡±


    Moonlight started to walk. The fog cleared a path for him.


    ¡°Project Rewind, what a wonderful ploy,¡± he said. ¡°Powerful. So much narrative force your homeworlders created with that n. So well executed. By the time the Narrators figured it out, it had so much momentum they couldn¡¯t stop it. Truly, a thing to behold. I thought the glory days of the yers of the Game at Carousel were behind us. It turns out, they may just be beginning.¡±


    Wait.


    ¡°Project Rewind,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s real? Please¡­¡±


    I felt my throat clench as I waited for his answer.


    ¡°A group of yers defying the heavens and¡­ other forces to give themselves a second shot at the impossible? Under the noses of every Narrator who might seek to stop them? It is something worth believing in. I give you my word. That was not the trap, but there was a trap.¡±


    I felt a surge of emotion well up in me. I cried just at the words. I needed to hear that. I couldn¡¯t help it. I needed to believe he was telling the truth. Why lie at thiste hour?


    Even if everything is a lie, that couldn¡¯t be the lie. I wouldn''t believe it. Camden and Anna had died giving us the As so we could learn of Project Rewind. It couldn''t be a lie.


    But what was the lie?


    Isaac was awfully quiet. He kept a smirk on his lips. He <em>needed</em> to doubt what Moonlight was saying. He felt morefortable in a world where he had a fix on things.


    ¡°What <em>is</em> going on?¡± I asked.


    Moonlight looked at me with pity, but he did not answer my question.


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to ask you to apany me to my death scene. You see, Roderick Gray sees that some camp counselor is putting a certain sk into the time capsule. He makes a move to steal it, thinking he will summon that curse again, but I catch him in the act and what do you know, the sk activates itself, as has been foreshadowed. In the ensuing chaos, he kills me and stuffs me in the one ce he thinks no one will look for a hundred years."


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "The time capsule," I said. "Your body was in the time capsule."


    The storylines of the supposed "Tutorial" had happened in reverse chronological order. Everything we saw was time loop shenanigans. The real truth was in the past, that much was clear. Now I wondered why all of the theatrics. Why was any of this done?


    "You already figured that out, did you? He will be pleased you took his little throughline so seriously."


    I had thought about this a lot.


    A whole lot.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know specifics. I knew you were in there, your body. The scene we were forced to watch of Mayor Gray opening the capsule with his whole confused and terrified act. That was because he knew that in the true course of events, he was the one who buried it, right? Time was broken. The loop kept rubbing it in his face, haunting him. Three years from now in 1995, when the flood happens for the second storyline¡ªthe real version, the time capsule is unearthed and warped by the water. Your soul escapes and possesses him again. That¡¯s the actual end, right?¡±


    Moonlight smiled.


    ¡°I suppose that means you don¡¯t need toe see what happens to me. There are more pressing ces for you to be.¡±


    He waved his hand and a path opened in the fog.


    I stared in the direction the path led.


    ¡°Why would you be helping us?¡± I asked.


    Moonlight thought for a moment.


    ¡°You see, they went too far. Tied your strings too tight in hopes of achieving their ends. Carousel didn''t like that. That¡¯s why I could lend a hand. Help you help yourself. I am the Mayor of Carousel. I serve the people, not the Narrators. Death does not pick favorites.¡± He began to walk away. He was not bound by the fog like we were. As he left, he said. ¡°The train is not yet at the station, Mr. Lawrence. You still have time, if just barely. Good luck.¡±


    Isaac and I ran. The Plot Cycle was moving again and we were certain that the Final Battle was underway.


    ¡°What are we doing?¡± Isaac asked. "You''re trusting him just like that? Have you learned nothing?"


    I shook my head, notpletely sure.


    ¡°No. I just look at the options we have and realize we only have one y to make,¡± I said. ¡°We obviously have to beat the storyline or else, you know¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re forever young?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°Basically. Our only option is to win the storyline but <em>not </em>get the true ending. We have to let the Die Cast kill Lillian Geist. I don¡¯t know why, but that does seem like the only thing we have control over. And if I''m wrong, we just run the Tutorial again. It was made to be repeated, right?¡±


    That was my safety. If we blew up the Tutorial at thest minute, we could just do it all over again, this time knowing what would happen.


    "Moonlight is a Paragon. How is he different than any of the others?" Isaac screamed.


    He wasn''t, but we were put in a position to either trust him or trust the Paragons, who we knew for sure manipted us.


    Something I couldn''t say to him or any of the others was that I liked this sudden U-turn because it actually felt like a choice. There were two options and it was up to us to decide.


    The whole Tutorial had us moving in one straight line. Sure, the storylines could be hard, but I never felt like we were being proactive or making our own choices. I felt like we were being led along and jerked around.


    I finally had a choice to make: walk down the path we were given or burn it to the ground.


    In my heart, I chose the second one. I chose before Moonlight even showed up. The moment I felt the Stranger''s trope lift, I knew I was going to do whatever it took to bring this whole scheme to a shrieking halt even if it ended up being the wrong decision.


    "We''ve been fooled, Isaac. That''s all I know for sure. We don''t have to trust anyone. If everything is a lie, let''s pick a different lie."


    Isaacughed. We continued running past buildings, rushing to the downtown as fast as possible. We had finally made it to the Centennial. Didn¡¯t even have time to stop and smell the funnel cakes.


    As soon as we arrived, we passed screaming NPCs. Time was not on our side. We were manipted to arrivete, as that was the only way the Die Cast would already be there. I had missed part of the movie on Deathwatch.


    What I saw On-Screen was Antoine and a very injured Cassie struggling to find Roderick Gray. Moonlight must have already been dead.


    ¡°So, we need Lillian Geist to¡­ die?¡± Isaac asked as he ran right through a family of four, causing them to inhale sharply. "The whole thing we were here to prevent--Lillian Geist dying at the Centennial instead ofter--that''s what we are here to prevent now?''


    ¡°Yep,¡± I said.


    ¡°And our living allies are all trying to prevent it and we have no way to tell them to stop?"


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said. ¡°Good. I bet you¡¯re really hoping the Lillian Scorned Contingency fails, huh?¡±


    Oh damn.


    I had forgotten about the Lillian Scorned Contingency. <blockquote>


    <em>Many scenes before, back in Rebirth</em>.</blockquote>


    ¡°What are you trying to exin to them?¡± Isaac asked as hey on the red-hand chair back in my character¡¯s house.


    This was after we were ghosts but before the Manor ze.


    I stood in the middle of the living room ying the most frustrating game of charades imaginable. I was invisible and trying tomunicate a fairlyplicated idea to the living.


    They were eating popcorn and throwing it at me. Ramona watched the buffoonery from afar.


    ¡°Lillian was supposed to survive,¡± I said using shback Revtion. It was a short little statement I found. I couldn¡¯t even remember when I had said it in the current storyline.


    They looked at me like I was making no sense.


    ¡°Right, Lillian wasn¡¯t supposed to die,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°She was supposed to die three yearster in the second storyline. What are you trying to tell us?¡±


    The problem was that I was trying to exin to them what Lillian¡¯s tropes were, but I had never actually told them. It was a bad habit, but in that case, it was totally justified because I only saw the tropes minutes before she died, and at that point¡­ who cared?


    I had noticed something odd about Lilian Geist''s build. She was high-level and had some very powerful tropes, but she didn''t need any of them. The yers didn''t have to fight her and all she did was kill Dr. Halle. Why did she need such lethal tropes just for that?


    Later, when I realized that she must have been present at the Centennial, I realized why she was built like a monster.


    I was so frustrated. Luckily, the group was in the right zip code. I just had to let them talk until they figured out what I was talking about.


    ¡°Maybe the secret is to lure her away?¡± Antoine said.


    I moved back and forth, amunication that meant ¡°maybe.¡± They knew that wasn¡¯t what I was after.


    ¡°She starts innocent, then she bes baptized in blood. She¡¯s a survivor,¡± I said, recalling a conversation I had with Kimberly about her character in the fake movie we made.


    Kimberly conveyed what I said.


    ¡°She fights back?¡± Antoine said.


    I moved to signal ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°We have to get her to fight back?¡± Antoine asked.


    Yes again.


    We continued until I had gotten them toe to the following conclusion:


    ¡°Lillian is a monster too. The Die Cast is to me. Oh, oh,¡± Cassie said. ¡°Lillian Geist''s revenge. We have to get her to take revenge on the Die Cast.¡±


    One more emphatic Yes and the Lillian Scorned Contingency was born.


    Lillian was a Pattern Killer. All we had to do was show her a part of the pattern. Her <em>A Woman Scorned</em> trope was the next part of the puzzle. If she realized the Die Cast caused her injuries, she should get a buff to fight him herself. Dr. Halle turned her into a monster.


    We didn¡¯t know what Dina was working on in the background.


    This was our backup in case the initial ns failed.


    We would get Lillian to fight back. The tropes lined up so well that I assumed it was designed to be used this way. Lillian would act in her own defense, using the monstrous abilities her mutation had given her. She would save herself.


    That was the n. It would be a battle of mutant vs undead juggernaut, and our fate would hang in the bnce.


    Now that we wanted her to die, it was a huge obstacle. Odds were, Lillian would have a fair chance at surviving the altercation as long as she fought back. It was a pretty good improvisation. If she held off the Die Cast and the others managed to defeat him using Dina¡¯s whole love is stronger than death nonsense, we would have gotten the true ending.


    And our fate, in some gruesome way, would be sealed.


    ¡°Maybe when we get there you¡¯ll have time to stop them from activating Lillian?¡± Isaac said.


    But of course, it didn¡¯t work out that way.


    When we got to the celebration, Dina was pleading with the Die Cast while the ghost of Gale Zaragoza fought to wrestle control of his old body. They were doing well.


    I couldn¡¯t see Kimberly, Antoine, or Cassie with my eyes, but I saw Lillian Geist sitting on the ground crying. I was able to use my Deathwatch screen on the red wallpaper. In the distance, I saw a woman in a witch costume running away with her teenage sister.


    It looked like Ramona had decided to leave Lillian to her fate this time around. I couldn¡¯t me her. She had lived with that regret for too long. Her sister would live this time.


    I pushed away questions about what Ramona was and how she was involved because as I ran to find Lillian, I saw Kimberly arrive at her side On-Screen.


    It didn¡¯t take long for me to find them in real life too.


    Kimberly knelt down, talking to Lillian andforting her.


    We were toote.

 Arc II, Chapter 81: The Tape

    Arc II, Chapter 81: The Tape


    As I raced to undo what might have been the biggest mistake of my life (or death), all I could think about was a simple question.


    What do you do when you are missing information?


    Over the past months, both in and outside of storylines, I had been asking myself that question constantly.


    The tutorial, if that was even the real name for the obstacle course that we had been run through, had felt like walking through mud blindfolded with only faint whispers that we were making progress. Itched on to whatever details I could that made me feel like I was actually aplishing something.


    What was the plot of the tutorial?


    Looking back at it, it was a fractured timeline resulting in a time loop. How many times had I seen that in a movie or television show? It was a ssic setup that allowed storytellers to do absurd things without ever having to stick to any sort of grounded rule set.


    Time was broken and so were the rules. Have fun.


    It was a simple enough plot, though, as Isaac had said; it was weird the Paragons didn¡¯t just tell us that was what was going on. They were ¡°unscripted¡± right?


    As we explored the Centennial, the true sequence of events wasid out for us. That was a key element of a fractured timeline story. The character always has to know what a fixed timeline looks like.The Geist family all died in 1984 in a Manor fire caused by the Die Cast, a spirit of vengeance. They all died horrific deaths that night, except of course, for Lillian Geist and her uncle Jedediah. Jedediah, seeing Lillian¡¯s injuries from the fire, had enlisted the help of a mad scientist by the name of Halle. That scientist transformed her into a monster. Eight yearster, in 1992, Lillian Geist escaped the mad scientist, returned to her uncle, and murdered him with a fire poker as a thank-you for her transformation.


    We summoned his spirit once for a chat.


    She returned to the mad scientist and his sedatives. She lived that way until 1995 when she once again broke free from the mad scientist and killed him before following him into the afterlife in the jaws of a giant killer frog.


    I knew that to be the truth. I had seen it with my own eyes in the second storyline. I even had a hand it helping it happen.


    But there were conflicting reports on the death of Lillian Geist. This was another staple of broken timeline stories¡ªa paradox.


    When we met Ramona, the first thing she told us about was how this woman, a woman that we knew to be Lillian Geist, had been killed in 1992 at the original Centennial. We knew that was an impossibility.


    But, I was ovee with relief because I finally knew there was a paradox: Lillian Geist had two canon deaths. That simply was not possible.


    I knew, that this paradox was the reason for the time loop. It had to be.


    We knew <em>how</em> the time loop was aplished behind the scenes. Ramona Mercer had been initiating a storyline that took ce the day before the Centennial. She had done this every day on repeat for an unfathomable amount of time, granting her a very long life, to say the least, and plunging Carousel into a time loop where the days moved forward but the events stayed the same.


    Carousel never got to see its Centennial again, and as time passed, the ridiculousness of this scenario began to cause problems.


    Somehow, her not being a yer allowed her to fill this role without getting killed. It was like she was ced there for us to find.


    Was she another paradox?


    I had no idea. I wouldn¡¯t for a long time.


    Ramona was one of a dozen things I could not reconcile about this Tutorial.


    The arbitrariness of what happened between storylines, the unhelpful answers from the Paragons, and their constant positive reinforcement, all ate at me. Every time I expressed my doubts, they patted us on the back and told us what a good job we were doing.


    At what? The storylines were a pain and a half, but most of our efforts were like jogging in a train¡ªit didn¡¯t matter how fast we ran, we were really the ones driving.


    But of course, I ignored my doubts because what other options did we have?


    A time capsule buried during the original Centennial was dug up every single day, and no one knew how it got there. This was ssic broken timeline shenanigans. It was an artifact from the true version of events.


    Fixing the paradox of Lillian Geist''s two deaths was something I could really sink my teeth into, so I embraced it with all my heart.


    The paradox was the problem, and I knew the solution. Make sure the timeline went ording to n. Lillian Geist was supposed to die by a frog bite in 1995, not be beheaded by a rusted piece of metal in 1992.


    Saving her from the Die Cast was the solution. I fixated on it, and I focused on it, and I devoted every single piece of myself toward it.


    It wasn''t until I died and suddenly the Paragons¡¯ veil of influence lifted away from my mind like chewing gum being scraped from the inside of my skull that I started to question if ¡°forward¡± really was the only direction we could go.


    Moonlight Morrow gave us some vaguements to chew on, but ultimately, the realization that our free will had been manipted was a chilling dagger to my spinal cord. Choice was amon theme of Carousel. The illusion of choice was all around, but magical maniption felt different.


    It scared the daylights out of me.


    So I returned to the questions I had been asking: What do you do when you are missing information?


    The tutorial was odd, but if there was some horrible consequence to fixing the paradox and obtaining the ¡°true ending¡± I didn¡¯t know what it was.


    Faced with a choice of continuing down the path we had been tricked into or just destroying it all, the choice was easy. There was a chance that the heavy-handedness by the Paragons was perfectly normal, and we were blowing up our best chance at beating the throughline and leaving Carousel.


    It was possible, but the one thing we knew about the tutorial was that you could repeat it and try again.


    Heck, I didn¡¯t even know how obtaining the true ending could be a bad thing, except for the fact that we were manipted into doing it.


    I knew in my soul that if we were going to beat Carousel, we weren''t going to do it blindfolded, so the decision was simple.


    We would ensure that we did not achieve the true ending. We would not fix the paradox. We would not march blindly toward whatever end we were approaching.


    How we were going to aplish that, after having worked so hard to keep Lillian Geist alive, I had no idea.


    It didn¡¯t matter. We had to try and I was thrilled because whatever resulted from ruining the true ending, it would be a choice we made.


    And that <em>had</em> to matter.


    ~-~


    Kimberly and the monstrous Lillian were back Off-Screen for a moment.


    Before I could even yell with shback Revtion, Kimberly pointed to the Die Cast and said something.


    Why did she have to have such a high Moxie?


    On-Screen.


    Lillian looked confused at first. She saw the buildings and booths around the Centennial burning, and the fire reflected in her crazed eyes.


    Suddenly, she understood.


    ¡°You!¡± she screamed. ¡°It¡¯s you.¡±


    My Deathwatch screen on the red wallpaper shed back. There was some fancy editing between shots of Lillian lying on the floor of the burning Mansion staring up and the Die Cast in that same mansion. It gave the impression that she had seen him on the day the manor burned, even though she didn¡¯t really.


    The Lillian Scorned Contingency was working.


    Stolen from its rightful ce, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Lillian Geist was no longer the gasping young woman who had been burned in the Manor ze. It had been eight years for her. Eight years of mutation and experimentation. What remained of her was a true force to be reckoned with. She was almost as high of Plot Armor as the Die Cast. With her tropes, she was even stronger, at least physically.


    Of course, there was a catch. She was only strong against enemies who had harmed her in the past. Her fragile psyche prevented her from being a real threat to the average passerby.


    But the Die Cast was not a passerby. The Die Cast had burned her.


    ¡°You killed my family,¡± she screamed. ¡°You did this to me!¡±


    The wriggling worms that had been grafted onto her face writhed and rattled to punctuate her scream. She was no longer human, and she meant to prove it.


    She attacked.


    Her <em>A Woman Scorned</em> trope must have activated because her Plot Armor jumped up seven points.


    ¡°You¡¯re the reason they did this to me!¡± she screamed as she tackled the Die Cast to the ground. ¡°I¡¯m a monster because of you!¡±


    The Die Cast tried to throw her when she grabbed her arm, but she grabbed his arm back and, with screaming effort, snapped it backward.


    The roided-up monster Lillian might have been a real contender.


    Everything was doomed. We were toote.


    The Die Cast eventually managed to throw Lillian back into Dina.


    Dina had been trying to help her ghostly husband regain control of his old body. They had been making real strides.


    Dinanded on the ground. She seemed fine, but one of the long, smoky tendrils of the spirit controlling the Die Cast reached up to arge hit-the-ball game. Suddenly I heard a bolt snap.


    The entire tower with the bell at the top fell to the ground.


    With a loud, dinging sound, Dina¡¯s head was ttened.


    She was dead.


    That wasn¡¯t good. We wanted Lillian dead and the Die Cast defeated. It looked like we would have the opposite.


    Gale screamed out at the sight of Dina¡¯s death, losing whatever control he had over his old body. Without Dina¡¯s sweet nothings, he was ejected off his body and the spirit reigned once again.


    Lillian was all that stood against him.


    She and the Die Cast squared off.


    I hoped the Die Cast could kill her with somebination of brute force and bad luck, but I had forgotten that Lillian had the trope called Animals are Psychic, which gave her preternatural instincts.


    She could dodge any bad luck that came her way.


    A propane tank zoomed through the air like a missile. She dodged it. She ran on all fours and jumped twenty feet in the air.


    An electric go-cart from the go-cart track zoomed by with no driver and sparks flying out of its motor. It had no chance of hitting her.


    Luckily, the Die Cast was not without his own physical prowess. He managed to catch her in the side of the head with his lead pipe when she was dodging a live wire that danced around on the ground.


    The pipe hit her with a loud, satisfying thwack.


    The Die Cast was on her. His hands were around her throat. She had broken his arm, but he was undead and the tendrils of the spirit of vengeance made him practically invincible.


    She wasn¡¯t down, but things were looking hopeful.


    And then, I heard the snarling.


    Arge dog, a great beast, jumped from nowhere and mped down on The Die Cast¡¯s arm.


    The dog was dragging on him with force and power. The Die Cast had to let go of Lillian.


    He couldn¡¯t shake the dog. That wasn¡¯t surprising.


    The dog, after all, was undead.


    Bobby jogged into view momentster.


    On-Screen.


    He stood next to me and said, ¡°A few years ago, a home invader shot one of my dogs. Thought I would pay him a visit.¡±


    And then it hit me.


    Bobby¡¯s license.


    It gave him the right to use the Coles¡¯ dogs from the Permanent Vacancy storyline. It never said it only applied to the living ones. One of them had been ghost-zombified when Bradley Spiers killed it.


    If there was any storyline where a ghost dog could get some y, it was this one.


    The dog held the Die Cast¡¯s attention absolutely.


    Bobby and I went Off-Screen.


    He smiled at me, obviously proud of his impressive improvisation.


    What a terrible moment for Bobby to save the day. For a moment, I almost scolded him for bringing in a ghost dog he hadn¡¯t setup in the story previously, but I realized quickly that our final score was irrelevant.


    Dina reappeared, this time as a ghost, hand in hand with Gale, her movie husband¡¯s spirit.


    Together, they worked to free Gale¡¯s body from the spirit that bound it. In a bit of luck, Dina was almost more useful as a ghost.


    She and her love interest made tear-filled goo-goo eyes and held each other as they attempted to fight off the tendrils of the Die Cast.


    Lillian wed at the body. The dog was nearly ripping his arm off.


    We were winning. That was good.


    Lillian was going to survive. That was bad.


    On the red wallpaper, I saw, to my horror, Antoine and Cassie (who was having trouble breathing from some old smoke damage she had gotten somewhere).


    Roderick Gray was turning tail and running.


    They had the sk.


    The fresh cement being used to erect the Bartholomew Geist statue next to the now-buried time capsule was still liquid¡ªliquid enough to pour into a sk.


    My teammates were about to seal the deal. We were actually doing really well.


    Isaac was cackling.


    I had to act.


    What could I do? I had no lines for shback Revtion to describe what needed to happen.


    I had one option.


    ¡°Bobby!¡± I screamed.


    He looked at me startled by the fact that I wasn¡¯t smiling at our winning efforts.


    ¡°Lillian has to die,¡± I said. ¡°This was all a trick.¡±


    He looked at me like I had three heads.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± he asked. ¡°She¡¯s supposed to live. To die in the second storyline. That was what this was all about.¡±


    How was I supposed to give him the same revtion Isaac and I had?


    I tried my best.


    ¡°Remember the Stranger?¡± I said.


    He nodded, still unsure of what I was wanting.


    ¡°He told us this was a trap, but we didn¡¯t believe him, not the right way. We thought we knew what he was talking about. He was using that weird trope, you know the one?¡±


    Bobby thought back. I saw confusion spread on his face. He must have been realizing something too. He was a ghost, after all. He fell to his knees.


    ¡°Why are you¡­ What does it mean?¡± he asked. ¡°What is happening with my head?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re realizing you were under the effect of a trope,¡± I said. ¡°The true ending to the story is a trap somehow. I don¡¯t know how, but you have to believe me.¡±


    He sat back, dazed, possibly thinking through all of the things that mind-altering trope had caused. How many things had we overlooked because we were forced to doubt this could all be a trap?


    The whole Tutorial took on a new light.


    ¡°Bobby,¡± I said. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this.¡±


    As I spoke, I heard a loud sound apanied by a blinding light.


    The spirit of vengeance, the creator of the Die Cast, had been split from Gale Zaragoza¡¯s body.


    Dina and zombie-Gale-possessed-by-Gale were having a weird romantic moment.


    We had won. I saw Antoine filling the sk with wet cement to rid us of it for good.


    And in doing so, we were going to fail.


    ¡°Bobby!¡± I screamed. ¡°Have your dog kill Lillian before the movie ends. Do it now!¡±


    Bobby shook his head. ¡°I need time to think! I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°Bobby, you have to trust me!¡±


    Isaac stepped in. ¡°Bobby, if we are wrong, there are no consequences. We know that the Tutorial can be reyed until you get the true ending, but if we are right, we have no idea what might happen to us.¡±


    It was always the strongest argument in the ¡°fail on purpose¡± n.


    Bobby seemed to think so too.


    He stood and called to his dog without speaking.


    The ghostly hound stood at attention and looked at his master.


    Without hesitation, it jumped at Lillian Geist¡¯s throat.


    As it tore her flesh, I really hoped we weren¡¯t wrong about this one.


    Lillian was so strong because of her <strong>A Woman Scorned</strong> trope. That applied to the Die Cast, but not to Bobby¡¯s dog. Her stats dropped when fighting against it.


    She screamed in anguish.


    Dina and Gale turned and yelled at Bobby.


    But it didn¡¯t matter.


    Just as the needle on the Plot Cycle clicked over to The End, Lillian fell dead.


    ~-~


    There was a sh of light.


    ¡°What did you do, Bobby?¡± Dina screamed. She was alive again. We had beaten the storyline.


    I looked at my hands. Fleshing and alive.


    We were out of the storyline. I was back in my hoodie. Oh, how I had missed its soft embrace.


    ¡°Don¡¯t yell at him,¡± I said. ¡°I asked him to.¡±


    From the distance, Antione arrived, confused to see the dead Lillian Geist.


    ¡°We failed?¡± he said. ¡°I thought we were doing well?¡±


    He cursed.


    I couldn¡¯t exin it to them all at once. There was one thing I thought that might shine light on things.


    ¡°Dina,¡± I said. ¡°Do you still have that tape you stole from the carriage that picked us up?¡±


    She reached into her purse that she used her luggage tag on.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said.


    ¡°Have you listened to it?¡± I asked.


    She shook her head. ¡°I was tempted a few times, but I could never find a tape yer.¡±


    I grabbed the tape from her hands. It was unassuming. Made from white stic.


    Everyone was there with me. They gathered close.


    ¡°We were told by Carousel to listen to this tape,¡± I said. ¡°It was on your stealing trope, remember? It said ¡®have fun listening¡¯ or something, right?¡±


    Dina nodded.


    ¡°Then, we were told by Constance, the librarian¡ª¡±


    ¡°The Paragon,¡± Isaac interrupted.


    ¡°¡ªthat we should not listen to it because Carousel would be angry. We would steal Carousel¡¯s thunder, yada yada. We obeyed because we thought she was smart. Because we trusted her. I think she used some kind of trope to control us. I remember thinking that. Better listen to the smartdy.¡±


    The silence as they considered what I had said was deafening.


    ¡°Here,¡± I said, ¡°Retrieving my off-brand Walkman. I took out the headphones so that the audio would y out loud. ¡°I think we should listen to it.¡±


    I put the tape in, rewound it all of the way to the beginning, and pressed y.


    The tape came to life with a familiar voice. We all listened intently.


    ~-~


    "Greetings. I am Ss Dyrkon, your Narrator through three separate tales of horror that may not be so separate after all.


    In the stories I have before you this evening, the people of the town of Carousel are anxiously awaiting its Centennial Celebration. However, time has twisted into a nightmarish loop where all known things be unknown, forcing its residents into a bizarre reality where every day is the day before its anniversary.


    As dawn''s first light creeps over the horizon, the cursed history of Carousel unravels. A death that was never meant to be has shattered the threads of fate in this humble little town. Now, horrifyingb experiments are lurking beneath the streets, and ghostly apparitions are whispering secrets of the past to the yers of a vintage board game. The curse, more than just disembodied magics, is harnessing fate itself and seeks blind revenge, trapping the townspeople in an unending cycle of terror.


    At the heart of this mystery lies the enigmatic Geist family, whose darkest day holds the key to breaking the loop. Will Carousel break free from this endless eve or remain forever on the cusp of a celebration that will nevere?


    Step into the twilight of Carousel, where destiny stands still, horrors lurk beneath the streets, and the eve is eternal.


    Wee to ''The Eternal Eve.''"


    Ss¡¯ voice cut out and a polite, well-spoken woman started to speak.


    The Eternal Eve Throughline begins with three bespoke Centennial storylines centered on the Geist Family. With these three storiespleted to satisfaction, you will be signed on in the employ of one of Carousel¡¯s most beloved Narrators, Ss Dyrkon. Mr. Dyrkon will send his yers on an unguided quest to locate the fabled Missing Geist Storylines.


    To join ¡°The Eternal Eve,¡± please keep listening after the chime as you make your way to the Carousel Downtown. As always, be sure to keep your eyes peeled as you go because the town you see might not be the one you know.


    Now, onto the Featured Throughline!


    A chime rang out.


    Then, it started ying the recording we had heard before.


    "Ah, good evening, my esteemed guests," boomed Carlyle''s voice. It had been so long since I had heard it.


    I stopped the tape.


    Antoine cursed.


    Isaac pped. ¡°I don¡¯t know what it means, but I am excited.¡±


    In the distance, a robotic voice told us we had won a ticket, but we were not so concerned.

 Arc II, Chapter 82: The Narrator Part One

    Arc II, Chapter 82: The Narrator Part One


    We stood there as the words from the tape echoed in each of our minds.


    ¡°Featured¡± Throughline? That had to mean that there was more than one. The tone of the tape, the way it was phrased, it almost seemed like there were lots of Throughlines that yers could go on. It was hard to separate reality from the strange, game-like fa?ade that obscured everything in Carousel.


    Had we nearly signed on to Ss Dyrkon¡¯s own personal Throughline in his ¡°employ,¡± whatever that meant? It certainly seemed so.


    Where did the colorfulnguage end and the hard facts begin?


    As I pondered this, Ss the Mechanical Showman repeated his spiel in the background as the sounds of the Centennial Celebration grew quieter.


    A voice called out from behind us.


    ¡°So,¡± it said, ¡°You figured it out at thest minute. I¡¯m not surprised. I did get a little greedy there, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    We all turned to see Ss Dyrkon, the man in the flesh. He was tall and well-dressed, though his cor had been loosened, and his suit jacket hung over his shoulder. His hair and eyes were dark. He could have been a movie star in his youth. Now, he looked hollow, tired.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he continued. ¡°I am not surprised that the script was altered to give you a fighting chance at discovering my ruse; I just want to know who actually acted on it. Who did the deed? Was it Celia Dane, that old viper? It was, wasn¡¯t it? Don¡¯t tell me it was The Strang¡ª¡±¡°It was me, Ss,¡± Moonlight Morrow said, appearing out of nowhere as far as I could tell, along with all of the other Paragons we had met during the Tutorial (if that really was a Tutorial).


    Ss turned to look at him. Moonlight stood firm.


    ¡°After all that talk about how yers just need to learn their ce in the story, you helped them?¡± Ss asked.


    Moonlight stayed silent for a moment and then said, ¡°You know it¡¯s funny. Narrators are the only people in Carousel who believe they aren¡¯t a part of the story.¡±


    Ss looked at him curiously, but his curiosity turned to dread as Ss the Mechanical Showman appeared next to him.


    He stared at the red button on the machine¡¯s front and then back at Moonlight.


    ¡°No,¡± he said weakly.


    ¡°See for yourself,¡± Moonlight said.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what they were talking about.


    Ss contemted his actions for a moment, then reached out his hand and pressed the big red button.


    As he did, arge ticket dropped from the machine¡¯s receptacle.


    He slowly reached down and picked it up.


    He didn¡¯t take a single breath as he read the ticket. Whatever blood was left in his tired face drained.


    ¡°I see,¡± he said after he had finished reading it. ¡°It is nice to finally have an answer.¡±


    I would never know what that ticket said, but whatever it was, it put the fear of Carousel into Ss Dyrkon.


    He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small silver tool that I recognized as a hole puncher. He lifted it up to the ticket, but before he clicked it, he looked back at my friends and me and said, ¡°I suppose I will need to exin some things first.¡±


    He lowered the hole punch back into his pocket and then swirled the ticket in his hands. He was thinking to himself.


    While most of us were silent, Isaac leaned over and gestured toward Ss Dyrkon and his mechanical twin. He said with a grin, ¡°I think I¡¯m seeing double.¡±


    Before Isaac couldugh at his own joke, Ss said, ¡°Really? Because I don¡¯t think they captured my roguish features.¡±


    His words were a jokey retort, but his tone was even as if his heart wasn¡¯t in it.


    After a deep breath, he asked, ¡°What does the term ¡®through line¡¯ mean?¡±


    No one answered. It wasn¡¯t that we didn¡¯t know the answer; we were all a little frazzled.


    ¡°You do have the term ¡®through line¡¯ back in your world, don¡¯t you? When I say through line, do you register it as an existing term? You didn¡¯t hear it here for the first time, did you?¡±


    At first, I thought he was being an ass, but the way he said it, it was like he was asking a genuine question as if it was entirely possible through line was an alien concept to us.


    ¡°We know the term,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Good. What does it mean?¡± Ss asked.


    ¡°A connecting theme in a story,¡± I said. It wasn¡¯t exactly amon term, but we had heard it.


    Ss nodded. ¡°yers always have trouble with Throughlines. They treat them like they are some sort of movie series or overstory. I always wondered how much the architects of Project Rewind actually knew about what they were doing. When you brought that As of yours onto my Sound Stage, suddenly, I realized how little they knew about anything. Remarkable to have been beaten by a group of yers who didn¡¯t even understand what they were doing.¡±


    He took a breath and said, ¡°A Throughline is not just about storylines connected to each other. It is about the thing that connects them and that connects every action yers take in one singr effort.¡± He looked back at the ticket in his hands and said, ¡°How will I exin this?¡±


    He thought for a moment.


    ¡°What connected the storylines I sent you on?¡± Ss asked. ¡°What were you doing the entire time you were attempting my Throughline?¡±


    There was certainly a plot that connected all of the stories, but that seemed obvious. The plot was about Lillian Geist¡¯s paradoxical premature death. That couldn¡¯t be what he meant.


    Summoning all of the courage I could, I said, ¡°Just tell us. We¡¯re too tired for this patronizing lecture.¡±


    Ss almost looked relieved to hear that. ¡°Very well.¡±


    He snapped his fingers.


    Suddenly, we weren¡¯t at the Centennial anymore. We were standing in arge crowd next to a stage. It was the first Miss Carousel Pageant if therge glittery banner was to be believed.


    Up on stage, an eighteen-year-old Lillian Geist was epting her crown and tiara.


    There were NPCs around us, but they didn¡¯t seem to notice us. Lillian was breathtaking. She epted her award with a smile, but there was nothing behind it. She seemed almost wary of the crowd.


    ¡°Lillian Geist is always beautiful. Every single version of her. Whether her name is Lillian or not, she is always known for her looks. Look at her. She thinks her father paid the judges off for her victory, but he didn¡¯t. She won it on her own merits. A sad thought that she never knew that.¡±


    Another snap of his fingers, and we were back at the Centennial. The monstrous version of Lillian Geist¡¯s bodyy before us.


    ¡°Lillian Giest, no matter if that is her name, will always be disfigured by the time of her death. It doesn¡¯t matter what the Narrator does. It always happens. To be fair, my version ended up a touch crueler than I had hoped, but then I did leave her in the hands of a mad scientist. One more bad deed I will have to live with.¡±


    He looked up at us and said, ¡°Carlyle Geist always enjoys making movies or writing books or telling tales around the campfire. He always dies being betrayed by a friend.¡± Ss looked up at me as he said it. ¡°You see, there has always been a town and there has always been a family. The town was not always called Carousel, and the family was not called Geist, thank heavens, but it has always been this ce, and it has always been these people.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    He took a moment to catch his breath.


    ¡°You see, I built this version of Carousel on this Sound Stage myself. Built for the Throughline of my own design. Every step along the way, I forced you to seek the hidden history of the Geists. To seek, but not find. Because the answers about the Geists always change, but the questions stay the same. Understanding the Geists by watching them in modern Carousel is like watching shadows on the wall to learn about who cast them.¡±


    He snapped his fingers, and Carousel changed. The modern town was gone, and all that remained was a road leading up to a mansion on a hill. Lighting shed in the background. A gate had a sign that read, ¡°Geist Manor.¡±


    It was not the Geist Manor I knew.


    He snapped his fingers again, and we were standing in a dark city like something out of a gothic science fiction novel. Arge skyscraper stood before us. Pipes poured glowing green water out the side of the building, which was called the Geist Tower.


    He snapped his fingers again and again. We saw a giant 1990s mansion that belonged to the Geists. Men with long hair and unbuttoned shirts stood guard, and I felt the aura of magic in the air. Arge swimming pool filled with scantily d supermodels, one of whom was Lillian Geist, took up much of the frontwn.


    He snapped again and we were in a swamp. A single path led through the murk and mire of a graveyard to a mansion that looked like a cousin to Disney¡¯s haunted mansion.


    He snapped again, and we were back at the Centennial, breathing hard and with eyes as wide as our skulls would let them be.


    ¡°The Geists have always been the same. They have always been¡­ boring. They do not matter to me,¡± Ss said, ¡°but a Geist has been around to see every single event that ever took ce in Carousel. In every version of Carousel, the Geist family has been there none-the-wiser. That is what I need them for. They have seen everything. Their stories go back eons in this ce. You could almost say that they are a kind of... time capsule.¡±


    He grinned at that statement.


    ¡°If you want me to tell you what a Throughline is, boy, here is what it is: a Throughline is a piece of magic so old and so powerful that it can bend reality and Carousel itself. A Throughline is a theme pursued doggedly by yers. For instance, if a yer sought but did not find the secret history of the Geists, they would eventually be put on a throughline where the secret history of the Geists began showing up one storyline at a time. First, you exhaust the modern Geist stories. Then, Carousel is forced to tell older stories, the ones from the far past and past versions of Carousel. If I had gotten you to do that one final act, restoring the Geist timeline, that was all it would have taken. You and your friends would be on my Throughline following the Geists into the past to where the real answersy, to where my¡­ answers are. But now that will note to pass.¡±


    Ss took the silver hole punch from his pocket and lifted it to the corner of his new ticket.


    Just before he punched a hole, he hesitated.


    ¡°No,¡± he said, ¡°I think you are still confused. Let me help.¡±


    He put the hole punch back in his pocket. What did punching a hole do that he was so hesitant about?


    Ss walked forward a step. ¡°Yes, I tried to deceive you. I failed. It¡¯s a shame. If I had seeded, we would all be in better positions.¡±


    My breathing became stiff with anxiety. What did he mean by that?


    ¡°Exin,¡± Antoine said, finally.


    Ss smiled. Not an evil smile like I might have hoped, but an embarrassed one.


    He started to speak in a casual storytelling voice as he recited to us a tale.


    ¡°Not too long ago, one of my fellow Narrators, a real up-ander, so to speak, decided that we needed a new Damsel Paragon. Thest one was good. She was a real pro. Her story was a ssic, too. A man hijacks a horse-drawn carriage. He carries with him arge steamer trunk with¡­ something in it. Something she sees him giving food to. ssic horror¡ªtruly, a ssic. Carousel 1950 rolls around, and the horse-drawn carriage sticks out like a sore thumb. Well, since I still have you on my Sound Stage, I might as well show you.¡±


    He snapped his fingers, and we found ourselves in an older version of Carousel. ssic cars drove by, and well-dressed NPCs walked about. It did look like the 1950s, as far as I could tell. As we watched, a stagecoach pulled byrge horses ran a red light and pulled across an intersection while a woman inside screamed.


    He snapped his fingers again and we were back.


    ¡°Somebody had to find a new Damsel that would fit with modern times. Something flexible. Well, they search and they search, and they find a young woman held hostage in a little bed and breakfast in some mundane convergent verse in the middle of nowhere. But she is perfect. She was willing to do anything to survive¡ªanything. Plus, her storyline worked for Carousel 1950 as well as it did Carousel 2025. Flexible, you understand. More importantly, her world had no monsters or magic, but it had a superb horror culture. I suppose a society whose superstitions go unquenched for a few millennia would be liable to fantasize about ghosts and goblins. Anyway, my colleague thought this world was ripe for harvest and it was, but we were not the only ones who thought so.


    "You see, just as we made preparations to invite some new yers from her¡ªyour¡ªworld, something happened. All of our yers disappeared. In fact, every Narrator¡¯s yers were gone. There were no yers in all of Carousel. We could not imagine what had transpired. In a ce where everything has happened before, this was new.¡±


    He stepped closer. I felt my heartbeat quicken.


    ¡°Not only were there no yers, but this world we were assimting was still connected to our world¡ªby a physical road, no less. We were unable to bring anyone in from anywhere else. We eventually figured out what had happened. Carousel had done it. You see, as yers started to pour in from your world, Carousel had started bringing them onto its own Throughline.¡±


    He paused as if we should find that patently hrious.


    ¡°Carousel fancied itself a Narrator. It didn¡¯t just want yers. It wanted all of the yers toe under its fold for the new game. All of them. Sure, I managed to sneak away a few, but barely enough for a team. Not enough to be self-sustaining. Other Narrators faired no better. You see, we needed yers. In Carousel, to obtain power, you must surrender your agency in some way. We can¡¯t run storylines ourselves.


    ¡°Narrators are simple. We have understandable motivations. Some wish to retrieve ancient magics forgotten in their world but not here. Others seek fortunes. Still, others want love or adventure or any number of ordinary things. We build Throughlines to attain our desires. I want to travel into the past using the Geists. But what, I might ask, could Carousel need yers for?¡±


    His speech felt... prepared. He had been waiting to tell us this part.


    Carousel designing a Throughline. He said it like it was absurd. I was so new to this that it didn¡¯t sound any weirder than anything else.


    He walked back to Ss, the Mechanical Showman, and pressed the red button. A ticket spat out¡ªa richly colored ticket on thick stock with golden letters.


    He looked at it, rolled his eyes, and said, ¡°Carousel added some vor, but here you go.¡±


    He handed it to me.


    Narrator Tips: Throughlines


    Wee, New Narrator!


    As a Narrator in Carousel, your role is to craftpelling and immersive experiences for your yers while exploring the unfathomable cosmic nexus that is the Town of Carousel. One of the most powerful tools at your disposal is the concept of a Throughline: a series of stories and actions connected by a goal, theme, motif, or set ofmon elements.


    To create a Throughline, choose a central theme that aligns with your ultimate goal, such as finding fortune, power, or love. Collect multiple storylines from around Carousel that revolve around this theme, each contributing unique challenges and rewards for the yers. Design a custom version of Carousel Proper, filled with characters, locations, and events that are thematically linked around your ultimate goal. As you guide yers through these interconnected stories, Carousel will gradually reveal additional rare storylines that share the same theme. This builds narrative momentum, leading yers toward a significant goal rted to the theme, such as obtaining a powerful artifact or revealing forbidden magic from the abyss of Carousel just for you!


    By mastering the art of Throughlines, you can manipte the yers'' journey, ensuring they advance your objectives without regard to their well-being. Leverage the power of storytelling to subtly direct their actions and watch as your Throughlines bring Carousel to life in ways that serve your ultimate ambitions.


    The Town of Carousel - Everything is Here


    I couldn¡¯t breathe as I read it.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked. It didn¡¯t make me sound intelligent. I didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°It¡¯s exactly what it looks like,¡± he said. ¡°Most yers would never learn about this. The chipper tone was a nice touch. Carousel really has developed its own brand, hasn¡¯t it? I almost liked it better when everything dripped in blood. There was a certain honesty to that.¡±


    When I finished the ticket, I passed it back to Antoine. He read it quickly, but I think he read it again when he was done.


    ¡°So you could imagine how funny it was for Carousel to build its own Throughline. What exactly could Carousel want that it didn¡¯t already have? Those Narrators that could leave, left. Those of us who intend to obtain what we have worked so hard for stayed. We couldn¡¯t do much, not against yers. We could trick them. Deceive them. Railroad them. Cause internal strife. So we did. It didn¡¯t even take long before we had your homeworlders so turned around they could never seed. We sat back and saw the fruits of ourbors. Or so we thought.¡±


    ¡°Project Rewind,¡± I said instinctively.


    ¡°So named from what a person does with a videotape. Yes. Project Rewind... Made fools of us all. The yers were at each other¡¯s throats. Throwing around mobile omens like grenades. Leading each other into monster¡¯sirs. Giving each other false prophesies. All the while, Carousel¡¯s systems were breaking down, and its Throughline went offlinepletely. We thought we had won. Of course, that was all part of the n. Project Rewind. You know, it was unintentionally brilliant. They thought they were tricking Carousel. What they had actually done was set up a powerful plot device. They had created their own throughline and activated it themselves. Something like that gets set up; it¡¯s going to y out. The audience demands it. By the time we figured out what had happened, it was toote. They had done it right in front of us with the help of their little Insider and the very Paragons we had trusted to assist us¡­ Never can trust a Paragon,¡± he said, shooting a stern nce at Madam Celia. ¡°But you can script them when they are in your own Throughline.¡±


    Heughed.


    ¡°Sorry, this is all funny when I say it out loud,¡± he said. ¡°Would you like to know what Carousel¡¯s Throughline is about? Would you like to know what theme runs through it? How about this? Would you like to know what was so special about you that you became the Party of Promise?¡±


    He leaned in toward us, finally ready to tell us everything.


    TO BE CONTINUED¡­

 Arc II, Chapter 83: The Narrator Part Two

    Arc II, Chapter 83: The Narrator Part Two


    When we first read through the ounts of Project Rewind in the Carousel As, we had to take what we had read on faith. We knew we had not been ¡°brought on¡± to the broken Throughline that had doomed so many of those who hade before us, but we never knew why.


    We assumed, as the architects of Project Rewind had implied, that we were not incorporated into the broken Throughline because we had not learned some crucial piece of information.


    Now, if he could be believed, Ss Dyrkon promised to tell us what had necessitated the deaths of all of the other yers and what had spared us.


    ¡°Carousel¡¯s Throughline is about¡­ <em>escaping Carousel</em>,¡± he said.


    He let his words hang in the air for a moment.


    ¡°Escaping Carousel. You and I are left to wonder what aims Carousel actually has for its Throughline and what twisted gauntlet it prepared, but I hope at least one of you has the capacity to understand just how nefarious Carousel¡¯s Throughline is. It wants to y cat and mouse. It wants yers to run while it takes aim. Think about what that implies,¡± he said, calming his tone, ¡°Carousel can¡¯te down to yers in person and reason with them; no, Carousel needed another way to bring them onto its Throughline.


    ¡°Any yer who put in consistent effort to n or enact an escape, any yer that ran stark raving mad into the forests and mountains that blockade you, any yer who tried to get to the other side of the mountain, those yers would be brought onto Carousel¡¯s Throughline, ensuring that they could never, indeed, escape.¡±


    He looked down at the ground as if he were letting his words sink in, ¡°So what did you and your friends do that was so special? You were the only yers in the history of Carousel who never really tried to leave. Everyone else did eventually. That¡¯s why it took over a decade for Project Rewind to seed after its framers sacrificed themselves¡­ You had to follow theirmands without trying to escape¡ª¡±


    Antoine interjected, ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense. Everything we did was in an effort to escape. Everything.¡±Ss considered this. ¡°I¡¯m sure most yers who step foot in Carousel want to go home, Antoine. That isn¡¯t enough to be brought onto Carousel¡¯s Throughline. If I recall, you were never trying to escape. No, that was not exactly your quest, was it?¡±


    Quest? The word quest had onlye up in one context.


    One by one, we turned our heads and looked at Dina.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ss continued, ¡°Invitees really are worth their weight in gold. yers that actually want to be here. The way I figure it, you all must have agreed to join her quest at some point. What was it she was after? Fame? Riches? No. Her goal was to revive her child.¡± He turned to look at Dina. ¡°You have noble intentions, truly. I am sorry for your loss. I hope you find him out there somewhere.¡± Looking back to the rest of us, he continued, ¡°Your invitee¡¯s goal protected you from being brought onto the Throughline. A clever trick. Makes me wonder exactly how much this Insider or yours actually knows.¡±


    The Carousel As said that the Party of Promise needed an Invitee, someone who hade to Carousel on purpose. Dina hade to revive her son Sean. Could this be why she was put on our team? When we had seen her letters from Carousel andpared them to the coded tropes I had been given, we agreed to help her. We thought that was what we were supposed to do.


    ¡°Let¡¯s look past the details and allow me to guide you gently to the ultimate conclusion here; you must have contemted leaving at some point, correct? You must have had whispers of breaking up the band and running for the glowing lights opposite the mountain across theke, right? You did discuss escape at some point, no?¡±


    In fact, there had been a discussion or the beginnings of one. Chris had told Antoine that if the run west during the Western Excursion showed signs of sess, he would take Antoine, Kimberly, and Anna west toward the mountain. They would make a break for it. In fact, Bobby was actually supposed to go on the secret preliminary run.


    He didn¡¯t go because the people nning that secret run had died¡­


    ¡°No,¡± I said. I had finally connected dots that hadid dormant in my mind for so long. ¡°You¡¯re not saying¡­¡±


    They had died in the ck Snow.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± Ss said, though his tone wasn¡¯t gloating; he was clearly suppressing a smirk. ¡°When you finally started talking about escape, your beloved Insider, the final surviving member of that project, must have found out. And they dropped an Apocalypse on you.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t breathe.


    The ck Snow Apocalypse came early, and no one knew why. Although it was prophesied for winter, it came in summer.


    It had killed many yers and caused the deaths of others. Reggie, Travis and his team, so many other vets¡­ and Anna and Camden.


    He was telling us that the Insider had killed them all in the hope of salvaging their ns.


    ¡°The other Narrators and I hadn¡¯t done it. It had to be your Insider, but why? Why would they risk killing their best hope at sess? I couldn¡¯t figure it out for so long. It was because it was better you be dead than stuck on a broken Throughline. That was why.¡±


    Anna and Camden were coteral damage. I couldn¡¯t feel my face. I couldn¡¯t feel anything.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be true,¡± Antoine said. ¡°That¡­ can¡¯t be.¡±


    He tried to protest, but we knew that Project Rewind had required the deaths of so many people. What were a few more?


    ¡°But it can,¡± Dyrkon said. ¡°And it was¡­ sessful. I might add.¡±


    If Ss was to be believed, the Insider had seen the seeds of an escape n that would break up the Party of Promise and had snuffed it out.


    ¡°If Carousel wants us to escape,¡± Kimberly asked, panicking. Does that make it good?¡±


    It was a desperate plea for a silver lining.


    Ss didn¡¯tugh, but he seemed to find the idea amusing.


    ¡°I doubt Carousel has any intention of youpleting whatever tasks it hopes to aim you at,¡± he said. ¡°I suspect that its Throughline achieves some other end, some greater goal that I couldn¡¯t begin to theorize about. But I suppose you will be the ones to find out. There aren¡¯t happy endings in Carousel, my dear, not without someone on your side. Someone like mys¡ª¡±


    Ss stopped speaking as something else caught his attention. It was Ramona. She ran back to the group and ran right up to me.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the vition.


    ¡°Riley, you¡¯re alive,¡± she said. She grabbed my arm. ¡°My sister is missing and I don¡¯t know how. I had her right in my¡ª¡±


    She stopped talking. She nced over and saw Ss standing next to his mechanical counterpart.


    ¡°Mr. Dyrkon,¡± she said. ¡°Oh my god. I can¡¯t find my sister.¡±


    Ss looked at her. I saw pity or shame in his eyes. I couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°I apologize, Ramona,¡± he said. ¡°It would seem fate isn¡¯t shining on our n¡­ The Phoebe you know is a part of my Throughline. More than that, it¡¯s Carousel 2023¡­ She¡¯s dead by now. She tried to tell you that. You didn¡¯t listen.¡±


    2023? Had we been in the tutorial for months?


    ¡°You said if I helped you I would get her back,¡± Ramona said.


    ¡°I said you could save her,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡­ I have been on a mission of destruction and discovery for so long. I never intended to be responsible for¡­.¡± He gestured to Ramona. ¡°Let¡¯s speak about this in a moment.¡±


    Ramona looked sad and angry. She was shutting down as her world imploded. Isaac wasn¡¯t the only person with trust issues.


    He took a moment and seemed to be suppressing his own emotions.


    ¡°Your people managed to pull off Project Rewind. I couldn¡¯t stop it, so I tried to redirect it. Tricking you was the best y for us all. I meant it when I said that we would all be in better positions if I had seeded. You see, if you are tricked, then you maintain your innocence. Anything you do will be out of coercion. In a ce like this, innocence is a shield. The audience would hate me for what I had done to you and want you to seed all the more. They would want you to seed and win back your freedom so that Project Rewind would not have been in vain. It was inevitable that you would be able to rescue your loved ones, eventually. It would have worked. Now all that is left is for you to join me willingly, a proposition that is decidedly less... potent.¡±


    Whatever look our group collectively gave him made himugh.


    ¡°Yes, you see why I went with trickery first,¡± he said.


    Antoine was putting the pieces together. ¡°If we finished the storyline with Lillian alive, that would mean we had done enough to be bound to your Throughline, right?¡± he asked. ¡°Letting her die meant that we hadn¡¯t done enough to be bound. Help us understand the connection. Make it very clear.¡±


    ¡°Antoine,¡± Ss said. ¡°The fighter. You, of all people, should want to join me. After all, wasn¡¯t it Project Rewind that caused you to be ced in that forest for years? All so that your team could discover Secret Lore without you? Hmm? I¡¯ve done lots of things, but that was dark.¡±


    Antoine didn¡¯t answer. He looked angry, but I felt he was putting on a brave face.


    Ss continued. ¡°I needed you to keep going long enough to make the Choice. You know, the Choice, the stage on the Plot Cycle. It isn¡¯t just for storylines. It¡¯s much older than that. You had to make a concerted choice. Fixing the paradox and saving Lillian was the choice. It had to take great effort to make; it had to be rted to the Throughline. It¡¯s that simple. Carousel¡¯s magic works like a fractal. There are patterns that repeat in the micro and macro. As above, so below. If you had made the choice, you would be bound to me, as you say.¡±


    It was that simple. Omen and Choice. Just like a storyline. We were that close to sticking with him until his goals were met, assuming we survived that long.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he said. ¡°Let me have it. I am sure you have plenty to say to me.¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Never fooled me.¡±


    ¡°How could I fool you? You had your eyes closed the entire time,¡± Ss said. ¡°For a Cynic, you were asleep behind the wheel.¡±


    Isaac looked like he wanted to respond but didn¡¯t.


    Antoine took a tactful approach.


    ¡°If you want us to trust you,¡± he said (although we were never going to trust him). ¡°Tell us what it is you want. You want to look into the past using the Geist family like a time machine. Why?¡±


    Ss nodded. ¡°That¡¯s fair. I have been here far longer than you can imagine. I helped make Carousel what it is today. I am, however, not all-powerful. I don''t remember why I came. I don''t remember much at all of my origin. I want my memories back. I want to know what happened to me.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°Why am I here? I feel rage and¡­ longing. There¡¯s something in my past I am desperate to recover. Ages ago. Before the Game at Carousel was even formalized, back when the rules weren¡¯t written on tickets. I need answers. That is a powerful motive. With all I have done, I will seed eventually. I hope you will help me get there. My Throughline was built for the task at hand.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take the deal,¡± Ramona said. ¡°I¡¯ll be a yer for you. You said my sister is on your Throughline. Let me stay on your Throughline.¡±


    Ss looked at her sadly. ¡°Ramona. You¡­ you have helped me in ways you¡¯ll never understand. Some twist of fate led to you ascending from my Throughline. I can never bind you. I won¡¯t.¡±


    Ramona was confused. ¡°Mr. Dyrkon¡­ I don¡¯t understand. You promised.¡±


    ¡°I have been tempted; I¡¯m not a saint. I¡¯ve done terrible things on my rise to power. I do need yers to achieve my ends. The problem is, Ramona, you are not a tool for me to use. You may be the only good thing I have done in a long time. I cannot bring myself to undo it.¡±


    Ramona was confused and angry but mostly quiet, to the point of being catatonic. It was as if she had expected this. There were no happy endings for her.


    I tried not to overthink it. Whatever part of my soul was designed to trust was bruised and sore. I didn¡¯t know what to think of Ramona. I half expected her to be revealed as a spy, though I couldn¡¯t exactly figure out what she might have aplished as one.


    ¡°I suppose the rest of you won¡¯t be taking my offer,¡± Ss said. He paused. ¡°I thought not. Not yet. There maye a time when you regret this decision. If it does,e find me. One of those infernal boxes made in my image should help with that.¡±


    He lifted his fingers to snap them once more, but he hesitated.


    ¡°Of course, onest thing,¡± he said. ¡°Now that I have told you all I intend to tell, I suppose I must do this.¡±


    He took the silver hole punchers from his pocket and lifted them back to the card.


    ¡°Carousel really loves to rub it in, as it were,¡± he said under his breath.


    He punched a hole in the corner of his ticket.


    Suddenly, I felt something in my mind pinch as the useless Throughline task list we had received was reced with something new.


    ¡°It seems Carousel wanted you more prepared than your predecessors,¡± Ss said. ¡°It would also seem it liked my Geist idea for its own ends.¡±


    I stared at the new section.


    Throughline Progress


    <strong>The Geists¡¯ Ancient Past</strong>


    For when you need to go back


    ~


    ¡°Carousel Loves to Recycle¡±


    ¡ñ ¡ñ ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?


    <strong>Project Rewind</strong>


    A Second Chance at Escape


    ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ


    <strong>The Carousel Throughline</strong>


    The Only Way Home


    ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ??


    <strong>Secret Lore</strong>


    Arm Yourselves with Knowledge


    ¡ñ ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?


    The new sign on the red wallpaper listed the Geists¡¯ Secrets alongside Project Rewind and The Carousel Throughline. Secret lore was also there, meaning it was technically a throughline.


    I heard a snap. In an instant, Ss had disappeared.


    In the distance, I heard the festivities begin to y. On the red wallpaper, a que reading ¡°The Centennial¡± appeared like a trophy.


    The Paragons were still there. They watched on.


    Constance approached us. A look of shame was stered on her face.


    She spoke firmly and apologized profusely. I couldn¡¯t even process it. I didn¡¯t care. She said they were bound to their scripts. I could have guessed as much. It didn¡¯t matter. The moment we learned they werepromised, they became the enemy.


    Sidney, the Scream Queen Paragon, said, ¡°We told you to find us if you made it to the Centennial. We had a n to let you know what was going on. It was our only opening.¡±


    Kimberly may have said something to her, but I ignored the whole conversation.


    I was focused on other things entirely.


    None of the other Paragons moved in, but I heard Kurt Willis whispering about how he thought we were being overly dramatic.


    I turned back to my friends and we just looked at each other. Above all else, we were tired.


    Now, it was time to wait. Carousel had nned a Throughline for us. That was our ticket out of here. That was what Project Rewind was designed to help usplete.


    I didn¡¯t care about any of it. I didn¡¯t want to think about Throughlines or Geists. I wanted to level up. I wanted to make my own decisions.


    I had people to rescue.


    Whichever Narrators had their sights set on us would just have to wait.

 Arc II, Chapter 84: The Loft

    Arc II, Chapter 84: The Loft


    Even as we stood there in shock at what had just happened, Carousel started toe back to life all around us. Ss Dyrkon''s Sound Stage was disappearing.


    I could hear that the Centennial Celebration, the modern one, was starting up in the distance. Every time I closed my eyes, it was like I was closer and closer to leaving the story world behind.


    The cries and screams in the distance turned toughs as NPCs rode the rides and yed the carnival games.


    The Ferris wheel was starting back up again. I could hear it, but I couldn¡¯t see it. The Die Cast had knocked it down in the storyline.


    I was turning as I heard things brightening up around me until suddenly, in a blink that I didn¡¯t remember blinking, we weren¡¯t in the ¡°original¡± Centennial anymore.


    We were in the present. It must have been Carousel Proper. Everything was alive in a way I had never seen before.


    I saw people walking around in modern clothes with smartphones, and I heard music that might have yed back on Earth or some version of it.


    We stood there and didn¡¯t speak as we took it in.


    Well, most of us didn¡¯t speak.¡°You guys realize,¡± Isaac said, ¡°That the Centennial and the founding were not one hundred years apart in that story, and none of us questioned it.¡±


    We had questioned it, but with the help of some mental maniption, we had dismissed it. Still, I couldn¡¯t help butugh.


    I wasn¡¯t the only one.


    Somehow, the stress and overwhelming dread were easing. A weight was lifted off of us, leaving us hopped up on happy chemicals. I had read the same thing happened to people who went through near-death experiences.


    We just stood there andughed in the midst of the celebration. People stared at us. Was that something that would have happened in Ss¡¯ Throughline? Did people react properly? I couldn¡¯t remember.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to let that go, are you?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Isaac said, as if he had actually known what was going on from the beginning.


    It felt like we were in a different ce, and I hoped we actually were.


    We still had one thing left to do.


    ¡°Congrattions,¡± Ss the Mechanical Showman said, ¡°You won a ticket.¡±


    ¡°And you guys are just going to push that button after what just happened,¡± Isaac said. ¡°When that¡¯s the very thing that got us¡ª¡±


    Antoine held up an arm


    ¡°Don¡¯t push your luck,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°If I have to press the button, so do you.¡±


    Antoine pressed the button. He retrieved his tickets and money.


    ¡°But we don¡¯t know what happens if you don¡¯t press the button,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Maybe Carousel loses power over us, and we get to go home.¡±


    ¡°I bet that¡¯s it. I bet nobody''s ever tried that.¡± I said as I pressed the button. Jackpot. Tickets, money, and¡­ something else.


    I unfolded it.


    ¡°Writ of Habitation,¡± I said aloud.


    We had read about Writs of Habitation in the As. They kept you safe from Omens. They were an essential part of building a base of operations in Carousel. Camp Dyer had been one.


    The rest of us hit the button except for Isaac, who still wasn¡¯t ready.


    Kimberly got a writ. So did Bobby and Ramona for some reason.


    I had to unfold it to read it.


    <strong>The City of Carousel</strong>


    <strong>Writ of Habitation</strong>


    By the decrees of the City of Carousel and under the authority of the Office of the Mayor, this document certifies that:


    <strong>Bearer: Riley Lawrence</strong>


    Is granted the right and authority to im the modern estate known as:


    <strong>The Cantor House</strong>


    1405 Helm Street


    Lower Carousel Heights, Carousel


    Under the provisions of this Writ, the following conditions apply:


    1. <strong>Extensive Boundaries:</strong> The bearer is granted dominion over The Cantor House and the surroundingnd, including the front and back yards, located at 1405 Helm Street, Carousel Heights, Carousel City.


    2. <strong>Protection from Omens:</strong> The Cantor House and its immediate vicinity are safeguarded from the activation of any Omen by ident, ensuring the bearer''s safety and those within their party from unforeseen malevolence.


    3. <strong>Guarantee Against Encumbrances and Hostility:</strong> The described property shall remain free fromirs, nests, or havens of any adversarial entities. All hostile presences nearby will immediately vacate the vicinity and abstain frombative behavior.


    4. <strong>Amenity Assurance:</strong> The Cantor House is equipped with essential amenities, suitable for habitation and guest reception. This includes drinkable water and basic sustenance, though the luxury level of these provisions may vary.


    5. <strong>Duration of Habitation:</strong> This Writ grants the bearer habitation rights for a period of three months starting when the Lower Carousel Heights¡¯ fall season begins and the leaves fall from the trees, ensuring short-term security and ownership.


    6. <strong>Maintenance and Enhancement:</strong> While The Cantor House is provided in a state ready for habitation, the bearer has the full right to further enhance, renovate, or expand the structure and surrounding areas as they see fit.


    7. <strong>Act of God use:</strong> The Office of the Mayor and the City of Carousel shall not be held liable for any damages or threats arising due to unforeseeable acts of nature or urrences beyond the City''s apparent control.


    8. <strong>Vitions:</strong> Breach of any conditions mentioned herein may result in discussions and negotiations rather than immediate revocation.


    Uwfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Sealed with the emblem of the Office of the Mayor.


    <strong>Date of Issue: April 12, 2023</strong>


    The Cantor House¡­ that was my character¡¯s house. The ss abomination. This writ would let us stay there, but only for three months in the fall, which could be anytime in Carousel.


    I passed it around.


    It¡­ wasn¡¯t a great deal. We couldn¡¯t use it yet, and even when we could, we would be limited.


    Bobby got a writ for the house where he was staying with his dogs. The same terms applied as when he stayed there in the storyline, too. Stay quiet or else, seemed to be the gist, but it was avable now.


    Ramona got some random cabin on Lake Dyer. She didn¡¯t understand why. Either did I. I could only be used in the summer.


    Kimberly, she got a good deal.


    Most of her terms were like mine. The relevant differences were:<blockquote>


    <strong>Allcraft Lofts</strong>


    3028 Main Street


    Downtown, Carousel


    <strong>Extensive Boundaries:</strong> The bearer is granted dominion over the Allcraft Lofts, including all bedrooms and the entire fourth floor. The bar and restaurant on the first floor, as well as the back stairwell between the two and the roof, are also covered as safe.


    <strong>Protection from Omens:</strong> The Allcraft Lofts are safeguarded from the activation of any Omen by ident, ensuring the bearer''s safety and those within their party from unforeseen malevolence. Omens are allowed on the street and sidewalk beneath and they may roam the main stairwell leading to the front entrance of the loft. There are lots of roaming Omens who will try to gain ess but will leave if denied.


    <strong>Amenity Assurance:</strong> The Allcraft Lofts are in mild disrepair but have good structural integrity. They are equipped with essential amenities, suitable for habitation and guest reception. This includes drinkable water and basic sustenance, though the luxury level of these provisions may vary.


    <strong></strong><strong>Duration of Habitation:</strong> This Writ grants the bearer habitation rights for a period of one year starting immediately, ensuring short-term security and ownership.


    <strong>Rental Terms:</strong> Rent is due at a rate of twenty percent of earnings per month.</blockquote>


    ¡°One year?¡± Kimberly said. ¡°This¡­ this is the loft my character had in the storyline.¡±


    The time frame must have spooked her. We weren¡¯t going home anytime soon.


    Curiosity must have overwhelmed Isaac because he eventually gave in and pressed Ss¡¯ button, too.


    He got a writ as well. The unique elements of his writ were as follows:<blockquote>


    <strong>Historical Carousel Jailhouse</strong>


    75 Cull Lane


    Old Town, Carousel


    <strong>Extensive Boundaries:</strong> The bearer is granted dominion over the Historical Carousel Jailhouse, including all areas within the premises.


    <strong>Protection from Omens:</strong> The Historical Carousel Jailhouse is safeguarded from the activation of any Omen by ident, ensuring the bearer''s safety and those within their domain from unforeseen malevolence from the outside. The spirits that haunt some of the cells in the basement, made from pure steel, will stay locked away but are a nightly nuisance and liability.


    <strong>Amenity Assurance:</strong> The Historical Carousel Jailhouse is clean but maintained in its state from over a hundred years ago, suitable for habitation under these historical conditions. Essential amenities are provided, including drinkable water and basic sustenance, though the luxury level of these provisions may vary.


    <strong>Duration of Habitation:</strong> This Writ grants the bearer habitation rights for a period of one week at any start date, ensuring short-term security and ownership.</blockquote>


    ¡°Nope,¡± he said as he read the writ.


    ¡°Actually, this might be wise,¡± I said. ¡°That jail is very defensible.¡±


    Isaac was adamant. ¡°It¡¯s my jail, and I will not allow it. I don¡¯t want to go back there.


    We probably weren¡¯t going to stay in the jail even if he had wanted to.


    ¡°This loft has to be the best ce in Carousel,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°It¡¯s worth the money. I never even used the main stairway anyway.¡±


    There was some debate, but not much. It was the best deal if the presence of Omens wasn¡¯t a dealbreaker. It was also the best lease period and it started immediately. There really were no better options. The rent was doable. We didn¡¯t even need that much money anyway.


    Best of all, it was centrally located.


    The only problem¡­ was Bobby¡¯s dogs. He still had a writ for the house where he kept them, but that meant he would have to travel out to them often.


    Still, there wasn¡¯t much discussion to be had.


    We marched to the downtown. I was ready to sleep. Even the end of the story didn¡¯t make me feel less tired. I wanted true rest.


    I wouldn¡¯t find it soon.


    Carousel was back. There were Omens to be avoided everywhere. Even with the short trip over to the part of the downtown area with the bars and restaurants where the loft was located, there were no fewer than a dozen Omens starting to make an appearance.


    But this was never going to be easy. Omens I could deal with.


    I led everyone back as they counted their money and read their tropes.


    ¡°There it is,¡± Kimberly said, pointing at a building that had a restaurant called ¡°Grain Matter¡± because their schtick was grass-fed beef and farm-to-table. It might have also been about the grains in beer; I couldn¡¯t be sure. The fact that it sounded simr to brain matter and gray matter was a coincidence, I was sure.


    It was a tall building despite only having four floors. That was because each floor was tall on its own. They were lofts, after all. Strange lofts with apartments attached, but still lofts.


    ¡°Lead the way,¡± I said. ¡°There aren¡¯t any Omens in the restaurant.¡±


    So she did. The backway stairs were smaller than I might have liked. Tight quarters meant we would need to use the main stairs to move furniture or simr.


    We got to the door and Kimberly still had the key from when she was in the storyline.


    She opened the door and gasped.


    ¡°I swear it was nicer than this when I lived here,¡± she said.


    ¡°We can renovate,¡± Antoine assured her.


    ¡°With booby traps,¡± I said.


    Antoineughed, at least.


    We stepped into the loft carefully.


    It was arge, open-concept kitchen with an assortment of windows overlooking the street below. There was a meager dining set with a table and some mismatched chairs. A few rugs were strewn about, and dust was everywhere. Arge telescope pointed down at the street next to one of the windows.


    As I stared at it, I saw something on the red wallpaper. Antoine noticed it at the same time I did.


    ¡°Does that telescope have a trope?¡± he asked.


    I nodded in amazement. We had seen objects with tropes before, though they were usually extensions of enemy tropes. This one wasn¡¯t.


    Portent Paranoia


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Conspiracy Theorist


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The Conspiracy Theorist believes in taking a step back and seeing the bigger picture. With a pair of binocrs and monk-like patience, maybe they can.


    Using a pair of binocrs, a camera with a zoom lens, or simr equipment, the user can spot traps, ambushes, and Omens at a distance.


    If you are half as suspicious of your surroundings as you look with those binocrs, nothing will get past you.


    As we approached the telescope, we pulled rugs out of the way before stepping on them, just in case. We tread carefully. A writ dering our safety meant nothing to us. We would take every precaution.


    ¡°Does this mean that a Conspiracy Theorist could use this telescope, or¡­ could anyone?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m asking,¡± Antoine said.


    If it was true that the telescope itself had that trope, then suddenly, everyone in the room could see Omens heading our way. We might be able to feel safe even when I was asleep.


    ¡°Who¡¯s going to look through it?¡± Bobby asked from behind us.


    The others were staring at us from a distance.


    Antoine and I looked at each other.


    ¡°I could unequip my Omen scouting trope¡ª¡± I started to suggest.


    Before I couldplete the thought, Antoine said, ¡°I got it.¡±


    He put his eye up to the telescope and started training it on passersby.


    I got closer to the window and used my own ability.


    ¡°You see the olderdy in the alley across the way?¡± I asked. ¡°She¡¯s wearing a sorority sweater and leggings.¡±


    ¡°The Legacy Pledge,¡± Antoine said as he adjusted the scope on her. That was the name of the storyline. ¡°Triggered by¡­ school spirit?¡±


    He seemed confused at the trigger.


    I nodded my head.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Triggered by wearing the University of Carousel branded clothing near her.¡±


    My Omen scouting trope, <strong>I don¡¯t like it here¡­</strong>, and <strong>Portent Paranoia</strong> both ran off of Savvy. My Savvy was higher, so I got a better description. Still, it was great that he could use it.


    ¡°Objects equipped with tropes,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°That anyone can use,¡± I added.


    That wasn¡¯t mentioned anywhere in the As, not like this.


    We sat and spotted a few other Omens¡ªa nun wearing high heels under her frock, a baby carriage rolling down the street on its own, and a man with a toothy smile hitting on a businesswoman in the open-air bar across the street.


    The eight of us stood there and silently contemted our lives.


    This was our new home. We had a year-long lease.


    There was a nervous excitement in the air, an optimism that felt a lot like sickly nihilism.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what Narrators out there want us to do,¡± I said. ¡°I say we just serve ourselves. Carousel, Dyrkon, the rest¡­ they can wait. We all have people to save. I say we start.¡±


    The others nodded.


    We broke away so that everyone could go im their rooms


    I looked out the window at Carousel Proper. I felt like I was seeing Carousel for the first time.


    And I was excited.

 Arc II, Chapter 85: The Remainder

    Arc II, Chapter 85: The Remainder


    Isaac got two stat tickets and three tropes, along with a few coins. His low level meant that even an¡­ uninspired performanceted him some gains.


    After obtaining them, he kept calling himself a Cynic even though he had not chosen his aspect yet. I didn¡¯t argue. I liked that he was contemting his role in the party finally, even if he was a little preachy.


    Hindsight is 20/20


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Comedian


    Aspect: Cynic


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The skill most horror movie victims fail to learn is the ability to learn from their mistakes. That is a shame because, in horror, history always repeats itself.


    The user will be alerted to mistakes they have made on the red wallpaper after they have made them. While it may be toote to use this information once they receive it, it may be usefulter or useful for allies. Either way,menting on their mistakes will boost the sess of any future n that involves the lesson learned.The audience loves a character who never makes the same mistake twice. Of course, then they have the opportunity to make all new ones.


    Lights Gone Out


    Type: Perk/Action


    Archetype: Comedian


    Aspect: Cynic


    Stat Used: Moxie


    A character who has had every drop of happiness stolen from them can turn bitter and cold, but when the lights go out, there is nothing for the darkness to feed on.


    The user will be given a tragic backstory that has impacted thempletely and turned them cynical¡ªliterally dead inside. Being dead inside has perks, however, as most mental maniptions from tropes or even some magic have trouble manipting a truly hopeless person. Acting dead inside will provide a general barrier against all things that are designed to work upon a normal person.


    It can be hard to give false hope to someone with dead dopamine receptors.


    How is this normal?


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Comedian


    Aspect: Cynic


    Stat Used: Savvy


    A Cynic is often the one to say what the audience is thinking. Don¡¯t go into the basement, don¡¯t let that thing in, don¡¯t read the Latin. All of these warnings will be unheeded, but the audience appreciates it anyway.


    If the user sees something they believe to be an Omen or trap (inside a storyline), the oddness they picked up on will be more apparent toedically entuate their point, if only for a moment. If used in a storyline, there is no guarantee the result will be On-Screen.


    If used to find Omens outside a storyline, the user will then receive limited information about the Omen and its storyline.


    You probably won¡¯t have time to say I told you so.


    Dina didn¡¯t get her aspect. I thought she would. Perhaps her untimely death stole it from her.


    The As said that if you have too many members in your party in a storyline, that Outsiders will get Stranger roles and Stranger tropes. We would have to change that. Criminal and Neer had some good utility tropes that she needed to stock up on before choosing her aspect.


    She agreed, but her embarrassment over what might have been an infatuation with Gale Zaragoza left her acting even more distant for a time. When we got her to talk about it (after a round at the restaurant¡¯s bar downstairs), she imed he must have had a trope to make yers inclined to work with him.


    Isaac said that his tropes were honey-colored eyes and a chiseled jaw.


    Dina didn¡¯t correct him.


    She got two tropes and a good chunk of change. Even if she had died, she still helped defeat the Die Cast. She even had a big part in it.


    No Return Address


    Type: Insight/Perk


    Archetype: Outsider


    Aspect: Stranger


    Stat Used: --


    Anonymous guardians would be much more effective if they didn¡¯t act so suspiciously all the time. It''s no wonder they often get confused for the bad guy. Maybe it is better to just drop off an anonymous letter.


    The user will get helpful clues in the form of letters with no return address. This could happen On-Screen or Off-Screen and will usually provide warnings or calls to action for the yer. The user is then able to create messages for their allies in character. These will appear in the ally¡¯s mailbox or simr. At higher levels, they can send packages too.


    Either this person didn¡¯t want to be identified, or they couldn¡¯t afford a stamp.


    Out-of-Town Cousin


    Type: Rule/Insight/Perk


    Archetype: Outsider


    Aspect: Neer


    Stat Used: Moxie


    A quick way to inject a character into a new situation is to have them visit distant rtives.


    The user¡¯s character will be rted to important NPCs. This will help with information gathering and give the yers some instant allies and perhaps a ce to stay. This trope is always useful, but it works differently in every story.


    All is fun and games until you find your real cousins buried in the backyard.


    Carousel must have loved Kimberly¡¯s performance. She got three stat tickets, three tropes, and a handful of money in big denominations, totaling 85 dors in Carousel¡¯s currency. ording to Isaac, that was enough money to buy a couch, though he might not have ounted for intion since 1984.


    Just Ask Sal


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Aspect: Celebrity


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Once you start getting some nice flicks under your belt as an actor, your talent agent will be fielding calls left and right. When the nice offers start rolling in, you¡¯ll be fielding calls from them.


    The user can call their talent agent, Sal, and inquire about any potential storyline under the pretense that they are asking about a potential ¡°acting job.¡± Sal will give you lots of details, some of which are useful for determining whether you want to ¡°take the role.¡±


    Be warned: Sal has a bit too much personality.


    Come one, pal, trust your old buddy Sal


    The Penthouse


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Aspect: Socialite


    Stat Used: Grit


    There is no better way to show a character is rich than to show their amodations.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the vition.


    The user will receive the best possible lodging in a storyline, though the quality varies greatly from story to story. The lodging will be safe for you to rest in, though that might change during work hours. Expect to shoot scenes there.


    ¡°This is where you¡¯re staying? This must cost a fortune.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, the motel was fully booked.¡±


    Contract Negotiations


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Aspect: Celebrity


    Stat Used: --


    Some movies change things to amodate a big-name actor. They have to keep the talent happy.


    The user will have an easier time altering the story through Improvisation by speaking their desires directly to Carousel itself while Off-Screen. This trope eliminates the requirement that improvised changes be better than Carousel¡¯s n or that they be built up in the narrative previously. The bad results are on you.


    Be warned: Carousel will have its own terms for the change.


    I can¡¯t have people thinking my character would do that.


    Antoine didn¡¯t fare as well as I expected. He had some solid moments in the story, but he was high-level, and an exnation that none of us wanted to talk about was that Carousel took him off the board for longer than it might have wanted because of his condition. Still, he got one stat ticket and two tropes. Only a few coins fell down the slot for him.


    In Bed By Nine


    Type: Healing


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Health Nut


    Stat Used: Savvy


    A good night¡¯s sleep can do more than help you get a great start to your day. It provides a barrier between scenes during which the character can process their situation. It allows tension to lower, tempers to cool, and for characters to think with a clear mind.


    This allows the character to cause ¡°the end of the day¡± in the story so that they can sleep. The story will pick up the next day. Rest dulls injuries from the storyline thus far, both physical and mental. ns made during the night and ryed in the morning get a slight boost in effectiveness.


    If I don¡¯t get my seven hours I¡¯ll be cranky for this entire apocalypse.


    Arm Candy


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Stud


    Stat Used: Moxie+


    Your date could be with anyone, and they chose you. That has to say something good about you, right?


    The yer¡¯s Moxie is buffed based on their romantic partner¡¯s Moxie, desirability, wealth, fame, or sess. This works best in social settings, such as workces, parties, and weddings.


    How rich/endowed/sessful/charming/cool/funny must that guy be to get a girl like that?


    Ramona got one stat ticket and one trope. She got to keep the money her band made at the Centennial, however, so she didn¡¯t walk away empty-handed.


    She was silent and cold, and¡­ she didn''t trust us or anything she saw in Carousel. I didn¡¯t know what to do about it. We were the only people she knew anymore. Carousel Proper was different enough from Ss¡¯ Throughline version that she felt lost, more lost than us in some ways. This wasn¡¯t her home anymore.


    The Foil


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Hysteric


    Aspect: Defiant


    Stat Used: --


    Sometimes for a character to obtain their full potential in a story, there needs to be another character topare them to.


    Aplex trope, the foil will face simr struggles as the protagonist but with a different approach. Where the foil makes mistakes, the protagonist will be led to avoid them. Where the foil¡¯s philosophy will lead them to destruction, the protagonists can lead them to redemption.


    The Foil leads a cursed life so that the protagonist can lead a blessed one.


    Bobby did well, but it was hard for me to judge his performance. He yed a background character who helped out a ton¡­ for no established reason.


    He got three tropes and two stat tickets. He was paid pretty well and received a small note about where his dogs were. They were in the big, fenced-in yard back at the farm where he left them.


    He contemted bringing them to Kimberly¡¯s loft. We¡­ needed a better solution. We were allowed to build, so Isaac suggested the roof. Isaac thought he was making a joke, but Bobby took it seriously. Within a day at our new ce, he was searching through the As for a storyline at a hardware store so he could build an enclosure.


    Not in the Budget


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Extra


    Stat Used: Hustle


    ¡°No one can tell who the blood-covered bodies are in the background. Just go back to wardrobe, and we¡¯ll find somewhere else for you.¡±


    Extras never get enough screen time for the audience to pick you out from the background. When equipped, a yer will be revived once the extra they are ying is killed. They can then go y another character. Only works if the initial character won¡¯t be recognized.


    All of the female victims in this movie were yed by Trish in different wigs.


    Act Like You Belong


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Recast


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Background characters are usually not filled out. There¡¯s plenty of wiggle room.


    The user may quickly incorporate helpful, seemingly innocuous elements into their character to fit in with the scene. Grab a clipboard or a hard hat, and you¡¯re good to go. However, all collective background elements added have to work together, so use wisely.


    ¡°I¡¯m only a construction worker on the weekends. My true passion is working at this military base.¡±


    The Good Seats


    Type: Insight/Perk


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Extra


    Stat Used: Hustle


    It¡¯s weird how the out of focus characters in the background never hear anything.


    The user will be given directions to scenes that need background actors. Listening in to those scenes can lend some powerful insights.


    Why is no one in this cafeteria talking except for those two dramatic people over there?


    Cassie did well. Her character was in the background a lot, but she helped us as best she could and even stole the show at least once. Her lower level,bined with hermendable showing, resulted in four stat tickets and three tropes, along with her money.


    I think she was happiest about not having to wear the mboyant outfits her character owned anymore. She was back to dressing like a grunge hippie and connecting to the bar¡¯s jukebox on her cellphone, which must have been magic because there was no way Carousel used the same wifi as Earth.


    Like Isaac, she mostly kept her head up because there was hope that they would be able to rescue their big brother, Andrew.


    It¡¯s nice to have hope.


    Curios and Trinkets


    Type: Rule/Insight


    Archetype: Psychic


    Aspect: ultist


    Stat Used: --


    An ultist¡¯s power in movies is measured by the number of trinkets in their home that you shouldn¡¯t touch.


    The user can collect a magical or ult artifact from this storyline. In future storylines, they will be able to ascertain simrities and differences between the object they are examining in a storyline and the objects they have collected. Once their collection is robust, they will have some very good lore insights about any given magical object in a story.


    Collectible ult objects will be listed on the red wallpaper after The End. Collectible objects will not harm anyone outside of the story unless acted on by another trope. The objects do not need to be brought into a storyline. Building a collection is important for many ultist tropes.


    This reminds me of the haunted painting of the little girl but with a touch of the vase of screams.


    I¡¯m Blocked


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Psychic


    Aspect: Seer


    Stat Used: Moxie


    It sure would be easy if the psychics in movies were actually able to identify things from the get-go. Unfortunately, they usually only get headaches.


    Using this trope, the yer can scout out information about potential storylines. They will receive some scant information at first, always leading to some kind of blocking. The nature of this blockage is useful for discerning what the storyline involves, however.


    I see¡­ a creature. It doesn¡¯t like me. I cannot look any further.


    rity of Purpose


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Psychic


    Aspect: Exorcist


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Sometimes strength does note from the body but from the spirit.


    The user of this trope can use Moxie instead of Grit when tackling a problem that inflicts constant pain, such as grabbing something in acid or that is on fire, etc. All that matters is that their spiritual prowess has been established and their purpose is clear to the audience.


    Either way, this is going to hurt.


    I didn¡¯t do too shabby. I only got one stat ticket, but I got three tropes and a handful of coins. Not bad for a character who started with no redeeming qualities and identally electrocuted himself.


    I got a room with a view of the street below. It had one of those beds that folded up into the wall. I half expected it to be some kind of Omen. It wasn¡¯t, but it was wise for me to check first.


    At night, I would look out my window at the life below and ask myself where all of the NPCs came from. Did they all have stories of defeat? Had Ss or one of the other Narrators invited them without mentioning the state of the world they were entering?


    Were their smiles real? Were any of ours?


    All other questions aside, what I would ask myself as I went to sleep was what our purpose could be. Ss was a liar but he had a purpose for us, whether it was the one he imed or otherwise. Maybe the Geists held clues about the origin of Carousel. Only time would tell.


    The Throughline Tracker held so many promises. We had things to do now. Secret Lore was finally something I felt safe thinking about. Project Rewind was behind us and a sess. We had not yet entered Carousel''s Throughline, which gave me a strange sense of freedom.


    Then there was Ss'' old Throughline. At first, I stared at it like a ck mark on the red wallpaper. Why did we have to be reminded of our abject failure? But the more I stared at it, the more I started to question things. Why would Carousel even track it? Why had the name of the Throughline been crossed out? The messages "For when you need to go back" and "Carousel Loves to Recycle" stuck in my mind.


    Ss said that Throughlines were like magic, a magic spell unto themselves. What if that was true? What if that was exactly what it sounded like?


    What if everything we had done in the tutorial wasn''t a waste? The Geist Throughline was like a meta time machine that could eventually show us past versions of Carousel. "For when you need to go back" carried with is a clear message if I were willing to open my mind a little. It said we would one day need to go back, but now we had a way. One day, we might just need to go back to where it all started.


    And a part of me, a part I was ashamed to show the others, was absolutely thrilled.


    Cut!


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Filmmaker


    Stat Used: Savvy


    This scene just isn¡¯t working. Let¡¯s cut it short.


    While on Deathwatch, the user can yell ¡°Cut!¡± and the scene will go Off-Screen. The scene will resume after a short break. This is best used when there is something else for the camera to follow and when the transition is seamless. Repeated use during fights will anger enemies. Cutting during climactic moments will disable the power.


    Be warned: everyone can do better on the second try. Even the enemies.


    Pair with <strong>From the Top!</strong>


    Show that you can be trusted.


    The Dailies


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Filmmaker


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Every day, the film shot of a movie is collected and analyzed by the filmmakers. These dailies can greatly affect the direction of the shoot.


    The user will be able to review raw footage on the red wallpaper from the day¡¯s filming. This only works in multiday films where the character has downtime. The footage will never give away a whole mystery, but it will always have leads and clues. It can be used on Deathwatch and previous storylines.


    Sometimes, tedious work pays off.


    He has a tell


    Type: Rule/Insight


    Archetype: Detective


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Savvy


    A seasoned detective is a master of observation. Everyone has a tell, a subconscious sign that they are stressed or that they are trying to deceive. The question is, will you catch it in time?


    All characters in this story who might be lying or otherwise stressed about a subject will give some subconscious tick that can be picked up on when talking about that subject. They might be lying or simply scared. Either way, an observant yer will know to inquire further.


    Detecting a lie is only half the job. Then you have to find the truth.


    We set out a coin jar, and each of us put in sixty percent of our earnings: twenty percent for rent and forty percent to fix up the ce.


    Sometimes we sat back and listened to the screams at night and when we looked at each other, we weren''t scared. I always wondered how the Vets back at Camp Dyer could hear the banshee screaming in the woods near theke and be so rxed.


    As we settled into this new, safe ce, we were morefortable than we ever felt during the supposed tutorial, and I finally understood how the Vets could take the horror of this ce in stride.


    It¡¯s because humans do what we do better than Carousel does what it does.


    And I still don''t know what that is.

 Arc II, Chapter 86: Grocery Shopping

    Arc II, Chapter 86: Grocery Shopping


    I walked through the aisles of the general store with a purpose.


    I was making a mental shopping list. The shelves were stacked with a meager supply of canned goods as well as all the staples that you might expect, such as flour and salt. Did we need kidney beans? Did we need beets? Did anyone need beets?


    The refrigerated section was even less impressive, but it had eggs and milk and bacon. What more could we ask for?


    As I rounded the corner of the aisle, I came across Dina. She was doing much the same as I was. We made eye contact and didn''t say a whole lot.


    "They have a lot of really old candy," was the onlyment she had.


    I nodded.


    We heard a noise from somewhere beyond the refrigerated doors at the back of the store. It sounded like a scream. We couldn''t see what was happening because the ss of the refrigerated unit was fogged over, but there was a single handprint visible and conspicuous.


    As long as we didn''t open that door, we were safe.


    As long as we didn''t eat from the cracked ss container of pigs'' feet (and the creature that infected them) on aisle 3, we were safe.As long as we didn''t steal from the store, we were safe.


    As long as we didn''t¡­ and the list went on.


    ¡°You need help finding anything, you just let me know,¡± Corduroy Patcher called from the front of the store.


    He was an older, rotund man with blue eyes and pupils like little dots. He watched us every step we took. His words were friendly, but his tone was not. He was the proprietor and sole employee from what I could tell.


    ¡°We don''t have much as you might be used to back in the big city, but we got plenty. We got all a family needs,¡± he added.


    He was right. He had everything we needed at that moment. He had very little of what we wanted, but we weren¡¯t in a position toin.


    You would think that in a haunted world based on horror movies, death by hooks or teeth would be the biggest worry, but it turned out that death by slow starvation was a bigger threat once you started to get the hang of things.


    Sure, if you went into a storyline, you could eat your fill, but as soon as you got to the end of the story, your body would reset to being hungry again. It was a small price to pay for healing all your injuries, but it presented a problem.


    The only way to create a sustainable base of operations was to find a source of food that could keep yers sated and satisfied when they weren''t out on storylines.


    The Vets, when we got here, had it all figured out. They could go clear a storyline at Eternal Savers Club and then load up shopping carts to take back to Dyer''s Lodge. Even when we were trying to oust an apocalypse, we never went hungry from their stores of food at the lodge.


    But we were not high-level enough to clear the storyline at Eternal Savers Club, so we had to find somewhere else to shop.


    Our money was running low. We needed a storyline that ended with a scene that we could pige and loot for food. Before I actually had the responsibility of making it happen, I thought it would be easy.


    Practically every storyline had food essible, and some of them had really good food, but that wasn''t enough.


    You needed that food to be essible to be looted after the final battle where most stories no longer had food avable. Normally, all that was left at the end of the movie was destruction.


    We were in luck, though. The Carousel As contained all the solutions that yers from years past hade up with for this very problem. Eastern Carousel General Store was a great ce to loot. Sure, the pickings weren''t great.


    Of course, the food was old. Not old as in expired, but as in the type of food they ate in the ''70s.


    All we had to do was clear one of the three storylines in the surrounding area, and then we could raid this general store to stock our pantry for weeks. We just had to make sure ol¡¯ Corduroy Patcher bit the dust by the end of the story.


    The question was, what were we going to take when we got here at The End? That was today''s mission: to get a list of what was offered to make sure that this storyline would be worth the risk.


    As I looked at Dina, we both nodded in agreement that this ce would do very well. We couldn''t keep spending our money at the restaurant downstairs from Kimberley''s Loft.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    As we walked around, Dina kept picking things up off the shelves to rile up the storekeep up front. Maybe she was messing with me; I couldn''t tell. Of course, she put everything right back. I cracked a smile, hoping that would satisfy her and she would stop with her little game.


    It was my fault, really. I had told her specifically not to shoplift because that would trigger one of the many Omens in the store. She might have taken it personally, but really, I was talking about her stealing trope, which only worked in the storylines.


    I wasn''t going to cause a fuss about it.


    Corduroy Patcher was, though.


    ¡°I can see what you¡¯re doing back there,¡± the man said. ¡°I ain¡¯t nobody¡¯s fool.¡±


    He stared us down like we were trying to rob him blind. To be fair, we were going to rob him blind, just not yet.


    I went to the back cooler and avoided the ss window to the refrigeration unit with the handprint. I grabbed an ice-cold ss of some off-brand c and walked to the front of the store. There was one good thing to say about Eastern Carousel. The prices were cheap.


    The shopkeeper eyed me up and down and sneered at my hair, which desperately needed a cut. Fortunately, most of the length had disappeared whenever we finished The Die Cast storyline and my body was reset.


    ¡°You folks are from the city, I can tell,¡± he said.


    I nodded. ¡°Downtown,¡± I said, confirming his suspicion.


    He was just an NPC as basic as any other.


    ¡°People often forget how different Eastern Carousel is from the big city,¡± he said. ¡°It''s a million miles away. My family''s been here since the first war, and we''re going to be here till thest war. Nothing ever changes over here, and we don''t need any of your nonsense.¡±


    He took my soda, popped off the cap, and handed it back to me. I was d that Eastern Carousel wasn''t actually a million miles from the Carousel Downtown. We had to walk, after all.


    ¡°Oh, don''t worry,¡± I said. ¡°We''re on our way out of here.¡±


    A nce to my right showed me that Dina was looking at me with some urgency. As I nced at her, she deliberately moved her eyes down toward the shopkeeper''s hands. One of them was under the till.


    ¡°I''d best be getting back to the big city,¡± I said and quickly moved toward the door where Dina was. I nced back to see what he was holding underneath the till.


    I saw the butt end of a shotgun.


    It was a sawed-off shotgun, though I couldn''t actually see the barrel. It was called that on the red wallpaper. The only reason I could see it on the red wallpaper was because it had a trope. Ss Dyrkon had created a throughline that was a lot like Carousel, but it didn''t have items with tropes attached.


    Once we were out of his throughline, we saw them everywhere, though most of them were unobtainable.


    Unobtainable, that is, unless you beat the storyline they were a part of.


    This one was particrly desirable. It had a Criminal-Outsider trope called <strong>The Hidden Barrel</strong> that had a simple premise. If you hid the gun and aimed it at an adversary, the gun would go off if they started to attack you. This was a staple of crime dramas.


    An instant shotgun st to any enemy who crossed the line would be very useful.


    As we left the store, I said, "Nice catch. We''re gonna have to grab that."


    One more thing added to the shopping list.


    "We could keep it by the front door just in case," she said. "Probably won''t need it, but it''ll make us feel a lot safer. Well, it''ll make Isaac feel safer."


    I nodded in agreement.


    Outside, Antoine, Kimberly, Cassie, Isaac, and Bobby were waiting. Because of all the omens, we didn''t want too many people in the store.


    ¡°Looks like a good target,¡± I said.


    "Did they have produce of any kind?" Kimberly asked. She had put on her Sorority President hat and was doing her best to make her loft livable.


    "Sure," Dina said, "But they cooked it all in tiny tin cans so that it''llst decades."


    Kimberly was dejected. Grace''s home cooking with fresh vegetables was just a dream at this point.


    "All that matters is that they have enough food so that we don''t have to keep going on storylines," Antoine said. "Sounds like a sess. So I guess we''re doing the storyline you picked out?" he asked, looking at me.


    "The Final Straw," I said. "Can''t wait."


    But I would have to wait because we still had nning to do.


    But of course, if we were going to do a storyline in Eastern Carousel, we might as well take a look at it while we were here. It was easy enough to find, just a few streets down from the general store.


    The flyers started with one being ced on a telephone pole, then another on a chain-link fence with a barking dog behind it, and then there were more on a wooden barricade that blocked off a long gravel road. And then more on every surface that a poster could be ced on.


    A hurricane of them blew down the street.


    ¡°Looks like you''ve already been cast, Dina,¡± Antoine said as we looked at the posters.


    He was right. The missing poster wasn''t like those you would find for yers who had died in storylines. It looked like a real missing poster. It showed a picture of a young girl staring innocently at the camera, wearing a dress and a white long-sleeve shirt.


    Her name was Tamara. Tamara Cano. Unless it was a huge coincidence, it would seem that Carousel intended for Dina Cano to be Tamara''s mother in the story.


    "It''s like it''s mocking me," Dina said.


    We stood there silently contemting whether there was any possibility this wasn¡¯t meant to mock her at least a little. Carousel had mocked my dead loved ones. It had no reservations about rattling its yers.


    "You are probably asking for it with the tropes you use," Isaac said.


    Cassie elbowed him in the ribs and whispered something sharply in his ear.


    He wasn¡¯t exactly wrong. Dina had a background trope called A Haunted Past that she alwaysbined with Encouragement from Beyond, which allowed her to speak with her dead loved ones. If Carousel was going to pick one of us to have a missing daughter, it would be Dina.


    I didn''t know if there was any greater meaning to that. I didn''t know if Carousel was doing it because Dina''s son had died in real life.


    All I knew was that we now had one piece of information we didn''t have before. When it came time to n our run of <em>The Final Straw</em>, we would be more prepared because of it.


    "Let''s get out of here," Dina said. Her mood had soured, which was a bummer because it had just begun to lift in the days since we finished the so-called Tutorial.


    I just hoped that she would be able to y the grieving mother when the time came.

 Arc II, Chapter 87: A Knock in the Night

    Arc II, Chapter 87: A Knock in the Night


    The storekeep might have been right about Eastern Carousel being a different world. This part of Carousel was trapped in a perpetual autumn, an unending harvest. All the trappings of the fall season could be found on the homes and in the fields as we walked toward Bobby''s im.


    His Writ of Habitation had given him ess to a small cottage rented from a farmer. It wasn''t until we got to that farm that I realized how odd his little home away from home was.


    Where the rest of Eastern Carousel was filled with golden and amber hues, the farm where Bobby''s cottage was built remained green and full of life. They grew pumpkins and squashes. They were still harvesting melons and tomatoes. The pumpkins were the size of wagon wheels, and the squashes were the size of pumpkins. The tomatoes were just normal size, but they still looked delicious.


    The main house on the property had a wrap-around porch. On that porch, an NPC sat with a shotgun leaned up against his rocking chair as he whittled a piece of wood¡ªnot into some piece of woond art but just whittled it smaller.


    There was a post on the fence with a simple sign that said, "In Eastern Carousel, old ones roam¡ª Pines whisper, Sheaves dream, Moon quilts fields, River sings, Ancient songs breathe here."


    ¡°I think my grandma had a quilt with that on it,¡± Isaac said to a reply of chuckles.


    There was an odd feeling in the air, an aura, but not a depressing aura like that of the Unknowable Host. It was still an ancient feeling.


    I wondered to myself if it was my psychic background trope that was giving me these insights, but the others felt something, too, which they wouldter report, if not as profound. In a magical ce like Carousel, this ce was still special.


    We couldn''t wait to get Bobby''s things and get out of there.Bobby¡¯s Writ of Habitation meant that he could alter the premises of his base. Practically, this meant he was going to gut it of everything we might need, and we were going to lug it back downtown to Kimberley''s loft.


    Bobby''s gaggle of dogs would follow him wherever he went, so they weren''t much trouble. But the barrel of dog food needed to be wheeled out of there on a hand truck, which was luckily included in the property. Bobby''s bedding and all of the toiletries and dining outrements were also packed up for us to take.


    "I''m sorry I tried to have it ready to go, but there''s just so much," Bobby said as I looked around the room. I wasn''t sure what he was talking about; the ce was as bare bones as Kimberley''s, but it did have some touches of home.


    Kimberley was not happy with the style of Bobby''s throw pillows and curtains, but she didn''tin. We weren''t shopping at IKEA. The ce was smaller on the inside than Kimberley''s loft, but it had a lot ofnd where we could have grown a garden under the mystical haze that this property seemed to exude.


    There was plenty of room for the dogs to run. The cottage itself wasn''t in great shape and would need repairs.


    We weren''t going to worry about it; sticking together was more important.


    Everybody was carrying as much as they could as we walked back toward the downtown, down the dirt road that Bobby''s base had been on. The NPC on the wrap-around porch watched us as we went but said nothing.


    "We''re not going to be bringing anything from the prison, are we?" Isaac asked. His Writ of Habitation had given him ess to the historical jailhouse. Everything there was bolted down, but if we needed to during our brief moment of having ess to it, we could take some of the reinforcements and metal grading to help secure the loft.


    That wasn''t on our minds at the time.


    "I thought you were staying in the jail," Antoine said. "Don''t you have to finish your sentence?"


    "Haha. My life sentence ended when I died there," Isaac said.


    The banter continued back and forth, but I mostly focused on watching for omens and getting us back to our new home.


    ~-~


    It was well past midnight when the knocking started.


    Each of us exited our rooms and entered the central loft, one at a time. Cassie was still wrapped in her threadbare nket, and the rest of us wore whatever we slept in.


    We said nothing. We stared at each other, solemnly understanding what our lives would be like at the loft.


    ¡°Please,¡± the man on the other side of the door pleaded. ¡°Please, I need help. Please open up.¡±


    He was crying and screaming and banging on the front door of Kimberly¡¯s loft apartment.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    None of us dared say a word.


    Kimberly stood wrapped in Antoine¡¯s arms. His baseball bat was in his hand. He was ready to strike at whatevery on the other side of the door.


    I gestured to the others to be quiet as I inched closer to the door. I was shirtless but wearing pants and my hoodie. I had to because my nket was too small for a grown man.


    I took a deep breath as I approached.


    I put my eye up to the peephole.


    The man on the other side of the door was named Edwin Morales. I didn¡¯t need the red wallpaper to see that. He was a bartender at Grain Matter downstairs. He was a nice enough guy. He wore a lot of hair gel to spike up his mid-2000s hairdo.


    We had gotten to know him over the past few days as we spent our money downstairs at the bar and restaurant.


    He asked us questions about our lives and our families. He was nice.


    Was this why? Had he been nice to us to make tonight even harder on us?


    Edwin¡¯s rhinestone-fringed button-up shirt was ripped.


    ¡°Kimberly!¡± he screamed from the other side. ¡°It¡¯s Edwin. Please let me in. Please.¡±


    Through the peephole, I could see that he was an Omen. We had been expecting one soon, and we expected them to start ramping up.


    I could see how to trigger the Omen. Letting him in, of course. But it wasn¡¯t phrased like that. Kimberly¡¯s Writ of Habitation made it so Omens would leave if they were ¡°denied.¡±


    The red wallpaper revealed that he could be ¡°denied entry by telling him to leave.¡±


    That meant that each Omen that appeared required some special variation. Locking the door would not be enough.


    I took in the air to try and yell at him to run him off, but I thought better of it. We had a n for this.


    I turned to the others.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± I whispered as I gestured for him toe closer.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be doing this when we¡¯re on a run,¡± I said quietly. ¡°Take a shot at it.¡±


    I stepped aside so that he could get a view through the peephole.


    Isaac had a scouting trope that would allow him to spot Omens. His was called <strong>How is this normal?</strong> and it required him to call out how an Omen was unusual to get info about it.


    One nce woke him up quickly.


    ¡°Come on, guys,¡± Edwin said. ¡°I can see you looking through the peephole. Please let me in.¡±


    Isaac thought for a moment. ¡°Why do you keep looking to the right?¡± he asked. ¡°That¡¯s strange.¡±


    Sure enough, it was strange.


    Edwin had been looking at something or someone to the right of the door that we could not see.


    Momentster, I heard a shot from outside, followed by a body dropping. Someone had shot Edwin.


    ¡°Let us in now, or I will make you regret it!¡± some man screamed from outside.


    ¡°We¡¯re just looking for a good time,¡± a woman¡¯s voice said in an exaggerated, sultry tone.


    Isaac looked back at us.


    ¡°Did you see the Omen?¡± I asked.


    Isaac nodded. ¡°Kids¡¯ Games,¡± he said.


    That was the title of the storyline the Omen triggered.


    I nodded.


    ¡°Go away!¡± I screamed.


    Antoine joined in with me. ¡°You all had better get your asses out of here.¡±


    Laughter echoed in the hallway for longer than should have been humanly possible.


    Then silence.


    After a moment, Isaac looked outside and said, ¡°They¡¯re gone.¡±


    But none of us really believed that.


    We stayed ready for them to return all night, but they never did.


    ~-~


    ¡°I am the master,¡± Isaac said the next day. ¡°I am the sentry on the top of the tower.¡±


    He stood on the astroturf at the top of the building, his eye firmly nted on the telescope that had been included with the loft. He swerved it from side to side as he watched for Omens.


    ¡°A sentry stands at a gate,¡± Cassie said. ¡°You¡¯re a lookout. Lookouts stand at the top of a tower.¡±


    Isaacughed.


    ¡°I was a sentryst night,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Last line of defense.¡±


    Cassie rolled her eyes.


    The roof of Kimberly¡¯s loft building was clearly a part of the bar downstairs originally. Her Writ of Habitation had given us rights to it, but it was clear the ce was some type of rooftop bar once. Half of the roof was built out like a deck so that patrons could get a good view of the city.


    The other half had a mini golf course that would make Happy Gilmore noxious, with its twisting tubes and spastic fountains. It only had three holes. There were also bean bag toss and axe throwing setups, but no axes to throw. That was a cheap omission.


    Kimberlyid out in the shade of arge ck that covered much of the decking.


    ¡°You really think dogs could be happy up here, Bobby?¡± Antoine asked from his ce behind the bar. There was a little bit of alcohol, but not much else. ¡°I found cutlery!¡± he cried out.


    It was a big deal. We needed to make an inventory of everything we had avable to us.


    ¡°I think they love it. They have room to run and they can stay in the snow cone shack,¡± Bobby said, pointing to an empty snow cone hut that had been used to make adult snow cones. It didn¡¯t really have much other use, but there it stood, insted and ready for a pack of pups.


    We also had a nice grill to use. It even had a propane tank with a trope. <strong>Backyard Bomb</strong> was a Brute-Bruiser trope that allowed therge but portable tank to blow up based on a yer-set fuse and deal a lot of damage.


    In movies, you would see muscle-bound characters chuck these things into zombie hordes. They could definitely clear away some enemies.


    That was a nice thing to fall back on, at least.


    ¡°Hey, Riley,¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°Have you talked to Ramona? She¡¯s not still in her room, is she?¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t want to talk,¡± I said. ¡°Unless we agree to reach out to Ss Dyrkon to join his throughline, she won¡¯t have anything to say.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just that you were closest to her and she needs to know we are still thinking about her. We don¡¯t want her to¡­ disappear. You know,¡± Kimberly said.


    Wait, I was closest to her? She wasn¡¯t close to anyone.


    ¡°The guy talking to his pocket is back,¡± Isaac said, looking down at the street. ¡°Bet he¡¯s going to make a run for the door sooner rather thanter.¡±


    It was nice to see Isaac taking his job seriously.


    ¡°There¡¯s something else I saw,¡± he said. ¡°A few blocks down, at the park. There¡¯s a red wagon. I figure we could use it, you know, for groceries.¡±


    That was an interesting idea.


    ¡°Let me see,¡± I said. I took the telescope and pointed it where he told me to.


    It was a humble wagon. It would definitely make transporting goods easier.


    I let Antoine get a look. He was apprehensive. I could tell.


    We had a silent conversation.


    ¡°Can¡¯t do it,¡± I said. ¡°Too much risk. Too close to stealing.¡±


    Stealing was okay in storylines or in a ce you have rights to like a base, but outside of them, it was a big no-no. The As was clear about it. Steal to your heart¡¯s content between scenes or after the end, but don¡¯t take things otherwise.


    The Vets even harped on us about that, and they were missing a lot of information.


    I did wish I didn¡¯t have to be so careful. That wagon could have been really helpful.


    Oh well.

 Arc II, Chapter 88: A Call with Sal

    Arc II, Chapter 88: A Call with Sal


    ¡°Knock, knock,¡± I said as I walked to Ramona¡¯s nook. She didn¡¯t have her own room but had cordoned off the end of a hallway and put a sleeping mat there. It would do for her. It even had a window.


    She was sleeping when I showed up. She looked up at me, her eyes still pleading, I thought.


    ¡°Go away,¡± she said.


    ¡°I will, just came to check on you,¡± I said.


    She rolled back over. This woman was in herte twenties. She must have been depressed to still be in bed.


    ¡°Everyone¡¯s on the roof,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a nice ce to hang out. You should consider it.¡±


    I was met with silence. She pulled a nket over her head. I was struck with jealousy that she got a full-sized nket, while I got something half as big. That didn¡¯t matter right then.


    ¡°Look,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re going through. I really don¡¯t. Just know we¡¯re here if you need us.¡±


    No answer.I turned to leave, but then I thought better of it and added, ¡°When ites time for you to run a storyline, we will force you. Just a heads up. Better wrap your head around that now. We don¡¯t have a choice.¡±


    Adeline had said that to us back at Camp Dyer. You can''t let new yers start to believe they can sit the game out.


    ¡°You have a choice,¡± she said.


    She didn¡¯t borate.


    I left. We had a run to n. She needed more time.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Kimberly said tentatively. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a Sal? I don¡¯t know thest na¡ª"


    "Kimberly, babe!" a voice called from the other end of the line. ¡°Don¡¯t you know your agent when you hear his pipes?¡± Whoever this Sal guy was, he was a heavily animated character.


    "I have been waiting for you to call me for ages. We have so much to talk about. Are you still in that dingy loft in the downtown area? Well, I know of a gig that pays pretty well and it''s a five-minute walk. Can you believe that? A five-minute walk. It''s a nice, actiony, sexy summer flick with zombies at a health spa. Isn¡¯t that a riot? Best yet, I think I can talk them out of making you do the nude scenes. Of course, you''d have to get a body double, but that''s a small price to pay for your modesty, right?"


    Kimberly sat ck-jawed as she listened to her fictional agent talking a hundred miles a minute, but then she got herself together and responded, "No, Sal, I''m not here about that. I actually have questions about a different job. Do you remember The Final Straw?"


    We had no idea how her trope worked. It was all part of the experiment.


    "<em>The Final Straw</em>, <em>The Final Straw</em>, let me see. Oh my gosh, <em>The Final Straw</em>. You see, I knew, I knew that you would love <em>The Final Straw</em>. It is perfect. It''s what they call a career maker. I''m looking at a script here that could get you an Academy Award. Do you understand that? It is excellent."


    Kimberly looked at Antoine and me incredulously.


    "All right, just let me get my notes, dear. It''ll take me just one more moment, just one more moment... oh, here they are, right on top. Because if you take this role, Kimberly sweetheart, you''re going to be right on top."


    "You say that about every role," Kimberly said, trying to y along with the gimmick of the trope.


    "And have I steered you wrong yet? This one though, this one is going to set you apart because, get this, my dear, you will be the main character. Your face will be on the poster of <em>The Final Straw</em>. Picture this: a young, eager detective hell-bent on saving a missing girl in some hick town out east. Huh? You like that? Well, of course, you won''t actually be a detective; you''re actually a reporter. But I think that''s just as good."


    The energy and enthusiasm¡­ was funny. It felt like a person ying a character. It took everything not tough even when we were talking about a murder game.


    "Tell me more about my character," Kimberly said, holding back augh. "I just want to see if it''s something that I could picture myself doing."


    "What do you need to know? She''s brave, she''s beautiful. If I were 10 years younger and a woman, I would y this role in a heartbeat. She''s inquisitive, but it''s not her hard qualities that make her so special; it''s her soft-heartedness, it''s herpassion. Oh my God, this character, Kimberly, this character¡­"


    "What''s the pay like?" Kimberly said, shrugging her shoulders.


    "Standard pay. The real pay is in exposure. This is going to tell the world that Kimberly Madison is a yer in cinema, that she''s not just some pretty face stripping down in the showers, that she has something to say, that she can carry an entire film on her shoulders."


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    "When have I ever yed a character that''s stripped down in the showers?" Kimberly asked.


    "Oh, it''s an expression, honey. I would never say something like that about you. It''s just people, they talk. You know how it is; this business is ruthless, ruthless."


    Kimberly shot a nce at me because I would know whether or not Carousel had snuck in any nude scenes involving her. I shook my head. This Sal person was just being a character. I had never seen a yer portrayed as nude. NPCs, on the other hand...


    "Either way, I''ve talked to the studio and I''ve had them put in your contract that you don''t have to do anything you don''t want to do when ites to thesciviousness that is often in this genre. And of course, they went along with it. You''re Kimberly Madison. You were the star of <em>The Die Cast</em>. You''ve earned your ce and they know it, sweetheart."


    Eight of us sat around the table and tried not tough as Sal, Kimberly''s fictional agent, gave her information about our next storyline. She had recently been awarded a scouting trope called<strong> Just Ask Sal</strong> that let her talk to her agent about storylines as if they were movie scripts that she was signing on to. After all, that was the conceit of the Celebrity aspect of the Eye Candy Archetype, that the yer was actually just an actor or celebrity signing on to a movie. That was where the Celebrity got all of their abilities from.


    We had been researching <em>The Final Straw</em> with all of the resources we had avable. The first and foremost ce that we looked at was the Carousel As. The entry read as follows:<blockquote>


    <strong>Title: </strong>The Final Straw


    <strong>Omen: A Trail of Missing Posters¡ªA young girl is featured on them. When you walk too far down the Trail, the story starts.</strong>


    <strong>Rmended Archetypes for Scouting</strong>:


    Psychic, Detective, Sheriff


    <strong>Insights Not Considered Spoilers:</strong>


    1. Psychic¡¯s <strong>Charmed Forecast</strong>: The Omen is avable during daylight hours.


    2. Psychic¡¯s <strong>Harbinger</strong>: The closer you get to the truth, the more danger you will be in.


    3. Athlete¡¯s <strong>I Have Practice Later</strong>: The storyline will take a few days.


    4. Time Looper¡¯s <strong>Time Awareness</strong>: Part of the story urs in the past.


    5. Outsider¡¯s <strong>Eyes On Me</strong>: Everything you do will be seen and spread around by the NPCs. An Outsider or simr will be an important character.


    6. Detective¡¯s <strong>Usual Suspects</strong>: Results unclear. Even the innocent parties act suspiciously.


    7. Doctor¡¯s <strong>Crime Scene Triage</strong>: No yer Deaths are Necessary, but a total wipe is possible.


    8. Sheriff¡¯s <strong>Deputized!</strong>: A police officer is a yable character. Usually a fighter, not a sleuth.


    9. Sheriff¡¯s <strong>The Rumor Mill</strong>: Lots of gossip from the townsfolk. Some useful.


    10. Detective¡¯s <strong>The Amateur Detective</strong>: The film¡¯s main character will be an amateur detective.


    11. Soldier¡¯s <strong>Weapons Check</strong>: Firearms are avable, but don¡¯t expect them to solve your problems. The focus will be on melee, traps, and improvised weapons.</blockquote>


    There was a host of information about the storyline that we could use to decide our builds and n our run. Now, all we had to do was use our own scouting tropes to fill in the cracks and make sure we had all the information avable.


    "I''m telling you, Kimberly, the industry is dog-eat-dog. You gotta be willing to rise to the asion, and I think that you can do that with this story. It''s got heart; it''s got a mature ending. You know how I like a nice bleak ending? That''s not to say it''ll be bleak because of you; I''m sure that you''ll do wonderfully."


    "Can you tell me about other characters that''ll be in the story?" Kimberly asked. "Just so I know whether or not I fit into it."


    "Oh, of course. This is a story with lots of subtle acting, lots of subtlety¡ªnot like a lot of the stories that you see around with their screaming cheerleaders and the angry boys wearing masks. No, this is a mature script. Like I was saying, you have police officers risking their lives to figure out what''s going on and to save the day. You have townspeople who are nosy but want to help, more or less, in their own ways. You have a mysterious figure, a scarecrow, Kimberly, a scarecrow who is haunting the entire thing and taking lives."


    That was a little vaguer than we had hoped, but perhaps asking about other characters was a bit out of the purview of this trope.


    "Do I have a romantic interest?" Kimberly asked as she looked over at Antoine. They had been romantically involved in every storyline they had been in, whether it made sense or not.


    "Oh honey, you do not need to be with a man in every single storyline. This one is about you trying to help a little girl. Do you really want to cut back to some scene about you making goo-goo eyes at a smoldering, damaged man? I mean, I get it, Kimberly. The gun and the badge can be very attractive in a man, but at some point in time, you have to stand on your own two feet or you''re going to get typecast and not in the way you hope. This is your chance to show that you can be the one who wins the fights, that you can outsmart the enemy, that you can trap them, and that you can use your wits and yourpassion. Don''t throw that away just so that you can be arm candy to some hunk."


    It was interesting, the words he used. Sal was telling Kimberly not to have a romantic fling with Antoine''s character. "Arm candy" was one of Antoine''s new tropes. If he had a sessful or otherwise desirable romantic partner, it buffed him. We had never considered how that might interact with the story atrge. If Kimberly was going to be the main character, perhaps a romantic subplot would only undermine her.


    Of course, it was always possible that Sal was just being catty.


    I scribbled something down on a piece of paper and held it over for Kimberly to see. She read it and then nodded.


    ¡°Hey, Sal, do I have any allies in this story, or am I all alone?¡±


    "Well, there''s allies and then there''s allies. There are lots of people trying to solve the mystery, honey, but you are the main character. You''ll get help. I believe that there are talks for your character''s news producer to have a big-name actor take the role, you know, a real yer in the industry. He should help you with the mystery. Or her. It could be a her, but let''s be honest, they''re not going to let two strong women headline a movie. The world ain''t ready for that."


    We all looked at each other with a confused expression. It almost sounded like Sal had misspoken and identally gave away that the role of her news producer was a man and then tried to correct it. Of course, it was possible that itself was a ruse and that he was telling us the news producer role was for a male yer on purpose, and the correction was just voring.


    This trope told a lot, but man, was it a lot to untangle.


    "Anyway, Kimberly, tell me if you want to take the role. I will suggest for you that if you do, you should spring for the best amodations you can find. Eastern Carousel isn''t exactly a tourist destination if you take my meaning. Ciao."


    Sal hung up the phone, and we just sat and looked at each other in the whirlwind of information he had given us.


    Kimberly put her phone back in her bag.

 Arc II, Chapter 89: Scouting

    Arc II, Chapter 89: Scouting


    ¡°No¡­ romantic¡­ subplot,¡± I said as I wrote it on the piece of paper we were using to gather our ns on.


    ¡°And I think he was suggesting that I use The Penthouse trope,¡± Kimberly added. ¡°The note about amodations was pretty clear.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I said, adding that bit.


    Sal had talked so fast and so scattered that I feared I might have missed some of the actual clues he gave Kimberly.


    ¡°So I gather from the As entry and Sal¡¯s advice, that Antoine will be a cop, you will be a reporter, Dina will be the missing girl¡¯s mother, and I will be your news producer,¡± I said as I went over my notes. ¡°Anybody got anything else?¡±


    Isaac was the only one to speak. ¡°How does Sal know who is going on the storyline? I mean, he just assumes that Antoine will be there and that you, the Filmmaker aspect will be the news producer. What if you two just don¡¯t show up?¡±


    Isaac questioned everything. It wasn¡¯t a bad thing.


    ¡°Tropes always make assumptions,¡± I said. ¡°Even my <strong>I don¡¯t like it here¡­</strong> trope makes assumptions about who will be on my team. Speaking of, when we were looking at the Omen, it said the difficulty was ¡®I¡¯m getting goosebumps¡¯ but that was with eight of us there, so it will probably be a bit harder than that with fewer yers.¡±


    <em>The Final Straw</em> had been offered to us before on the jobs board where we found the <em>Subject of Inquiry</em> storyline, but that must have been a different version. This one seemed harder.¡°Location Scout told me the movie will be shot all around Eastern Carousel,¡± I said. ¡°There were no notable hidden locations or anything. That¡¯s good to know.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense,¡± Antoine said. ¡°A missing child would involve a wide search. I could see the story going anywhere.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°My Lifting the Veil of Silence trope never activated while we were over there,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°That means the enemy does not target women specifically. We already knew that, though. It¡¯s Benny.¡±


    ¡°You had a much more pleasant experience with the scarecrow than some of us,¡± Dina said. ¡°Of course, my experience probably doesn¡¯t mean anything.¡±


    When we yed <em>The Final Straw II</em>, Dina had dared Benny to kill her. He obliged. Meanwhile, Kimberly and I got out without a scratch. Benny picked favorites, only killing those he believed were worthy of death based on his own judgment.


    ¡°As says no deaths are required,¡± Kimberly added. ¡°Thank god. That means no Looks Don¡¯t Last, and no Deathwatch, right?¡±


    I thought for a moment.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°If we can walk away unscathed, we should try it.¡±


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t n on dying if we don¡¯t have to,¡± Antoine added.


    We were in agreement.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Cassie, did you get any readings?¡±


    Cassie put her fingers to her temples. Her <strong>I¡¯m Blocked</strong> trope was proving difficult for her to activate onmand, but that was probably built into the trope.


    ¡°I sense the supernatural,¡± she said.


    ¡°The supernatural?¡± Isaac asked with a smirk, ¡°In this storyline? I wonder if the flying scarecrow knows.¡±


    Cassie red at him.


    ¡°Let her work,¡± Antoine said.


    And she did, but with little sess.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, as she realized all eyes were on her. ¡°I¡¯m just not getting anything.¡±


    ¡°Take your time,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°We aren¡¯t in a rush. Just get to know your trope.¡±


    Cassie went back to her meditation.


    We stared.


    ¡°Maybe we should leave,¡± Isaac suggested. I wasn¡¯t sure if he was being a jerk or if that was his legitimate suggestion.


    Cassie was wearing her emotions on her sleeve for whatever reason. ¡°I¡¯m trying, I swear,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m not normally this stupid, I promise.¡±


    She squinted hard.


    ¡°No one thinks you¡¯re stupid,¡± Kimberly said.


    Isaac looked like he was about to say something, by Antoine stared him down.


    ¡°Cassie,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re putting a lot of points in Moxie, I notice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to,¡± she said. ¡°The As said so.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not criticizing that. It¡¯s just, putting in the stat points isn¡¯t the whole picture. Moxie is about performance. Maybe if you actually tried to y it up, it might work better. Like when you use the Anguish ability.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any urrences.


    My meager experience with psychic power might have beening in handy.


    She nodded. Her fingers came down from her temples. ¡°That¡¯s easier because the pain kicks in and I don¡¯t have to pretend so much.¡±


    She took a deep breath and lifted her hands, ¡°I see, yes, I see¡­. There is a presence,¡± she started to say. Whatever her <strong>I¡¯m Blocked</strong> trope was meant to do, it hadn¡¯t kicked in yet.


    Isaac got up from the table, hiding a giggle from Cassie. It was for the best.


    Eventually, with lots of iling and attempts to tap into her abilities, she seeded.


    ¡°They¡¯re angry!¡± Cassie screamed. Tears started flowing down her face. Her power was working. ¡°They don¡¯t like me looking, the spirits. They don¡¯t like me looking!¡±


    ¡°Keep looking, Cassie,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°What do you see?¡±


    <strong>I¡¯m Blocked</strong> was all about opposition. It was designed to detect opposing spiritual forces.


    ¡°There is great magic at y. Forces that ought to be left alone. They are angry and they want blood spilled. A child of the earth, life endangered, heartbroken. ¡­ someone vited the sanctity of thatnd¡­ You are old, but we are older,¡± Cassie stopped talking for a moment and then, in a soft whisper, said, ¡°Your choices transform you. What will you be?¡±


    In a split second, Cassie¡¯s head was thrust downward and hit the table before we could stop it.


    We crowded around her in concern.


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± Kimberly screamed.


    ¡°Cassie?¡± Isaac screamed from across the room. He ran to her side. ¡°Cassie, are you okay?¡±


    For a moment, there was silence. Then, she moved.


    She looked up, a lump forming on her forehead. ¡°I can¡¯t see any further,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m blocked.¡±


    And so she was.


    ~-~


    Kimberly reminded Cassie of how well she did for hours after that. Her vision had been chaotic and had certainly set the tone for the storyline we were about to take part in. Sal¡¯s information almost made it seem light-hearted, if only from his humorous way of speaking. Cassie¡¯s vision spoke of anger and retribution.


    I had always wondered what Benny¡¯s deal was.


    ¡°We have to talk about the thing we all already kind of know,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We have to talk about who is going.¡±


    ¡°I think Kimberly should go. I know she¡¯s a bit of an odd choice¡­¡± Isaac started. Before he could continue with his little joke, he said, ¡°Look. It¡¯s got to be the highest level yers. You already know your roles, right?¡±


    We all knew he was right.


    ¡°I know that Kimberly, Antoine, Dina, and I are going. I know,¡± I said. ¡°But someone has to point out how we are the only ones with rescue tropes. If we die, Project Rewind is a failure. No one can save Anna and Camden. No one saves the Vets.¡±


    We took a moment for that to sink in.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We are the best yers for this storyline.¡±


    ¡°What about Bobby?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°He¡¯s got a high level. Why aren¡¯t we considering him?¡±


    Antoine and I looked at each other. We both knew.


    ¡°If we die, the lower-level yers need to have enough yers for a team. We have eight yers. If we take five and die, then they are left with three yers and are basically dead in the water. This storyline won¡¯t be easy, but no one has to die. It¡¯s our best shot.¡±


    I nodded.


    Four yers to a run was on the light side, but it could be done. It had to be done until we rescued more yers.


    ¡°The only question left,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Are what tropes we bring.¡±


    ~-~


    Antoine was not Kimberly¡¯s leading man for this run, so he didn¡¯t need his romance-based tropes. No Arm Candy, no Knight in Shining Armor.


    The As (and Sal himself) had strongly implied that Antoine would be cast as a police officer. He took y It Cool. Without Kimberly there to soothe him using You were having a nightmare¡­, he would need a mental health trope to help him out. He was doing greattely. He told us everything was better than before and we didn¡¯t need to worry.


    My Moxie was higher than his, so I knew he was hiding something, but still, he hade through before, so I trusted him.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to use my social trope,¡± he added. ¡°Everyone Loves a Winner should be nice for a cop.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Should help with early interviews with NPCs.¡±


    He also went with his basic buffs and melee tropes, as well as, The ybook. Since he wasn¡¯t going to have as good of a reason to be with Kimberly, that trope would help him know when it was time for him to act from a distance.


    Kimberly tossed Looks Don¡¯t Last, of course, and built around her Scrunchie trope that let her turn Moxie into other stats, like Savvy or Hustle. Her old standbies like Convenient Backstory and Social Awareness came along, as did The Penthouse and Breaking the Veil of Silence, which had useful in-story abilities.


    ¡°Everything a leadingdy needs,¡± Antoine said. He was trying not to be offended that he would not be a love interest in this story.


    Kimberly blushed.


    Dina equipped Out-of-Town Cousin to help tie her to the action of the story and kept her background setup, which was ideal for this plot. She kept Guarded Personality and An Outsider¡¯s perspective, though I wasn¡¯t sure she actually needed it. No Return Address was added to the rotation in ce of Pen Pal, just to change things up. This was a multi-day storyline so she thought it would work well.


    She debated bringing her growing collection of Criminal tropes, but I wasn¡¯t sure whether they woulde into y. Ultimately, it was her decision.


    I brought Oblivious Bystander, to no one¡¯s surprise. I also brought my background trope, My Grandmother Had The Gift, which would be useful in a supernatural storyline and allow me to equip my Detective trope, He has a Tell¡­ If we were not using Deathwatch, I didn¡¯t need Director¡¯s Monitor or many of my Deathwatch tropes, but I brought Off-Screen death so I could still work from the sidelines if necessary. Raised by Television made a return to the rotation, as well as The Dailies. I didn¡¯t know how much help it would be to see the raw footage, because I didn¡¯t think Carousel would give away too much, but I needed to practice with it.


    The Insert Shot made a return, as did Escape Artist and, of course, Trope Master. There might be a day where I would not use Trope Master, but it wasn¡¯t that day.


    We chose a lean, simple, flexible loadout for out outing. We didn¡¯t want to mess with the plot too much and we wanted every yer avable at all times to help.


    One of us would also have to bring in Bobby''s <strong>Craft Services Are The Real Heroes</strong> trope to maximize our gains when we were searching for food.


    We were as ready as we were ever going to be.


    ¡°How¡¯s my favorite table doing?¡± Edwin, the bartender said as we got the nice corner table down at Grain Matter for onest meal before we hit the road.


    Kimberly told him we were doing great. He gave us menus and said our server would be there soon. If he remember being shot in the head a couple of days earlier, he didn¡¯t act like it. The senior Dr. Halle had told me NPCs only remember what made them better at their jobs, which was ironic given that he clearly didn¡¯t remember a lot.


    Edwin, with his sequin shirt and chipper attitude didn¡¯t need a memory of a gruesome murder.


    We ate our steaks and veggie bowls.


    We evenughed, though that might have been helped by the drinks.


    Things felt normal, even as a hyena person salivated at us from outside the window. Kimberly¡¯s writ would keep him out, along with all of the other dangers.


    We bought Ramona some grilled skewers. That was the traditional present for someone who just found out their life was a lie and they were just being used as some Narrator¡¯s pawn, right?


    This was going to be a storyline where we made no mistakes. We were going to get in, y our parts better than we had ever done before, and bring home the bacon.


    Edwin brought us more drinks. Weughed more, Isaac was funnier when we had been drinking. We took deep breaths and tried to stay in the moment.


    Because soon, we were going to be fighting for our lives.


    But, hey, that¡¯s every day in Carousel.

 Arc II, Chapter 90: Harless Automotive

    Arc II, Chapter 90: Harless Automotive


    <strong>Antoine Stone is <em>the Athlete</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Antoine has a Plot Armor score of 26, Mettle of 7, Moxie of 4, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 3, and Grit of 7.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    <strong>"Gym Rat"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory.


    <strong>"It''s Part of the Uniform"</strong> gives him higher Mettle when attacking with sports equipment.


    Brandishing a weapon is <strong>¡°Like a Security nket,¡±</strong> buffing his Grit and soothing his and his allies¡¯ fear.


    Swinging it will cause his opponents to falter, if only for a moment, based on Moxie because of ¡°<strong>Swing Away</strong>.¡±


    "<strong>Off the Bench</strong>" the yer feels more rested for each scene they are not in. Eventually buffs Hustle and Moxie.¡°<strong>Better Make it Count</strong>¡± greatly buffs thest round of ammunition the yer has avable in a fight.


    "<strong>Everyone Loves a Winner</strong>" the user''s character will have some previous sess that endears them to NPCs. Failure reverses this.


    "<strong>The ybook</strong>" the user will be able to see when it is their turn to act in an established n.


    "<strong>y it Cool</strong>" suppresses mental trauma if the user acts calm and collected.


    He did not bring <strong>¡°Time Out!¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Just Walk It Off¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Knight in Shining Armor¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°You were having a nightmare¡­¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Reload After Cut¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°A Race Against Time¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Coyote in a Trap¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Bad Luck Ma¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°In Bed By Nine¡±</strong>, and <strong>¡°Arm Candy¡±</strong>.</blockquote>


    ~


    <strong>Kimberly Madison is <em>the Eye Candy</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Kimberly has a Plot Armor score of 26, Mettle of 5, Moxie of 10, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 1, and Grit of 6.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    <strong>"Convenient Backstory"</strong> allows her to believably change her backstory to assist with the current task, buffing the relevant stat.


    <strong>"Social Awareness"</strong> allows her to see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs and intuit rtionship dynamics.


    <strong>"When in Rome"</strong> buffs her Grit until Rebirth if her performance matches the tone of the movie.


    <strong>¡°Does anyone have a scrunchie?¡±</strong> allows her to shift Moxie''s points into another stat by putting her hair up.


    ¡°<strong>Carousel Academy Awards</strong>¡± buffs her Moxie based on the quality of her performance in the previous storyline.


    <strong>¡°Breaking the Veil of Silence,¡± </strong>the user will get warnings from knowledgeable NPCs. Outside of storylines, NPCs will warn of dangers to women and hint at storyline rewards.


    "<strong>The Penthouse</strong>" The character will get the nicest, safest amodations in a multiday storyline.


    "<strong>Contract Negotiations</strong>" the user will get a buff to an Improvisation after "discussing" an improvisation with Carousel.


    She is borrowing Bobby¡¯s ¡°<strong>Craft Services Are The Real Heroes</strong>¡± which ensures there is edible food and water on set during the storyline in hopes it will boost their bounty when looting food after the storyline.</blockquote>


    ~


    <strong>Dina Cano is <em>the Outsider</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Dina has a Plot Armor score of 21, Mettle of 3, Moxie of 3, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 3, and Grit of 7.


    Current Trope Limit: 8


    <strong>"Guarded Personality" </strong>resists all insight abilities.


    <strong>"An Outsider''s Perspective" </strong>alerts her to new, out-of-ce, or unusual information.


    <strong>"A Haunted Past" </strong>A background trope that gives her character some past trauma that haunts her and gives her ess to various tropes.


    <strong>"Encouragement from Beyond" </strong>soothes her when stressed, scared, or in pain and may provide useful information in the form ofmunication from the beyond.


    <strong>¡°They Fell Off¡± </strong>allows her to quickly get out of handcuffs and simr restraints.


    <strong>¡°Light Fingers¡± </strong>buffs the yer¡¯s attempts at stealing items from the set.


    <strong>"Savvy Safecracker" </strong>tells the character how long it will take to pick a lock of some kind. Buffs Hustle in the attempt.


    <strong>"No Return Address" </strong>gives the user insight from anonymous letters and allows them to send simr letters to allies.


    <strong>"Out-of-Town Cousin" </strong>makes the user''s character rted to important NPCs and gives them perks and insight based on that.</blockquote>


    <strong>~</strong>


    <strong>Riley Lawrence is <em>the Film Buff</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    His aspect is Filmmaker.


    <strong>Filmmaker</strong>: The Filmmaker has aprehensive understanding of the filmmaking process. They can manipte the game environment effectively, altering the game''s dynamics in subtle but impactful ways. Their abilities are a mixture of meta-Insight and meta-Rule tropes. They have higher Hustle, reflecting their ability to stay out of the way, stay alive, and remain unseen as they manipte meta-movie elements.


    Riley has a Plot Armor score of 28, Mettle of 3, Moxie of 7, Hustle of 7, Savvy of 7, and Grit of 4.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    <strong>"Trope Master"</strong> grants him the ability to perceive enemy tropes, but at the cost of sacrificing half of his Plot Armor.


    As an <strong>"Oblivious Bystander,"</strong> Riley remains untargeted by enemies as he convincingly acts oblivious to their presence.


    <strong>"Escape Artist"</strong> buffs his Hustle to help enact usible escape ns.


    <strong>"The Insert Shot"</strong> makes allies aware of an object the yer chooses. The object will be shown to the audience and its use will be buffed in the Finale.


    <strong>"My Grandmother Had the Gift¡­" </strong>A background trope that gives Riley¡¯s character some ambiguous connection to ¡°The Gift¡± through his heritage.


    ¡°<strong>Cutaway Death</strong>¡± sends him Off-Screen before the moment of his character¡¯s implied demise and allows him to exist behind the scenes Written Off if he survives the encounter.


    <strong>¡°Raised by Television¡±</strong> buffs the user to do one big meaningful action if they establish their inspiration from film and television to establish it.


    ¡°<strong>What Doesn¡¯t Kill Them Makes Them Angry</strong>¡± allows the user to antagonize the enemy into attacking and lowers their Savvy.


    "<strong>The Dailies</strong>¡± allows him to see a selection of raw footage from the day''s shoot.


    "<strong>He Has A Tell</strong>" makes it so characters in the film will have a physical tell when they are stressed during interrogations.


    He did not bring <strong>¡°Director¡¯s Monitor¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°shback Revtion¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Casting Director¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Dead Man Walking¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Cinema Seer¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Coming To A Theater Near You¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°I Don''t Like It Here¡­¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Out Like a Light¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Location Scout¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°The Wrong Reel¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Method to the Madness¡±</strong>, and <strong>¡°Cut!¡±</strong>.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.</blockquote>


    ~


    ~


    The walk to Eastern Carousel was a silent affair. I didn''t think of it as a nervous silence; I thought we were focused, that we were determined. Kimberly, Antoine, Dina, and I had all seen what serious teams looked like when they yed the Game at Carousel, and we knew that if we were going to survive, we would have to be one of those teams that could face incredible odds without flinching.


    As we started to near the road with all of the missing posters that would trigger the Omen for <em>The Final Straw</em> storyline, Antoine started to speak. "We''re going to walk into this bravely," he said. "We''re gonna walk in like we''re just doing our jobs. We are literally just here to pick up groceries and go home. Whatever happens in there, whatever we have to do, whatever we have to face¡ªto us, it''s just groceries. Now y the game, stay in character, and I''ll see you at the end."


    We all nodded in agreement. I breathed deeply and tried to calm myself. I was the brains of the organization, and after the fiasco with the fake tutorial, I felt I had something to prove.


    As we walked closer, I unequipped my scouting trope. It was time.


    A few hundred feet further, the missing posters became more ubiquitous. They hung from every fence and mailbox. It almost reminded me of the scene from <em>The Chronicles of Narnia</em> where the children walk through the closet of fur coats until they end up in the forest in another world. But instead of fur coats, we had dreadful pictures of a girl gone missing.


    I didn''t know whether we would find her alive. I tried not to think about it.


    One hundred more feet still, we walked more slowly as we prepared for the Omen to trigger.


    And suddenly¡­


    "Almost got it," a voice cried out to my left. I turned and saw Kimberley standing next to a green sedan that would have been old when my grandparents were my age.


    "Just a little bit longer. It gets a little finicky in this hot weather," a man said from under the hood. A quick nce at the red wallpaper told me that his name was Nick Ogles. I didn''t know if that was his real name or if Carousel was making a joke.


    Just by ncing at him, I could tell that this scene took ce in the 1960s. He wore muted colors and bell bottoms, and his mustache would have been illegal in 2022. He was a basic NPC.


    He was chewing on something¡ªmaybe bubble gum, but I could never tell because he never spit it out.


    "I just gotta give her a little love," he said. "I''m telling you, the station should be paying to fix my car if I''m the one that has to transport us all the way out here to the middle of nowhere, Eastern Carousel."


    "I hear you," was all I said.


    Antoine and Dina were gone. Kimberly was standing on the other side of the car. Like Nick, she was dressed for the decade. She wore fall colors: a dark orange zer and a maroon pencil skirt. The outfit wasplete with a gold scarf, warm-toned beige tights, and a delicate assortment of gold jewelry.


    We made eye contact and quickly walked toward each other.


    "Did you raid your grandmother''s closet?" I asked with a grin.


    "I know, isn''t it so cute?" she responded, fanning out her pencil skirt and admiring her many rings.


    At that moment, it urred to me that I was probably dressed up too. I moved my hands over my clothes and found that I was wearing a very 1960s business suit with a colorful tie and a yellow undershirt. I was sweating like the Wicked Witch of the West.


    How did they survive in these fabrics?


    We were Off-Screen, so we had time to talk. We knew that Kimberly was ying a reporter in this storyline, so we had to figure out what exactly we were up to. I quickly started to rummage through the front seats and the glove box of the little green car. I found a town map of Eastern Carousel along with a notebook.


    Kimberly had gone and grabbed one of the missing posters for the little girl from a nearby fence. The posters were not asically overpopted as they had been, but they were still ced desperately at every post and fence by someone searching for the girl.


    "Look at this; there''s more on it than before," she said as she spread it out on the trunk of the sedan for me to read.<blockquote>


    <strong>MISSING</strong>


    <strong>Name:</strong> Tamara Cano


    <strong>Date of Birth:</strong> April 15, 1954 (12 Years Old)


    <strong>Last Seen:</strong> October 5, 1966


    <strong>Timeline:</strong><ul><li>


    <strong>2:30 PM:</strong> Tamara left Eastern Carousel Middle School, 217 Thurgood Avenue, Eastern Carousel.</li><li>


    <strong>4:10 PM:</strong> She was spotted near Harless Automotive on Best Street.</li></ul>


    <strong>Description:</strong><ul><li>


    <strong>Hair:</strong> Dark brown</li><li>


    <strong>Eyes:</strong> Dark brown</li><li>


    <strong>Height:</strong> 4''9"</li><li>


    <strong>Weight:</strong> 75 lbs</li><li>


    <strong>Clothing:</strong> Last seen wearing a yellow dress with white polka dots, white knee-high socks, ck Mary Jane shoes, and red ponytail holders with small stic flowers.</li></ul>


    <strong>Family Contact:</strong><ul><li>


    <strong>Mother:</strong> Dina Cano</li><li>


    <strong>Home Street:</strong> Oakwood Drive</li><li>


    <strong>Phone:</strong> (555) 667-5840</li></ul>


    <strong>If you have any information, please contact:</strong><ul><li>


    <strong>Eastern Carousel Sheriff¡¯s Department</strong></li><li>


    <strong>Sheriff:</strong> Jonathan Miller</li><li>


    <strong>Phone:</strong> (555) 667-9210</li><li>


    <strong>Address:</strong> 300 Jefferson Street, Eastern Carousel</li></ul>


    <strong>ANY INFORMATION CAN HELP. PLEASE REPORT IMMEDIATELY IF SEEN.</strong></blockquote>


    "Let''s get to work," I said. My suit jacket had be my metaphorical bag of holding in ce of my hoodie, and I fished out a pen that I had left there.


    "All right, let''s see. The little girl leaves school on Thurgood Ave., and she is next seen on Best Street.," I said as I fanned out the map onto the trunk next to the poster.


    I examined the map of Eastern Carousel. This map made it look like Eastern Carousel wasn''t just a part of Carousel but was rather its own small municipality with a few stores, a few neighborhoods, a quarry, a junkyard, and all the other things that you might find in a small rural town where this story took ce.


    "Her home was on Oakwood Drive," Kimberly said.


    I circled it and traced the most logical path between her school and her home.


    "Well, if she was going home, there''s no reason she should evere near Best Street," I said.


    "Riley," Kimberly said, pointing to a nearby stop sign. Above it was a little green sign that said Best Street. We were, in fact, on the street where she wasst seen.


    "I''m hurrying," Nick said, as if we had just told him to start the car so we could leave. I''m doing the best I can. I was hired to work cameras, not fix cars."


    "All right," I said. If we''re on Best Street and she wasst seen at Harless Automotive on Best Street, I would bet that we''re here to interview whoever saw her, wouldn''t you say?"


    "That sounds right to me," Kimberly agreed. "I guess that means we need to figure out what questions to ask."


    We sat and took notes and came up with a few solid questions, most of which were more designed to elicit information than they were to present information on film as journalists might normally do. We continued to talk and prepare for the interview.


    I just wished we knew who had actually seen her. Our questions thus far were mostly things like, ¡°Can you tell us what you told the police?¡± which would probably be helpful, but still felt like too little


    From somewhere in the car, there was a staticky sound and then a voice, like that over an old radio, started to say, "The search near the brewery didn''t turn up anything. Over."


    The voice sounded familiar, but the static made it hard to be sure.


    "Thank you, Officer Stone," the person on the other end of the radio said. "We''ll keep that in our notes. Where are you headed next? Over."


    "Next is the quarry, and then I''m off. Over," the officer said. It was Antoine. As we had predicted, he was cast as a police officer.


    "Godspeed. Over," the dispatcher said.


    On-Screen


    Suddenly, we were On-Screen; I started with my prepared lines.


    "I''m telling you, Kimberly, I have a feeling about this one,¡± I said enthusiastically. ¡°After this, there''s going to be no more specials on hit and runs or fender benders or mysterious cabals passing bad checks. With this one, we''re actually going to help people. We find this girl, and I''m telling you, good things will follow. We''ll be taken seriously as investigative journalists and we''ll make the world a better ce. It¡¯ll be just like in the movies.


    "Riley," Kimberly responded, "this isn''t a movie. We''re not here to be action heroes. We''re here to help spread awareness about a missing girl. The truth is all that matters, not glory."


    I shrugged.


    "A little glory," I said.


    "Fine, a little glory,¡± she said with a smile, ¡°but mostly we''re here to spread awareness and to get the truth out.¡±


    With that, the engine of the green sedan roared to life.


    "Told you all I needed to do was tweak some things," Nick said as he closed the hood.


    Off-Screen


    He had just started the car from under the hood. I didn''t know enough about cars to tell if that was actually a thing or if it was just something you saw in movies.


    We climbed into the green sedan, and in a sequence soical I almostughed out loud, Nick drove the car approximately 500 feet over a hill, and we found ourselves next to a vast stretch of farnd. At the ce where that farnd met the road was a building with a sign that said Harless Automotive. Next to it was a well-kept farmhouse. The viewers at home (or wherever they were) would never know that our destination was within walking distance.


    As we approached, I tried to get a sense of the ce. It was a humble and well-kept lot. I was used to seeing ces like this run down and covered in rust, but not this one. This was 1966, and everything here was new and pristine.


    In fact, the only thing that was dirty was the coveralls worn by the balding man who stood outside the shop running a rag over the windshield of a wicked-looking car that could have been a cousin to the haunted car, Christine, of Stephen King fame.


    As Nick pulled his green car into the mechanic shop''s lot, the mechanic turned his attention toward us with a sour look, as if the sound of the car''s engine was causing his ears to bleed.


    Nick shut off the engine and we got out. Kimberly was the first to go shake the man''s hand.


    "Hello, sir. My name is Kimberly Madison. I''m a reporter with Carousel News 9, and I''m looking for the witness who saw Tamara Canost."


    The man stopped side-eyeing Nick''s car long enough to express sympathy, saying, "Yes, ma''am, that''s me. It was me and my son who saw her."


    Nick strolled up behind us with a huge case that I soon learned contained a portable camera that looked just as much like one of Dr. Evil''s spacesers as it did a piece of recording equipment. The camera even had finishing not so different from the cars in the lot. It was candy green with ivory trimmings, and it must have weighed sixty pounds if not more.


    "Whoever''s car that is, is really asking for trouble," the man in the grease-stained coveralls said. "That car sounds like the oil hadn''t been changed in at least a year, and if I''m not wrong, the transmission is having trouble. And there was something else... something else," the man said as he tried to focus on his memory of the sound of the engine. "Oh, I''ll have to take a look at it," he eventually said. ¡°It¡¯s all going to tarnation.¡±


    He turned back to Kimberly. "You all are looking for that little girl?" he asked.


    Kimberly smiled and nodded and went on to exin that they were trying to get the word out, much of what she had said to me, but I could see that she was at least a little spooked.


    So was I.


    The man''s name on the red wallpaper was Benjamin Harless. The name tag sewn into his coveralls read "Benny." Those were the same exact coveralls that we had seen flying through a cornfield, stuffed full of straw and being worn by a haunted scarecrow.

 Arc II, Chapter 91: Sunflowers

    Arc II, Chapter 91: Sunflowers


    I looked Benny right in the face. Underneath the grease, he had one of those cherub faces that looked the best when it was smiling. His thinning hair was curly but well-kept. Though he kept casting nces back at the green sedan that had caused him so much pain, he was polite and attentive and seemed, to the best of my understanding, very concerned about the missing child.


    "Yeah, it was me and my boy," he said as Kimberly held the microphone in his face. "We''ve seen that girling around here a lot. She likes looking at the farms and the nts and the trees in the fields. Nice girl, never done anything wrong. And on this day, I remember she looked upset. That''s what I told the cops. Normally, she''s smiling and skipping like the sun is her best friend, but that day, she was sad, and I could see she had been crying. I wish I had called out to her to see what was wrong. I had no way of knowing, you understand," Benny started to say before the words caught in his throat. He almost got caught up in his emotions. His brow was heavy, and his eyes were clear due to a thin covering of tears.


    "And this was three days ago?" Kimberly said.


    "Right."


    "Yes, ma''am. Three days. Me and the boy been out in the woods and the fields looking for her. We''ve been doing our part. She was headed back toward town. I just don''t know what could have happened to her."


    "So you''ve heard it here, a tragedy in Eastern Carousel. Tamara Cano remains missing. If you have any information on the missing girl, please call the Sheriff''s Department number on your screen," Kimberly said to the camera. "Citizens of Eastern Carousel like Mr. Benjamin Harless are out in droves searching for the missing girl, and hope remains high that she will be found and returned to her mother. This is Kimberly Madison with Carousel News 9."


    "And we''re clear," I said. I wasn''t actually sure if news producers were supposed to say "cut" or not, but I vaguely remembered someone saying something like ¡°and we¡¯re clear¡± when I was watching April O''Neil do a news report in a Ninja Turtles movie.


    I didn¡¯t even know if that film was being broadcast. Nick took care of everything. I just wore headphones and looked intense to try and seem like I was working.


    ~-~"How did I do?" Benny asked earnestly. "You think this is going to help find that girl? Tamara used toe around. She used to y with my son, Rustle. I don''t know what I''m going to tell him if something''s happened to her."


    "Your son?" Kimberly asked. "He knows Tamara? Is there a chance that we''ll get to meet him?"


    "I suppose that''d be all right, but you gotta know he¡­ he had a hard life before he came to us, and he don''t talk. But he can understand you, and he''s real smart. The thing is, he gets nervous around some people, so if he don''t want to talk to you, it ain''t gonna happen. Hope you understand."


    "I totally understand," Kimberly said. "I''d just like to see if maybe he has something to say¡­ in his own way."


    We were still On-Screen, so we didn''t have the opportunity to talk about anything with each other, but things were moving forward at a very organic and slow pace, so I feltfortable.


    Kimberly was in her element. While she didn''t have the natural warmth of Anna, she was good at talking to people and knew all the right ces to sigh and look sad. That was a skill in and of itself.


    "Let me do the talking," she said as Benny led us around to the other side of his shop.


    "You realize you aren''t the only one with... moxie, right?" I said.


    "I realize," she answered.


    As we rounded the shop, my jaw dropped at the reveal of one of the most beautiful and intricate gardens I had ever seen. It waste fall, so most of what was still green were the nts that held squashes, pumpkins, and corn along with as many different kinds and colors of sunflowers as I had ever seen.


    "This is wonderful," Kimberly said.


    "Well, thank you," Benny answered. "But I can''t take credit; that''d be my wife and my boy."


    As soon as he mentioned them, I saw them out in the garden. His son was small, but if I were to guess, he must have been around ten years old.


    As I watched the sun shining off his face, he was pulling arge worm or perhaps a caterpir off one of the sunflowers. He looked at the worm in awe and wonder and dropped it into an old coffee can as he continued to search for more worms.


    On the red wallpaper, his name was Rustle, not Russell, but Rustle as in what leaves do in the wind. The woman next to him noticed us as we arrived. Her name was Rose Harless. Both of them were NPCs.


    Rose gave new meaning to the term flower child. She was wearing a tiara of white flowers and a sundress that I thought only the fae were known to adorn. She was barefoot and her hair was long and flowing. She looked at Rustle like he was the sun to her flower.


    From the way Benny had talked, Rustle was not biologically rted to them but was adopted. To look at him, that sounded urate. The Harlesses had dark hair and Mediterranean features, whereas Rustle had pale skin and hair so fine it was almost white.


    Benny went over to his wife to discuss the arrangement. I couldn''t tell what they were saying, but she was clearly hesitant. Despite this, she relented. She grabbed Rustle by the hand, and she and Benny led him back to Kimberly and me.


    "No cameras," Rose said. "And I don''t know if Benny told you this, but if Rustle doesn''t like you, there''s no talking to him. That''s that."


    "Absolutely," Kimberly said. She knelt down to around Rustle¡¯s height and said, "How about it, buddy? Do you think you could talk to me about your friend Tamara? I''m just trying to find her, is all."


    Rustle got close to Kimberly and looked her in the eye. Quietly, I saw an eerie intelligence in his eyes. They were piercing dark¡ªso dark I couldn''t find his pupil. After a moment of intensity, Rustle smiled. He looked back at his mother and nodded. Then he looked at me and then back at his mother.


    "Well, all right then," Rose said. "Go put on your baseball cap, honey."


    Rustle listened and went to fetch a small blue and white cap from out in the garden. He ced it on his head and twisted it around so that the bill faced backward. He was a thin and athletic ten-year-old. True to his father''s words, he never spoke, but he definitelymunicated in other ways.


    "We have a table and chairs out on the deck," Rose said. ¡°Let me go get some herbal tea."


    She pointed toward afortable set of furniture that looked like it had been made by hand. Benny, Rustle, Kimberly, and I found our seats while Rose went to prepare the drinks. As soon as she was gone, Benny turned to us and said, "So, your friend doesn''t do anything to maintain that car, does he?"


    "That would be my guess," I said. ¡°He¡¯s more of a camera guy.¡±


    Benny nodded. "Yeah, I could tell just listening to it running down the street. I don''t know what he''s done to it. Normally, I can tell just like that,¡± he said as he snapped his fingers, ¡°but we got multiple things happening under that hood. You mark my words¡ªit''s a party of bad maintenance and bad parts, let me tell you."


    "So, how long have you been a mechanic?" I asked.


    "Since before I knew the word ''mechanic,'' I was under hoods busting knuckles. The Harlesses get to work young. Rustle here has been working in the garden since he was real little, haven''t you, buddy?"


    Rustle nodded with a smile. He pointed out at the sunflowers and then pointed back to himself.


    "What''s that, buddy?" Benny said. "Oh, he''s trying to tell you that he was the one who found the sunflowers. He likes to go tramping through the woods, and he found some sunflower seeds that he ntedst year, and then this year, he nted the seeds from those seeds, and now we got ourselves a whole forest of sunflowers."


    "That is so cool," Kimberly said. "They''re so pretty."


    Rustle beamed.


    As I scanned the garden, I saw something that made my heart jump. It was a scarecrow. This one looked like a normal scarecrow with overalls and an old id shirt stuffed with straw. It had no gloves and no name tag. The face, though¡ªthe face with its buttons and its little sewn-on hat¡ªwas the same scarecrow head that I recognized from Benny the Haunted Scarecrow. It was not sun-bleached or threadbare like I remembered, but it was the same one.


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    This scarecrow did not fly or cut people''s heads off. It just hung from a little wooden cross, scaring away crows.


    ~-~


    We talked for an hour or so.


    "Really, we were just d that he had found a friend. So many of the children around here can be judgmental. Tamara was different. They had their own little silentnguage. She woulde over here, and they would y in the fields, and she would help Rustle with his work in the garden," Rose said.


    "Rustle has been very upset since we found out she had gone missing," Benny said. ¡°I don¡¯t know why they didn¡¯t spend time together that day. Normally, she only leaves to get home before dark. I don¡¯t know why she left early that day.¡±


    Rustle sat in his seat and looked down at the table. His bottom lip was firmly tucked in between his teeth as he chewed on it, a nervous gesture.


    "I was just wondering," Kimberly said, "is there somece that you and Tamara would go? Maybe a clubhouse, a cave, or a special spot that you would go out to in the woods?"


    Rustle shook his head.


    "We''ve actually been all through the area that they would have gone together," Benny exined. "They did have some stomping grounds over near the creek and through the forests and the fields out north, but we didn''t find her there. We had a whole search party in that area; no one saw a thing."


    Trying to talk to Rustle was difficult. Part of it was because he was nonverbal; another part was because he just didn''t want to tell us everything, or at least that''s how his mother, Rose, put it. He was a very secretive boy, and that had nothing to do with his not talking.


    Rose stared off into the distance, not making eye contact with either of us as she said, "I know my son, and if he knew anything about this girl''s disappearance, he would say something. He''d find a way."


    And so the conversation went on with mostly pleasantries. Kimberly and I hadn¡¯t had a chance to make a n of attack since we had gotten here. We were just talking and trying to dig further.


    As Rustle yed in the garden, we continued to talk to Rose. Benny was already waist-deep in Nick¡¯s car, trying to fix all that ailed it.


    "I don''t know if this is rude to ask," Kimberly said, "but why exactly doesn''t he speak? Does he have autism or some sort of learning disability?"


    "No, it''s fine to ask," Rose said. She looked away from Kimberly as she spoke. "He has what the doctors are calling <em>aphasia voluntaria</em>. The fact is, he should be able to speak¡ªthat''s what they tell us. The truth is, he came to us when he was four or five years old. We have no idea what happened to him before that. Doctors think maybe he wasn''t exposed tonguage or, worse, maybe it''s some sort of trauma response. One doctor said it was a symptom of severe anxiety. He was tested for all sorts of things like brain damage and autism, and they all came back negative. The truth is, me and Benny prayed for a child for so long. I don''t care if he ever talks. Benny says there ain''t nothing wrong with him. That some people are just different. I believe it. He is the way he is."


    Kimberly looked at me. If we weren''t On-Screen and if we were actually able to leave, we probably would have continued our search elsewhere, but the fact that we <em>were</em> On-Screen and our car was in pieces meant there was something here for us to learn. There had to be.


    "This may be very personal, but when you say he came to you, does that mean you adopted him, or is he a foster child?" Kimberly asked.


    Rose wore a nk expression on her face and didn''t meet Kimberly''s eyes. "No, no," she said. "We found him in the field, naked as the day he was born, covered in mud up to his eyebrows. We don¡¯t know where he came from. He was abandoned. No one imed him, no one reported him missing. We did everything we could to keep him when no one else tried. Like I said, we had always prayed for a child."


    At that, Rose looked back at Kimberly in the eye and smiled. "Would you like some more tea, dear?"


    "I would love that," Kimberly said. "Thank you so much."


    As Rose went inside the old farmhouse, Kimberly started to lean over and whisper something to me, but before she could, we heard a hollering out in the garden and a screaming that sounded like it wasing from a child.


    We were up and out of our seats and running toward the sound before we even had a chance to speak.


    As we got closer, we saw what was screaming. It wasn''t a child; it was a rabbit. It was caught inside of a metal trap, the kind that an animal might wander into and then get stuck in¡ªa no-kill trap.


    Rustle had picked up the trap and was walking away from the garden while banging on it with a stick. The rabbit screamed and screeched. I had never even heard a rabbit make a noise like that. It was somewhere between a child yelling and a baby screaming.


    "What the heck is he doing?" I asked.


    He continued walking the cage toward the road, up past the automotive shop. He banged on it loudly and constantly, terrorizing the poor little rabbit inside. When he set the cage down on the ground and opened the trap up, the rabbit bolted out of the cage at a speed most animals will never reach in their lifetime. It was across the road and lost in the thick brush almost immediately.


    Kimberly and I were both speechless.


    "Oh, don''t look so rmed," Benny called from inside his shop. "You gotta scare the animals, or they''ll juste back and eat your crop. Rustle knows that. The only way to protect them is to scare the heck out of them."


    Rustle picked up the trap and looked back at Kimberly and me, then casually walked back toward the garden as if nothing had happened. Kimberly and I looked at each other, unsure of what to make of what we had just seen.


    ~-~


    We were On-Screen and Off-Screen throughout the next few hours as Benny worked on the sedan. He made quick work of it; he identified the problems and fixed them almost immediately.


    "Now I''m going to set you up with this for free, and you gotta go out there and you gotta help find that girl," Benny said as he was finishing up.


    "For free?" Kimberly asked.


    "Got to do my part," Benny answered.


    While he spoke, I looked back at the car he had been polishing when we had arrived, and he caught me staring.


    "Oh, you like that, do you? An Imperial Phantom 1948. A year too old to be the kind that collectors are after, unfortunately, on ount of their bad transmissions and brake design. It''s a shame; I love that car. Can''t keep fixing it, though. She¡¯s too pretty to scrap, but Rose is tired of looking at it, tired of me messing with it on the weekends. She said I either had to get it to run or junk it. Really is such a shame."


    "Can''t find a buyer?" I asked.


    "Not for the ''48, you can''t. Sure, I got offers for the seats because those were the same as the ''50 and the ''52, which are the real collectors'' items, but I''m not going to just strip the seats out of it, no, no. Ain''t got the heart for it. I got old Tugg Montgomerying to haul it off. He''s a regr mercenary; ain''t much for fixing them up, but he can tear them down with the best of them. Sad to see. Still shines like new because I take care of my vehicles," he said, eyeing the green sedan and Nick who stood beside it.


    As we stood there, Kimberly noticed that Rustle was staring at her, which she took as an invitation to have a conversation with him that didn''t include his overbearing mother. She walked back past the mechanic shop toward the garden, and I followed.


    "Hey, Rustle," Kimberly said, "Is there something you want to tell me?"


    Rustle looked down at the ground and then back up at Kimberly. There was clearly something on his mind.


    "You can tell me," Kimberly said.


    Still, Rustle didn''t look like he could trust her, but he did look upset.


    "I''ll tell you what," Kimberly said. "Whatever you have to say to me, I promise I will not judge you, whether it''s good or bad. Do you believe me?"


    Rustle looked at her. At that moment, his face took on a more ancient visage, a look of wisdom far beyond his years, a look forged by distrust. He started to walk away and then looked over his shoulder back at Kimberly and me, then continued walking.


    We followed.


    He led us to the other side of the mechanic shop, where a field of sunflowers with beautiful orange and red petals was nted. They were the only batch like them in the whole garden. He pointed at them. At first, I didn''t know what he was pointing at, but then I realized that he was pointing at ten or so stems that had been cut and their flowers removed.


    "Did someone take the flowers?" Kimberly asked.


    Rustle nodded his head and then pointed at himself.


    "What did you take the flowers for, sweetie?" Kimberly asked.


    Rustle didn''t answer, but Kimberly seemed to be connecting dots before I did, and she pulled out a folded-up copy of the missing poster.


    "Did you give the flowers to her?" she asked.


    Rustle chewed on his bottom lip and stared at the picture of Tamara. I couldn¡¯t read his face.


    "Hey, folks," Benny called from over near the mechanic shop. "We got someone here that would love to speak to you."


    I turned to see Benny walking over to us in his greasy coveralls. Hot on his heels was Dina, dressed not in a dress or skirt like Kimberly or Rose, but in jeans. They weren''t ripped jeans like the ones she normally wore, and her leather jacket was reced with a brown one with a ridged fabric. I could see that she had an apron tucked into her pocket, as one of the strings and the neck loop was hanging out.


    "Miss Cano," Kimberly said, "I recognize you. My name is Kimberly Madison. I''m with Carousel News 9. We''re currently investigating your daughter''s disappearance."


    Kimberly stuck out her hand to shake Dina''s. Dina, ying her part, kept her arms folded for a time and then reached out and shook Kimberly''s hand.


    "Are you here to be vultures?" she asked.


    "I''m sorry," Kimberly said. "I don''t know what you mean."


    "The news people. Theye here to feast off the dead. To make a living off of other people''s misfortune. Is that what you''re here for?"


    "No," Kimberly said. "I''m here to find out what happened to Tamara."


    Dina and Kimberly locked eyes and stared at each other for a moment.


    "Well, at least somebody is," Dina said atst. Her eyes went past Kimberly and past me, and she saw the beautiful sunflowers next to Rustle. She rushed toward them.


    "Tamara has been giving me flowers just like this for thest few weeks. Is this where she''s been getting them?"


    Credit to Dina, who normally put very little effort into acting. She was on the verge of tears as she spoke, and momentster, the tears broke, and she started to cry.


    Benny rushed to his son''s side. "Rustle, have you been giving Tamara these flowers?"


    Rustle nodded.


    Dina, who had started to cry and was trying to stop, turned away from Benny and put her head in her hands.


    "Well, ma''am, we''re searching all over for your daughter, and we really hope that you find her safe," Benny said, close to tears of his own. He pulled a pocket knife from his coveralls and moved toward the sunflowers. He grabbed one of them that was right for cutting and started to take it down, but Rustle pushed his arm away and stood between him and the sunflower, shaking his head.


    "Son, I know you don''t like things messing with the garden, but this is what these flowers are for. We give people beautiful things to make them feel better, you understand?"


    Rustle''s eyes began to tear up and he pleaded with his father not to cut down the sunflower. When Benny finally relented, Rustle grabbed the pocket knife, put it inside his own pocket, and then ran back inside the house.


    Benny turned to Dina and said, "Ma''am, I''m sorry. I don''t know what''s going on, but Rustle sure did care about your daughter, and he''s having a hard time with it."


    "It''s okay. It''s okay," Dina said. "All I care about is finding Tamara."


    "We''re gonna," Benny said. "She''s... she''s gonna be just fine."


    Dina dropped to her knees and said through tears, "I don''t think she is. I can feel her. I don''t think she''sing home."


    Dina''s tropes allowed her to connect to her character''s dead loved ones. Perhaps some connections did more harm than good.


    Kimberly hugged Dina, and Benny offered her his least greasy rag to wipe her tears, and then finally, we went Off-Screen.

 Arc II, Chapter 92: Search Party

    Arc II, Chapter 92: Search Party


    Dina continued to fight back tears as Benny watched his son run off into the distance.


    "I''m so sorry about that, ma''am," he said. "The boy''s just going through a lot right now. Not as much as you, I''m sure. But he''s just gonna go to one of his hiding ces, and he¡¯ll be fine."


    He kind of looked down, unsure of what to do next, taken by intense emotion. "I''ll fix your car. I can do that. I''ll fix it," he said, looking at Kimberly. Then he walked off to do just that.


    We were still On-Screen, so Kimberly continued to console Dina, and Dina continued to be inconsble.


    "She tells me she''s at peace, but I don''t want that. I want her home," Dina said.


    Kimberly looked at me and then back to Dina. "You saying your daughter''s talking to you?"


    "Don''t look at me like I''m crazy," Dina said. "Please don''t look at me like I''m crazy."


    "I''m not," Kimberly said softly.


    "He is,¡± she said, looking at me. ¡°I can see it. How couldn''t he? Who could hear something this ridiculous and not think I was crazy?"Kimberly looked up at me as if nudging me to say something, so I did.


    "My grandmother, she said that she could see things, hear things, feel things," I said. "She always hoped I''d take after her. When I was young, I always thought she just did it so she could win arguments by saying that she had the gift and that she knew better¡­ But after I lost her, I feel like I can feel her too," I said, and in that moment, a tear escaped my eye that I didn''t intend.


    "Are you really going to help me look for her, or is this just some news story?" Dina asked.


    I looked at Kimberly, and then Kimberly said, "We really want to find her."


    "We¡¯ll do whatever we can," I said.


    Kimberly nodded.


    Off-screen.


    "Woof," I said. "This one''s making us emotional, huh?"


    Dina nodded. "I''ve got to go to some dairy farm. Patcher Dairy, I think. My character''s daughter is hauling me around all over town so that Carousel can get shots of me looking all over for her."


    "Do you need a ride?" Kimberly asked.


    Dina shook her head. "No, my character has a bicycle."


    We slowly walked back to Benny''s garage, and Dina grabbed her bicycle with its little woven white basket and rode off to her next destination. As she did, an announcement started ying over Benny¡¯s radio, calling for volunteers to help in a search party near White Lawn Church.


    Kimberly and I looked at each other. That was a pretty clear-cut call to action.


    Benny managed to get Nick''s sedan fixed in record time, and he set us off, not without lecturing Nick about proper maintenance and telling him he wouldn''t get lucky twice. The next time, he''ll be buying a new car.


    ~-~


    White Lawn Church, on White Lawn Road, was abutted by a field of wheat where the search would start.


    Kimberly stood with her back to the field and the many volunteers in it.


    ¡°I''m here with Sheriff Miller, who has been leading a citywide search for Tamara Cano. Sheriff Miller, can you tell us anything about the current search efforts?¡±


    The sheriff, who was a smooth-talking man and clearly a city slicker, stuck out like a sore thumb around Eastern Carousel. He wore pomade in his hair and had a clean-shaven face. He and Robert Redford were probably made from the same mold.


    "I''ll tell you, we are going to find this missing girl," Sheriff Miller said, "because we have three things: we have a generous poption who is giving of their time and resources to help search for this girl, we have an unbreakable spirit and the power of believersing together, and we got award-winning hunting dogs that are trained forpetitions to follow the scent of a target from miles and miles. With those three things, I am confident we are going to find young Tamara and bring her home where she belongs. I will not rest until that happens."


    He nodded his head and then walked back to his cruiser, where Antoine and another deputy named Tommy Patcher were in the process of providing a clothing sample to a trio of baying hounds. I made sure that Nick caught this on film. It seemed like an important part of the investigation. Sheriff Miller pulled a small white sock out of a paper sack and held it out to the dogs to get an impression of.


    After a few sniffs, the dogs were off.


    "And we''re out," I said.


    Off-screen.


    Kimberly and I stared out at the field beyond the little white church. There were acres and acres of wheat. Dozens of volunteers walked through the wheat out toward the woods in the distance, walking with intention and keeping their eyes peeled on the ground and in the distance.


    This tale has been uwfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    We had sat around getting footage of these efforts for nearly an hour. Antoine was busy being a cop, and at a nce, it seemed that he was On-Screen constantly as he struggled to keep one of the hounds from tearing its leash out of his hands.


    "Where''s Bobby when you need him?" I asked.


    "I know, right?" Kimberly said. "We finally have a story that actually calls for dogs, and we left him behind."


    "He''s going to be devastated," I said.


    I looked around. I didn''t anticipate that there would be anything worth finding out in the fields in the distance, and if there were, the volunteers would call out.


    "Let''s check out the church," I said. "What do you think?"


    "Good," Kimberly said. "My character didn''t wear shoes meant for running in the fields."


    As we made our way over toward the church, we saw an NPC named Eustace Patcher.


    Kimberly politely said hello as we passed.


    He grumbled something that didn''t sound friendly.


    "Excuse me?" Kimberly asked.


    "You heard me," he said.


    Neither of us had.


    We never went On-Screen, so that interaction couldn''t have been too significant, but it was interesting.


    The man was watching as they trampled the wheat in the field beyond the property line of the church. I had to assume that his bad attitude was rted to that. The wheat was frail, and you could see the lines where people had been walking through it. Was that his field? Were those his crops?


    We went On-Screen long enough to be filmed walking in the church. That was good; it meant that we were going in the right direction.


    The church had one room, but it was arge room.


    Religion was an interesting concept in Carousel. There were plenty of signs that the people of Carousel worshipped some sort of generic monotheistic religion if you only gave a passing nce, but the churches were not Christian churches, though you would be forgiven for assuming they were.


    As we walked into the church, I was brought back to memories of my younger years being brought to a small, non-denominational church just like this.


    This church had stained ss windows, though the stories depicted in them did not seem familiar.


    This was a struggle. I didn''t know if we were supposed to see this unique religion as being part of the story or if it was just background. Was it merely decoration? Or was it a cult? Carousel had so many cults. There was a whole section on them in the As.


    I picked up a hymnal. It was filled with songs singing praise, even songs that felt very familiar, but they didn''t feel right; they felt off.


    "It''s kind of spooky, isn''t it?" Kimberly said.


    "It is," I agreed. "It''s sacrilegious, Carousel copying religions just to help fill out a setting."


    The front of the hymnal just said "Hymnal," but as I nced at the book, it almost looked like there should have been more words, as if the real text had been stricken. This might very well have been a real religion once, but it had been turned into a prop.


    Spooky indeed.


    On-Screen.


    "Check this out," Kimberly said. She pointed to something that looked like it might have been an altar. In fact, it was the only thing in the church that actually looked like it wasn''t meant to be generic.


    "What would you say this is?" Kimberly asked.


    "A shrine, maybe," I said.


    There was a picture of a man and a woman. It was an old picture. 19th century old. Below it was a little card that said, "Aurelius and Mavis Patcher." On a t surface under that were candles, flowers, and little ss ornaments. One of the candles was lit.


    There was an inscription below the names on the card that read, "In family we find purpose."


    "Interesting," I said. "These Patchers seem to be everywhere, huh?"


    "Small town like this," Kimberly said. "Wouldn''t be surprised if everyone was rted."


    After a few more moments of looking around, we went Off-screen.


    When we returned outside, we found that the dogs had been yanking Antoine and the other deputies around in circles.


    "They didn''t find a hit," Antoine told us over his shoulder as he saw us watching. It was a shame.


    The sun was going down, and people were leaving the search. It was a failure.


    "Keep your chin up," the sheriff said to the people as they left. "We are going to find her. No news is good news," he added.


    As we went back to the car, we found Nick there waiting on us, saying that he couldn''t wait for us to get back to our ce. It was supposed to be nice.


    ~-~


    And it was nice. It was arge white ntation-style house that had been turned into a boarding house called Miss Mornd''s Boarding House.


    Obviously, it was owned by a Miss Mornd, and when we saw her, that was all that was on the red wallpaper, leading me to believe that her first name actually was Miss.


    She didn''t say much, but she definitely eyeballed us as she showed us to our rooms. Kimberly got the attic suite, which was arge room with lots of space. Miss Mornd was very clear that Nick and I were not to stay the night in that room because she didn''t want the appearance of impropriety in her boarding house.


    I wasn''t going to argue with her. She was a thin woman who wore clothes that were 70 years too old for the 1960s. She might look more like a ghost walking through these halls than a living proprietor.


    She called herself thedy of the house, and that she was.


    "Breakfast will be served at 7:00, no sooner orter," she said as she walked away from Kimberly''s room, intentionally leaving the door open.


    "Very nice digs," I said.


    "It''s a beautiful house," Kimberly agreed. "A boarding house? I''ve never heard of that. It''s like we''re staying in a really nice bed and breakfast."


    I agreed though I suspected that in a different storyline, this B&B might be a little bit scarier. The house was very nice but also very dated. Antique decor that looked like new was not something out of the ordinary for Carousel, but this ce really felt like it was lost in time.


    ~-~


    Iy on one of Kimberly''s couches and watched the first batch of raw footage that I was given from The Dailies.


    It was incredibly dull. All of the footage could potentially end up in the final cut of the film, but that didn''t mean it was interesting. It was unedited, and I felt like I was back watching security cameras in Subject of Inquiry.


    Most of the clips didn''t seem to contain much information, so I skipped between them just by thinking about it. I found a clip that included Dina talking to Deputy Patcher. She was giving him effects from her daughter: a hairbrush, a doll, and some yellow frilly socks that someone might wear to fake Sunday school.


    Then, I began watching footage from the search party. It really concerned me. I had expected to see lots of footage of people trekking through the fields, the creeks, and the forests, but most of the footage was of people watching us¡ªKimberly and me. These were intentional shots.


    I told Kimberly what I was watching.


    "Well, maybe they were just staring at us because we''re from out of town or because we have a camera."


    "I''m not sure," I said. "The shots are framed really ominously. There are people searching through the fields, and then one person will turn, look back, and stare at us nkly with suspicion. There were at least a dozen people who stared at us. That includes the rude guy that we saw outside of the church."


    "That''s concerning," Kimberly said.


    "I''d say so."


    After I''d made my way through my current batch of clips, I decided to go down to my room, which was in the basement. Nick and I were sharing a bunk bed. It was like I was back at Camp Dyer.


    I fell asleep trying to piece together the disparate pieces of information we had been given so far in the story. I didn¡¯t see the whole picture yet, but I trusted I would soon. I slept soundly through the night. Didn''t even need my sleeping trope.

 Arc II, Chapter 93: Strange Collision

    Arc II, Chapter 93: Strange Collision


    After a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and other grease-covered foods, Kimberly, Nick, and I went back into town to continue our investigation.


    The first ce on my list for the day was the general store. After all, the entire reason we were running the storyline was so that we could pige it, and I had been wanting to know if Bobby''s food trope had affected the selection at the store.


    I was pleased to find that it had.


    Eastern Carousel General Store was now packed to the gills with goodies. They had even rearranged the furniture and aisles to create an actual produce section.


    Kimberly was ecstatic.


    "Looks like this will have all been worth it," I said.


    "Yep," Kimberly said. "Feels nice when things go ording to n, you know?"


    "Can I help you folks?" a voice from the front of the store called out. It was a repeat of my time with Dina. Same old Corduroy Patcher. Except he wasn''t the same old Corduroy Patcher; he was younger. At least a decade younger than he was when I hadst seen him.


    "Say," he said, "you''re the folks who are here with the news story about the missing girl, right?""That''s us," Kimberly said.


    "You have any leads on that?" he asked, wiping his hands on his apron, leaving visible sweat marks.


    "We have some," Kimberly replied. "We need to follow up some leads before we can air them, though."


    Corduroy swallowed hard and said, "Well, I hope you find that girl." He wiped more sweat on his apron.


    "Can you tell me about this?" Kimberly asked, pointing to something I hadn''t noticed, something that had not been there before when I was here with Dina.


    It was a shrine simr to the one at the church, except smaller. This one had a picture of Aurelius Patcher alone, but the saying was the same: "In family we find purpose."


    "Well, that''s my grandfather," Corduroy said. "It''s our way of keeping him alive. I like to think he looks after the store when I''m not here. He''s my guardian angel."


    "That''s sweet," Kimberly said, although I didn¡¯t think she meant it.


    ~-~


    After we left the general store, our next stop was the gas station down the road. At that point, we were just looking for NPCs to talk to and try to get some perspective on the things we''ve been seeing around town.


    It turned out that the owner of the gas station was Dina''s character¡¯s uncle. Her out-of-town cousin trope had made her rted to one of the NPCs in Eastern Carousel to help tie her to the story. We just happened to stumble upon him. Small world.


    On-Screen.


    He was an older man bound to a wheelchair. His name on the red wallpaper was Barron Cano. His spirit was strong, and when he realized who Kimberly was, he asked loudly, "Is there any news? Have they found my grandniece?"


    "I''m sorry," Kimberly said. "We haven''t found anything yet." The man looked down at the ground and suppressed tears. "I don''t know what I''m gonna do if that poor child isn''t found. I don''t know what Dina''s gonna do."


    He wheeled himself around behind a bar with a t-top grill and an assortment of foodstuffs.


    As we stood in the gas station, a man came in who I recognized as an employee from his uniform.


    "Anything else you want me to do?" the NPC asked. His name was Woodrow "Woody" Patcher on the red wallpaper. He must have been in his mid tote 20s. He wore a permanent grin.


    "Ain''t you that newsdy who''s out here making a spectacle?" he asked.


    "We''re trying to help find a missing child," Kimberly said.


    "You ask me, that kid is dead," he said.


    "And what makes you say that?" Kimberly asked.


    "It''s been four days," he said. "It''s justmon sense. If she was alive, she would havee hollering out of the woods by now. No, I think she''s dead."


    "Good Lord, Woody," Barron said. "That''s my grandniece you''re talking about."


    As if just realizing how rude he was being, Woody said, "Well, well, you see that it''s always possible that she''s still alive." He wiped his nose with his thumb. "You know, I bet what happened is that the father came and that this is just a domestic issue. I have friends in the city who had a simr thing happen. They say it''s always the parents." He wiped his nose again with his thumb.


    He quickly found his way outside to pump gas for a car that pulled up. Barron looked devastated from the conversation.


    "We''re going to do our best to find her," Kimberly said. "Everyone is out looking."


    "Thank you, dear, but I fear he may be right. I fear Dina has already given up. I just don''t know what I''m going to do."


    We stayed there for a while longer as Kimberly asked him what he knew about the girl and if she had any hiding spots that she liked to go to.


    He had plenty to say.


    Apparently, he suspected that she had a friend out in the direction of Harless Automotive that she liked to visit. She didn''t talk about him, but he thought she was entitled to her secrets. He urged us to go seek out that friend.


    Of course, we knew that she had a friend out there. Kimberly thanked him for his help, and we walked out of the store.


    As we did, Woody Patcher said, "You know, this town can''t handle something like this. We got crops rotting in the fields while we¡¯re searching for some girl that''s probably already dead. Ain''t that something to think about?"


    Kimberly eyed him down as we walked away, but said nothing.


    Off-screen.


    We didn''t have any leads. What we did have was arge wooden sign posted near the gas station, telling people that the farmers'' market would be closing early so that the workers could help with the search. It also helpfully included an arrow pointing us in the direction of the market.


    Taking that as a sign, we decided to follow it.


    That arrow led us to another arrow, which led us to a third arrow, which finally led us to the farmers'' market. It was arge structure, a roof without walls, lined with booths. The whole thing was made fromrge pieces of timber. It smelled like earth, flowers, and overripe tomatoes.


    There were a few main entrances into the structure. Each booth was along a wall, and the person running the booth usually had a car, truck, or even tractor pulled up to the backside of their booth that they had used to bring their things to the market that day.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    As we walked through the market, we went On-Screen.


    "Well, I just don''t know what I''m supposed to be doing," a woman who was called Da Patcher on the red wallpaper said. "My berries are going to go bad. Produce does not wait just because tragedy strikes."


    In different circumstances, this market would have been quite a fun trip. There were lots of neat booths and all kinds of local veggies and fruits.


    Next to Da Patcher''s booth was Anita Patcher''s booth, but she didn''t sell fruits and veggies. She sold nes and bracelets and, most relevantly, candles and small ss ornaments and pictures of Aurelius and Mavis Patcher.


    "That is so neat," Kimberly said, pointing to the supplies that were clearly meant for people to be able to build their own shrine. "How much do these cost?"


    Anita looked at Kimberly as if she were the biggest fool and said, "Oh, these aren''t for you, dear."


    "Why not?" Kimberly asked. "Is this a religious item?"


    Anita looked down at her supplies and then back at Kimberly and said, "This is a family thing, dear. You needn''t worry about it."


    Kimberly thanked her anyway, and we continued to walk on while Kimberly gave me a weird look and I returned it. Were there really so many Patchers that a person could make money selling knickknacks for their family shrines?


    Eventually, we saw a familiar face. It was Rose Harless. She had a booth of her own. Behind it was a blue car that looked like someone hadbined a Volkswagen Beetle with a Jigglypuff. The little car was hauling a very little trailer that Rose must have used to bring her stuff to the market.


    "Any luck on the search?" Rose asked us as soon as she saw us.


    "I''m afraid not," Kimberly said. Kimberly looked down at the wares that Rose was peddling. She had jellies of all kinds, from blueberries to rose petals. She had sunflower seeds and little sprigs of herbs bundled with twine. There was a bottlebeled "Healing Ointment" that was most certainly not approved by the FDA.


    Herbs hung from a string over the top of the booth. I had noticed that she was kind of a hippie when I met her, but I didn''t realize exactly how far she had gone into it. There were trinkets and potions (though they were notbeled that way) and all sorts of natural remedies.


    Rose was in the process of packing up all her things.


    "I had to surrender my booth," she exined. "I needed to go help with the search, but Da over there said I needed to clear up my booth if I wasn''t going to be running it. It''s like she doesn''t even care what''s going on right now."


    We all looked back at the two elderly Patchers.


    "She''s not the only one," Kimberly said. "There are some people in town that really aren''t a fan of the search efforts."


    "To some people, if it isn''t about them or their family, they could care less," Rose exined. "But most of the people in this town have good hearts, I promise you." She looked over at Da and Anita and said, "You just need to be able to pick out which ones."


    ~-~


    Back in the car, wandering aimlessly for some sign of what scene we were supposed to go to next, Kimberly wondered aloud about Antoine.


    We drove around for at least an hour looking for a sign of what to do next.


    First Blood was approaching rapidly, and we were intensely worried that something was going toe our way. Kimberly didn''t like that we didn''t know where Antoine was.


    "I just hope he''s doing okay," she said. "You think he would tell me if he was having trouble?" she asked.


    I shrugged my shoulders. "I don''t think he would tell anyone," I said.


    From the look on her face, that was not the right answer. But before Kimberly could respond, an announcement came over the police scanner.


    First Blood struck on the red wallpaper. Whatever happened had done so without any concern for us.


    The scanner red.


    "I need all avable units at Harless Automotive. There''s been an incident," the dispatcher called out.


    Kimberly and I looked at each other.


    "Go now," I said to Nick. He made a rapid course correction in the direction of Harless Automotive.


    "He''s going to be fine, Kimberly," I said. "His problems are just another problem to solve. We''re gonna do it."


    I had hoped that this might soothe her worries, but I didn''t think I seeded.


    ~-~


    As we arrived, the sounds of sirens gave way to the sounds of Rose Harless crying hysterically on the porch of her house. Her blue car was parked next to the house.


    Police cars, an ambnce, and even a fire truck were crowded around the Harless Automotive parking lot. Wherever Rustle was, I couldn''t say. There was a crowd of people, and from what we knew about him, he was probably hiding from them.


    Antoine was in the midst of everything, directing people around and trying to bring order to the chaos. There was a tow truck in front of Benny''s garage, and hanging from its hook, being towed up onto the bed of the truck, was Benny''s Imperial Phantom, the car he loved but that was a hopeless repair case. The front end was dented, and there was an ugly red stain across it. We got out of the car as Nick rushed to set up the camera.


    "You are thest thing we need!" someone yelled from the distance. It was Deputy Tommy Patcher. "We have no need for you sensationalizing an ident like this."


    "We''re only here for the story," Kimberly said.


    "There is no story," he said. "If you take that camera out, I''m going to smash it in the road."


    Nick looked at us, and we nodded. He started putting the camera back in its case. Tommy Patcher left us after that. We quickly found our way over to Antoine. He waved us over.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°Deputy Stone," Kimberly said. "Can you tell us what''s happening here?"


    Antoine looked over at her; this was the first time their characters had met. He nodded and said, "There''s been an ident. It looks like the lift malfunctioned, and the car Mr. Harless was working on fell down and crushed him."


    "It just fell and crushed him?" I asked.


    "From the looks of things," Antoine said, "his poor wife was the one that found him and called it in."


    "Can we take a look?" Kimberly asked. We were On-Screen, so Antoine actually had a tough time answering. He wasn''t sure what his character would do.


    "Look," I said, "we''re here to help. We just spoke to this man. We''d like to see what happened. This ispletely off the record. There''s no one in there; just let us have a quick look around."


    "Please," Kimberly said. "Something is going on here. Doesn''t this feel like an awful big coincidence to you? A girl goes missing from here, and now a mysterious death?"


    Antoine looked at us and then looked back at the other deputies and said, "Make it quick. Follow me."


    He waved us through some police tape and into Benny''s garage. A white sheet covered what had once been Benny Harless. It was a mess, and everything was soaked in red.


    "We just saw him yesterday," Kimberly said. "This is so strange."


    "It appears to have been a case of bad luck," Antoine said. "The only wounds that we can find from a preliminary search were those inflicted by the car. I don''t know what kind of story you''re thinking is here, but by all ounts, this looks like an ident."


    "Can we look around?" I asked.


    "Be my guest," Antoine said, "but be quick. Don¡¯t touch anything."


    Given our time constraints, my mind immediately went to finding clues in the form of text. In a garage, the only text-based clues were the row of tickets pinned to a corkboard near the entrance to the office. They looked very conspicuous.


    I walked over there immediately, and Kimberly followed. There was a row of them, seven in all. The first six had the word plete" written on them in pencil. They had their cost totals already added up, ready for the customer toe get their car.


    The final ticket was for a car called a Comstock Foray, which must have been the make and model, but I didn''t recognize it. It was the only ticket that had not beenpleted or totaled. The name on the ticket was Margaret Petty. I examined the ticket, though I was unsure whether it was a clue or just an oddity. It stuck out, the only one different from the others.


    "Do you really think he could have been killed by ident?" Kimberly asked me.


    "Right now, I''m not feeling like it was an ident, but I couldn''t say why he would be killed," I said. "But didn''t he say he was about to junk that car, that he had given up on fixing it? What''s it doing back on the lift?"


    "He did," Kimberly said, "but that''s not going to convince anyone of anything. They''ll just think that he decided to tinker with it again."


    "He may have," I said. "Let''s check out the lift."


    We quickly walked back to the area where Benny''s bodyy covered. The lift wasposed of two upright beams with a hydraulic motor. Each beam had two arms designed to go under the vehicle.


    "There''s hydraulic fluid all over the floor," I said. "Some of this red stuff isn''t blood."


    In fact, most of the red stuff wasn''t blood. Either the hydraulics failed rapidly, or someone tampered with it to cause an ident or fake one.


    But why?


    ~-~


    We investigated as much as we could, but we were not the right archetypes to be able to find much in a crime scene like that. Kimberly was designed to talk to people, and I was designed to talk about movies, neither of which was helpful in that instance.


    Outside, an NPC named Tugg Montgomery was operating the tow truck. He was just finishing up when we came out of the garage.


    Tugg was an odd-looking man. He was balding, but his hair was still long. He wore overalls and a jean jacket but no shirt. He had a red handkerchief tied around his neck and another sticking out of his pocket that he regrly grabbed and wiped his forehead with. His hair was gray, and his face looked like it had been around to see the dawn of the earth.


    "It''s a damn shame," Tugg said as he wiped sweat off his forehead. "He loved this car. He would hate to see it ruined like this. At least he''s not alive to see it scrapped," he added, but he looked unsure whether that was an inappropriate sentiment to say.


    Kimberly didn¡¯t seem prepared to respond, and before I could, we were distracted by the sound of Rose Harless calling into the distance, "Rustle! Rustle,e home, baby. Rustle!"


    It was a haunting cry. She was filled with desperation. I felt for her. Everyone stopped and listened as she screamed for her child toe to her.


    If he heard her, he didn¡¯te. Rustle was still hiding, it would seem.


    As I looked around for signs of the boy, instead, I saw the garden in the back. The sunflowers were different. They were drooping, as if they, too, were in mourning.


    They drooped so low that even from the front of the garage near the road, I could see the scarecrow, hanging from its perch, watching us all.

 Arc II, Chapter 94: Off the Case!

    Arc II, Chapter 94: Off the Case!


    As we drove back to the boarding house, we discussed our ns for the future. We had suspects to question. We could see a line of attack to get to the bottom of this mystery, even if we couldn''t see all the pieces at once. My <strong>He Has a Tell </strong>trope had been working on overdrive and had given us several clear leads, even if it didn''t t-out give us the truth.


    The murder of Benny Harless was a massive clue to what this story was about, even if we hadn¡¯t worked it out yet.


    Our spirits were high when we walked through the door. They didn''t stay that way.


    On-Screen.


    "You have a message from your boss in the city," Miss Mornd said as soon as we were inside the house. She didn¡¯t stay long enough to borate.


    There was a table with a phone and message pad next to it.


    The message said, "You''re off the story." It included a number to call and the name Ron Foley. It even included his title: Lead Investigative Producer, Carousel News 9.


    "What?" Kimberly asked as she saw the note.


    That had to be our boss.Kimberly immediately dialed the number. Luckily, the speaker was so loud I could hear it. It helped that the guy on the other end, Ron Foley, was yelling.


    "Ron, this is Kimberly. I just got a message here in Eastern Carousel. Can you exin it to me?"


    "You''re off the case," Ron yelled. "You were supposed to go over there and report a story, not terrorize the locals!"


    "Excuse me," Kimberly said. "We haven''t terrorized anybody. We are¡ª"


    "I get a call from the Sheriff''s Office telling me that you''re harassing people, using them of terrible things! Kimberly, you report the news. You are not some hard-boiled detective shaking down witnesses and using anybody and everybody of terrible things! I knew you were motivated, but geez¡­"


    "What are you talking about? We haven''t done anything like that! Everyone we''ve spoken to has signed the consent form or otherwise been more than willing to talk to us. We haven''t really even started treating this disappearance like a crime yet, and we''ve just been reporting on the search. Now there¡¯s a murder of a witne¡ª"


    "Well, that''s not how I hear it," Ron said. I could practically hear his mustache over the phone. "The way I hear it, you''ve got dozens of people calling inints to the Sheriff''s Office."


    "Ron, we''ve got our interviews on film. Do you really think we would be so stupid as to burn all our witnesses and film the evidence?" Kimberly said snarkily.


    Ron paused at that.


    "Is there a story there more than just a missing girl? Can you connect the death? Because if not, you''re just wasting your time. I¡¯m sticking my neck out for you enough as it is," Ron said.


    I gestured for Kimberly to give me the phone. She did.


    He wanted us to tell him what evidence we had. I figured we ought to give a list. I had a benefit. I knew what film clips Carousel had to work with, so I knew what kind of stuff the audience would already know. Maybe I would have to stretch it.


    "Ron, we are on to something here. We can''t run off right now. We have good evidence on film that throws the Sheriff¡¯s Department into question. The mother told us she gave a Deputy Patcher a pair of yellow socks so that the hounds could get a scent, but we have on film them using white socks. We don''t know where those socks came from, but this is suspicious, Ron. We''re getting all kinds of suspicious characters in this town, and I think half of the people we are talking to know something, and I think that with a little bit more time, we can get them to talk."


    Ron paused again.


    "Sounds like you ought to get over to the Sheriff''s Office," Ron said. "Freedom of the press or not, without support from the local police, you''re gonna have a hard time getting anything done. Figure out what''s going on over there."


    I handed the phone back to Kimberly. He hung up on his end, and Kimberly followed with hers. She looked like she was going to m the receiver down, but at thest moment, she must have remembered her manners.


    Instead, she sat silently, turned to me, and said, "Heads are about to roll."


    Off-Screen.


    On-Screen.


    Sheriff Jonathan Miller looked happy to see us as we walked into his office at the Sheriff''s Department. I didn''t know if he was happy to see us so that he could gloat about getting us taken off the case or what.


    His office was at the center of arger room. The walls were ss so that we could see the goings-on of the station in every direction. It was busy; lots of support staff were running about. That made sense; a missing child and a mysterious death would run a small operation like this through the paces.


    He gestured for us to take a seat in front of his desk. Instead of sitting in his own chair, he sat on his desk, clearing out a spot for himself and looking down at us.


    ¡°How¡¯d my interview look? Have you seen the tape?¡± he asked.


    Kimberly looked at me and then back at him and said, ¡°We haven''t had time to review things, but I''m sure it was a good shot.¡±


    ¡°Well, good. We gotta get as many eyeballs on this thing as possible, and I really appreciate your work. It can be really hard to get any type of press down here, even with a missing girl. Seems our town has a bad reputation with reporters, but I couldn''t say why.¡±


    Kimberly eyeballed him curiously.


    ¡°Sheriff Miller, we just got a call from our boss back in Carousel Proper, and he says that you''ve been receiving all kinds ofints about us and that you have demanded we leave town because we are harassing citizens. Can you tell us about that? Because that doesn''t really sound like you''re d we''re here.¡±


    The sheriff was taken aback. ¡°I haven''t received any callsining about you two,¡± he said, ¡°and I certainly didn''t try to get the only reporters who give a damn about this little girl to leave town. Your boss told you that I said that?¡±


    ¡°He was very clear about it and very upset with us.¡±


    Sheriff Miller got serious really fast and looked up, staring around his office, taking a peek at all his underlings through his ss walls.


    ¡°Well, I''ll tell you, small-town police work can be a pain.¡± While he was indignant, suddenly, it didn''t seem like he was so surprised. ¡°What it sounds like,¡± he said, ¡°is that we''ve got some sort of prank or impersonator. If you need me to talk to your boss, I can do so right now.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Kimberly said. She pulled out the note that had his phone number on it.


    Off-Screen.


    As Sheriff Miller called our boss to tell him the truth, Kimberly noticed that Antoine was sitting at a desk not far from the sheriff''s, and he was staring at us as if trying to get our attention.


    Since we were Off-Screen, we didn''t see any problem in slipping away from the sheriff while he was on the phone.


    We paid him a visit.


    ¡°I''ve done some digging,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I''ve been talking to the secretaries. The phone number for Harless Automotive called the sheriff''s station asking for Sheriff Miller not more than an hour before his body was found. They directed it on through. I don''t know what the conversation was about or if he ever picked up, but I find that suspicious. I asked the sheriff about it, and he said he didn''t talk to anyone from Harless Automotive.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Benny or someone else using Benny¡¯s phone called the Sheriff? That was interesting.


    ¡°Good work,¡± I said.


    Antoine nodded. ¡°These people are so odd. They like me because I''m a local hero and I was born here, but they treat Sheriff Miller like he''s the town idiot because he''s <em>only</em> been here for ten years. He was appointed by the Greater Carousel City Council, not by a local election, and that''s causing some grumbling. They still talk about it like it just happened a decadeter.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we get the sense that they''re not really hot on outsiders,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°We''re getting all kinds of strange looks.¡± She shifted her tone to something softer. ¡°Are you doing okay? Is everything¡­ alright?¡±


    ¡°I''m fine,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°I see you found one of our best and brightest,¡± Sheriff Miller said from behind us. He had finished his call with our boss. ¡°Deputy Stone here managed to capture a fugitive from justice from Carousel Proper when he was passing through town. Old-fashioned shootout and everything. He''s a regr Old West gunslinger.¡±


    He patted Antoine on the back.


    ¡°It''s not all that,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I was just at the right ce at the right time.¡±


    I couldn''t help but giggle. Antoine had a trope called <strong>Everyone Loves a Winner</strong>, which guaranteed that his character would being off of a really big sess whenever the story started. It was supposed to be a good conversation starter and endear him to the locals. Looked like it might have been working.


    ¡°I just wish that I could find this girl,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Don''t we all,¡± Sheriff Miller said. He looked at Kimberly. ¡°I called your boss. I cleared things up. You''re free to continue working,¡± the sheriff said.


    He left us and went about his day. We sat there talking to Antoine and getting caught up on his end. We were all confused about when a haunted scarecrow, or any enemy, would finally show up.


    While we discussed this, the Sheriff came back and said, ¡°Now, we''re about to close down shop here, but there is an emergency town hall meeting about this very matter. I suppose the council is finally getting up off their butts to help, but they wouldn''t tell me that, would they?¡±


    As we went to leave, I noticed another deputy sitting at his desk staring at us. It was Tommy Patcher, the same Tommy Patcher who had taken the clothing samples from Dina.


    He didn''t look happy to see us, but when he noticed me looking, he smiled.


    On his desk was a small altar that included a picture of the Patcher ancestors along with a candle. The candle was lit.


    On-Screen.


    I had never seen a building that lived up to its name as well as the town hall in Eastern Carousel. It was at the center of town, and it was one huge hall. There was nothing much more to it. There weren''t even chairs; everyone stood around, waiting to see what we were there to learn.


    There were roughly 150 townsfolk. They came from every walk of rural life that I could expect. Farmers, hunters, and homemakers alike mored to find out what news they had been gathered for.


    Kimberly and Antoine stood next to me as we observed the crowds. Nick was filming.


    ¡°There sure are a lot of Patchers in this town,¡± Kimberly said. She wasn''t wrong; at least a fifth of the room was named Patcher on the red wallpaper. Corduroy Patcher from the general store was there, as was Woody Patcher from the gas station and even Eustace Patcher, who had grumbled something rude at Kimberly.


    There were husbands, wives, and even older children all crowded together, waiting for the news.


    They all spread like the Red Sea when a man named Jeffrey Fields and his wife, De, arrived.


    On-Screen.


    From the look of it, they were like Eastern Carousel royalty. Jeffrey had a stern, ufortable look on his face that never left. He was a solid, slow-moving man. His hair was gray andbed neatly. De had red cheeks and was tightly wound and emotional. She walked unevenly and clung to her husband as if he were holding her up. She was in herte twenties or early thirties; I couldn''t tell. She was very pretty, a regr small-town princess.


    As we watched, a group of three women came and stood in front and to the left of us. They were normal NPCs, and they were doing normal NPC things. They started to whisper.


    ¡°The queen is making an appearance,¡± one of them said.


    ¡°You can tell she doesn''t want to be here, not in little old Eastern Carousel,¡± another added. ¡°I hear her husband came into a lot of money not too many years ago. She can''t stand to be around us country bumpkins anymore. She''s got her new house up in Snowblind, I hear. New house, new car, new life. And all she had to do was marry that durd.¡±


    ¡°Oh hush, you two hens,¡± the third NPC said. ¡°This is important, and it''s not time for gossip.¡±


    As she walked to the front of the room, the two of them were greeted by a man named Merle Patcher. He must have been 40 years old. He stood tall, strong, and confident. I could see the years of work under the sun had left their mark.


    Next to him was a teenage Joshua Patcher. We had met Joshua before. He lived in the white farmhouse at Patcher Family Farms, where the Final Straw II was set. Of course, he was all grown up when we met him, but this was the past even for him.


    Merle hugged De. So did Joshua. Tugg Montgomery was behind them, looking nervous.


    Since we were On-Screen, it didn''t take long for them to turn around and get ready to speak to the crowd.


    Antoine leaned over and said, ¡°That''s the council rep for the city. Sheriff says he¡¯s a stuffed suit.¡±


    Jeffrey Fields held up his hands and said, ¡°Alright folks, thank you foring out to meet me today. We have a great turnout, and I''m just gonna get this out here. I don''t wanna take more of your time than we need to.¡±


    Then he broke into what was clearly a prepared speech.


    ¡°I stand before you with a heavy heart. With this week¡¯s events, I am deeply moved by the tireless efforts and unwavering dedication you have shown in the search for young Tamara Cano. Ourmunity hase together in an extraordinary way, disying resilience,passion, and a collective hope that has been truly inspiring. Your actions have demonstrated the strength and unity of Eastern Carousel, and for that, I am profoundly grateful.¡±


    People apuded nervously.


    ¡°However, it is time we took into ount some hard truths. We have searched for four days. Four long days. Prospects are not good.¡±


    He paused because a lot of NPCs started to whisper in shock at the direction his speech was going.


    ¡°Look, people, our crops are ready for harvest, and right now, the Weather Service is suddenly predicting a surprise frost. Our livelihoods are at risk. This search, while noble, cannotst forever. At this point, the experts I''ve spoken to tell us to prepare for the worst. After careful consideration and consultation with the search teams and local authorities, I must deliver some difficult news. It is time for us to face a harsh reality and call off the search.¡±


    Some people pped, and some people called out in righteous indignation, condemning the decision.


    He raised his voice so that he could be heard above them all.


    ¡°We must begin the painful process of healing and look to the immediate needs of ourmunity. While this decision is heartbreaking, we need to focus on the tasks at hand, keeping Tamara and her family in our hearts.


    Let us honor Tamara by supporting one another and ensuring our town continues to thrive. De and I share your grief and aremitted to navigating this hardship together. Let us move forward, not forgetting Tamara but honoring her by keeping ourmunity strong and united. Thank you for your¡ª¡± Someone yelled out a curse word, interrupting him. ¡°¡ªunderstanding.¡±


    People were not happy. Most of the townspeople who hade did not support this. At the same time, some apuded his decision, notably the Patchers, who were quickly moving from lead suspect to obvious suspects.


    From the back of the town hall, I heard screaming.


    ¡°You''re canceling the search?¡± Dina yelled over the fervor. ¡°You called everybody here to cancel the search, and you didn''t even invite me to tell me that you were giving up on finding my daughter?¡±


    The room went silent. Most of the townspeople were absolutely disgusted to find out that Dina had not been included.


    ¡°Ma''am,¡± Jeffrey Fields said, ¡°we all feel for your daughter, but we have to make sure that our lives moves forward here in Eastern Carousel. We cannot pause time just for one person.¡±


    ¡°You bastard!¡± she screamed. ¡°Why would you want to cancel the search now? Sounds to me like the only people that would want the search to be over are people that have something to hide.¡±


    Uh oh, I thought immediately. That usation might elerate the story. On second thought, I didn¡¯t mind that.


    ¡°Who am I supposed to be filming?¡± Nick said, whispering in my ear. I had almost forgotten he was filming.


    At first, I was tempted to tell him just to do his best, but then I thought better of it. ¡°Film the Patchers,¡± I said. ¡°Over there behind the council rep. Keep the film on him and them.¡±


    I wanted to record their reactions.


    Dina continued to rant, but it became clear that Carousel had gotten enough footage because we went off-screen not long after.


    Dina was a banshee there at the end. It was a great performance.


    After the town hall meeting, the four of us got together and shared information. We were all suspicious of the Patchers to the point that we had basically concluded that they were guilty in this somehow. We just didn''t know the details.


    And where was the magic scarecrow?


    As we walked back into the boarding house, we discussed our n of attack and how we would narrow down our suspects and find out what was going on. I stupidly went on about my theory that the Patchers were getting nervous and that soon they would start attacking us.


    I was wrong about that one.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°You have another message,¡± Miss Mornd said as we walked through the door.


    A chill ran through us. This could not be good.


    The message pad had a simple message: ¡°You''re off the story¡ªfor real.¡±


    This again?


    Kimberly immediately called the number, and even though it waste at night, Ron Foley answered.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°We already cleared this up with the sheriff. We haven''t been gettingints.¡±


    ¡°Kimberly,¡± Ron said, ¡°this isn''ting from the local PD. Our bosses are sending down the message. The station''s owner called me himself. There''s nothing I can do about it. It would seem that he got a request personally from the City Council. Something about the town needing to heal and harvest their crops, yada yada yada.¡±


    Kimberly started to say, ¡°We are never going to leave. We are going to get to the bottom of this whether you''re paying us to or not.¡±


    But by the time she started to speak, we were Off-Screen.


    Everything was dark suddenly, and all I could see were the words:


    TEN YEARS LATER


    I opened my eyes, and I was in an office building on a high rise. ncing out the window, I saw Carousel Proper. All around me were people wearing 1970s attire and carrying papers around. There was a logo for Carousel News 9.


    Before I could explore much, a young woman walked up to me and handed me a file.


    ¡°You said you wanted everything out of Eastern Carousel that was rted to the disappearance of Tamara Cano or any major crimes. Is that still in effect?¡±


    ¡°That''s right,¡± I said. ¡°Anything out of Eastern Carousel.¡±


    I grabbed the file folder.


    The year at the top was 1976.


    The information she had given me was a hot wire out of Eastern Carousel.


    There had been two murders that day.


    A sheriff, Thomas Patcher, and a civilian named Tugg Montgomery were now dead.


    They had been beheaded.

 Book Five, Chapter 1: Grocery Shopping

    Book Five, Chapter 1: Grocery Shopping


    I walked through the aisles of the general store with a purpose.


    I was making a mental shopping list. The shelves were stacked with a meager supply of canned goods as well as all the staples that you might expect, such as flour and salt. Did we need kidney beans? Did we need beets? Did anyone need beets?


    The refrigerated section was even less impressive, but it had eggs and milk and bacon. What more could we ask for?


    As I rounded the corner of the aisle, I came across Dina. She was doing much the same as I was. We made eye contact and didn''t say a whole lot.


    "They have a lot of really old candy," was the onlyment she had.


    I nodded.


    We heard a noise from somewhere beyond the refrigerated doors at the back of the store. It sounded like a scream. We couldn''t see what was happening because the ss of the refrigerated unit was fogged over, but there was a single handprint visible and conspicuous.


    As long as we didn''t open that door, we were safe.


    As long as we didn''t eat from the cracked ss container of pigs'' feet (and the creature that infected them) on aisle 3, we were safe.As long as we didn''t steal from the store, we were safe.


    As long as we didn''t¡­ and the list went on.


    ¡°You need help finding anything, you just let me know,¡± Corduroy Patcher called from the front of the store.


    He was an older, rotund man with blue eyes and pupils like little dots. He watched us every step we took. His words were friendly, but his tone was not. He was the proprietor and sole employee from what I could tell.


    ¡°We don''t have much as you might be used to back in the big city, but we got plenty. We got all a family needs,¡± he added.


    He was right. He had everything we needed at that moment. He had very little of what we wanted, but we weren¡¯t in a position toin.


    You would think that in a haunted world based on horror movies, death by hooks or teeth would be the biggest worry, but it turned out that death by slow starvation was a bigger threat once you started to get the hang of things.


    Sure, if you went into a storyline, you could eat your fill, but as soon as you got to the end of the story, your body would reset to being hungry again. It was a small price to pay for healing all your injuries, but it presented a problem.


    The only way to create a sustainable base of operations was to find a source of food that could keep yers sated and satisfied when they weren''t out on storylines.


    The Vets, when we got here, had it all figured out. They could go clear a storyline at Eternal Savers Club and then load up shopping carts to take back to Dyer''s Lodge. Even when we were trying to oust an apocalypse, we never went hungry from their stores of food at the lodge.


    But we were not high-level enough to clear the storyline at Eternal Savers Club, so we had to find somewhere else to shop.


    Our money was running low. We needed a storyline that ended with a scene that we could pige and loot for food. Before I actually had the responsibility of making it happen, I thought it would be easy.


    Practically every storyline had food essible, and some of them had really good food, but that wasn''t enough.


    You needed that food to be essible to be looted after the final battle where most stories no longer had food avable. Normally, all that was left at the end of the movie was destruction.


    We were in luck, though. The Carousel As contained all the solutions that yers from years past hade up with for this very problem. Eastern Carousel General Store was a great ce to loot. Sure, the pickings weren''t great.


    Of course, the food was old. Not old as in expired, but as in the type of food they ate in the ''70s.


    All we had to do was clear one of the three storylines in the surrounding area, and then we could raid this general store to stock our pantry for weeks. We just had to make sure ol¡¯ Corduroy Patcher bit the dust by the end of the story.


    The question was, what were we going to take when we got here at The End? That was today''s mission: to get a list of what was offered to make sure that this storyline would be worth the risk.


    As I looked at Dina, we both nodded in agreement that this ce would do very well. We couldn''t keep spending our money at the restaurant downstairs from Kimberley''s Loft.


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    As we walked around, Dina kept picking things up off the shelves to rile up the storekeep up front. Maybe she was messing with me; I couldn''t tell. Of course, she put everything right back. I cracked a smile, hoping that would satisfy her and she would stop with her little game.


    It was my fault, really. I had told her specifically not to shoplift because that would trigger one of the many Omens in the store. She might have taken it personally, but really, I was talking about her stealing trope, which only worked in the storylines.


    I wasn''t going to cause a fuss about it.


    Corduroy Patcher was, though.


    ¡°I can see what you¡¯re doing back there,¡± the man said. ¡°I ain¡¯t nobody¡¯s fool.¡±


    He stared us down like we were trying to rob him blind. To be fair, we were going to rob him blind, just not yet.


    I went to the back cooler and avoided the ss window to the refrigeration unit with the handprint. I grabbed an ice-cold ss of some off-brand c and walked to the front of the store. There was one good thing to say about Eastern Carousel. The prices were cheap.


    The shopkeeper eyed me up and down and sneered at my hair, which desperately needed a cut. Fortunately, most of the length had disappeared whenever we finished The Die Cast storyline and my body was reset.


    ¡°You folks are from the city, I can tell,¡± he said.


    I nodded. ¡°Downtown,¡± I said, confirming his suspicion.


    He was just an NPC as basic as any other.


    ¡°People often forget how different Eastern Carousel is from the big city,¡± he said. ¡°It''s a million miles away. My family''s been here since the first war, and we''re going to be here till thest war. Nothing ever changes over here, and we don''t need any of your nonsense.¡±


    He took my soda, popped off the cap, and handed it back to me. I was d that Eastern Carousel wasn''t actually a million miles from the Carousel Downtown. We had to walk, after all.


    ¡°Oh, don''t worry,¡± I said. ¡°We''re on our way out of here.¡±


    A nce to my right showed me that Dina was looking at me with some urgency. As I nced at her, she deliberately moved her eyes down toward the shopkeeper''s hands. One of them was under the till.


    ¡°I''d best be getting back to the big city,¡± I said and quickly moved toward the door where Dina was. I nced back to see what he was holding underneath the till.


    I saw the butt end of a shotgun.


    It was a sawed-off shotgun, though I couldn''t actually see the barrel. It was called that on the red wallpaper. The only reason I could see it on the red wallpaper was because it had a trope. Ss Dyrkon had created a throughline that was a lot like Carousel, but it didn''t have items with tropes attached.


    Once we were out of his throughline, we saw them everywhere, though most of them were unobtainable.


    Unobtainable, that is, unless you beat the storyline they were a part of.


    This one was particrly desirable. It had a Criminal-Outsider trope called <strong>The Hidden Barrel</strong> that had a simple premise. If you hid the gun and aimed it at an adversary, the gun would go off if they started to attack you. This was a staple of crime dramas.


    An instant shotgun st to any enemy who crossed the line would be very useful.


    As we left the store, I said, "Nice catch. We''re gonna have to grab that."


    One more thing added to the shopping list.


    "We could keep it by the front door just in case," she said. "Probably won''t need it, but it''ll make us feel a lot safer. Well, it''ll make Isaac feel safer."


    I nodded in agreement.


    Outside, Antoine, Kimberly, Cassie, Isaac, and Bobby were waiting. Because of all the omens, we didn''t want too many people in the store.


    ¡°Looks like a good target,¡± I said.


    "Did they have produce of any kind?" Kimberly asked. She had put on her Sorority President hat and was doing her best to make her loft livable.


    "Sure," Dina said, "But they cooked it all in tiny tin cans so that it''llst decades."


    Kimberly was dejected. Grace''s home cooking with fresh vegetables was just a dream at this point.


    "All that matters is that they have enough food so that we don''t have to keep going on storylines," Antoine said. "Sounds like a sess. So I guess we''re doing the storyline you picked out?" he asked, looking at me.


    "The Final Straw," I said. "Can''t wait."


    But I would have to wait because we still had nning to do.


    But of course, if we were going to do a storyline in Eastern Carousel, we might as well take a look at it while we were here. It was easy enough to find, just a few streets down from the general store.


    The flyers started with one being ced on a telephone pole, then another on a chain-link fence with a barking dog behind it, and then there were more on a wooden barricade that blocked off a long gravel road. And then more on every surface that a poster could be ced on.


    A hurricane of them blew down the street.


    ¡°Looks like you''ve already been cast, Dina,¡± Antoine said as we looked at the posters.


    He was right. The missing poster wasn''t like those you would find for yers who had died in storylines. It looked like a real missing poster. It showed a picture of a young girl staring innocently at the camera, wearing a dress and a white long-sleeve shirt.


    Her name was Tamara. Tamara Cano. Unless it was a huge coincidence, it would seem that Carousel intended for Dina Cano to be Tamara''s mother in the story.


    "It''s like it''s mocking me," Dina said.


    We stood there silently contemting whether there was any possibility this wasn¡¯t meant to mock her at least a little. Carousel had mocked my dead loved ones. It had no reservations about rattling its yers.


    "You are probably asking for it with the tropes you use," Isaac said.


    Cassie elbowed him in the ribs and whispered something sharply in his ear.


    He wasn¡¯t exactly wrong. Dina had a background trope called A Haunted Past that she alwaysbined with Encouragement from Beyond, which allowed her to speak with her dead loved ones. If Carousel was going to pick one of us to have a missing daughter, it would be Dina.


    I didn''t know if there was any greater meaning to that. I didn''t know if Carousel was doing it because Dina''s son had died in real life.


    All I knew was that we now had one piece of information we didn''t have before. When it came time to n our run of <em>The Final Straw</em>, we would be more prepared because of it.


    "Let''s get out of here," Dina said. Her mood had soured, which was a bummer because it had just begun to lift in the days since we finished the so-called Tutorial.


    I just hoped that she would be able to y the grieving mother when the time came.

 Book Five, Chapter 2: A Knock in the Night

    Book Five, Chapter 2: A Knock in the Night


    The storekeep might have been right about Eastern Carousel being a different world. This part of Carousel was trapped in a perpetual autumn, an unending harvest. All the trappings of the fall season could be found on the homes and in the fields as we walked toward Bobby''s im.


    His Writ of Habitation had given him ess to a small cottage rented from a farmer. It wasn''t until we got to that farm that I realized how odd his little home away from home was.


    Where the rest of Eastern Carousel was filled with golden and amber hues, the farm where Bobby''s cottage was built remained green and full of life. They grew pumpkins and squashes. They were still harvesting melons and tomatoes. The pumpkins were the size of wagon wheels, and the squashes were the size of pumpkins. The tomatoes were just normal size, but they still looked delicious.


    The main house on the property had a wrap-around porch. On that porch, an NPC sat with a shotgun leaned up against his rocking chair as he whittled a piece of wood¡ªnot into some piece of woond art but just whittled it smaller.


    There was a post on the fence with a simple sign that said, "In Eastern Carousel, old ones roam¡ª Pines whisper, Sheaves dream, Moon quilts fields, River sings, Ancient songs breathe here."


    ¡°I think my grandma had a quilt with that on it,¡± Isaac said to a reply of chuckles.


    There was an odd feeling in the air, an aura, but not a depressing aura like that of the Unknowable Host. It was still an ancient feeling.


    I wondered to myself if it was my psychic background trope that was giving me these insights, but the others felt something, too, which they wouldter report, if not as profound. In a magical ce like Carousel, this ce was still special.


    We couldn''t wait to get Bobby''s things and get out of there.Bobby¡¯s Writ of Habitation meant that he could alter the premises of his base. Practically, this meant he was going to gut it of everything we might need, and we were going to lug it back downtown to Kimberley''s loft.


    Bobby''s gaggle of dogs would follow him wherever he went, so they weren''t much trouble. But the barrel of dog food needed to be wheeled out of there on a hand truck, which was luckily included in the property. Bobby''s bedding and all of the toiletries and dining outrements were also packed up for us to take.


    "I''m sorry I tried to have it ready to go, but there''s just so much," Bobby said as I looked around the room. I wasn''t sure what he was talking about; the ce was as bare bones as Kimberley''s, but it did have some touches of home.


    Kimberley was not happy with the style of Bobby''s throw pillows and curtains, but she didn''tin. We weren''t shopping at IKEA. The ce was smaller on the inside than Kimberley''s loft, but it had a lot ofnd where we could have grown a garden under the mystical haze that this property seemed to exude.


    There was plenty of room for the dogs to run. The cottage itself wasn''t in great shape and would need repairs.


    We weren''t going to worry about it; sticking together was more important.


    Everybody was carrying as much as they could as we walked back toward the downtown, down the dirt road that Bobby''s base had been on. The NPC on the wrap-around porch watched us as we went but said nothing.


    "We''re not going to be bringing anything from the prison, are we?" Isaac asked. His Writ of Habitation had given him ess to the historical jailhouse. Everything there was bolted down, but if we needed to during our brief moment of having ess to it, we could take some of the reinforcements and metal grading to help secure the loft.


    That wasn''t on our minds at the time.


    "I thought you were staying in the jail," Antoine said. "Don''t you have to finish your sentence?"


    "Haha. My life sentence ended when I died there," Isaac said.


    The banter continued back and forth, but I mostly focused on watching for omens and getting us back to our new home.


    ~-~


    It was well past midnight when the knocking started.


    Each of us exited our rooms and entered the central loft, one at a time. Cassie was still wrapped in her threadbare nket, and the rest of us wore whatever we slept in.


    We said nothing. We stared at each other, solemnly understanding what our lives would be like at the loft.


    ¡°Please,¡± the man on the other side of the door pleaded. ¡°Please, I need help. Please open up.¡±


    He was crying and screaming and banging on the front door of Kimberly¡¯s loft apartment.


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    None of us dared say a word.


    Kimberly stood wrapped in Antoine¡¯s arms. His baseball bat was in his hand. He was ready to strike at whatevery on the other side of the door.


    I gestured to the others to be quiet as I inched closer to the door. I was shirtless but wearing pants and my hoodie. I had to because my nket was too small for a grown man.


    I took a deep breath as I approached.


    I put my eye up to the peephole.


    The man on the other side of the door was named Edwin Morales. I didn¡¯t need the red wallpaper to see that. He was a bartender at Grain Matter downstairs. He was a nice enough guy. He wore a lot of hair gel to spike up his mid-2000s hairdo.


    We had gotten to know him over the past few days as we spent our money downstairs at the bar and restaurant.


    He asked us questions about our lives and our families. He was nice.


    Was this why? Had he been nice to us to make tonight even harder on us?


    Edwin¡¯s rhinestone-fringed button-up shirt was ripped.


    ¡°Kimberly!¡± he screamed from the other side. ¡°It¡¯s Edwin. Please let me in. Please.¡±


    Through the peephole, I could see that he was an Omen. We had been expecting one soon, and we expected them to start ramping up.


    I could see how to trigger the Omen. Letting him in, of course. But it wasn¡¯t phrased like that. Kimberly¡¯s Writ of Habitation made it so Omens would leave if they were ¡°denied.¡±


    The red wallpaper revealed that he could be ¡°denied entry by telling him to leave.¡±


    That meant that each Omen that appeared required some special variation. Locking the door would not be enough.


    I took in the air to try and yell at him to run him off, but I thought better of it. We had a n for this.


    I turned to the others.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± I whispered as I gestured for him toe closer.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be doing this when we¡¯re on a run,¡± I said quietly. ¡°Take a shot at it.¡±


    I stepped aside so that he could get a view through the peephole.


    Isaac had a scouting trope that would allow him to spot Omens. His was called <strong>How is this normal?</strong> and it required him to call out how an Omen was unusual to get info about it.


    One nce woke him up quickly.


    ¡°Come on, guys,¡± Edwin said. ¡°I can see you looking through the peephole. Please let me in.¡±


    Isaac thought for a moment. ¡°Why do you keep looking to the right?¡± he asked. ¡°That¡¯s strange.¡±


    Sure enough, it was strange.


    Edwin had been looking at something or someone to the right of the door that we could not see.


    Momentster, I heard a shot from outside, followed by a body dropping. Someone had shot Edwin.


    ¡°Let us in now, or I will make you regret it!¡± some man screamed from outside.


    ¡°We¡¯re just looking for a good time,¡± a woman¡¯s voice said in an exaggerated, sultry tone.


    Isaac looked back at us.


    ¡°Did you see the Omen?¡± I asked.


    Isaac nodded. ¡°Kids¡¯ Games,¡± he said.


    That was the title of the storyline the Omen triggered.


    I nodded.


    ¡°Go away!¡± I screamed.


    Antoine joined in with me. ¡°You all had better get your asses out of here.¡±


    Laughter echoed in the hallway for longer than should have been humanly possible.


    Then silence.


    After a moment, Isaac looked outside and said, ¡°They¡¯re gone.¡±


    But none of us really believed that.


    We stayed ready for them to return all night, but they never did.


    ~-~


    ¡°I am the master,¡± Isaac said the next day. ¡°I am the sentry on the top of the tower.¡±


    He stood on the astroturf at the top of the building, his eye firmly nted on the telescope that had been included with the loft. He swerved it from side to side as he watched for Omens.


    ¡°A sentry stands at a gate,¡± Cassie said. ¡°You¡¯re a lookout. Lookouts stand at the top of a tower.¡±


    Isaacughed.


    ¡°I was a sentryst night,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Last line of defense.¡±


    Cassie rolled her eyes.


    The roof of Kimberly¡¯s loft building was clearly a part of the bar downstairs originally. Her Writ of Habitation had given us rights to it, but it was clear the ce was some type of rooftop bar once. Half of the roof was built out like a deck so that patrons could get a good view of the city.


    The other half had a mini golf course that would make Happy Gilmore nauseous, with its twisting tubes and spastic fountains. It only had three holes. There were also bean bag toss and axe throwing setups, but no axes to throw. That was a cheap omission.


    Kimberlyid out in the shade of arge ck that covered much of the decking.


    ¡°You really think dogs could be happy up here, Bobby?¡± Antoine asked from his ce behind the bar. There was a little bit of alcohol but not much else. ¡°I found cutlery!¡± he cried out.


    It was a big deal. We needed to make an inventory of everything we had avable to us.


    ¡°I think they love it. They have room to run and they can stay in the snow cone shack,¡± Bobby said, pointing to an empty snow cone hut that had been used to make adult snow cones. It didn¡¯t really have much other use, but there it stood, insted and ready for a pack of pups.


    We also had a nice grill to use. It even had a propane tank with a trope. <strong>Backyard Bomb</strong> was a Brute-Bruiser trope that allowed therge but portable tank to blow up based on a yer-set fuse and deal a lot of damage.


    In movies, you would see muscle-bound characters chuck these things into zombie hordes. They could definitely clear away some enemies.


    That was a nice thing to fall back on, at least.


    ¡°Hey, Riley,¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°Have you talked to Ramona? She¡¯s not still in her room, is she?¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t want to talk,¡± I said. ¡°Unless we agree to reach out to Ss Dyrkon to join his throughline, she won¡¯t have anything to say.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just that you were closest to her and she needs to know we are still thinking about her. We don¡¯t want her to¡­ disappear. You know,¡± Kimberly said.


    Wait, I was closest to her? She wasn¡¯t close to anyone.


    ¡°The guy talking to his pocket is back,¡± Isaac said, looking down at the street. ¡°Bet he¡¯s going to make a run for the door sooner rather thanter.¡±


    It was nice to see Isaac taking his job seriously.


    ¡°There¡¯s something else I saw,¡± he said. ¡°A few blocks down, at the park. There¡¯s a red wagon. I figure we could use it, you know, for groceries.¡±


    That was an interesting idea.


    ¡°Let me see,¡± I said. I took the telescope and pointed it where he told me to.


    It was a humble wagon. It would definitely make transporting goods easier.


    I let Antoine get a look. He was apprehensive. I could tell.


    We had a silent conversation.


    ¡°Can¡¯t do it,¡± I said. ¡°Too much risk. Too close to stealing.¡±


    Stealing was okay in storylines or in a ce you have rights to like a base, but outside of them, it was a big no-no. The As was clear about it. Steal to your heart¡¯s content between scenes or after the end, but don¡¯t take things otherwise.


    The Vets even harped on us about that, and they were missing a lot of information.


    I did wish I didn¡¯t have to be so careful. That wagon could have been really helpful.


    Oh well.

 Book Five, Chapter 3: A Call with Sal

    Book Five, Chapter 3: A Call with Sal


    ¡°Knock, knock,¡± I said as I walked to Ramona¡¯s nook. She didn¡¯t have her own room but had cordoned off the end of a hallway and put a sleeping mat there. It would do for her. It even had a window.


    She was sleeping when I showed up. She looked up at me, her eyes still pleading, I thought.


    ¡°Go away,¡± she said.


    ¡°I will, just came to check on you,¡± I said.


    She rolled back over. This woman was in herte twenties. She must have been depressed to still be in bed.


    ¡°Everyone¡¯s on the roof,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a nice ce to hang out. You should consider it.¡±


    I was met with silence. She pulled a nket over her head. I was struck with jealousy that she got a full-sized nket, while I got something half as big. That didn¡¯t matter right then.


    ¡°Look,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re going through. I really don¡¯t. Just know we¡¯re here if you need us.¡±


    No answer.I turned to leave, but then I thought better of it and added, ¡°When ites time for you to run a storyline, we will force you. Just a heads up. Better wrap your head around that now. We don¡¯t have a choice.¡±


    Adeline had said that to us back at Camp Dyer. You can''t let new yers start to believe they can sit the game out.


    ¡°You have a choice,¡± she said.


    She didn¡¯t borate.


    I left. We had a run to n. She needed more time.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Kimberly said tentatively. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a Sal? I don¡¯t know thest na¡ª"


    "Kimberly, babe!" a voice called from the other end of the line. ¡°Don¡¯t you know your agent when you hear his pipes?¡± Whoever this Sal guy was, he was a heavily animated character.


    "I have been waiting for you to call me for ages. We have so much to talk about. Are you still in that dingy loft in the downtown area? Well, I know of a gig that pays pretty well and it''s a five-minute walk. Can you believe that? A five-minute walk. It''s a nice, actiony, sexy summer flick with zombies at a health spa. Isn¡¯t that a riot? Best yet, I think I can talk them out of making you do the nude scenes. Of course, you''d have to get a body double, but that''s a small price to pay for your modesty, right?"


    Kimberly sat ck-jawed as she listened to her fictional agent talking a hundred miles a minute, but then she got herself together and responded, "No, Sal, I''m not here about that. I actually have questions about a different job. Do you remember The Final Straw?"


    We had no idea how her trope worked. It was all part of the experiment.


    "<em>The Final Straw</em>, <em>The Final Straw</em>, let me see. Oh my gosh, <em>The Final Straw</em>. You see, I knew, I knew that you would love <em>The Final Straw</em>. It is perfect. It''s what they call a career maker. I''m looking at a script here that could get you an Academy Award. Do you understand that? It is excellent."


    Kimberly looked at Antoine and me incredulously.


    "All right, just let me get my notes, dear. It''ll take me just one more moment, just one more moment... oh, here they are, right on top. Because if you take this role, Kimberly sweetheart, you''re going to be right on top."


    "You say that about every role," Kimberly said, trying to y along with the gimmick of the trope.


    "And have I steered you wrong yet? This one though, this one is going to set you apart because, get this, my dear, you will be the main character. Your face will be on the poster of <em>The Final Straw</em>. Picture this: a young, eager detective hell-bent on saving a missing girl in some hick town out east. Huh? You like that? Well, of course, you won''t actually be a detective; you''re actually a reporter. But I think that''s just as good."


    The energy and enthusiasm¡­ was funny. It felt like a person ying a character. It took everything not tough even when we were talking about a murder game.


    "Tell me more about my character," Kimberly said, holding back augh. "I just want to see if it''s something that I could picture myself doing."


    "What do you need to know? She''s brave, she''s beautiful. If I were 10 years younger and a woman, I would y this role in a heartbeat. She''s inquisitive, but it''s not her hard qualities that make her so special; it''s her soft-heartedness, it''s herpassion. Oh my God, this character, Kimberly, this character¡­"


    "What''s the pay like?" Kimberly said, shrugging her shoulders.


    "Standard pay. The real pay is in exposure. This is going to tell the world that Kimberly Madison is a yer in cinema, that she''s not just some pretty face stripping down in the showers, that she has something to say, that she can carry an entire film on her shoulders."


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    "When have I ever yed a character that''s stripped down in the showers?" Kimberly asked.


    "Oh, it''s an expression, honey. I would never say something like that about you. It''s just people, they talk. You know how it is; this business is ruthless, ruthless."


    Kimberly shot a nce at me because I would know whether or not Carousel had snuck in any nude scenes involving her. I shook my head. This Sal person was just being a character. I had never seen a yer portrayed as nude. NPCs, on the other hand...


    "Either way, I''ve talked to the studio and I''ve had them put in your contract that you don''t have to do anything you don''t want to do when ites to thesciviousness that is often in this genre. And of course, they went along with it. You''re Kimberly Madison. You were the star of <em>The Die Cast</em>. You''ve earned your ce and they know it, sweetheart."


    Eight of us sat around the table and tried not tough as Sal, Kimberly''s fictional agent, gave her information about our next storyline. She had recently been awarded a scouting trope called<strong> Just Ask Sal</strong> that let her talk to her agent about storylines as if they were movie scripts that she was signing on to. After all, that was the conceit of the Celebrity aspect of the Eye Candy Archetype, that the yer was actually just an actor or celebrity signing on to a movie. That was where the Celebrity got all of their abilities from.


    We had been researching <em>The Final Straw</em> with all of the resources we had avable. The first and foremost ce that we looked at was the Carousel As. The entry read as follows:<blockquote>


    <strong>Title: </strong>The Final Straw


    <strong>Omen: A Trail of Missing Posters¡ªA young girl is featured on them. When you walk too far down the Trail, the story starts.</strong>


    <strong>Rmended Archetypes for Scouting</strong>:


    Psychic, Detective, Sheriff


    <strong>Insights Not Considered Spoilers:</strong>


    1. Psychic¡¯s <strong>Charmed Forecast</strong>: The Omen is avable during daylight hours.


    2. Psychic¡¯s <strong>Harbinger</strong>: The closer you get to the truth, the more danger you will be in.


    3. Athlete¡¯s <strong>I Have Practice Later</strong>: The storyline will take a few days.


    4. Time Looper¡¯s <strong>Time Awareness</strong>: Part of the story urs in the past.


    5. Outsider¡¯s <strong>Eyes On Me</strong>: Everything you do will be seen and spread around by the NPCs. An Outsider or simr will be an important character.


    6. Detective¡¯s <strong>Usual Suspects</strong>: Results unclear. Even the innocent parties act suspiciously.


    7. Doctor¡¯s <strong>Crime Scene Triage</strong>: No yer Deaths are Necessary, but a total wipe is possible.


    8. Sheriff¡¯s <strong>Deputized!</strong>: A police officer is a yable character. Usually a fighter, not a sleuth.


    9. Sheriff¡¯s <strong>The Rumor Mill</strong>: Lots of gossip from the townsfolk. Some useful.


    10. Detective¡¯s <strong>The Amateur Detective</strong>: The film¡¯s main character will be an amateur detective.


    11. Soldier¡¯s <strong>Weapons Check</strong>: Firearms are avable, but don¡¯t expect them to solve your problems. The focus will be on melee, traps, and improvised weapons.</blockquote>


    There was a host of information about the storyline that we could use to decide our builds and n our run. Now, all we had to do was use our own scouting tropes to fill in the cracks and make sure we had all the information avable.


    "I''m telling you, Kimberly, the industry is dog-eat-dog. You gotta be willing to rise to the asion, and I think that you can do that with this story. It''s got heart; it''s got a mature ending. You know how I like a nice bleak ending? That''s not to say it''ll be bleak because of you; I''m sure that you''ll do wonderfully."


    "Can you tell me about other characters that''ll be in the story?" Kimberly asked. "Just so I know whether or not I fit into it."


    "Oh, of course. This is a story with lots of subtle acting, lots of subtlety¡ªnot like a lot of the stories that you see around with their screaming cheerleaders and the angry boys wearing masks. No, this is a mature script. Like I was saying, you have police officers risking their lives to figure out what''s going on and to save the day. You have townspeople who are nosy but want to help, more or less, in their own ways. You have a mysterious figure, a scarecrow, Kimberly, a scarecrow who is haunting the entire thing and taking lives."


    That was a little vaguer than we had hoped, but perhaps asking about other characters was a bit out of the purview of this trope.


    "Do I have a romantic interest?" Kimberly asked as she looked over at Antoine. They had been romantically involved in every storyline they had been in, whether it made sense or not.


    "Oh honey, you do not need to be with a man in every single storyline. This one is about you trying to help a little girl. Do you really want to cut back to some scene about you making goo-goo eyes at a smoldering, damaged man? I mean, I get it, Kimberly. The gun and the badge can be very attractive in a man, but at some point in time, you have to stand on your own two feet or you''re going to get typecast and not in the way you hope. This is your chance to show that you can be the one who wins the fights, that you can outsmart the enemy, that you can trap them, and that you can use your wits and yourpassion. Don''t throw that away just so that you can be arm candy to some hunk."


    It was interesting, the words he used. Sal was telling Kimberly not to have a romantic fling with Antoine''s character. "Arm candy" was one of Antoine''s new tropes. If he had a sessful or otherwise desirable romantic partner, it buffed him. We had never considered how that might interact with the story atrge. If Kimberly was going to be the main character, perhaps a romantic subplot would only undermine her.


    Of course, it was always possible that Sal was just being catty.


    I scribbled something down on a piece of paper and held it over for Kimberly to see. She read it and then nodded.


    ¡°Hey, Sal, do I have any allies in this story, or am I all alone?¡±


    "Well, there''s allies and then there''s allies. There are lots of people trying to solve the mystery, honey, but you are the main character. You''ll get help. I believe that there are talks for your character''s news producer to have a big-name actor take the role, you know, a real yer in the industry. He should help you with the mystery. Or her. It could be a her, but let''s be honest, they''re not going to let two strong women headline a movie. The world ain''t ready for that."


    We all looked at each other with a confused expression. It almost sounded like Sal had misspoken and identally gave away that the role of her news producer was a man and then tried to correct it. Of course, it was possible that itself was a ruse and that he was telling us the news producer role was for a male yer on purpose, and the correction was just voring.


    This trope told a lot, but man, was it a lot to untangle.


    "Anyway, Kimberly, tell me if you want to take the role. I will suggest for you that if you do, you should spring for the best amodations you can find. Eastern Carousel isn''t exactly a tourist destination if you take my meaning. Ciao."


    Sal hung up the phone, and we just sat and looked at each other in the whirlwind of information he had given us.

 Book Five, Chapter 4: Scouting

    Book Five, Chapter 4: Scouting


    ¡°No¡­ romantic¡­ subplot,¡± I said as I wrote it on the piece of paper we were using to gather our ns on.


    ¡°And I think he was suggesting that I use The Penthouse trope,¡± Kimberly added. ¡°The note about amodations was pretty clear.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I said, adding that bit.


    Sal had talked so fast and so scattered that I feared I might have missed some of the actual clues he gave Kimberly.


    ¡°So I gather from the As entry and Sal¡¯s advice, that Antoine will be a cop, you will be a reporter, Dina will be the missing girl¡¯s mother, and I will be your news producer,¡± I said as I went over my notes. ¡°Anybody got anything else?¡±


    Isaac was the only one to speak. ¡°How does Sal know who is going on the storyline? I mean, he just assumes that Antoine will be there and that you, the Filmmaker aspect will be the news producer. What if you two just don¡¯t show up?¡±


    Isaac questioned everything. It wasn¡¯t a bad thing.


    ¡°Tropes always make assumptions,¡± I said. ¡°Even my <strong>I don¡¯t like it here¡­</strong> trope makes assumptions about who will be on my team. Speaking of, when we were looking at the Omen, it said the difficulty was ¡®I¡¯m getting goosebumps¡¯ but that was with eight of us there, so it will probably be a bit harder than that with fewer yers.¡±


    <em>The Final Straw</em> had been offered to us before on the jobs board where we found the <em>Subject of Inquiry</em> storyline, but that must have been a different version. This one seemed harder.¡°Location Scout told me the movie will be shot all around Eastern Carousel,¡± I said. ¡°There were no notable hidden locations or anything. That¡¯s good to know.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense,¡± Antoine said. ¡°A missing child would involve a wide search. I could see the story going anywhere.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°My Lifting the Veil of Silence trope never activated while we were over there,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°That means the enemy does not target women specifically. We already knew that, though. It¡¯s Benny.¡±


    ¡°You had a much more pleasant experience with the scarecrow than some of us,¡± Dina said. ¡°Of course, my experience probably doesn¡¯t mean anything.¡±


    When we yed <em>The Final Straw II</em>, Dina had dared Benny to kill her. He obliged. Meanwhile, Kimberly and I got out without a scratch. Benny picked favorites, only killing those he believed were worthy of death based on his own judgment.


    ¡°As says no deaths are required,¡± Kimberly added. ¡°Thank god. That means no Looks Don¡¯t Last, and no Deathwatch, right?¡±


    I thought for a moment.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°If we can walk away unscathed, we should try it.¡±


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t n on dying if we don¡¯t have to,¡± Antoine added.


    We were in agreement.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Cassie, did you get any readings?¡±


    Cassie put her fingers to her temples. Her <strong>I¡¯m Blocked</strong> trope was proving difficult for her to activate onmand, but that was probably built into the trope.


    ¡°I sense the supernatural,¡± she said.


    ¡°The supernatural?¡± Isaac asked with a smirk, ¡°In this storyline? I wonder if the flying scarecrow knows.¡±


    Cassie red at him.


    ¡°Let her work,¡± Antoine said.


    And she did, but with little sess.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, as she realized all eyes were on her. ¡°I¡¯m just not getting anything.¡±


    ¡°Take your time,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°We aren¡¯t in a rush. Just get to know your trope.¡±


    Cassie went back to her meditation.


    We stared.


    ¡°Maybe we should leave,¡± Isaac suggested. I wasn¡¯t sure if he was being a jerk or if that was his legitimate suggestion.


    Cassie was wearing her emotions on her sleeve for whatever reason. ¡°I¡¯m trying, I swear,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m not normally this stupid, I promise.¡±


    She squinted hard.


    ¡°No one thinks you¡¯re stupid,¡± Kimberly said.


    Isaac looked like he was about to say something, by Antoine stared him down.


    ¡°Cassie,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re putting a lot of points in Moxie, I notice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to,¡± she said. ¡°The As said so.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not criticizing that. It¡¯s just, putting in the stat points isn¡¯t the whole picture. Moxie is about performance. Maybe if you actually tried to y it up, it might work better. Like when you use the Anguish ability.¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    My meager experience with psychic power might have beening in handy.


    She nodded. Her fingers came down from her temples. ¡°That¡¯s easier because the pain kicks in and I don¡¯t have to pretend so much.¡±


    She took a deep breath and lifted her hands, ¡°I see, yes, I see¡­. There is a presence,¡± she started to say. Whatever her <strong>I¡¯m Blocked</strong> trope was meant to do, it hadn¡¯t kicked in yet.


    Isaac got up from the table, hiding a giggle from Cassie. It was for the best.


    Eventually, with lots of iling and attempts to tap into her abilities, she seeded.


    ¡°They¡¯re angry!¡± Cassie screamed. Tears started flowing down her face. Her power was working. ¡°They don¡¯t like me looking, the spirits. They don¡¯t like me looking!¡±


    ¡°Keep looking, Cassie,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°What do you see?¡±


    <strong>I¡¯m Blocked</strong> was all about opposition. It was designed to detect opposing spiritual forces.


    ¡°There is great magic at y. Forces that ought to be left alone. They are angry and they want blood spilled. A child of the earth, life endangered, heartbroken. ¡­ someone vited the sanctity of thatnd¡­ You are old, but we are older,¡± Cassie stopped talking for a moment and then, in a soft whisper, said, ¡°Your choices transform you. What will you be?¡±


    In a split second, Cassie¡¯s head was thrust downward and hit the table before we could stop it.


    We crowded around her in concern.


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± Kimberly screamed.


    ¡°Cassie?¡± Isaac screamed from across the room. He ran to her side. ¡°Cassie, are you okay?¡±


    For a moment, there was silence. Then, she moved.


    She looked up, a lump forming on her forehead. ¡°I can¡¯t see any further,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m blocked.¡±


    And so she was.


    ~-~


    Kimberly reminded Cassie of how well she did for hours after that. Her vision had been chaotic and had certainly set the tone for the storyline we were about to take part in. Sal¡¯s information almost made it seem light-hearted, if only from his humorous way of speaking. Cassie¡¯s vision spoke of anger and retribution.


    I had always wondered what Benny¡¯s deal was.


    ¡°We have to talk about the thing we all already kind of know,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We have to talk about who is going.¡±


    ¡°I think Kimberly should go. I know she¡¯s a bit of an odd choice¡­¡± Isaac started. Before he could continue with his little joke, he said, ¡°Look. It¡¯s got to be the highest level yers. You already know your roles, right?¡±


    We all knew he was right.


    ¡°I know that Kimberly, Antoine, Dina, and I are going. I know,¡± I said. ¡°But someone has to point out how we are the only ones with rescue tropes. If we die, Project Rewind is a failure. No one can save Anna and Camden. No one saves the Vets.¡±


    We took a moment for that to sink in.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We are the best yers for this storyline.¡±


    ¡°What about Bobby?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°He¡¯s got a high level. Why aren¡¯t we considering him?¡±


    Antoine and I looked at each other. We both knew.


    ¡°If we die, the lower-level yers need to have enough yers for a team. We have eight yers. If we take five and die, then they are left with three yers and are basically dead in the water. This storyline won¡¯t be easy, but no one has to die. It¡¯s our best shot.¡±


    I nodded.


    Four yers to a run was on the light side, but it could be done. It had to be done until we rescued more yers.


    ¡°The only question left,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Are what tropes we bring.¡±


    ~-~


    Antoine was not Kimberly¡¯s leading man for this run, so he didn¡¯t need his romance-based tropes. No Arm Candy, no Knight in Shining Armor.


    The As (and Sal himself) had strongly implied that Antoine would be cast as a police officer. He took y It Cool. Without Kimberly there to soothe him using You were having a nightmare¡­, he would need a mental health trope to help him out. He was doing greattely. He told us everything was better than before and we didn¡¯t need to worry.


    My Moxie was higher than his, so I knew he was hiding something, but still, he hade through before, so I trusted him.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to use my social trope,¡± he added. ¡°Everyone Loves a Winner should be nice for a cop.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Should help with early interviews with NPCs.¡±


    He also went with his basic buffs and melee tropes, as well as, The ybook. Since he wasn¡¯t going to have as good of a reason to be with Kimberly, that trope would help him know when it was time for him to act from a distance.


    Kimberly tossed Looks Don¡¯t Last, of course, and built around her Scrunchie trope that let her turn Moxie into other stats, like Savvy or Hustle. Her old standbies like Convenient Backstory and Social Awareness came along, as did The Penthouse and Breaking the Veil of Silence, which had useful in-story abilities.


    ¡°Everything a leadingdy needs,¡± Antoine said. He was trying not to be offended that he would not be a love interest in this story.


    Kimberly blushed.


    Dina equipped Out-of-Town Cousin to help tie her to the action of the story and kept her background setup, which was ideal for this plot. She kept Guarded Personality and An Outsider¡¯s perspective, though I wasn¡¯t sure she actually needed it. No Return Address was added to the rotation in ce of Pen Pal, just to change things up. This was a multi-day storyline so she thought it would work well.


    She debated bringing her growing collection of Criminal tropes, but I wasn¡¯t sure whether they woulde into y. Ultimately, it was her decision.


    I brought Oblivious Bystander, to no one¡¯s surprise. I also brought my background trope, My Grandmother Had The Gift, which would be useful in a supernatural storyline and allow me to equip my Detective trope, He has a Tell¡­ If we were not using Deathwatch, I didn¡¯t need Director¡¯s Monitor or many of my Deathwatch tropes, but I brought Off-Screen death so I could still work from the sidelines if necessary. Raised by Television made a return to the rotation, as well as The Dailies. I didn¡¯t know how much help it would be to see the raw footage, because I didn¡¯t think Carousel would give away too much, but I needed to practice with it.


    The Insert Shot made a return, as did Escape Artist and, of course, Trope Master. There might be a day where I would not use Trope Master, but it wasn¡¯t that day.


    We chose a lean, simple, flexible loadout for out outing. We didn¡¯t want to mess with the plot too much and we wanted every yer avable at all times to help.


    One of us would also have to bring in Bobby''s <strong>Craft Services Are The Real Heroes</strong> trope to maximize our gains when we were searching for food.


    We were as ready as we were ever going to be.


    ¡°How¡¯s my favorite table doing?¡± Edwin, the bartender said as we got the nice corner table down at Grain Matter for onest meal before we hit the road.


    Kimberly told him we were doing great. He gave us menus and said our server would be there soon. If he remember being shot in the head a couple of days earlier, he didn¡¯t act like it. The senior Dr. Halle had told me NPCs only remember what made them better at their jobs, which was ironic given that he clearly didn¡¯t remember a lot.


    Edwin, with his sequin shirt and chipper attitude didn¡¯t need a memory of a gruesome murder.


    We ate our steaks and veggie bowls.


    We evenughed, though that might have been helped by the drinks.


    Things felt normal, even as a hyena person salivated at us from outside the window. Kimberly¡¯s writ would keep him out, along with all of the other dangers.


    We bought Ramona some grilled skewers. That was the traditional present for someone who just found out their life was a lie and they were just being used as some Narrator¡¯s pawn, right?


    This was going to be a storyline where we made no mistakes. We were going to get in, y our parts better than we had ever done before, and bring home the bacon.


    Edwin brought us more drinks. Weughed more, Isaac was funnier when we had been drinking. We took deep breaths and tried to stay in the moment.


    Because soon, we were going to be fighting for our lives.


    But, hey, that¡¯s every day in Carousel.

 Book Five, Chapter 5: Harless Automotive

    Book Five, Chapter 5: Harless Automotive


    <strong>Antoine Stone is <em>the Athlete</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Antoine has a Plot Armor score of 26, Mettle of 7, Moxie of 4, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 3, and Grit of 7.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    <strong>"Gym Rat"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory.


    <strong>"It''s Part of the Uniform"</strong> gives him higher Mettle when attacking with sports equipment.


    Brandishing a weapon is <strong>¡°Like a Security nket,¡±</strong> buffing his Grit and soothing his and his allies¡¯ fear.


    Swinging it will cause his opponents to falter, if only for a moment, based on Moxie because of ¡°<strong>Swing Away</strong>.¡±


    "<strong>Off the Bench</strong>" the yer feels more rested for each scene they are not in. Eventually buffs Hustle and Moxie.¡°<strong>Better Make it Count</strong>¡± greatly buffs thest round of ammunition the yer has avable in a fight.


    "<strong>Everyone Loves a Winner</strong>" the user''s character will have some previous sess that endears them to NPCs. Failure reverses this.


    "<strong>The ybook</strong>" the user will be able to see when it is their turn to act in an established n.


    "<strong>y it Cool</strong>" suppresses mental trauma if the user acts calm and collected.


    He did not bring <strong>¡°Time Out!¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Just Walk It Off¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Knight in Shining Armor¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°You were having a nightmare¡­¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Reload After Cut¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°A Race Against Time¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Coyote in a Trap¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Bad Luck Ma¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°In Bed By Nine¡±</strong>, and <strong>¡°Arm Candy¡±</strong>.</blockquote>


    ~


    <strong>Kimberly Madison is <em>the Eye Candy</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Kimberly has a Plot Armor score of 26, Mettle of 5, Moxie of 10, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 1, and Grit of 6.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    <strong>"Convenient Backstory"</strong> allows her to believably change her backstory to assist with the current task, buffing the relevant stat.


    <strong>"Social Awareness"</strong> allows her to see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs and intuit rtionship dynamics.


    <strong>"When in Rome"</strong> buffs her Grit until Rebirth if her performance matches the tone of the movie.


    <strong>¡°Does anyone have a scrunchie?¡±</strong> allows her to shift Moxie''s points into another stat by putting her hair up.


    ¡°<strong>Carousel Academy Awards</strong>¡± buffs her Moxie based on the quality of her performance in the previous storyline.


    <strong>¡°Breaking the Veil of Silence,¡± </strong>the user will get warnings from knowledgeable NPCs. Outside of storylines, NPCs will warn of dangers to women and hint at storyline rewards.


    "<strong>The Penthouse</strong>" The character will get the nicest, safest amodations in a multiday storyline.


    "<strong>Contract Negotiations</strong>" the user will get a buff to an Improvisation after "discussing" an improvisation with Carousel.


    She is borrowing Bobby¡¯s ¡°<strong>Craft Services Are The Real Heroes</strong>¡± which ensures there is edible food and water on set during the storyline in hopes it will boost their bounty when looting food after the storyline.</blockquote>


    ~


    <strong>Dina Cano is <em>the Outsider</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Dina has a Plot Armor score of 21, Mettle of 3, Moxie of 3, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 3, and Grit of 7.


    Current Trope Limit: 8


    <strong>"Guarded Personality" </strong>resists all insight abilities.


    <strong>"An Outsider''s Perspective" </strong>alerts her to new, out-of-ce, or unusual information.


    <strong>"A Haunted Past" </strong>A background trope that gives her character some past trauma that haunts her and gives her ess to various tropes.


    <strong>"Encouragement from Beyond" </strong>soothes her when stressed, scared, or in pain and may provide useful information in the form ofmunication from the beyond.


    <strong>¡°They Fell Off¡± </strong>allows her to quickly get out of handcuffs and simr restraints.


    <strong>¡°Light Fingers¡± </strong>buffs the yer¡¯s attempts at stealing items from the set.


    <strong>"Savvy Safecracker" </strong>tells the character how long it will take to pick a lock of some kind. Buffs Hustle in the attempt.


    <strong>"No Return Address" </strong>gives the user insight from anonymous letters and allows them to send simr letters to allies.


    <strong>"Out-of-Town Cousin" </strong>makes the user''s character rted to important NPCs and gives them perks and insight based on that.</blockquote>


    <strong>~</strong>


    <strong>Riley Lawrence is <em>the Film Buff</em>.</strong><blockquote>


    His aspect is Filmmaker.


    <strong>Filmmaker</strong>: The Filmmaker has aprehensive understanding of the filmmaking process. They can manipte the game environment effectively, altering the game''s dynamics in subtle but impactful ways. Their abilities are a mixture of meta-Insight and meta-Rule tropes. They have higher Hustle, reflecting their ability to stay out of the way, stay alive, and remain unseen as they manipte meta-movie elements.


    Riley has a Plot Armor score of 28, Mettle of 3, Moxie of 7, Hustle of 7, Savvy of 7, and Grit of 4.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    <strong>"Trope Master"</strong> grants him the ability to perceive enemy tropes, but at the cost of sacrificing half of his Plot Armor.


    As an <strong>"Oblivious Bystander,"</strong> Riley remains untargeted by enemies as he convincingly acts oblivious to their presence.


    <strong>"Escape Artist"</strong> buffs his Hustle to help enact usible escape ns.


    <strong>"The Insert Shot"</strong> makes allies aware of an object the yer chooses. The object will be shown to the audience and its use will be buffed in the Finale.


    <strong>"My Grandmother Had the Gift¡­" </strong>A background trope that gives Riley¡¯s character some ambiguous connection to ¡°The Gift¡± through his heritage.


    ¡°<strong>Cutaway Death</strong>¡± sends him Off-Screen before the moment of his character¡¯s implied demise and allows him to exist behind the scenes Written Off if he survives the encounter.


    <strong>¡°Raised by Television¡±</strong> buffs the user to do one big meaningful action if they establish their inspiration from film and television to establish it.


    ¡°<strong>What Doesn¡¯t Kill Them Makes Them Angry</strong>¡± allows the user to antagonize the enemy into attacking and lowers their Savvy.


    "<strong>The Dailies</strong>¡± allows him to see a selection of raw footage from the day''s shoot.


    "<strong>He Has A Tell</strong>" makes it so characters in the film will have a physical tell when they are stressed during interrogations.


    He did not bring <strong>¡°Director¡¯s Monitor¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°shback Revtion¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Casting Director¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Dead Man Walking¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Cinema Seer¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Coming To A Theater Near You¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°I Don''t Like It Here¡­¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Out Like a Light¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Location Scout¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°The Wrong Reel¡±</strong>, <strong>¡°Method to the Madness¡±</strong>, and <strong>¡°Cut!¡±</strong>.


    This tale has been uwfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.</blockquote>


    ~


    ~


    The walk to Eastern Carousel was a silent affair. I didn''t think of it as a nervous silence; I thought we were focused, that we were determined. Kimberly, Antoine, Dina, and I had all seen what serious teams looked like when they yed the Game at Carousel, and we knew that if we were going to survive, we would have to be one of those teams that could face incredible odds without flinching.


    As we started to near the road with all of the missing posters that would trigger the Omen for <em>The Final Straw</em> storyline, Antoine started to speak. "We''re going to walk into this bravely," he said. "We''re gonna walk in like we''re just doing our jobs. We are literally just here to pick up groceries and go home. Whatever happens in there, whatever we have to do, whatever we have to face¡ªto us, it''s just groceries. Now y the game, stay in character, and I''ll see you at the end."


    We all nodded in agreement. I breathed deeply and tried to calm myself. I was the brains of the organization, and after the fiasco with the fake tutorial, I felt I had something to prove.


    As we walked closer, I unequipped my scouting trope. It was time.


    A few hundred feet further, the missing posters became more ubiquitous. They hung from every fence and mailbox. It almost reminded me of the scene from <em>The Chronicles of Narnia</em> where the children walk through the closet of fur coats until they end up in the forest in another world. But instead of fur coats, we had dreadful pictures of a girl gone missing.


    I didn''t know whether we would find her alive. I tried not to think about it.


    One hundred more feet still, we walked more slowly as we prepared for the Omen to trigger.


    And suddenly¡­


    "Almost got it," a voice cried out to my left. I turned and saw Kimberley standing next to a green sedan that would have been old when my grandparents were my age.


    "Just a little bit longer. It gets a little finicky in this hot weather," a man said from under the hood. A quick nce at the red wallpaper told me that his name was Nick Ogles. I didn''t know if that was his real name or if Carousel was making a joke.


    Just by ncing at him, I could tell that this scene took ce in the 1960s. He wore muted colors and bell bottoms, and his mustache would have been illegal in 2022. He was a basic NPC.


    He was chewing on something¡ªmaybe bubble gum, but I could never tell because he never spit it out.


    "I just gotta give her a little love," he said. "I''m telling you, the station should be paying to fix my car if I''m the one that has to transport us all the way out here to the middle of nowhere, Eastern Carousel."


    "I hear you," was all I said.


    Antoine and Dina were gone. Kimberly was standing on the other side of the car. Like Nick, she was dressed for the decade. She wore fall colors: a dark orange zer and a maroon pencil skirt. The outfit wasplete with a gold scarf, warm-toned beige tights, and a delicate assortment of gold jewelry.


    We made eye contact and quickly walked toward each other.


    "Did you raid your grandmother''s closet?" I asked with a grin.


    "I know, isn''t it so cute?" she responded, fanning out her pencil skirt and admiring her many rings.


    At that moment, it urred to me that I was probably dressed up too. I moved my hands over my clothes and found that I was wearing a very 1960s business suit with a colorful tie and a yellow undershirt. I was sweating like the Wicked Witch of the West.


    How did they survive in these fabrics?


    We were Off-Screen, so we had time to talk. We knew that Kimberly was ying a reporter in this storyline, so we had to figure out what exactly we were up to. I quickly started to rummage through the front seats and the glove box of the little green car. I found a town map of Eastern Carousel along with a notebook.


    Kimberly had gone and grabbed one of the missing posters for the little girl from a nearby fence. The posters were not asically overpopted as they had been, but they were still ced desperately at every post and fence by someone searching for the girl.


    "Look at this; there''s more on it than before," she said as she spread it out on the trunk of the sedan for me to read.<blockquote>


    <strong>MISSING</strong>


    <strong>Name:</strong> Tamara Cano


    <strong>Date of Birth:</strong> April 15, 1954 (12 Years Old)


    <strong>Last Seen:</strong> October 5, 1966


    <strong>Timeline:</strong><ul><li>


    <strong>2:30 PM:</strong> Tamara left Eastern Carousel Middle School, 217 Thurgood Avenue, Eastern Carousel.</li><li>


    <strong>4:10 PM:</strong> She was spotted near Harless Automotive on Best Street.</li></ul>


    <strong>Description:</strong><ul><li>


    <strong>Hair:</strong> Dark brown</li><li>


    <strong>Eyes:</strong> Dark brown</li><li>


    <strong>Height:</strong> 4''9"</li><li>


    <strong>Weight:</strong> 75 lbs</li><li>


    <strong>Clothing:</strong> Last seen wearing a yellow dress with white polka dots, white knee-high socks, ck Mary Jane shoes, and red ponytail holders with small stic flowers.</li></ul>


    <strong>Family Contact:</strong><ul><li>


    <strong>Mother:</strong> Dina Cano</li><li>


    <strong>Home Street:</strong> Oakwood Drive</li><li>


    <strong>Phone:</strong> (555) 667-5840</li></ul>


    <strong>If you have any information, please contact:</strong><ul><li>


    <strong>Eastern Carousel Sheriff¡¯s Department</strong></li><li>


    <strong>Sheriff:</strong> Jonathan Miller</li><li>


    <strong>Phone:</strong> (555) 667-9210</li><li>


    <strong>Address:</strong> 300 Jefferson Street, Eastern Carousel</li></ul>


    <strong>ANY INFORMATION CAN HELP. PLEASE REPORT IMMEDIATELY IF SEEN.</strong></blockquote>


    "Let''s get to work," I said. My suit jacket had be my metaphorical bag of holding in ce of my hoodie, and I fished out a pen that I had left there.


    "All right, let''s see. The little girl leaves school on Thurgood Ave., and she is next seen on Best Street.," I said as I fanned out the map onto the trunk next to the poster.


    I examined the map of Eastern Carousel. This map made it look like Eastern Carousel wasn''t just a part of Carousel but was rather its own small municipality with a few stores, a few neighborhoods, a quarry, a junkyard, and all the other things that you might find in a small rural town where this story took ce.


    "Her home was on Oakwood Drive," Kimberly said.


    I circled it and traced the most logical path between her school and her home.


    "Well, if she was going home, there''s no reason she should evere near Best Street," I said.


    "Riley," Kimberly said, pointing to a nearby stop sign. Above it was a little green sign that said Best Street. We were, in fact, on the street where she wasst seen.


    "I''m hurrying," Nick said as if we had just told him to start the car so we could leave. "I''m doing the best I can. I was hired to work cameras, not fix cars."


    "All right," I said. "If we''re on Best Street and she wasst seen at Harless Automotive on Best Street, I would bet that we''re here to interview whoever saw her, wouldn''t you say?"


    "That sounds right to me," Kimberly agreed. "I guess that means we need to figure out what questions to ask."


    We sat and took notes and came up with a few solid questions, most of which were more designed to elicit information than they were to present information on film as journalists might normally do. We continued to talk and prepare for the interview.


    I just wished we knew who had actually seen her. Our questions thus far were mostly things like, ¡°Can you tell us what you told the police?¡± which would probably be helpful, but still felt like too little.


    From somewhere in the car, there was a staticky sound, and then a voice, like that over an old radio, started to say, "The search near the brewery didn''t turn up anything. Over."


    The voice sounded familiar, but the static made it hard to be sure.


    "Thank you, Officer Stone," the person on the other end of the radio said. "We''ll keep that in our notes. Where are you headed next? Over."


    "Next is the quarry, and then I''m off. Over," the officer said. It was Antoine. As we had predicted, he was cast as a police officer.


    "Godspeed. Over," the dispatcher said.


    On-Screen


    Suddenly, we were On-Screen; I started with my prepared lines.


    "I''m telling you, Kimberly, I have a feeling about this one,¡± I said enthusiastically. ¡°After this, there''s going to be no more specials on hit and runs or fender benders or mysterious cabals passing bad checks. With this one, we''re actually going to help people. We find this girl, and I''m telling you, good things will follow. We''ll be taken seriously as investigative journalists and we''ll make the world a better ce. It¡¯ll be just like in the movies.


    "Riley," Kimberly responded, "this isn''t a movie. We''re not here to be action heroes. We''re here to help spread awareness about a missing girl. The truth is all that matters, not glory."


    I shrugged.


    "A little glory," I said.


    "Fine, a little glory,¡± she said with a smile, ¡°but mostly we''re here to spread awareness and to get the truth out.¡±


    With that, the engine of the green sedan roared to life.


    "Told you all I needed to do was tweak some things," Nick said as he closed the hood.


    Off-Screen


    He had just started the car from under the hood. I didn''t know enough about cars to tell if that was actually a thing or if it was just something you saw in movies.


    We climbed into the green sedan, and in a sequence soical I almostughed out loud, Nick drove the car approximately 500 feet over a hill, and we found ourselves next to a vast stretch of farnd. At the ce where that farnd met the road was a building with a sign that said Harless Automotive. Next to it was a well-kept farmhouse. The viewers at home (or wherever they were) would never know that our destination was within walking distance.


    As we approached, I tried to get a sense of the ce. It was a humble and well-kept lot. I was used to seeing ces like this run down and covered in rust, but not this one. This was 1966, and everything here was new and pristine.


    In fact, the only thing that was dirty was the coveralls worn by the balding man who stood outside the shop running a rag over the windshield of a wicked-looking car that could have been a cousin to the haunted car, Christine, of Stephen King fame.


    As Nick pulled his green car into the mechanic shop''s lot, the mechanic turned his attention toward us with a sour look, as if the sound of the car''s engine was causing his ears to bleed.


    Nick shut off the engine and we got out. Kimberly was the first to go shake the man''s hand.


    "Hello, sir. My name is Kimberly Madison. I''m a reporter with Carousel News 9, and I''m looking for the witness who saw Tamara Canost."


    The man stopped side-eyeing Nick''s car long enough to express sympathy, saying, "Yes, ma''am, that''s me. It was me and my son who saw her."


    Nick strolled up behind us with a huge case that I soon learned contained a portable camera that looked just as much like one of Dr. Evil''s spacesers as it did a piece of recording equipment. The camera even had finishing not so different from the cars in the lot. It was candy green with ivory trimmings, and it must have weighed sixty pounds if not more.


    "Whoever''s car that is, is really asking for trouble," the man in the grease-stained coveralls said. "That car sounds like the oil hadn''t been changed in at least a year, and if I''m not wrong, the transmission is having trouble. And there was something else... something else," the man said as he tried to focus on his memory of the sound of the engine. "Oh, I''ll have to take a look at it," he eventually said. ¡°It¡¯s all going to tarnation.¡±


    He turned back to Kimberly. "You all are looking for that little girl?" he asked.


    Kimberly smiled and nodded and went on to exin that they were trying to get the word out, much of what she had said to me, but I could see that she was at least a little spooked.


    So was I.


    The man''s name on the red wallpaper was Benjamin Harless. The name tag sewn into his coveralls read "Benny." Those were the same exact coveralls that we had seen flying through a cornfield, stuffed full of straw and being worn by a haunted scarecrow.

 Book Five, Chapter 6: Sunflowers

    Book Five, Chapter 6: Sunflowers


    I looked Benny right in the face. Underneath the grease, he had one of those cherub faces that looked the best when it was smiling. His thinning hair was curly but well-kept. Though he kept casting nces back at the green sedan that had caused him so much pain, he was polite and attentive and seemed, to the best of my understanding, very concerned about the missing child.


    "Yeah, it was me and my boy," he said as Kimberly held the microphone in his face. "We''ve seen that girling around here a lot. She likes looking at the farms and the nts and the trees in the fields. Nice girl, never done anything wrong. And on this day, I remember she looked upset. That''s what I told the cops. Normally, she''s smiling and skipping like the sun is her best friend, but that day, she was sad, and I could see she had been crying. I wish I had called out to her to see what was wrong. I had no way of knowing, you understand," Benny started to say before the words caught in his throat. He almost got caught up in his emotions. His brow was heavy, and his eyes were clear due to a thin covering of tears.


    "And this was three days ago?" Kimberly said.


    "Right."


    "Yes, ma''am. Three days. Me and the boy been out in the woods and the fields looking for her. We''ve been doing our part. She was headed back toward town. I just don''t know what could have happened to her."


    "So you''ve heard it here, a tragedy in Eastern Carousel. Tamara Cano remains missing. If you have any information on the missing girl, please call the Sheriff''s Department number on your screen," Kimberly said to the camera. "Citizens of Eastern Carousel like Mr. Benjamin Harless are out in droves searching for the missing girl, and hope remains high that she will be found and returned to her mother. This is Kimberly Madison with Carousel News 9."


    "And we''re clear," I said. I wasn''t actually sure if news producers were supposed to say "cut" or not, but I vaguely remembered someone saying something like ¡°and we¡¯re clear¡± when I was watching April O''Neil do a news report in a Ninja Turtles movie.


    I didn¡¯t even know if that film was being broadcast. Nick took care of everything. I just wore headphones and looked intense to try and seem like I was working.


    ~-~"How did I do?" Benny asked earnestly. "You think this is going to help find that girl? Tamara used toe around. She used to y with my son, Rustle. I don''t know what I''m going to tell him if something''s happened to her."


    "Your son?" Kimberly asked. "He knows Tamara? Is there a chance that we''ll get to meet him?"


    "I suppose that''d be all right, but you gotta know he¡­ he had a hard life before he came to us, and he don''t talk. But he can understand you, and he''s real smart. The thing is, he gets nervous around some people, so if he don''t want to talk to you, it ain''t gonna happen. Hope you understand."


    "I totally understand," Kimberly said. "I''d just like to see if maybe he has something to say¡­ in his own way."


    We were still On-Screen, so we didn''t have the opportunity to talk about anything with each other, but things were moving forward at a very organic and slow pace, so I feltfortable.


    Kimberly was in her element. While she didn''t have the natural warmth of Anna, she was good at talking to people and knew all the right ces to sigh and look sad. That was a skill in and of itself.


    "Let me do the talking," she said as Benny led us around to the other side of his shop.


    "You realize you aren''t the only one with... moxie, right?" I said.


    "I realize," she answered.


    As we rounded the shop, my jaw dropped at the reveal of one of the most beautiful and intricate gardens I had ever seen. It waste fall, so most of what was still green were the nts that held squashes, pumpkins, and corn along with as many different kinds and colors of sunflowers as I had ever seen.


    "This is wonderful," Kimberly said.


    "Well, thank you," Benny answered. "But I can''t take credit; that''d be my wife and my boy."


    As soon as he mentioned them, I saw them out in the garden. His son was small, but if I were to guess, he must have been around ten years old.


    As I watched the sun shining off his face, he was pulling arge worm or perhaps a caterpir off one of the sunflowers. He looked at the worm in awe and wonder and dropped it into an old coffee can as he continued to search for more worms.


    On the red wallpaper, his name was Rustle, not Russell, but Rustle as in what leaves do in the wind. The woman next to him noticed us as we arrived. Her name was Rose Harless. Both of them were NPCs.


    Rose gave new meaning to the term flower child. She was wearing a tiara of white flowers and a sundress that I thought only the fae were known to adorn. She was barefoot and her hair was long and flowing. She looked at Rustle like he was the sun to her flower.


    From the way Benny had talked, Rustle was not biologically rted to them but was adopted. To look at him, that sounded urate. The Harlesses had dark hair and Mediterranean features, whereas Rustle had pale skin and hair so fine it was almost white.


    Benny went over to his wife to discuss the arrangement. I couldn''t tell what they were saying, but she was clearly hesitant. Despite this, she relented. She grabbed Rustle by the hand, and she and Benny led him back to Kimberly and me.


    "No cameras," Rose said. "And I don''t know if Benny told you this, but if Rustle doesn''t like you, there''s no talking to him. That''s that."


    "Absolutely," Kimberly said. She knelt down to around Rustle¡¯s height and said, "How about it, buddy? Do you think you could talk to me about your friend Tamara? I''m just trying to find her, is all."


    Rustle got close to Kimberly and looked her in the eye. Quietly, I saw an eerie intelligence in his eyes. They were piercing dark¡ªso dark I couldn''t find his pupil. After a moment of intensity, Rustle smiled. He looked back at his mother and nodded. Then he looked at me and then back at his mother.


    "Well, all right then," Rose said. "Go put on your baseball cap, honey."


    Rustle listened and went to fetch a small blue and white cap from out in the garden. He ced it on his head and twisted it around so that the bill faced backward. He was a thin and athletic ten-year-old. True to his father''s words, he never spoke, but he definitelymunicated in other ways.


    "We have a table and chairs out on the deck," Rose said. ¡°Let me go get some herbal tea."


    She pointed toward afortable set of furniture that looked like it had been made by hand. Benny, Rustle, Kimberly, and I found our seats while Rose went to prepare the drinks. As soon as she was gone, Benny turned to us and said, "So, your friend doesn''t do anything to maintain that car, does he?"


    "That would be my guess," I said. ¡°He¡¯s more of a camera guy.¡±


    Benny nodded. "Yeah, I could tell just listening to it running down the street. I don''t know what he''s done to it. Normally, I can tell just like that,¡± he said as he snapped his fingers, ¡°but we got multiple things happening under that hood. You mark my words¡ªit''s a party of bad maintenance and bad parts, let me tell you."


    "So, how long have you been a mechanic?" I asked.


    "Since before I knew the word ''mechanic,'' I was under hoods busting knuckles. The Harlesses get to work young. Rustle here has been working in the garden since he was real little, haven''t you, buddy?"


    Rustle nodded with a smile. He pointed out at the sunflowers and then pointed back to himself.


    "What''s that, buddy?" Benny said. "Oh, he''s trying to tell you that he was the one who found the sunflowers. He likes to go tramping through the woods, and he found some sunflower seeds that he ntedst year, and then this year, he nted the seeds from those seeds, and now we got ourselves a whole forest of sunflowers."


    "That is so cool," Kimberly said. "They''re so pretty."


    Rustle beamed.


    As I scanned the garden, I saw something that made my heart jump. It was a scarecrow. This one looked like a normal scarecrow with overalls and an old id shirt stuffed with straw. It had no gloves and no name tag. The face, though¡ªthe face with its buttons and its little sewn-on hat¡ªwas the same scarecrow head that I recognized from Benny the Haunted Scarecrow. It was not sun-bleached or threadbare like I remembered, but it was the same one.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the vition.


    This scarecrow did not fly or cut people''s heads off. It just hung from a little wooden cross, scaring away crows.


    ~-~


    We talked for an hour or so.


    "Really, we were just d that he had found a friend. So many of the children around here can be judgmental. Tamara was different. They had their own little silentnguage. She woulde over here, and they would y in the fields, and she would help Rustle with his work in the garden," Rose said.


    "Rustle has been very upset since we found out she had gone missing," Benny said. ¡°I don¡¯t know why they didn¡¯t spend time together that day. Normally, she only leaves to get home before dark. I don¡¯t know why she left early that day.¡±


    Rustle sat in his seat and looked down at the table. His bottom lip was firmly tucked in between his teeth as he chewed on it, a nervous gesture.


    "I was just wondering," Kimberly said, "is there somece that you and Tamara would go? Maybe a clubhouse, a cave, or a special spot that you would go out to in the woods?"


    Rustle shook his head.


    "We''ve actually been all through the area that they would have gone together," Benny exined. "They did have some stomping grounds over near the creek and through the forests and the fields out north, but we didn''t find her there. We had a whole search party in that area; no one saw a thing."


    Trying to talk to Rustle was difficult. Part of it was because he was nonverbal; another part was because he just didn''t want to tell us everything, or at least that''s how his mother, Rose, put it. He was a very secretive boy, and that had nothing to do with his not talking.


    Rose stared off into the distance, not making eye contact with either of us as she said, "I know my son, and if he knew anything about this girl''s disappearance, he would say something. He''d find a way."


    And so the conversation went on with mostly pleasantries. Kimberly and I hadn¡¯t had a chance to make a n of attack since we had gotten here. We were just talking and trying to dig further.


    As Rustle yed in the garden, we continued to talk to Rose. Benny was already waist-deep in Nick¡¯s car, trying to fix all that ailed it.


    "I don''t know if this is rude to ask," Kimberly said, "but why exactly doesn''t he speak? Does he have autism or some sort of learning disability?"


    "No, it''s fine to ask," Rose said. She looked away from Kimberly as she spoke. "He has what the doctors are calling <em>aphasia voluntaria</em>. The fact is, he should be able to speak¡ªthat''s what they tell us. The truth is, he came to us when he was four or five years old. We have no idea what happened to him before that. Doctors think maybe he wasn''t exposed tonguage or, worse, maybe it''s some sort of trauma response. One doctor said it was a symptom of severe anxiety. He was tested for all sorts of things like brain damage and autism, and they all came back negative. The truth is, me and Benny prayed for a child for so long. I don''t care if he ever talks. Benny says there ain''t nothing wrong with him. That some people are just different. I believe it. He is the way he is."


    Kimberly looked at me. If we weren''t On-Screen and if we were actually able to leave, we probably would have continued our search elsewhere, but the fact that we <em>were</em> On-Screen and our car was in pieces meant there was something here for us to learn. There had to be.


    "This may be very personal, but when you say he came to you, does that mean you adopted him, or is he a foster child?" Kimberly asked.


    Rose wore a nk expression on her face and didn''t meet Kimberly''s eyes. "No, no," she said. "We found him in the field, naked as the day he was born, covered in mud up to his eyebrows. We don¡¯t know where he came from. He was abandoned. No one imed him, no one reported him missing. We did everything we could to keep him when no one else tried. Like I said, we had always prayed for a child."


    At that, Rose looked back at Kimberly in the eye and smiled. "Would you like some more tea, dear?"


    "I would love that," Kimberly said. "Thank you so much."


    As Rose went inside the old farmhouse, Kimberly started to lean over and whisper something to me, but before she could, we heard a hollering out in the garden and a screaming that sounded like it wasing from a child.


    We were up and out of our seats and running toward the sound before we even had a chance to speak.


    As we got closer, we saw what was screaming. It wasn''t a child; it was a rabbit. It was caught inside of a metal trap, the kind that an animal might wander into and then get stuck in¡ªa no-kill trap.


    Rustle had picked up the trap and was walking away from the garden while banging on it with a stick. The rabbit screamed and screeched. I had never even heard a rabbit make a noise like that. It was somewhere between a child yelling and a baby screaming.


    "What the heck is he doing?" I asked.


    He continued walking the cage toward the road, up past the automotive shop. He banged on it loudly and constantly, terrorizing the poor little rabbit inside. When he set the cage down on the ground and opened the trap up, the rabbit bolted out of the cage at a speed most animals will never reach in their lifetime. It was across the road and lost in the thick brush almost immediately.


    Kimberly and I were both speechless.


    "Oh, don''t look so rmed," Benny called from inside his shop. "You gotta scare the animals, or they''ll juste back and eat your crop. Rustle knows that. The only way to protect them is to scare the heck out of them."


    Rustle picked up the trap and looked back at Kimberly and me, then casually walked back toward the garden as if nothing had happened. Kimberly and I looked at each other, unsure of what to make of what we had just seen.


    ~-~


    We were On-Screen and Off-Screen throughout the next few hours as Benny worked on the sedan. He made quick work of it; he identified the problems and fixed them almost immediately.


    "Now I''m going to set you up with this for free, and you gotta go out there and you gotta help find that girl," Benny said as he was finishing up.


    "For free?" Kimberly asked.


    "Got to do my part," Benny answered.


    While he spoke, I looked back at the car he had been polishing when we had arrived, and he caught me staring.


    "Oh, you like that, do you? An Imperial Phantom 1948. A year too old to be the kind that collectors are after, unfortunately, on ount of their bad transmissions and brake design. It''s a shame; I love that car. Can''t keep fixing it, though. She¡¯s too pretty to scrap, but Rose is tired of looking at it, tired of me messing with it on the weekends. She said I either had to get it to run or junk it. Really is such a shame."


    "Can''t find a buyer?" I asked.


    "Not for the ''48, you can''t. Sure, I got offers for the seats because those were the same as the ''50 and the ''52, which are the real collectors'' items, but I''m not going to just strip the seats out of it, no, no. Ain''t got the heart for it. I got old Tugg Montgomerying to haul it off. He''s a regr mercenary; ain''t much for fixing them up, but he can tear them down with the best of them. Sad to see. Still shines like new because I take care of my vehicles," he said, eyeing the green sedan and Nick who stood beside it.


    As we stood there, Kimberly noticed that Rustle was staring at her, which she took as an invitation to have a conversation with him that didn''t include his overbearing mother. She walked back past the mechanic shop toward the garden, and I followed.


    "Hey, Rustle," Kimberly said, "Is there something you want to tell me?"


    Rustle looked down at the ground and then back up at Kimberly. There was clearly something on his mind.


    "You can tell me," Kimberly said.


    Still, Rustle didn''t look like he could trust her, but he did look upset.


    "I''ll tell you what," Kimberly said. "Whatever you have to say to me, I promise I will not judge you, whether it''s good or bad. Do you believe me?"


    Rustle looked at her. At that moment, his face took on a more ancient visage, a look of wisdom far beyond his years, a look forged by distrust. He started to walk away and then looked over his shoulder back at Kimberly and me, then continued walking.


    We followed.


    He led us to the other side of the mechanic shop, where a field of sunflowers with beautiful orange and red petals was nted. They were the only batch like them in the whole garden. He pointed at them. At first, I didn''t know what he was pointing at, but then I realized that he was pointing at ten or so stems that had been cut and their flowers removed.


    "Did someone take the flowers?" Kimberly asked.


    Rustle nodded his head and then pointed at himself.


    "What did you take the flowers for, sweetie?" Kimberly asked.


    Rustle didn''t answer, but Kimberly seemed to be connecting dots before I did, and she pulled out a folded-up copy of the missing poster.


    "Did you give the flowers to her?" she asked.


    Rustle chewed on his bottom lip and stared at the picture of Tamara. I couldn¡¯t read his face.


    "Hey, folks," Benny called from over near the mechanic shop. "We got someone here that would love to speak to you."


    I turned to see Benny walking over to us in his greasy coveralls. Hot on his heels was Dina, dressed not in a dress or skirt like Kimberly or Rose, but in jeans. They weren''t ripped jeans like the ones she normally wore, and her leather jacket was reced with a brown one with a ridged fabric. I could see that she had an apron tucked into her pocket, as one of the strings and the neck loop was hanging out.


    "Miss Cano," Kimberly said, "I recognize you. My name is Kimberly Madison. I''m with Carousel News 9. We''re currently investigating your daughter''s disappearance."


    Kimberly stuck out her hand to shake Dina''s. Dina, ying her part, kept her arms folded for a time and then reached out and shook Kimberly''s hand.


    "Are you here to be vultures?" she asked.


    "I''m sorry," Kimberly said. "I don''t know what you mean."


    "The news people. Theye here to feast off the dead. To make a living off of other people''s misfortune. Is that what you''re here for?"


    "No," Kimberly said. "I''m here to find out what happened to Tamara."


    Dina and Kimberly locked eyes and stared at each other for a moment.


    "Well, at least somebody is," Dina said atst. Her eyes went past Kimberly and past me, and she saw the beautiful sunflowers next to Rustle. She rushed toward them.


    "Tamara has been giving me flowers just like this for thest few weeks. Is this where she''s been getting them?"


    Credit to Dina, who normally put very little effort into acting. She was on the verge of tears as she spoke, and momentster, the tears broke, and she started to cry.


    Benny rushed to his son''s side. "Rustle, have you been giving Tamara these flowers?"


    Rustle nodded.


    Dina, who had started to cry and was trying to stop, turned away from Benny and put her head in her hands.


    "Well, ma''am, we''re searching all over for your daughter, and we really hope that you find her safe," Benny said, close to tears of his own. He pulled a pocket knife from his coveralls and moved toward the sunflowers. He grabbed one of them that was right for cutting and started to take it down, but Rustle pushed his arm away and stood between him and the sunflower, shaking his head.


    "Son, I know you don''t like things messing with the garden, but this is what these flowers are for. We give people beautiful things to make them feel better, you understand?"


    Rustle''s eyes began to tear up and he pleaded with his father not to cut down the sunflower. When Benny finally relented, Rustle grabbed the pocket knife, put it inside his own pocket, and then ran back inside the house.


    Benny turned to Dina and said, "Ma''am, I''m sorry. I don''t know what''s going on, but Rustle sure did care about your daughter, and he''s having a hard time with it."


    "It''s okay. It''s okay," Dina said. "All I care about is finding Tamara."


    "We''re gonna," Benny said. "She''s... she''s gonna be just fine."


    Dina dropped to her knees and said through tears, "I don''t think she is. I can feel her. I don''t think she''sing home."


    Dina''s tropes allowed her to connect to her character''s dead loved ones. Perhaps some connections did more harm than good.


    Kimberly hugged Dina, and Benny offered her his least greasy rag to wipe her tears.

 Book Five, Chapter 7: Search Party

    Book Five, Chapter 7: Search Party


    Dina continued to fight back tears as Benny watched his son run off into the distance.


    "I''m so sorry about that, ma''am," he said. "The boy''s just going through a lot right now. Not as much as you, I''m sure. But he''s just gonna go to one of his hiding ces, and he¡¯ll be fine."


    He kind of looked down, unsure of what to do next, taken by intense emotion. "I''ll fix your car. I can do that. I''ll fix it," he said, looking at Kimberly. Then he walked off to do just that.


    We were still On-Screen, so Kimberly continued to console Dina, and Dina continued to be inconsble.


    "She tells me she''s at peace, but I don''t want that. I want her home," Dina said.


    Kimberly looked at me and then back to Dina. "You saying your daughter''s talking to you?"


    "Don''t look at me like I''m crazy," Dina said. "Please don''t look at me like I''m crazy."


    "I''m not," Kimberly said softly.


    "He is,¡± she said, looking at me. ¡°I can see it. How couldn''t he? Who could hear something this ridiculous and not think I was crazy?"Kimberly looked up at me as if nudging me to say something, so I did.


    "My grandmother, she said that she could see things, hear things, feel things," I said. "She always hoped I''d take after her. When I was young, I always thought she just did it so she could win arguments by saying that she had the gift and that she knew better¡­ But after I lost her, I feel like I can feel her too," I said, and in that moment, a tear escaped my eye that I didn''t intend.


    "Are you really going to help me look for her, or is this just some news story?" Dina asked.


    I looked at Kimberly, and then Kimberly said, "We really want to find her."


    "We¡¯ll do whatever we can," I said.


    Kimberly nodded.


    Off-screen.


    "Woof," I said. "This one''s making us emotional, huh?"


    Dina nodded. "I''ve got to go to some dairy farm. Patcher Dairy, I think. My character''s daughter is hauling me around all over town so that Carousel can get shots of me looking all over for her."


    "Do you need a ride?" Kimberly asked.


    Dina shook her head. "No, my character has a bicycle."


    We slowly walked back to Benny''s garage, and Dina grabbed her bicycle with its little woven white basket and rode off to her next destination. As she did, an announcement started ying over Benny¡¯s radio, calling for volunteers to help in a search party near White Lawn Church.


    Kimberly and I looked at each other. That was a pretty clear-cut call to action.


    Benny managed to get Nick''s sedan fixed in record time, and he set us off, not without lecturing Nick about proper maintenance and telling him he wouldn''t get lucky twice. The next time, he''ll be buying a new car.


    ~-~


    White Lawn Church, on White Lawn Road, was abutted by a field of wheat where the search would start.


    Kimberly stood with her back to the field and the many volunteers in it.


    ¡°I''m here with Sheriff Miller, who has been leading a citywide search for Tamara Cano. Sheriff Miller, can you tell us anything about the current search efforts?¡±


    The sheriff, who was a smooth-talking man and clearly a city slicker, stuck out like a sore thumb around Eastern Carousel. He wore pomade in his hair and had a clean-shaven face. He and Robert Redford were probably made from the same mold.


    "I''ll tell you, we are going to find this missing girl," Sheriff Miller said, "because we have three things: we have a generous poption who is giving of their time and resources to help search for this girl, we have an unbreakable spirit and the power of believersing together, and we got award-winning hunting dogs that are trained forpetitions to follow the scent of a target from miles and miles. With those three things, I am confident we are going to find young Tamara and bring her home where she belongs. I will not rest until that happens."


    He nodded his head and then walked back to his cruiser, where Antoine and another deputy named Tommy Patcher were in the process of providing a clothing sample to a trio of baying hounds. I made sure that Nick caught this on film. It seemed like an important part of the investigation. Sheriff Miller pulled a small white sock out of a paper sack and held it out to the dogs to get an impression of.


    After a few sniffs, the dogs were off.


    "And we''re out," I said.


    Off-screen.


    Kimberly and I stared out at the field beyond the little white church. There were acres and acres of wheat. Dozens of volunteers walked through the wheat out toward the woods in the distance, walking with intention and keeping their eyes peeled on the ground and in the distance.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    We had sat around getting footage of these efforts for nearly an hour. Antoine was busy being a cop, and at a nce, it seemed that he was On-Screen constantly as he struggled to keep one of the hounds from tearing its leash out of his hands.


    "Where''s Bobby when you need him?" I asked.


    "I know, right?" Kimberly said. "We finally have a story that actually calls for dogs, and we left him behind."


    "He''s going to be devastated," I said.


    I looked around. I didn''t anticipate that there would be anything worth finding out in the fields in the distance, and if there were, the volunteers would call out.


    "Let''s check out the church," I said. "What do you think?"


    "Good," Kimberly said. "My character didn''t wear shoes meant for running in the fields."


    As we made our way over toward the church, we saw an NPC named Eustace Patcher.


    Kimberly politely said hello as we passed.


    He grumbled something that didn''t sound friendly.


    "Excuse me?" Kimberly asked.


    "You heard me," he said.


    Neither of us had.


    We never went On-Screen, so that interaction couldn''t have been too significant, but it was interesting.


    The man was watching as they trampled the wheat in the field beyond the property line of the church. I had to assume that his bad attitude was rted to that. The wheat was frail, and you could see the lines where people had been walking through it. Was that his field? Were those his crops?


    We went On-Screen long enough to be filmed walking in the church. That was good; it meant that we were going in the right direction.


    The church had one room, but it was arge room.


    Religion was an interesting concept in Carousel. There were plenty of signs that the people of Carousel worshipped some sort of generic monotheistic religion if you only gave a passing nce, but the churches were not Christian churches, though you would be forgiven for assuming they were.


    As we walked into the church, I was brought back to memories of my younger years being brought to a small, non-denominational church just like this.


    This church had stained ss windows, though the stories depicted in them did not seem familiar.


    This was a struggle. I didn''t know if we were supposed to see this unique religion as being part of the story or if it was just background. Was it merely decoration? Or was it a cult? Carousel had so many cults. There was a whole section on them in the As.


    I picked up a hymnal. It was filled with songs singing praise, even songs that felt very familiar, but they didn''t feel right; they felt off.


    "It''s kind of spooky, isn''t it?" Kimberly said.


    "It is," I agreed. "It''s sacrilegious, Carousel copying religions just to help fill out a setting."


    The front of the hymnal just said "Hymnal," but as I nced at the book, it almost looked like there should have been more words, as if the real text had been stricken. This might very well have been a real religion once, but it had been turned into a prop.


    Spooky indeed.


    On-Screen.


    "Check this out," Kimberly said. She pointed to something that looked like it might have been an altar. In fact, it was the only thing in the church that actually looked like it wasn''t meant to be generic.


    "What would you say this is?" Kimberly asked.


    "A shrine, maybe," I said.


    There was a picture of a man and a woman. It was an old picture. 19th century old. Below it was a little card that said, "Aurelius and Mavis Patcher." On a t surface under that were candles, flowers, and little ss ornaments. One of the candles was lit.


    There was an inscription below the names on the card that read, "In family we find purpose."


    "Interesting," I said. "These Patchers seem to be everywhere, huh?"


    "Small town like this," Kimberly said. "Wouldn''t be surprised if everyone was rted."


    After a few more moments of looking around, we went Off-screen.


    When we returned outside, we found that the dogs had been yanking Antoine and the other deputies around in circles.


    "They didn''t find a hit," Antoine told us over his shoulder as he saw us watching. It was a shame.


    The sun was going down, and people were leaving the search. It was a failure.


    "Keep your chin up," the sheriff said to the people as they left. "We are going to find her. No news is good news," he added.


    As we went back to the car, we found Nick there waiting on us, saying that he couldn''t wait for us to get back to our ce. It was supposed to be nice.


    ~-~


    And it was nice. It was arge white ntation-style house that had been turned into a boarding house called Miss Mornd''s Boarding House.


    Obviously, it was owned by a Miss Mornd, and when we saw her, that was all that was on the red wallpaper, leading me to believe that her first name actually was Miss.


    She didn''t say much, but she definitely eyeballed us as she showed us to our rooms. Kimberly got the attic suite, which was arge room with lots of space. Miss Mornd was very clear that Nick and I were not to stay the night in that room because she didn''t want the appearance of impropriety in her boarding house.


    I wasn''t going to argue with her. She was a thin woman who wore clothes that were 70 years too old for the 1960s. She might look more like a ghost walking through these halls than a living proprietor.


    She called herself thedy of the house, and that she was.


    "Breakfast will be served at 7:00, no sooner orter," she said as she walked away from Kimberly''s room, intentionally leaving the door open.


    "Very nice digs," I said.


    "It''s a beautiful house," Kimberly agreed. "A boarding house? I''ve never heard of that. It''s like we''re staying in a really nice bed and breakfast."


    I agreed though I suspected that in a different storyline, this B&B might be a little bit scarier. The house was very nice but also very dated. Antique decor that looked like new was not something out of the ordinary for Carousel, but this ce really felt like it was lost in time.


    ~-~


    Iy on one of Kimberly''s couches and watched the first batch of raw footage that I was given from The Dailies.


    It was incredibly dull. All of the footage could potentially end up in the final cut of the film, but that didn''t mean it was interesting. It was unedited, and I felt like I was back watching security cameras in Subject of Inquiry.


    Most of the clips didn''t seem to contain much information, so I skipped between them just by thinking about it. I found a clip that included Dina talking to Deputy Patcher. She was giving him effects from her daughter: a hairbrush, a doll, and some yellow frilly socks that someone might wear to fake Sunday school.


    Then, I began watching footage from the search party. It really concerned me. I had expected to see lots of footage of people trekking through the fields, the creeks, and the forests, but most of the footage was of people watching us¡ªKimberly and me. These were intentional shots.


    I told Kimberly what I was watching.


    "Well, maybe they were just staring at us because we''re from out of town or because we have a camera."


    "I''m not sure," I said. "The shots are framed really ominously. There are people searching through the fields, and then one person will turn, look back, and stare at us nkly with suspicion. There were at least a dozen people who stared at us. That includes the rude guy that we saw outside of the church."


    "That''s concerning," Kimberly said.


    "I''d say so."


    After I''d made my way through my current batch of clips, I decided to go down to my room, which was in the basement. Nick and I were sharing a bunk bed. It was like I was back at Camp Dyer.


    I fell asleep trying to piece together the disparate pieces of information we had been given so far in the story. I didn¡¯t see the whole picture yet, but I trusted I would soon. I slept soundly through the night. Didn''t even need my sleeping trope.

 Book Five, Chapter 8: Strange Collision

    Book Five, Chapter 8: Strange Collision


    After a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and other grease-covered foods, Kimberly, Nick, and I went back into town to continue our investigation.


    The first ce on my list for the day was the general store. After all, the entire reason we were running the storyline was so that we could pige it, and I had been wanting to know if Bobby''s food trope had affected the selection at the store.


    I was pleased to find that it had.


    Eastern Carousel General Store was now packed to the gills with goodies. They had even rearranged the furniture and aisles to create an actual produce section.


    Kimberly was ecstatic.


    "Looks like this will have all been worth it," I said.


    "Yep," Kimberly said. "Feels nice when things go ording to n, you know?"


    "Can I help you folks?" a voice from the front of the store called out. It was a repeat of my time with Dina. Same old Corduroy Patcher. Except he wasn''t the same old Corduroy Patcher; he was younger. At least a decade younger than he was when I hadst seen him.


    "Say," he said, "you''re the folks who are here with the news story about the missing girl, right?""That''s us," Kimberly said.


    "You have any leads on that?" he asked, wiping his hands on his apron, leaving visible sweat marks.


    "We have some," Kimberly replied. "We need to follow up some leads before we can air them, though."


    Corduroy swallowed hard and said, "Well, I hope you find that girl." He wiped more sweat on his apron.


    "Can you tell me about this?" Kimberly asked, pointing to something I hadn''t noticed, something that had not been there before when I was here with Dina.


    It was a shrine simr to the one at the church, except smaller. This one had a picture of Aurelius Patcher alone, but the saying was the same: "In family we find purpose."


    "Well, that''s my grandfather," Corduroy said. "It''s our way of keeping him alive. I like to think he looks after the store when I''m not here. He''s my guardian angel."


    "That''s sweet," Kimberly said, although I didn¡¯t think she meant it.


    ~-~


    After we left the general store, our next stop was the gas station down the road. At that point, we were just looking for NPCs to talk to and try to get some perspective on the things we''ve been seeing around town.


    It turned out that the owner of the gas station was Dina''s character¡¯s uncle. Her out-of-town cousin trope had made her rted to one of the NPCs in Eastern Carousel to help tie her to the story. We just happened to stumble upon him. Small world.


    On-Screen.


    He was an older man bound to a wheelchair. His name on the red wallpaper was Barron Cano. His spirit was strong, and when he realized who Kimberly was, he asked loudly, "Is there any news? Have they found my grandniece?"


    "I''m sorry," Kimberly said. "We haven''t found anything yet." The man looked down at the ground and suppressed tears. "I don''t know what I''m gonna do if that poor child isn''t found. I don''t know what Dina''s gonna do."


    He wheeled himself around behind a bar with a t-top grill and an assortment of foodstuffs.


    As we stood in the gas station, a man came in who I recognized as an employee from his uniform.


    "Anything else you want me to do?" the NPC asked. His name was Woodrow "Woody" Patcher on the red wallpaper. He must have been in his mid tote 20s. He wore a permanent grin.


    "Ain''t you that newsdy who''s out here making a spectacle?" he asked.


    "We''re trying to help find a missing child," Kimberly said.


    "You ask me, that kid is dead," he said.


    "And what makes you say that?" Kimberly asked.


    "It''s been four days," he said. "It''s justmon sense. If she was alive, she would havee hollering out of the woods by now. No, I think she''s dead."


    "Good Lord, Woody," Barron said. "That''s my grandniece you''re talking about."


    As if just realizing how rude he was being, Woody said, "Well, well, you see that it''s always possible that she''s still alive." He wiped his nose with his thumb. "You know, I bet what happened is that the father came and that this is just a domestic issue. I have friends in the city who had a simr thing happen. They say it''s always the parents." He wiped his nose again with his thumb.


    He quickly found his way outside to pump gas for a car that pulled up. Barron looked devastated from the conversation.


    "We''re going to do our best to find her," Kimberly said. "Everyone is out looking."


    "Thank you, dear, but I fear he may be right. I fear Dina has already given up. I just don''t know what I''m going to do."


    We stayed there for a while longer as Kimberly asked him what he knew about the girl and if she had any hiding spots that she liked to go to.


    He had plenty to say.


    Apparently, he suspected that she had a friend out in the direction of Harless Automotive that she liked to visit. She didn''t talk about him, but he thought she was entitled to her secrets. He urged us to go seek out that friend.


    Of course, we knew that she had a friend out there. Kimberly thanked him for his help, and we walked out of the store.


    As we did, Woody Patcher said, "You know, this town can''t handle something like this. We got crops rotting in the fields while we¡¯re searching for some girl that''s probably already dead. Ain''t that something to think about?"


    Kimberly eyed him down as we walked away, but said nothing.


    Off-screen.


    We didn''t have any leads. What we did have was arge wooden sign posted near the gas station, telling people that the farmers'' market would be closing early so that the workers could help with the search. It also helpfully included an arrow pointing us in the direction of the market.


    Taking that as a sign, we decided to follow it.


    That arrow led us to another arrow, which led us to a third arrow, which finally led us to the farmers'' market. It was arge structure, a roof without walls, lined with booths. The whole thing was made fromrge pieces of timber. It smelled like earth, flowers, and overripe tomatoes.


    There were a few main entrances into the structure. Each booth was along a wall, and the person running the booth usually had a car, truck, or even tractor pulled up to the backside of their booth that they had used to bring their things to the market that day.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    As we walked through the market, we went On-Screen.


    "Well, I just don''t know what I''m supposed to be doing," a woman who was called Da Patcher on the red wallpaper said. "My berries are going to go bad. Produce does not wait just because tragedy strikes."


    In different circumstances, this market would have been quite a fun trip. There were lots of neat booths and all kinds of local veggies and fruits.


    Next to Da Patcher''s booth was Anita Patcher''s booth, but she didn''t sell fruits and veggies. She sold nes and bracelets and, most relevantly, candles and small ss ornaments and pictures of Aurelius and Mavis Patcher.


    "That is so neat," Kimberly said, pointing to the supplies that were clearly meant for people to be able to build their own shrine. "How much do these cost?"


    Anita looked at Kimberly as if she were the biggest fool and said, "Oh, these aren''t for you, dear."


    "Why not?" Kimberly asked. "Is this a religious item?"


    Anita looked down at her supplies and then back at Kimberly and said, "This is a family thing, dear. You needn''t worry about it."


    Kimberly thanked her anyway, and we continued to walk on while Kimberly gave me a weird look and I returned it. Were there really so many Patchers that a person could make money selling knickknacks for their family shrines?


    Eventually, we saw a familiar face. It was Rose Harless. She had a booth of her own. Behind it was a blue car that looked like someone hadbined a Volkswagen Beetle with a Jigglypuff. The little car was hauling a very little trailer that Rose must have used to bring her stuff to the market.


    "Any luck on the search?" Rose asked us as soon as she saw us.


    "I''m afraid not," Kimberly said. Kimberly looked down at the wares that Rose was peddling. She had jellies of all kinds, from blueberries to rose petals. She had sunflower seeds and little sprigs of herbs bundled with twine. There was a bottlebeled "Healing Ointment" that was most certainly not approved by the FDA.


    Herbs hung from a string over the top of the booth. I had noticed that she was kind of a hippie when I met her, but I didn''t realize exactly how far she had gone into it. There were trinkets and potions (though they were notbeled that way) and all sorts of natural remedies.


    Rose was in the process of packing up all her things.


    "I had to surrender my booth," she exined. "I needed to go help with the search, but Da over there said I needed to clear up my booth if I wasn''t going to be running it. It''s like she doesn''t even care what''s going on right now."


    We all looked back at the two elderly Patchers.


    "She''s not the only one," Kimberly said. "There are some people in town that really aren''t a fan of the search efforts."


    "To some people, if it isn''t about them or their family, they could care less," Rose exined. "But most of the people in this town have good hearts, I promise you." She looked over at Da and Anita and said, "You just need to be able to pick out which ones."


    ~-~


    Back in the car, wandering aimlessly for some sign of what scene we were supposed to go to next, Kimberly wondered aloud about Antoine.


    We drove around for at least an hour looking for a sign of what to do next.


    First Blood was approaching rapidly, and we were intensely worried that something was going toe our way. Kimberly didn''t like that we didn''t know where Antoine was.


    "I just hope he''s doing okay," she said. "You think he would tell me if he was having trouble?" she asked.


    I shrugged my shoulders. "I don''t think he would tell anyone," I said.


    From the look on her face, that was not the right answer. But before Kimberly could respond, an announcement came over the police scanner.


    First Blood struck on the red wallpaper. Whatever happened had done so without any concern for us.


    The scanner red.


    "I need all avable units at Harless Automotive. There''s been an incident," the dispatcher called out.


    Kimberly and I looked at each other.


    "Go now," I said to Nick. He made a rapid course correction in the direction of Harless Automotive.


    "He''s going to be fine, Kimberly," I said. "His problems are just another problem to solve. We''re gonna do it."


    I had hoped that this might soothe her worries, but I didn''t think I seeded.


    ~-~


    As we arrived, the sounds of sirens gave way to the sounds of Rose Harless crying hysterically on the porch of her house. Her blue car was parked next to the house.


    Police cars, an ambnce, and even a fire truck were crowded around the Harless Automotive parking lot. Wherever Rustle was, I couldn''t say. There was a crowd of people, and from what we knew about him, he was probably hiding from them.


    Antoine was in the midst of everything, directing people around and trying to bring order to the chaos. There was a tow truck in front of Benny''s garage, and hanging from its hook, being towed up onto the bed of the truck, was Benny''s Imperial Phantom, the car he loved but that was a hopeless repair case. The front end was dented, and there was an ugly red stain across it. We got out of the car as Nick rushed to set up the camera.


    "You are thest thing we need!" someone yelled from the distance. It was Deputy Tommy Patcher. "We have no need for you sensationalizing an ident like this."


    "We''re only here for the story," Kimberly said.


    "There is no story," he said. "If you take that camera out, I''m going to smash it in the road."


    Nick looked at us, and we nodded. He started putting the camera back in its case. Tommy Patcher left us after that. We quickly found our way over to Antoine. He waved us over.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°Deputy Stone," Kimberly said. "Can you tell us what''s happening here?"


    Antoine looked over at her; this was the first time their characters had met. He nodded and said, "There''s been an ident. It looks like the lift malfunctioned, and the car Mr. Harless was working on fell down and crushed him."


    "It just fell and crushed him?" I asked.


    "From the looks of things," Antoine said, "his poor wife was the one that found him and called it in."


    "Can we take a look?" Kimberly asked. We were On-Screen, so Antoine actually had a tough time answering. He wasn''t sure what his character would do.


    "Look," I said, "we''re here to help. We just spoke to this man. We''d like to see what happened. This ispletely off the record. There''s no one in there; just let us have a quick look around."


    "Please," Kimberly said. "Something is going on here. Doesn''t this feel like an awful big coincidence to you? A girl goes missing from here, and now a mysterious death?"


    Antoine looked at us and then looked back at the other deputies and said, "Make it quick. Follow me."


    He waved us through some police tape and into Benny''s garage. A white sheet covered what had once been Benny Harless. It was a mess, and everything was soaked in red.


    "We just saw him yesterday," Kimberly said. "This is so strange."


    "It appears to have been a case of bad luck," Antoine said. "The only wounds that we can find from a preliminary search were those inflicted by the car. I don''t know what kind of story you''re thinking is here, but by all ounts, this looks like an ident."


    "Can we look around?" I asked.


    "Be my guest," Antoine said, "but be quick. Don¡¯t touch anything."


    Given our time constraints, my mind immediately went to finding clues in the form of text. In a garage, the only text-based clues were the row of tickets pinned to a corkboard near the entrance to the office. They looked very conspicuous.


    I walked over there immediately, and Kimberly followed. There was a row of them, seven in all. The first six had the word plete" written on them in pencil. They had their cost totals already added up, ready for the customer toe get their car.


    The final ticket was for a car called a Comstock Foray, which must have been the make and model, but I didn''t recognize it. It was the only ticket that had not beenpleted or totaled. The name on the ticket was Margaret Petty. I examined the ticket, though I was unsure whether it was a clue or just an oddity. It stuck out, the only one different from the others.


    "Do you really think he could have been killed by ident?" Kimberly asked me.


    "Right now, I''m not feeling like it was an ident, but I couldn''t say why he would be killed," I said. "But didn''t he say he was about to junk that car, that he had given up on fixing it? What''s it doing back on the lift?"


    "He did," Kimberly said, "but that''s not going to convince anyone of anything. They''ll just think that he decided to tinker with it again."


    "He may have," I said. "Let''s check out the lift."


    We quickly walked back to the area where Benny''s bodyy covered. The lift wasposed of two upright beams with a hydraulic motor. Each beam had two arms designed to go under the vehicle.


    "There''s hydraulic fluid all over the floor," I said. "Some of this red stuff isn''t blood."


    In fact, most of the red stuff wasn''t blood. Either the hydraulics failed rapidly, or someone tampered with it to cause an ident or fake one.


    But why?


    ~-~


    We investigated as much as we could, but we were not the right archetypes to be able to find much in a crime scene like that. Kimberly was designed to talk to people, and I was designed to talk about movies, neither of which was helpful in that instance.


    Outside, an NPC named Tugg Montgomery was operating the tow truck. He was just finishing up when we came out of the garage.


    Tugg was an odd-looking man. He was balding, but his hair was still long. He wore overalls and a jean jacket but no shirt. He had a red handkerchief tied around his neck and another sticking out of his pocket that he regrly grabbed and wiped his forehead with. His hair was gray, and his face looked like it had been around to see the dawn of the earth.


    "It''s a damn shame," Tugg said as he wiped sweat off his forehead. "He loved this car. He would hate to see it ruined like this. At least he''s not alive to see it scrapped," he added, but he looked unsure whether that was an inappropriate sentiment to say.


    Kimberly didn¡¯t seem prepared to respond, and before I could, we were distracted by the sound of Rose Harless calling into the distance, "Rustle! Rustle,e home, baby. Rustle!"


    It was a haunting cry. She was filled with desperation. I felt for her. Everyone stopped and listened as she screamed for her child toe to her.


    If he heard her, he didn¡¯te. Rustle was still hiding, it would seem.


    As I looked around for signs of the boy, instead, I saw the garden in the back. The sunflowers were different. They were drooping, as if they, too, were in mourning.


    They drooped so low that even from the front of the garage near the road, I could see the scarecrow, hanging from its perch, watching us all.

 Book Five, Chapter 9: Off the Case!

    Book Five, Chapter 9: Off the Case!


    As we drove back to the boarding house, we discussed our ns for the future. We had suspects to question. We could see a line of attack to get to the bottom of this mystery, even if we couldn''t see all the pieces at once. My <strong>He Has a Tell </strong>trope had been working on overdrive and had given us several clear leads, even if it didn''t t-out give us the truth.


    The murder of Benny Harless was a massive clue to what this story was about, even if we hadn¡¯t worked it out yet.


    Our spirits were high when we walked through the door. They didn''t stay that way.


    On-Screen.


    "You have a message from your boss in the city," Miss Mornd said as soon as we were inside the house. She didn¡¯t stay long enough to borate.


    There was a table with a phone and message pad next to it.


    The message said, "You''re off the story." It included a number to call and the name Ron Foley. It even included his title: Lead Investigative Producer, Carousel News 9.


    "What?" Kimberly asked as she saw the note.


    That had to be our boss.Kimberly immediately dialed the number. Luckily, the speaker was so loud I could hear it. It helped that the guy on the other end, Ron Foley, was yelling.


    "Ron, this is Kimberly. I just got a message here in Eastern Carousel. Can you exin it to me?"


    "You''re off the case," Ron yelled. "You were supposed to go over there and report a story, not terrorize the locals!"


    "Excuse me," Kimberly said. "We haven''t terrorized anybody. We are¡ª"


    "I get a call from the Sheriff''s Office telling me that you''re harassing people, using them of terrible things! Kimberly, you report the news. You are not some hard-boiled detective shaking down witnesses and using anybody and everybody of terrible things! I knew you were motivated, but geez¡­"


    "What are you talking about? We haven''t done anything like that! Everyone we''ve spoken to has signed the consent form or otherwise been more than willing to talk to us. We haven''t really even started treating this disappearance like a crime yet, and we''ve just been reporting on the search. Now there¡¯s a murder of a witne¡ª"


    "Well, that''s not how I hear it," Ron said. I could practically hear his mustache over the phone. "The way I hear it, you''ve got dozens of people calling inints to the Sheriff''s Office."


    "Ron, we''ve got our interviews on film. Do you really think we would be so stupid as to burn all our witnesses and film the evidence?" Kimberly said snarkily.


    Ron paused at that.


    "Is there a story there more than just a missing girl? Can you connect the death? Because if not, you''re just wasting your time. I¡¯m sticking my neck out for you enough as it is," Ron said.


    I gestured for Kimberly to give me the phone. She did.


    He wanted us to tell him what evidence we had. I figured we ought to give a list. I had a benefit. I knew what film clips Carousel had to work with, so I knew what kind of stuff the audience would already know. Maybe I would have to stretch it.


    "Ron, we are on to something here. We can''t run off right now. We have good evidence on film that throws the Sheriff¡¯s Department into question. The mother told us she gave a Deputy Patcher a pair of yellow socks so that the hounds could get a scent, but we have on film them using white socks. We don''t know where those socks came from, but this is suspicious, Ron. We''re getting all kinds of suspicious characters in this town, and I think half of the people we are talking to know something, and I think that with a little bit more time, we can get them to talk."


    Ron paused again.


    "Sounds like you ought to get over to the Sheriff''s Office," Ron said. "Freedom of the press or not, without support from the local police, you''re gonna have a hard time getting anything done. Figure out what''s going on over there."


    I handed the phone back to Kimberly. He hung up on his end, and Kimberly followed with hers. She looked like she was going to m the receiver down, but at thest moment, she must have remembered her manners.


    Instead, she sat silently, turned to me, and said, "Heads are about to roll."


    Off-Screen.


    On-Screen.


    Sheriff Jonathan Miller looked happy to see us as we walked into his office at the Sheriff''s Department. I didn''t know if he was happy to see us so that he could gloat about getting us taken off the case or what.


    His office was at the center of arger room. The walls were ss so that we could see the goings-on of the station in every direction. It was busy; lots of support staff were running about. That made sense; a missing child and a mysterious death would run a small operation like this through the paces.


    He gestured for us to take a seat in front of his desk. Instead of sitting in his own chair, he sat on his desk, clearing out a spot for himself and looking down at us.


    ¡°How¡¯d my interview look? Have you seen the tape?¡± he asked.


    Kimberly looked at me and then back at him and said, ¡°We haven''t had time to review things, but I''m sure it was a good shot.¡±


    ¡°Well, good. We gotta get as many eyeballs on this thing as possible, and I really appreciate your work. It can be really hard to get any type of press down here, even with a missing girl. Seems our town has a bad reputation with reporters, but I couldn''t say why.¡±


    Kimberly eyeballed him curiously.


    ¡°Sheriff Miller, we just got a call from our boss back in Carousel Proper, and he says that you''ve been receiving all kinds ofints about us and that you have demanded we leave town because we are harassing citizens. Can you tell us about that? Because that doesn''t really sound like you''re d we''re here.¡±


    The sheriff was taken aback. ¡°I haven''t received any callsining about you two,¡± he said, ¡°and I certainly didn''t try to get the only reporters who give a damn about this little girl to leave town. Your boss told you that I said that?¡±


    ¡°He was very clear about it and very upset with us.¡±


    Sheriff Miller got serious really fast and looked up, staring around his office, taking a peek at all his underlings through his ss walls.


    ¡°Well, I''ll tell you, small-town police work can be a pain.¡± While he was indignant, suddenly, it didn''t seem like he was so surprised. ¡°What it sounds like,¡± he said, ¡°is that we''ve got some sort of prank or impersonator. If you need me to talk to your boss, I can do so right now.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Kimberly said. She pulled out the note that had his phone number on it.


    Off-Screen.


    As Sheriff Miller called our boss to tell him the truth, Kimberly noticed that Antoine was sitting at a desk not far from the sheriff''s, and he was staring at us as if trying to get our attention.


    Since we were Off-Screen, we didn''t see any problem in slipping away from the sheriff while he was on the phone.


    We paid him a visit.


    ¡°I''ve done some digging,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I''ve been talking to the secretaries. The phone number for Harless Automotive called the sheriff''s station asking for Sheriff Miller not more than an hour before his body was found. They directed it on through. I don''t know what the conversation was about or if he ever picked up, but I find that suspicious. I asked the sheriff about it, and he said he didn''t talk to anyone from Harless Automotive.¡±


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the vition.


    Benny or someone else using Benny¡¯s phone called the Sheriff? That was interesting.


    ¡°Good work,¡± I said.


    Antoine nodded. ¡°These people are so odd. They like me because I''m a local hero and I was born here, but they treat Sheriff Miller like he''s the town idiot because he''s <em>only</em> been here for ten years. He was appointed by the Greater Carousel City Council, not by a local election, and that''s causing some grumbling. They still talk about it like it just happened a decadeter.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we get the sense that they''re not really hot on outsiders,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°We''re getting all kinds of strange looks.¡± She shifted her tone to something softer. ¡°Are you doing okay? Is everything¡­ alright?¡±


    ¡°I''m fine,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°I see you found one of our best and brightest,¡± Sheriff Miller said from behind us. He had finished his call with our boss. ¡°Deputy Stone here managed to capture a fugitive from justice from Carousel Proper when he was passing through town. Old-fashioned shootout and everything. He''s a regr Old West gunslinger.¡±


    He patted Antoine on the back.


    ¡°It''s not all that,¡± Antoine said. ¡°I was just at the right ce at the right time.¡±


    I couldn''t help but giggle. Antoine had a trope called <strong>Everyone Loves a Winner</strong>, which guaranteed that his character would being off of a really big sess whenever the story started. It was supposed to be a good conversation starter and endear him to the locals. Looked like it might have been working.


    ¡°I just wish that I could find this girl,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Don''t we all,¡± Sheriff Miller said. He looked at Kimberly. ¡°I called your boss. I cleared things up. You''re free to continue working,¡± the sheriff said.


    He left us and went about his day. We sat there talking to Antoine and getting caught up on his end. We were all confused about when a haunted scarecrow, or any enemy, would finally show up.


    While we discussed this, the Sheriff came back and said, ¡°Now, we''re about to close down shop here, but there is an emergency town hall meeting about this very matter. I suppose the council is finally getting up off their butts to help, but they wouldn''t tell me that, would they?¡±


    As we went to leave, I noticed another deputy sitting at his desk staring at us. It was Tommy Patcher, the same Tommy Patcher who had taken the clothing samples from Dina.


    He didn''t look happy to see us, but when he noticed me looking, he smiled.


    On his desk was a small altar that included a picture of the Patcher ancestors along with a candle. The candle was lit.


    On-Screen.


    I had never seen a building that lived up to its name as well as the town hall in Eastern Carousel. It was at the center of town, and it was one huge hall. There was nothing much more to it. There weren''t even chairs; everyone stood around, waiting to see what we were there to learn.


    There were roughly 150 townsfolk. They came from every walk of rural life that I could expect. Farmers, hunters, and homemakers alike mored to find out what news they had been gathered for.


    Kimberly and Antoine stood next to me as we observed the crowds. Nick was filming.


    ¡°There sure are a lot of Patchers in this town,¡± Kimberly said. She wasn''t wrong; at least a fifth of the room was named Patcher on the red wallpaper. Corduroy Patcher from the general store was there, as was Woody Patcher from the gas station and even Eustace Patcher, who had grumbled something rude at Kimberly.


    There were husbands, wives, and even older children all crowded together, waiting for the news.


    They all spread like the Red Sea when a man named Jeffrey Fields and his wife, De, arrived.


    On-Screen.


    From the look of it, they were like Eastern Carousel royalty. Jeffrey had a stern, ufortable look on his face that never left. He was a solid, slow-moving man. His hair was gray andbed neatly. De had red cheeks and was tightly wound and emotional. She walked unevenly and clung to her husband as if he were holding her up. She was in herte twenties or early thirties; I couldn''t tell. She was very pretty, a regr small-town princess.


    As we watched, a group of three women came and stood in front and to the left of us. They were normal NPCs, and they were doing normal NPC things. They started to whisper.


    ¡°The queen is making an appearance,¡± one of them said.


    ¡°You can tell she doesn''t want to be here, not in little old Eastern Carousel,¡± another added. ¡°I hear her husband came into a lot of money not too many years ago. She can''t stand to be around us country bumpkins anymore. She''s got her new house up in Snowblind, I hear. New house, new car, new life. And all she had to do was marry that durd.¡±


    ¡°Oh hush, you two hens,¡± the third NPC said. ¡°This is important, and it''s not time for gossip.¡±


    As she walked to the front of the room, the two of them were greeted by a man named Merle Patcher. He must have been 40 years old. He stood tall, strong, and confident. I could see the years of work under the sun had left their mark.


    Next to him was a teenage Joshua Patcher. We had met Joshua before. He lived in the white farmhouse at Patcher Family Farms, where the Final Straw II was set. Of course, he was all grown up when we met him, but this was the past even for him.


    Merle hugged De. So did Joshua. Tugg Montgomery was behind them, looking nervous.


    Since we were On-Screen, it didn''t take long for them to turn around and get ready to speak to the crowd.


    Antoine leaned over and said, ¡°That''s the council rep for the city. Sheriff says he¡¯s a stuffed suit.¡±


    Jeffrey Fields held up his hands and said, ¡°Alright folks, thank you foring out to meet me today. We have a great turnout, and I''m just gonna get this out here. I don''t wanna take more of your time than we need to.¡±


    Then he broke into what was clearly a prepared speech.


    ¡°I stand before you with a heavy heart. With this week¡¯s events, I am deeply moved by the tireless efforts and unwavering dedication you have shown in the search for young Tamara Cano. Ourmunity hase together in an extraordinary way, disying resilience,passion, and a collective hope that has been truly inspiring. Your actions have demonstrated the strength and unity of Eastern Carousel, and for that, I am profoundly grateful.¡±


    People apuded nervously.


    ¡°However, it is time we took into ount some hard truths. We have searched for four days. Four long days. Prospects are not good.¡±


    He paused because a lot of NPCs started to whisper in shock at the direction his speech was going.


    ¡°Look, people, our crops are ready for harvest, and right now, the Weather Service is suddenly predicting a surprise frost. Our livelihoods are at risk. This search, while noble, cannotst forever. At this point, the experts I''ve spoken to tell us to prepare for the worst. After careful consideration and consultation with the search teams and local authorities, I must deliver some difficult news. It is time for us to face a harsh reality and call off the search.¡±


    Some people pped, and some people called out in righteous indignation, condemning the decision.


    He raised his voice so that he could be heard above them all.


    ¡°We must begin the painful process of healing and look to the immediate needs of ourmunity. While this decision is heartbreaking, we need to focus on the tasks at hand, keeping Tamara and her family in our hearts.


    Let us honor Tamara by supporting one another and ensuring our town continues to thrive. De and I share your grief and aremitted to navigating this hardship together. Let us move forward, not forgetting Tamara but honoring her by keeping ourmunity strong and united. Thank you for your¡ª¡± Someone yelled out a curse word, interrupting him. ¡°¡ªunderstanding.¡±


    People were not happy. Most of the townspeople who hade did not support this. At the same time, some apuded his decision, notably the Patchers, who were quickly moving from lead suspect to obvious suspects.


    From the back of the town hall, I heard screaming.


    ¡°You''re canceling the search?¡± Dina yelled over the fervor. ¡°You called everybody here to cancel the search, and you didn''t even invite me to tell me that you were giving up on finding my daughter?¡±


    The room went silent. Most of the townspeople were absolutely disgusted to find out that Dina had not been included.


    ¡°Ma''am,¡± Jeffrey Fields said, ¡°we all feel for your daughter, but we have to make sure that our lives moves forward here in Eastern Carousel. We cannot pause time just for one person.¡±


    ¡°You bastard!¡± she screamed. ¡°Why would you want to cancel the search now? Sounds to me like the only people that would want the search to be over are people that have something to hide.¡±


    Uh oh, I thought immediately. That usation might elerate the story. On second thought, I didn¡¯t mind that.


    ¡°Who am I supposed to be filming?¡± Nick said, whispering in my ear. I had almost forgotten he was filming.


    At first, I was tempted to tell him just to do his best, but then I thought better of it. ¡°Film the Patchers,¡± I said. ¡°Over there behind the council rep. Keep the film on him and them.¡±


    I wanted to record their reactions.


    Dina continued to rant, but it became clear that Carousel had gotten enough footage because we went off-screen not long after.


    Dina was a banshee there at the end. It was a great performance.


    After the town hall meeting, the four of us got together and shared information. We were all suspicious of the Patchers to the point that we had basically concluded that they were guilty in this somehow. We just didn''t know the details.


    And where was the magic scarecrow?


    As we walked back into the boarding house, we discussed our n of attack and how we would narrow down our suspects and find out what was going on. I stupidly went on about my theory that the Patchers were getting nervous and that soon they would start attacking us.


    I was wrong about that one.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°You have another message,¡± Miss Mornd said as we walked through the door.


    A chill ran through us. This could not be good.


    The message pad had a simple message: ¡°You''re off the story¡ªfor real.¡±


    This again?


    Kimberly immediately called the number, and even though it waste at night, Ron Foley answered.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°We already cleared this up with the sheriff. We haven''t been gettingints.¡±


    ¡°Kimberly,¡± Ron said, ¡°this isn''ting from the local PD. Our bosses are sending down the message. The station''s owner called me himself. There''s nothing I can do about it. It would seem that he got a request personally from the City Council. Something about the town needing to heal and harvest their crops, yada yada yada.¡±


    Kimberly started to say, ¡°We are never going to leave. We are going to get to the bottom of this whether you''re paying us to or not.¡±


    But by the time she started to speak, we were Off-Screen.


    Everything was dark suddenly, and all I could see were the words:


    TEN YEARS LATER


    I opened my eyes, and I was in an office building on a high rise. ncing out the window, I saw Carousel Proper. All around me were people wearing 1970s attire and carrying papers around. There was a logo for Carousel News 9.


    Before I could explore much, a young woman walked up to me and handed me a file.


    ¡°You said you wanted everything out of Eastern Carousel that was rted to the disappearance of Tamara Cano or any major crimes. Is that still in effect?¡±


    ¡°That''s right,¡± I said. ¡°Anything out of Eastern Carousel.¡±


    I grabbed the file folder.


    The year at the top was 1976.


    The information she had given me was a hot wire out of Eastern Carousel.


    There had been two murders that day.


    A sheriff, Thomas Patcher, and a civilian named Tugg Montgomery were now dead.


    They had been beheaded.

 Book Five, Chapter 10: Ten Years Later

    Book Five, Chapter 10: Ten Years Later


    I stared down at the page.


    The name Sheriff Thomas Patcher stared back up at me.


    What happened to Sheriff Jonathan Miller? They made Tommy Patcher the sheriff¡ªthe very guy who we suspected helped foil themunity''s attempts at finding Tamara Cano.


    It made sense that they would have reced him. Sheriff Miller had seemed to sincerely want to solve the mystery.


    I took in my surroundings. I was standing right outside arge office that just happened to have my name on the door. ording to the que, my title was Lead Investigative Producer, which meant I was the boss now.


    I thought climbing the Corporate Ladder was supposed to be difficult.


    I heard noise in the distance, far down the hall, and I decided to follow it.


    "And we''re live in five¡­ four¡­ three¡­ two¡­."


    I followed the voice down the hall, and what I saw was arge set for a news station. There was an anchor''s desk and several cameras set up to capture the various well-groomed people sitting behind it. There was a weatherman and one person who must have been on sports.But that was not who was live on the air at the moment. As the countdown came to one, Kimberly sat at the anchor''s desk in shock. A light came on, indicating that they were live, and at first, I thought Kimberly wasn''t going to realize what was going on. But she figured it out, seemingly just in the nick of time.


    She stared into the camera and read from the teleprompter. She was on-screen.


    ¡°Good evening, Carousel. Authorities are currently investigating a disturbing new phenomenon: a syndicate of people who ¡®dine and dash.¡¯ That¡¯s right; this group has been targeting local restaurants, enjoyingvish meals before disappearing without paying. The Carousel Police Department is working hard to apprehend these culprits and bring an end to their deceitful spree.


    "In other news, a wave of crimes involving smashed and missingwn ornaments has left themunity in fear. Residents across Carousel are reporting the disappearance of their cherished garden decorations, creating an atmosphere of unease. Police are urging anyone with information toe forward as they intensify their efforts to catch those responsible.


    "Stay tuned for more updates as we continue to cover these unfolding stories. I''m Kimberly Madison, and this is Carousel News 9.¡±


    She managed to get out her lines without fumbling them. As she finished and went off-air, she put on an expression to show just how disappointing it was to be reporting on stories like that.


    As soon as Kimberly saw me, she went off-screen.


    She also went white.


    Her expression of surprise worried me greatly. As I stared at her, I realized why.


    She had aged ten years. She was wearing makeup and her hair was done very well, but it was clear she was ten years older. Which meant, of course, that I was probably also ten years older, which was why she looked so shocked.


    She came to me immediately and said, "How do I look?"


    "You look great," I said.


    She rubbed my face to try and see if my rapid aging was the result of makeup or otherwise.


    "Oh my gosh, we''re in our early 30s," she said.


    "I know, right," I said. "Carousel might as well have just killed us."


    I gestured for her to follow me to my office, and as we went along, I found the NPC who had given me the folder on Eastern Carousel and asked her to get me everything we had out of Eastern Carousel for thest ten years rted to homicide or any major crimes. She looked at me like it was a gargantuan task, but ten minutester, when she walked into my office, the folder she had collected, while not empty, was not exactly full.


    "Ten yearster?" Kimberly asked.


    "Yep," I said. "ssic storytelling device. Kind of exins some things, like why we never saw any enemies. We were in the ''before'' section. If we saw too strong of evidence, it would have been weird for us to just leave it alone for a decade."


    "So now we go back out there?" Kimberly asked.


    "Yep," I said. "We''ll have to do a whole performance exining why we''re gonna do it, but that should be pretty easy."


    I handed her the file I had been given when I first got there.


    "This says the active sheriff is Antoine Stone?" Kimberly said.


    "Sure does. After the death of Sheriff Thomas Patcher."


    She was as perplexed by that as I was. We hadn''t gotten to spend much time with Tommy Patcher, but he certainly didn''t seem the type to be a leader.


    "Check this out," I said, as we started looking through the files we had been given, as well as some of the files that were already in my office. "It says that we passed forward our evidence and footage to the CBI."


    "CBI?" Kimberly asked.


    "The Carousel Bureau of Investigation," I said with a grin.


    "Of course."


    "They concluded that our witness, the mother of the missing child, was unreliable and had a vendetta against local authorities andmunity members. She was hostile when approached, so the CBI decided not to move forward with the investigation."


    At least our characters hadn''t given uppletely. We had tried to get the real cops involved.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the vition.


    Looking through all the information we had from Eastern Carousel didn''t reveal a whole lot. There were a few crimes, sure, but mostly domestic disputes. There didn''t seem to be a whole lot of crime in Eastern Carousel. But other news was not so positive.


    Eastern Carousel had gone through droughts, famines, and all sorts of agricultural and economic upheaval. We had lots of stories of people leaving town, looking for better prospects elsewhere. It sounded like Eastern Carousel wasn''t the happy little farming town it might have been before.


    After we had searched and felt satisfied, the scene that we hade to expect started to y out on-screen.


    Kimberly walked down the hall toward me.


    "Hey, Kimberly,e here a second," I said. "Do you remember Tamara Cano?"


    Kimberly paused for a second, not in reflection but out of curiosity. "Of course I remember, Riley."


    "Well, check this out. Two residents that we could connect to either the disappearance of Tamara Cano or the death of Benny Harless¡ªif you remember him¡ªhave been killed."


    "Homicide?" she asked, looking at the folder.


    "Yep," I answered. "Strange, huh?"


    We continued to go back and forth for a while, and we just remained on-screen, so we kept talking. Carousel was mining us for a good conversation, something that could justify our decision to return to the case.


    I leaned against my window and looked out over Carousel Proper.


    "What investigative journalists we turned out to be, huh?" I asked.


    "It''s a little early to say ''turned out,''" Kimberly said. "We still have our whole careers ahead of us."


    "Doesn''t feel that way," I said. "Remember when we told ourselves that finding Tamara Cano was gonna be the beginning for us, that we were going to be real journalists? What happened to us?"


    Kimberly paused and reflected.


    "We did the best we could, Riley. We passed our information on to the authorities. They are the ones that decided not to move forward. We do our jobs. That¡¯s all we can do."


    "That''s what I tell myself too," I said.


    Kimberly pulled a missing poster from the file folder and stared at it. The picture of Tamara Cano haunted her. "I guess we were never investigating a missing person," she said. "By now we can probably go ahead and call it a homicide."


    "I''m afraid so," I said. ¡°Another homicide out in little old Eastern Carousel.¡±


    We didn¡¯t say anything for a time.


    "So, a murdered sheriff?" she asked. "That sounds newsworthy."


    "You think it''s worth checking out?" I asked.


    "If only we could get the Lead Investigative Producer to approve it this time."


    I smiled. "I don''t think that''ll be a problem," I said.


    We got a cameraman and apany car and were gone while there was still plenty of daylight.


    The drive to Eastern Carousel was pretty quick. It wasn''t actually that far away by car. Still, Carousel got a few shots of us driving away from the setting sun.


    When we got there, it became very evident what changes had been made to Eastern Carousel. The ce was more deste. Half of the shops in town had shut down, with the exception, of course, of the general store, thank goodness.


    Dina''s uncle''s gas station was now called Patcher''s One-Stop Shop.


    The fields were depressing. The harvest was going to be meager; I could tell that even though I knew very little about farming. I had seen the fields ten years ago, and byparison, things were looking bleak. The crops hung lifelessly. There was desperation and dust in the air.


    As we came into town, we saw a water tower that had been spray-painted with the words "Ten years, where is Tamara Cano?"


    We knew our way to the sheriff''s station. Within no time, we found ourselves in the audience of the acting sheriff himself, Sheriff Antoine Stone.


    On screen.


    "Howdy, Sheriff," I said.


    "Hello," Antoine responded.


    He decided to y it as if he didn''t recognize us. But as we sat in his office and stared at each other, we tried to see the humor in our rapid aging.


    "How can I help you folks?" Antoine said.


    "Sheriff Stone," Kimberly started, "you may not remember us, but around ten years ago, we were in town doing some investigative reporting for Carousel News 9."


    "Oh, you," he said. "Yeah, I remember you. It''s not every day that big city reporterse to Eastern Carousel. So, I suppose you heard about the murder of my predecessor and thought we were worth your time again."


    "We thought that we woulde down for a follow-up," Kimberly said. "The murders were definitely a factor, given that the two decedents were tied to both the disappearance of Tamara Cano and the death of Benny Harless."


    "The death of Benny Harless," Antoine said. He thought for a moment. "I hadn''t thought about that in years. That was ruled an ident. We can''t exactly connect crimes just because the people involved knew each other. Not here in Eastern Carousel. It''s a small town; if we did, all crimes would be connected."


    He smiled, and I could see he was toying with us. He had clearly nned out how he would approach his character.


    "Cut the crap," Kimberly said. "You know that what happened was suspicious. You know that there was more to that story."


    Antoine looked down at his desk.


    "If there was something suspicious," he said, "I doubt that this is a ce where you could ever uncover it."


    "What do you mean by that?" Kimberly asked.


    Antoine paused and then spoke. "Thest 10 years have been tough for Eastern Carousel. People are always looking for somebody to me. Ten years ago, I was the hotshot who caught a fugitive. Nowadays, I''ve got a target on my back. Folks are ming me for these murders somehow. The way people are talking and acting these days, it wouldn''t surprise me if there was a conspiracy. And that''s off the record."


    I wondered what had happened to Antoine''s character that would justify his statement. Perhaps after the death of Sheriff Patcher, the townsfolk had started eyeing him with the same suspicion that they had shown us. His character was finally seeing the true Eastern Carousel.


    "Sheriff," Kimberly said, "I sense that you don''t have many allies right now."


    "Your senses are sharp," Antoine said.


    "Well, maybe you could use some," Kimberly said.


    Antoine paused and then said, "If I let you help me, you gotta understand one thing. Time moves fast and slow at the same time in a ce like this. To some of the people here, ten years ago was yesterday."


    "I know the feeling," Kimberly said.


    "Suppose you might want to talk to who I got locked up in a cell," Antoine said. Was he using an ent?


    "Who?" I asked.


    "Well, it just so happens that Tamara Cano''s mother was caught vandalizing things around town with spray paint. Seems she thinks ten years is long enough."


    "I suppose we should talk to her," I said.


    This was a small-town sheriff''s office, so we just walked a few rooms over and saw Dina lying down in a cell. When she saw us, she started to holler.


    "Not you," she said. "Back for another story?"


    We had promised Dina''s character we would help find her daughter, and we had broken that promise. We had left this town and her problems behind us.


    "Miss Cano," Kimberly said, "I can''t imag¡ª"


    "So you do remember me. Howe you didn''t remember whenever I sent your station letters every month trying to get to you? I called every week for three years, it felt like, just trying to get some more attention on my daughter."


    Kimberly paused. "I''m sorry," she said. "There was nothing we could do with the investigation. We handed it off to the CBI."


    "The CBI?" Dina ranted. "All they wanted to do was prove that nothing bad had happened so that they could go back to the city. They ignored my calls, too."


    "Well, we''re back on the case now," Kimberly said. "You don''t need to forgive us, but if you''re ever going to find out what happened to your daughter, we''re your best shot."


    Dina shook her head. "You''re just going to get your story and leave."


    "The story we''re going to get," Kimberly said, "is the story of what really happened. We''re here to find the truth."


    Dina stared down at the ground. "The truth doesn''t matter here in Eastern Carousel. I''ve been trying to tell them that the Patchers were involved for years."


    "Miss Cano has been harassing the Patcher family for the better part of a decade," Antoine said. ¡°Every few months, we¡¯re getting called out to arrest her for trespass.¡±


    Kimberly nodded. "We don''t n to harass them," she said. "If they are involved somehow, we n to make sure everyone knows."


    Dina waited for a moment as if trying to think of a line. "What choice do I have?" she said. "It''s either you or nobody, and I¡¯ve tried nobody."

 Book Five, Chapter 11: Killer on the Loose

    Book Five, Chapter 11: Killer on the Loose


    Antoine let Dina out of her cell, and we prepared to start our investigation. The beginning was easy; the murder of Sheriff Thomas Patcher had urred in the parking lot of the sheriff''s department. That section had been marked off with police tape.


    On-Screen.


    "There really isn''t anything to investigate," Antoine said. "Seems like the assant just came up from behind him andcerated his throat. We''ve got the local coroner trying to determine if the head was cut off in one go or if it happened after the sheriff bled out."


    There really wasn''t much to see at the crime scene, just a pool of blood. The crime scene photos weren''t much more helpful either. The killer had left the head, which was quite an ugly thing to see, but I couldn''t find any additional clues.


    "We canvassed for witnesses," Antoine said. "One woman ims to have seen a tall man walking in the dark around the time of the murder. That''s all we have so far for the sheriff, at least."


    Off-Screen.


    "Sounds like you''ve been busy," I said.


    Antoine nodded. "I''ve been working on this since yesterday. I woke up sitting in my police cruiser outside of this crime scene."


    "Whatever happened to the old sheriff?" I asked."They got mad at him after the harvest failed that year. The public sentiment seemed to be that if the search hadn''t gone on so long, people would have been able to get their crops out of the field before the frost. They decided to pin the whole thing on him, kicked him out, and put one of the Patchers in his ce."


    We got in our cars and followed Antoine to Tugg Montgomery¡¯s junkyard. We weren''t driving; we had brought a cameraman just likest time. This one''s name was Ted, and just like Nick, Ted didn''t say much.


    Everywhere we went, we would do an investigation, and then Kimberly would film a report on it. Sometimes, we would be on screen for it, and other times, we wouldn''t. We didn''t know what to do, so we just tried to stay in character.


    At the Montgomery junkyard, the scene was quite a bit more gruesome.


    On-Screen.


    "Somehow Mr. Montgomery ended up with his hands in this crusher, which held him in ce while the attacker removed his head," Antoine said.


    "We''re gonna have to clean that description up when we film the interview," Kimberly said.


    Antoine nodded.


    "There are no witnesses per se, but the victim''s wife was at home during the crime."


    "We should talk to her," Kimberly said.


    The junkyard wasrge and sprawling, and at the front of it was a very poorly kept and modest home. Antoine knocked on the door.


    "Sheriff''s department," he called out.


    He seemed to get a kick out of being able to call himself the sheriff, and I was sure that helped him with NPCs. Momentster, a small gray-haired woman came to the door.


    "Sheriff, you''re back."


    "Yes, we just have some follow-up questions."


    "What are they doing here?" she asked, looking at me, Kimberly, and Dina.


    She kind of had a point.


    "I brought in third-party consultants, given that we''re shorthanded. They''re here in an investigative capacity. I''m sure you don''t mind."


    On the red wallpaper, her name was Virginia Montgomery. She was an ordinary NPC, and if I were to read her expression correctly, she absolutely did mind us being there. But she didn''t say anything; she just let us inside, staring at Dina the entire time. We still didn''t have a good exnation for why Dina would be with us, but we just tried not to draw attention to her.


    "You can sit here," Virginia said. "Would you like some lemonade?"


    Antoine thought for a moment and said, "No, thank you."


    I couldn''t me him; the ce was not particrly hygienic.


    The interview began like normal, with pleasantries, and it proceeded to be woefully unhelpful with Antoine leading things.


    "There was nothing out of the ordinary," Virginia said as she fixed her hair bun for the third time.


    Kimberly stepped in.


    "Ma''am, it sure would help us figure things out if you could tell us how Tug was acting leading up to his passing."


    "I told you," Virginia insisted. "There was nothing out of the ordinary."


    Kimberly didn''t respond. None of us did. We just watched and waited for her to continue.


    Virginia shook her head. "Maybe Tugg was a little bit excited, but I don''t think it has anything to do with his death."


    "Excited?" Kimberly asked.


    "He said that someone was following him thest few days," Virginia said.


    "And you didn''t think that was relevant to his death?" Antoine asked.


    "Well, it''s just the person he said was following him couldn''t have been following him," she said nervously.


    "Who?" Kimberly asked.


    For a moment, Virginia didn''t say anything.


    "Virginia, whoever it was, we need to know."


    "He said Benny Harless was following him," Virginia said. "He said he was being followed by Benny Harless'' ghost."


    We looked at each other.


    Kimberly looked back at her and asked, "And why exactly would Benny Harless'' ghost be haunting Tugg Montgomery?"


    Virginia realized she had messed up. She sputtered out a few words and said, "No reason. It''s just, I don''t know, maybe he ripped him off on a few deals they made¡­ there was nothing out of line."


    We continued talking to her. As far as NPC interviews go, we had her on the ropes, but it seemed we had exhausted her of information about Tug''s death. She didn''t know what Tug had meant by being followed. She didn''t know much of anything.


    There was a lull in the conversation, and in that lull, I noticed something on the far wall.


    "Excuse me, ma''am," I said. "Why do you have one of those shrines that the Patchers always have?"


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    Virginia looked back at the shrine, which showed Aurelius and Mavis Patcher. A candle was lit underneath.


    "Well, Tugg was a Patcher," Virginia said. "His mother was, at least. Tug always loved being a part of the Patcher family, even if he wasn''t part of the main line. Tug always valued family."


    That made sense. How many other Patchers were there in town?


    "Family is where you find purpose," I said, echoing the phrase that was written on the shrine.


    "Exactly," she said. "That''s exactly right. Now, if you don''t have any more questions, I''m going to have to ask you to leave."


    Outside, we remained on screen.


    "It''s the Patchers. It''s always the Patchers," Dina said. "I told you they were involved. The only question is how was the death of Benny Harless rted to my daughter''s disappearance."


    "Well, he was one of thest people to see her alive. Maybe he remembered something," I said.


    "He could have called something into the sheriff''s office, and maybe Tommy Patcher was the one to get the call," Antoine suggested.


    "So, what''s next?" Dina asked.


    "We need to go see Margaret Petty," I said.


    "Who''s Margaret Petty?" Antoine asked.


    Margaret Petty was the woman with answers.


    "Evening, Sheriff," Margaret said as she answered the door of her mobile home, confused. "How can I help you?"


    While she didn''t like the idea of being woken upte at night, she did have a kind tone to her voice.


    Antoine looked back at me and then at her and said, "Ma''am, we''re here to ask you a few questions about your Comstock Foray. You left that car in the care of Benny Harless, didn''t you?"


    Margaret, arger woman with curled hair, turned her head and asked, "You woke me up to ask me about my stolen car from 1966?"


    Antoine paused and then sheepishly said, "We just have a few questions."


    "I thought your people said that the case was closed, that the car had been stolen and sold for parts. Why are you asking me about this all these yearster?"


    "This is strange, we understand, but we just need to know a few things," Antoine said.


    Kimberly took over again. "It is our understanding that you took your Comstock Foray to Harless Automotive due to some handling issues."


    Margaret took a moment to try to recall. "Yes, it pulled to the left. I just bought that car, and I wasn''t going to take it back to that oaf, God rest his soul."


    "What oaf?" Kimberly asked.


    "Tugg Montgomery," Margaret answered. "That''s the guy I bought it from. Gave me a really good deal, too. It''s a shame that car was stolen out of Benny''s lot."


    "Can you remember when you purchased that car?"


    "I had barely owned it for a day," Margaret said. "Benny said he could fix it right up, but of course, he ended up dying in that ident. Poor soul."


    The pieces were starting to fall together.


    "Thank you, ma''am," Antoine said as we rushed away from her trailer.


    I took out my map of Eastern Carousel andid it out on the trunk of ourpany car. I took my pen and said, "All right, look here. This is where the murder of Thomas Patcher urred, and this is where the murder of Tugg Montgomery was. Do you see what''s in the middle?"


    They looked at the map.


    "Harless Automotive, or at least what used to be Harless Automotive," Antoine said.


    "That''s right," I said. "Now, if you''re a killer covered in blood and carrying a sharp weapon, odds are you''re not going to stray too far from home. I bet that the killer is probably hiding somewhere near the Harless property, maybe in the woods in this area," I said, waving my finger over a section of the map.


    The truth was, while my logic was sound, it wasn''t necessarily correct. But I had seen this same logic used in movies time and time again. It was a nice visual for an audience. I was banking on one of two things happening: either I would be correct, or Carousel would ept my improvisation and make it correct.


    As if answering my question, the police scanner starteding to life.


    "We have an attacker at Hidden Gorge," a voice rang out. "There is an attacker at the campsites at Hidden Gorge on Faraway Lane. All units respond."


    My bet was that there were some Patchers camping at Hidden Gorge.


    I looked at the map, found Faraway Lane, and circled it. Itpleted the trifecta. Between it and the two murders, we were able to triangte a location where the killer might be hiding. It confirmed my guess.


    "I need to get there," Antoine said. "I''m the sheriff."


    "Let''s go," Dina said.


    "No," I said. "Sheriff, you wanna go now, but I got a better idea for the rest of us."


    They looked at me, confused.


    "Well, if the killer''s at Hidden Gorge," I said, "then that means he''s not at home. If we''re going to search these woods, now is the time."


    We needed an encounter with the enemy. We needed the story to escte enough for us to be able to understand it better. Trope Master stole half of my Plot Armor. I needed a return on that investment.


    I didn''t know if that was actually a good idea, but I thought Carousel might like it.


    And boy, did it like it.


    We were nearing the middle of Rebirth as we took some shlights from our car, as well as one of Antoine¡¯s guns (he had raided the sheriff¡¯s department armory), and headed out into the woods.


    We were off-screen for a little while after we entered them.


    ¡°Why exactly are we assuming he''s in the woods?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°We don''t know what this killer is. If it really is Benny Harless'' ghost or a haunted scarecrow, we need to be in a setting where that type of creature could make an appearance. The spooky overgrown woods are perfect for that.¡±


    Ted, our new cameraman, walked behind us and ignored what we said. He was really good about that.


    ¡°And what if it''s not a ghost?¡± Dina asked.


    I knew what she was referring to. There was one obvious suspect. We met Rustle Harless ten years ago when he was a child, but by now, he would be an adult. We had no idea what was going on with him as far as the supernatural went, but we did know he had toe into y at some point in time.


    What better reason for a time skip than to let an important character with a temper grow up?


    ¡°If it''s not a ghost, we run, same as if it is a ghost,¡± I said.


    We weren''t at Second Blood yet, so no one needed to die. I didn''t think that this foray into the woods would be our end, but I did think we could learn a whole lot.


    ¡°All else fails, we need to check out Harless Automotive anyway,¡± I said, ¡°and it''s right nearby.¡±


    All else did fail.


    We didn''t find anything in the woods. That was okay. The search was suspenseful, and I''m sure Carousel got some great footage of us scaring the crap out of ourselves in the dark, foggy woods.


    We came out of the forest onto farnd. Opposite us was a very well-kept farmhouse and what remained of Harless Automotive.


    On-Screen.


    We crept through the fields, trying our best to stick to the established path. We knew better than to trample on nts around here. Kimberly shined her light out into the field. All that answered us was darkness and waving grains of wheat, as well as rows of sunflowers and corn.


    ¡°This ce is doing great,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°It looks like they haven''t had crop failure at all.¡±


    I nodded. Even in the darkness, we could see that this was an oasis in Eastern Carousel. Rose Harless¡¯ garden included every kind of vegetable and was full of life.


    ¡°Let''s check out the garage,¡± I said.


    We continued to shine our lights over the field, and all that ever got uncovered by them were nts. Kimberly started to scream but managed to catch herself. She shined her light on a wooden cross in the field. It was the same cross that the scarecrow had been hanging off, except not all of the scarecrow was there anymore. The head had been removed and the body hung limp.


    We walked slowly closer to the garage on the other side of the field. Dina was quiet, and for the first time, I didn''t think it was because of her natural shyness. She, like the rest of us, was spooked out.


    ¡°It''s locked,¡± Kimberly said, shining her light at the door, where a padlock prevented anyone from entering.


    ¡°Let me look at it,¡± Dina said. Walking up to it, she analyzed it and said, ¡°Give me a second.¡±


    In approximately a second, the lock flipped open and the door hung ajar.


    ¡°Are you getting this?¡± Kimberly asked Ted, the cameraman.


    He swallowed hard and said, ¡°I''m getting it, but this camera doesn''t do so well in the dark.¡±


    Carousel was going to love that.


    ¡°Here we go,¡± Kimberly said as she pushed open the door and walked inside. The rest of us followed.


    The garage had not been used for cars in quite some time. The lifts, however, were still in use. The mess from Benny''s death had been cleaned up, and the hydraulics had been repaired.


    ¡°Is that a treehouse?¡± Dina asked.


    And that''s exactly what it looked like¡ªa treehouse built on a car lift.


    ¡°I told you my intuition was right,¡± I said. ¡°I knew we were looking for a tree-something.¡±


    Ame joke, but I needed to carry forward the thread of mytent psychic abilities somehow. A set of stairs led up to the treehouse.


    Kimberly was the first one up.


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± she said.


    We all scrambled up behind her. What we found was a small mattress with nkets and a collection of magazines, some rted to cars, others were justic books.


    What had freaked Kimberly out was the shrine on the wall, but this shrine was not to the Patcher ancestors. This shrine centered around a missing poster for Tamara Cano. There were candles, but none of them were lit.


    At the base of the shrine was a Mason jar filled with various seeds, a sunflower, and inside a small stic baggie, something that I couldn''t quite identify at first.


    ¡°It''s a hair tie,¡± Kimberly said.


    It was a ponytail holder, the kind with the little stic ornaments that little girls used to decorate their hair.


    ¡°That''s Tamara''s,¡± Dina said.


    She grabbed it and held it up to the shlight. The ponytail holder had hair stuck in it and dried, rust-colored blood, and there was something else stuck to it that I didn''t recognize at first. It was red and crystallized, almost gooey.


    ¡°What is going on here?¡± Ted said as he came up and filmed the shrine.


    That was the first line he had spoken without being asked a question first. He wasn''t willing toe all the way into the treehouse.


    That was his mistake.


    He looked on and held up the camera. Something grabbed onto his leg and pulled him down the stairs rapidly, leaving the camera behind.


    His screams echoed through the garage.

 Book Five, Chapter 12: Tamara

    Book Five, Chapter 12: Tamara


    I could hear footsteps and Ted screaming as someone dragged him along the floor. I had a gun that Antoine had given me and enough Hustle to be able to use it.


    I climbed out of the treehouse in what probably looked like a very clumsy crawl. I managed tond on my feet and point the gun in the direction of the open door, where I could see a mysterious figure standing.


    He still held Ted''s foot as he dragged him.


    I took a shot.


    And I missed.


    I couldn''t have missed. I had devoted so many points to Hustle that I should have been able to pick up a firearm and hit anything in a storyline, but somehow, I had missed. If I had hit and it had not been fatal, I could understand that, but missing... made no sense.


    That either meant that the figure had higher Hustle than I did, or he had a trope that protected him from gunfire.


    I shot again. All I saw were the sparks that flew in the distance as my bullet hit something other than my target.


    "Let go of him!" I screamed.The figure didn''t care. I couldn''t see his face; he was just a silhouette, but I could tell he was taller than me. At that moment, I was afraid to unfocus my eyes so I could look at him on the red wallpaper.


    Luckily, for a reason that I didn''t understand at the moment, the dark silhouette of his head turned, and in the blink of an eye, he was out the door, which he mmed behind him loudly.


    He left Ted screaming and hollering on the floor.


    Kimberly and Dina were down from the car lift treehouse.


    "I need a shlight," I said. "That was definitely the killer."


    I had left mine up in the treehouse. Dina grabbed it for me.


    I did the thing that I often saw in action movies where cops put a shlight in one hand and a gun in the other so that they could shine the light wherever their gun was pointed.


    "We need to go outside," I said.


    "With the killer?" Kimberly asked.


    "It''s where the story is going," I said, which, of course, was pretty much the only reason we ever did anything, but in this storyline, it was something my character would care about, too.


    Kimberly prepared her gun and shlight simrly to how I did.


    "I didn''t take all those self-defense and firearms training courses because I thought I was going to be running after killers," she said. "It was for when the killers ran after me."


    Her Hustle jumped up two points, as did her Mettle and Grit. Her hand, which held her firearm, steadied.


    "Let''s go," she said.


    "Ted, grab the camera and follow us," I added.


    "He grabbed me," Ted said. "I thought he was going to kill me."


    "Well, he didn''t, so it''s time to work," I replied. I had to have earned that promotion somehow; being a hardass was a good reason.


    We crossed the garage toward the door we had entered in the direction the killer had gone, and as we did, we heard someone outside yelling. It wasn''t a scared yell.


    Kimberly started to say "Antoine" but disguised it as a gasp and then said, "It''s Sheriff Stone."


    Outside, he was yelling, "Hello, Miss Madison, are you here?"


    If he was in character outside, that meant that he was On-Screen, and we were also On-Screen, which meant that something was about to happen that involved all of us.


    Kimberly rushed out the door.


    Dina and I were right behind her, and Ted had found the courage to get his camera and follow us lightning-quick.


    Antoine stood at the edge of the field and continued screaming.


    "Sheriff Stone!" Kimberly cried out.


    Antoine turned to us, and that''s when we saw the killer.


    He stepped out of the shadows like he wasing out of thin air.


    He stepped up behind Antoine.


    "No!" Kimberly screamed, and we all ran in that direction.


    "Get down!" I screamed and raised my gun.


    Antoine had good reflexes and was already on edge, perhaps more so than might be expected. As we got closer, I could see in the moonlight that he was sweating and gaunt.


    He rolled out of the way before the killer could get behind him.


    And there, by the light of the night sky, I got my first look at Benny.


    Not Benny the Haunted Scarecrow that I would know from the sequel, not a ghost or magical thing at first nce.


    The red wallpaper just called him Benny.


    Benny


    Plot Armor: 28


    __________


    Tropes


    Vignte Justice


    This viin is an anti-hero who seeks to dole out justice with their own hands.


    Soft Magic is Confusing


    The enemy¡¯s lore is vague and broad and offers little insight into the specifics of how the enemy operates.


    Convenient Spirituality


    Does this enemy have powers beyond its physical body? It must, even if it doesn¡¯t often show them.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Gun to a Knife Fight


    In this story, ded weapons will be made equal to firearms in terms of effectiveness in some manner.


    sher Teleportation


    The viin is able to disappear or reappear without the characters noticing during Chase and Fight Scenes.


    The Immortal Mask


    This viin cannot be defeated, captured, or unmasked until their identity and motive have been deduced.


    Where I had expected some sort of supernatural flying creature, he was just a man. He held a sickle and wore the head of the scarecrow that had been hanging in the fields. He had gardening gloves on and heavy work boots. Of course, he wore Benny Harless'' coveralls with the name tag that I recognized.


    Antoine managed to run away over toward us. He had his gun drawn, and he was ready to fill the supposed Benny with lead. Benny was quick, however, and ran immediately into the cornfield, disappearing quickly.


    "We have to get out of here," Kimberly said.


    Something that I couldn''t tell her because we were On-Screen was that this Benny did not have the same trope that had prevented the previous one from killing her and me. That had been called Judgment Call, and it was conspicuously absent from his loadout here.


    We had always wondered whether or not we could die in this storyline. We wondered whether the Judgment Call made by Benny, the haunted scarecrow we knew, would apply to this story.


    It appeared we were wrong. That trope would not protect us.


    This Benny was not the mysterious god of the cornfield. This Benny was a sher, and we could be next.


    "Where is your car?" Antoine said.


    "It''s down the road at the trailhead," I said. "With him out here, we''ll never make it."


    "Then we make a stand," Antoine said.


    As he said that, the wind started to blow and howl, and the sunflowers, corn, and wheat became dancers in the moonlight. Was Benny waiting to attack us from within them, or had he used his sher Teleportation, and was he waiting behind us right now?


    "Over there!" Dina yelled. Her outsider''s perspective was great for this; it allowed her to notice anything new or unusual immediately.


    As soon as I could turn my head, he was gone.


    "No, over there!" Dina said, pointing to theplete opposite side of the cornfield.


    This time, he stuck around for a while. All I could see was the scarecrow''s fabric head that he had used as a mask. I could see now that he had cut two slits where the eyes were so that he could see. Behind those slits were dark, button-like eyes I recognized.


    Kimberly must have recognized them, too.


    In an instant, he was back in the cornfield, and we were running back toward the garage. Despite our considerable hustle, he beat us there. He was impossibly quick.


    He stood between us and the garage, menacing, his sickle poised to slice.


    "Rustle?" Kimberly asked softly.


    Benny the sher took a step back and tilted his head in the way that Michael Myers always did.


    "You don''t want to kill us," Kimberly said. "We were not the ones who hurt Tamara or your dad. That''s... that''s who you''re after, right? You know who did it, and you''re getting revenge."


    He had the Immortal Mask trope, which meant we needed to identify him and his motive. That was one of the primary reasons I could rule out him actually being a ghost. Surely, we wouldn''t be asked to solve the mystery of who the killer was if his name really was Benny.


    We had a theory. As the "detective" main character, Kimberly needed to solve the case.


    We figured that Benny--the real Benny--had seen something when fixing a car. He had seen the bloody ponytail holder and called it into the police, only for Tommy Patcher to be the one to get the call. They had continued their coverup by killing the friendly car mechanic.


    There had been dried, crystalized goo on the ponytail holder, too, which I assumed came from the stuff that had leaked out of the broken lift.


    Benny, or should I say Rustle, just stood and stared. It took long enough for me to start wondering if we were actually correct or if we needed to borate, but as I stared into those eyes, I knew that they belonged to the child I had met before, now all grown up.


    In a sh, Benny ran off into the cornfield again. The chase scene indicator turned off.


    The story was far from over. We hadn''t even seen Second Blood yet. We were about to find out where our decisions had led us.


    We all started looking at each other, expecting to go Off-Screen any moment, but we didn''t.


    The scene wasn''t over.


    "Rustle!" a woman screamed from back in the direction of the garage. "Rustle, where are you, honey?"


    It wasn''ting from the garage; it wasing from the building next to it, the farmhouse. Rose was wearing a nightgown and a quilted jacket as she ran out into the darkness holding a shotgun.


    "Who are you?" she screamed at us, training the gun at us.


    "Miss Harless," Kimberly said, raising her hand, "it''s Kimberly Madison with Carousel News 9. Do you remember me?"


    "Yes, I do," Rose said, keeping the gun trained on us. "Dina, is that you?"


    "Yes, Rose, it''s me," Dina said.


    "Well, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night, bringing reporters?"


    She finally lifted her shotgun.


    Dina walked forward and said, "We were searching for a killer. We thought he might be connected to my daughter."


    Rose changed temperament at that. She was neither the hard, dangerous woman with a shotgun nor the kind, evasive woman we had first met.


    She started to cry.


    "Why would you be looking for a killer here?" she asked, sobbing.


    "Ma''am," Antoine said, "I tracked the killer back here. He was a tall male wearing blue coveralls and a mask that looked like a scarecrow''s head."


    Rose continued to sob.


    "I don''t know anything about that," she said, not able to look us in the eye, just as she was never able to look us in the eye when she talked about her son.


    "You know something, don''t you?" I said.


    She would not look at us, and she didn''t respond.


    I was willing to get a little greedy. I didn''t feel like I was going too far out on a limb, but I wasn''t sure about what can of worms I was about to open.


    "There''s something strange about him, something not of this world. I can feel it," I said. "I can feel it in the wind. I can feel it when I look at him. Now more than ever."


    Rose turned her head and looked at me. She was about to speak; I could feel it.


    Antoine''s radio started to go off.


    "Sheriff, are you hearing me? Sheriff, can you respond? Did you find anything over at Hidden Gorge?"


    Antoine took out his radio, which wasrge and unwieldy.


    "Yeah, I found something," Antoine said. "Gonna need you to send in all units."


    Off-Screen. Finally.


    "You found something?" I asked.


    "Yeah, he killed two Patchers. They had shovels. I didn''t get time to investigate because I pursued him over here."


    Something in the way he said that was odd, like he was sick to his stomach or dizzy.


    I decided to ignore it.


    "Let''s get there now," Kimberly said.


    We practically ran two miles up the road to the trailhead where our car was. Rose came too. It made sense that she would be in the next scene, but it was odd for her toe running with us holding a shotgun in nothing but a coat and nightgown. In a movie, you would never question something like that. We all piled in and quickly made our way to the campgrounds at Hidden Gorge.


    We were there before any of the other police.


    "It''s this way," Antoine said.


    The campgrounds were very nice. They were wellid out, with an established trail between them. They all centered around a small area where the gorge was wide enough, and its water was still enough for a small swim beach to be made, though it was quite a climb down.


    "It''s over here," Antoine said, leading us past that ce.


    Luckily, we had our shlights because the forest was thick. Antoine started to feel uneasy. Kimberly walked up ahead and grabbed his arm, and he didn''t push her away.


    It just dawned on me that we had sent Antoine into the woods alone. I had thought the campgrounds would be popted enough that he wouldn''t have a problem. It would seem he had lost the benefits of his <strong>y It Cool</strong> trope at some point in time. We needed to get to the end of the movie soon.


    He led us through the forest along what was not an established trail but was clearly trodden before.


    On-Screen.


    "Over here," he said.


    It took about half a mile of hiking into the woods before we found the small clearing filled with moonlight.


    A headless Patchery on the ground. It was one I didn''t recognize, but there were so many Patchers that it was possible I had already seen him.


    But there was another Patcher, Woody Patcher, whom we definitely recognized as being the gas station attendant.


    He was babbling to himself.


    I could see his lips moving, and I could see blooding out from his mouth, but I couldn''t hear what he was saying, not until I got really close. And what he said made no sense.


    "Couldn''t finish. Send help."


    That''s all he said over and over again.


    "Couldn''t finish. Send help."


    "Couldn''t finish. Send help."


    And then, finally, when his eyes acknowledged us for the first time, he said, "People here. Couldn''t finish. Send help."


    As Antoine had said, shovelsy on the ground, and they began digging a hole in the moonlight.


    "Oh my God," Dina said.


    I grabbed one of the shovels from the ground. The hole was not yetplete, but its size and shape made me fear I knew exactly what was in it.


    Quickly, Kimberly and I began digging while Dina stayed at the edge and talked to her daughter as if she were there.


    "It''s you. I finally found you," she said. "I had a feeling... maybe now I can be at peace too."


    Sure enough, a couple more feet down, I struck a trunk, like the kind people would pack their clothes into in the olden days when they traveled by train. It was just big enough for the remains of a young girl.


    Antoine was incensed. He went to Woody Patcher, ignoring whatever wounds he might have had, grabbed him, and asked, "What were you doing here? What happened to her?"


    Woody barely acknowledged what was going on, but he did answer more or less.


    "Tugg might have talked. Need to move her again. People are here. Couldn''t finish. Send help," was all he said in that same soulless rhythm.

 Book Five, Chapters 13: The Patchers

    Book Five, Chapters 13: The Patchers


    Morning came, a relief to all of us. We didn¡¯t get time to sleep. We had a n to enact.


    "Alright, folks," Antoine said as we stood in the town hall, "I''m just gonna cut straight to the point. We got a killer on the loose, and he''sing after Patchers."


    Whispers went through the crowd. We had invited about thirty of the Patchers along with as many non-Patchers as we could find. Being alone in a room with a bunch of Patchers didn''t seem wise.


    "If he''sing after us, then it''s our business, not yours," Merle Patcher said. It was clear that he was seen as a sort of leader among the family.


    We tried to invite all the Patchers that we had met, including Corduroy Patcher, who owned the general store. We needed to keep him involved because we nned on robbing him blind, and that would be easier to do if¡­ something were to happen to him.


    "Why can''t you tell us more than this?" one of the Patchers screamed. "I''m a mother with children at home, and if I''m going to pull them out of school, I need to know why you think he is after us."


    They really wanted to know how we knew they were the target, even more than they wanted to know <em>why</em> they were the target.


    Others called out in agreement.


    "Listen," Antoine said, "I understand your frustration, I really do, but this guy has taken out three of your kin, and one more looks like he''s on the way out at the clinic. We need to coordinate efforts to help keep you all safe.""We don''t need your help to coordinate efforts," Merle said again. The ten years since we hadst seen him had not diminished the man; he was a thunderstorm in human form. In fact, he was so notable in the presence of the other Patchers that I started to believe we had messed up by not getting to know him better in the Party Phase.


    He seemed to be a key yer.


    "We cannot just sit around while more innocent people are ughtered," Antoine said.


    "Nobody ever said nothing about just sitting around," another Patcher said.


    "I don''t understand," one of the citizens who we knew for sure was not rted to the Patchers said. "How do we know that this person is only attacking people of the Patcher bloodline? Why would they do that?"


    The Patchers got real quiet.


    "We''re not making any inferences about that at this juncture," Antoine said. "If any of the Patchers have any idea why your family might be targeted, you can contact my office anonymously and feel free to let us in on that."


    "None of us are going to tell you anything in secret," Merle said, taking offense at the very notion. "We are a family. Family is where we find our purpose. We don''t need your help."


    The other Patchers agreed vehemently. The man that I assumed was Merle''s son, Joshua, said, "We have our own ways of solving problems around here."


    Perhaps that was a bit too far; Merle looked at him with a scolding expression.


    "The fact is," Merle said, "we just are not impressed with the current leadership of the Sheriff''s Department. I have no reason to believe that you would be able to protect us, so we are going to protect ourselves."


    The meeting went on like that for another hour, with different Patchers throwing out one-liners for Carousel to pick through. We had been up all night, ensuring that no one came and stole Tamara Cano''s body. We needed to make sure that it got back to a medical examiner who wasn''t a Patcher, married to a Patcher, or the secret love child of a Patcher.


    We weren''t sure if this was the right course of action, but we did know that the Patchers were all involved.


    The best thing we could do was get them On-Screen and talking about it. We even managed to hide our cameraman in the room, his camera concealed under a pile of old sheets and rugs.


    We were getting nearer and nearer to Second Blood, and we weren''t sure which direction the plot would take. There were so many potential Patchers to be killed; how were we supposed to know which ones were next?


    Just as the conversation started to wind down, the final Patcher showed up and made a loud entrance as he ran into the room, nursing a wound on his hand and hollering to the heavens.


    He was a Patcher by marriage; his name was Jeffrey Fields, the representative of Eastern Carousel. The years had not been so kind to him.


    "He got De," was all Jeffrey could say. "He got De. I tried to stop him, but he shot me here in the hand."


    Rustle shot him?


    Antoine quickly rushed to the man and looked at his wound. He looked over at us and then back at the wound.


    "He shot you, huh?" Antoine asked, holding up the wound. It was a bleeder, alright, a small bullet hole on the skin between the thumb and pointer finger. It was apparent upon close inspection that the gunpowder residue, which was always visible in movies, was on the inside of his palm.


    "What are you trying to say?" Jeffrey said.


    "Our suspect doesn''t use firearms," Antoine said. "He uses a de."


    Jeffrey went white.


    "You let that man take my sister!" Merle screamed from across the room. He rushed toward Jeffrey and took his own look at the man''s wound.


    "I should have never let you marry her. I knew you couldn''t protect her. Tell me that wound doesn''t look like it came from that little girl gun that you got," Merle said.


    "Merle, I swear," Jeffrey said. "I did everything I could. I just didn''t want you to think¡­"


    "How many times do I gotta tell you, boy? You can''t hide anything from family," Merle said in a hushed and frankly terrifying voice.


    "We gotta find her," Merle said. "Everybody, go pray. We need to finish this."


    Off-screen.


    Go pray?


    The Patchers poured out of the town hall and found their way to the gas station and the general store. I stood and watched outside, having no clue what was going on.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "She''s at Hidden Gorge!" one of them screamed. "She''s on her way to Hidden Gorge."


    None of this happened On-Screen, but it did happen in front of us, which meant we were supposed to see it.


    NPCs would often guide us toward the next scene, and it was clear the next scene was back at Hidden Gorge, where we had found Tamara¡¯s body. It wasn''t unusual to get directions like that, but the manner in which we had gotten them was confusing.


    We all piled into Antoine''s police cruiser.


    On-Screen.


    We had yed this game for a while now, and I knew exactly what we needed.


    "You interrupted him when he was searching at Hidden Gorge," I said. "Maybe that''s where he went. He might think her body is still there."


    Antoine nodded.


    "That''s the best clue we have," Antoine said as he put the car in gear.


    Off-screen.


    The needle on the plot cycle was on the precipice of Second Blood. Whatever was about to happen, it was about to happen soon.


    For the second time, we arrived at Hidden Gorge before anyone who left before us did, despite all logic.


    On-Screen.


    Others were there already. Benny, his captive De, and his mother Rose were a little way down the trail in a field next to the gorge.


    Rustle must have already found that Tamara¡¯s body was gone. He had brought De here to see it, I had to infer.


    "Rustle," Rose cried out, "what have you done? It''s not toote, baby; just don''t do this."


    Rustle stood at the edge of the gorge. This wasn''t anywhere near the swimming area; if they fell from there, they would not survive.


    "Rustle, baby, I know you''re angry, but revenge is not the answer. This is not what your father would have wanted."


    Benny held his sickle against De''s neck. It was clear he was deeply troubled by his own actions.


    "Why does he have <em>her</em>?" Kimberly asked.


    "Don''t you remember?" I asked. "She got a new car around the time that Tamara Cano went missing. People were gossiping about it. You have to ask: what happened to her old car?"


    Kimberly''s eyes widened. "Tugg Montgomery," she said.


    "Yep," I replied.


    "Put your hands up," Antoine said, finally figuring out what he thought his character would do at that moment. "Let the woman go. There are better ways to resolve this. She can go to prison. We know what happened now."


    This was not an effective argument to Rustle.


    "Tugg Montgomery was supposed to tear down her old car, I imagine, after she hit Tamara on the road while walking home from the Harless ce. But he got greedy; that was his reputation, being greedy. He decided to sell the car for cheap to Margaret Petty. Then, when it was handling funny, probably because of the ident, she brought it to Benny Harless, the best mechanic in town."


    De had identally killed Tamara, and to get away with it, she had called upon her family to help cover up the crime, which they had done, even when that meant killing Benny Harless.


    There was a chance she was drunk when it happened. She had been flushed and had trouble standing thest time I saw her. I couldn¡¯t say.


    "Did they just tell their entire family about it?" Dina asked. "How did it seem like everyone was in on it? Everyone was acting so suspicious, the entire Patcher family."


    I shrugged. "Maybe they just are that close of a family," I said, not really sure why they would tell everyone in their family about a murder.


    "There she is!" someone screamed in the distance.


    Suddenly, footsteps wereing from everywhere. I turned around and looked, and I saw no fewer than fifty Patchers, all toting guns and pointing them at Rustle.


    "Hold on, everybody!" Antoine screamed. "That''s not how we''re going to handle this. Rustle here is going to let her go, and then I''m going to arrest him; you got that?"


    Throughout everything, Rose continued to sob. Now she called out, "Rustle, sweetheart, you were not meant to do these things. Please, please, for the love of your own mother, let her go. Revenge isn''t worth it. Revenge will consume you, and if it consumes you, what will you be?"


    Was that a line from the trailer?


    Rustle seemed to consider this.


    "Let her go now!" Merle screamed. "If anything happens to her, we are gonna fill you so full of bullet holes that your Mama here will have nothing left to bury."


    Rose cried out.


    It was a ssic scenario.


    Talking down the killer, telling them how revenge was not the answer, and then, of course, the killer is always persuaded to set aside the vendetta that they''ve been working on for years and let everything go because revenge is evil and in a movie, you can''t have a sympathetic character be evil.


    Of course, that''s the way it usually went.


    In a sh, Rustle cut De''s head almostpletely off, stopping only at her spine as he swiped. She fell to the ground, gurgling and bleeding.


    "De!" Merle screamed. "You dumb son¡ª¡±


    I couldn''t hear what else he said because the entire area came alive with gunfire. The bullets prated Rustle''s torso, tearing through and leaving spatters of blood. Some of the guns were very powerful and left entire holes in his torso.


    They shot him at least twenty times.


    Rose screamed out, "No!"


    It was abundantly clear that the hail of bullets was designed to be lethal by the script. They hit every square inch of his body, including his head and chest. Still, he stood for a moment long enough to stumble backward and fall into the abyss behind him.


    Just as he did, Second Blood struck on the plot cycle.


    Well, that would certainly exin why no one had to die in this movie. First Blood was Benny Harless; Second Blood was his son, Rustle.


    Several of the Patchers ran to De''s aid, but she was a lost cause. Other than a few miserable gasps, she was finished. Benny had killed everyone apparently involved in his father''s murder and the death of his childhood friend.


    "Rustle," Rose cried out. Kimberly immediately grabbed onto her, as did Dina, and they helped stop her from falling further to the ground.


    "I always prayed for a child," Rose said. "I prayed at the church in town. I prayed to the gods of foreign religions. I prayed and I prayed, and I never got my answer." She looked up to the sky and around at the trees and the wind that blew their leaves rapidly. "Then I prayed to the trees and the fields and the forest and to the gods that have no names. And they gave me him," she said, looking up at Kimberly. "I heard him crying in the field. He was born from a gourd, his umbilical cord attached to the nt itself. But he was my boy. He was mine to look after. A child of the fields, the spirit of the harvest in human form. Such a special boy. Until they did this to him," she said. "When they killed his father, I saw darkness form inside him, an anger that was unnatural, and¡­ now he is free."


    I was so distracted by her confession of Rustle''s supernatural origin that I hardly noticed the Patchers were all standing perfectly upright and still, their weapons at the ready.


    We were in the finale, and it was time to meet the real enemy.


    The Patchers


    Plot Armor: 15-28


    __________


    Tropes


    Twist Viin


    This viin may have initially appeared to y a more minor part in the story, even appearing as an NPC, but when the film¡¯s apparent viin falls, this viin¡¯s true nature is revealed.


    Hidden In


    in Sight


    This viin cannot be attacked On-Screen until it attacks the yer or is otherwise identified as hostile. Attacking it will not be effective, nor will it change the story. It will cause the yer to go Off-Screen for a time.


    Pattern Killer


    Before the finale, the viin will only kill victims chosen ording to a pre-established motive.


    No Neighborhood Watch


    The viin will not be seen by NPC witnesses when off-screen


    Hive Mind


    This viin''s mind is linked to that of simr viins.


    The Unseen Hand


    This enemy is guided by a greater force. This guidance may be a part of the lore or the meta.


    Strength In Numbers


    The enemy is at its strongest in groups. Singling its members out will weaken them substantially.


    Fungible Enemy


    This enemy isposed of countlessrgely interchangeable units whose numbers will not diminish until the scene is concluded. There always seems to be more toe.


    Skeletons in the Closet


    Once the yers discover this enemy¡¯s dark secret, the Win Condition is <em>Get the Truth Out</em>.


    Hive mind? I started to question in my mind.


    Then the question was answered.


    "In family, we find purpose," Merle said.


    Then, they all said it with him. "In family, we find purpose!"


    It just urred to me that we had inadvertently done the thing we were so careful not to do earlier, the thing about being alone with a bunch of Patchers.


    "Oh damn," I said as they all spoke and moved in unison. "Run!"

 Book Five, Chapter 14: Blades

    Book Five, Chapter 14: des


    "We have to leave now," I said as I ushered them to follow me.


    Luckily, whatever weird ancestor-worshipping ritual the Patchers were going through was keeping them from turning to us, but I knew it would only be a matter of time.


    The Patchers did what they had to do to protect their family. They covered up the death of Tamara Cano. They killed Benny Harless. We knew of those crimes, which meant we were next.


    Antoine, Kimberly, Ted the cameraman, Dina, Rose, and I hoofed it back to Antoine''s cruiser. It wasn¡¯t that far away, and we had just followed the path to the cliffside.


    Still, we were toote.


    When we got there, there were Patchers standing around, staring, downloading their evil magic programming.


    As we headed toward the car, one of them fired three shotgun sts into the hood, and because this was a movie, a fire ignited, quickly consuming the vehicle''s cab.


    There was no explosion, though. Maybe it wasn''t in the budget.


    Other than that, the Patchers just stood there and chanted, "In family, we find our purpose," over and over again."What is going on?" Rose eximed.


    Oh, right. That''s what we needed to do. We needed to exin what was going on around us and react to it.


    "I think we''re finding out what all those shrines around town are for," I said.


    "I don''t understand," Kimberly said. "Are they a cult?"


    "Worse," I said. "They''re a family."


    We ran away from the car toward the woods.


    "We''re gonna have to cut through here to get to the Harless property," I said. "Antoine, you made it through before. Do you know the way?"


    Antoine didn''t respond. He had lost his cool, and as he stared into the woods in the darkness, I realized he was having a problem bigger than just the jitters.


    "Rose, do you know the way back to your home?" I asked.


    "I think so," she said. She was still sobbing but was at least able tomunicate. I had expected her to be too distraught to help, but she wasn''t.


    We started to run into the woods, following her directions.


    Antoine managed to snap out of it, and soon, we were running for our lives.


    Rose was, however, a problem. As we started running into the woods, it quickly became apparent that she was too slow. She was a normal NPC, after all. We were being chased, and she could not outrun our pursuers.


    "Antoine, help her," I said.


    Antoine realized what was going on and picked her up with one arm, just kept running with her like it was nothing.


    Ted, the cameraman, was having no problem keeping up with us. He must have had an NPC trope that allowed him to do that. He was a cameraman, so it made sense that he could follow us wherever we went.


    Off-Screen.


    "What''s the n here?" Antoine said, fear caught in his throat despite his efforts to hide it.


    "We make our final stand at the Harless farm," I said.


    "I thought we were doing the finale at the boarding house," Kimberly said. "Isn''t that why I took my penthouse trope?"


    "Change of ns," I said.


    I had to believe that the finale would have been at the boarding house if Benny the sher had continued to be the antagonist. When we metaphorically unmasked him, the Patchers became the antagonist. I couldn''t imagine that the boarding house would have been as effective at keeping them away.


    "We need to get to the farm," I said.


    I had a n. Ever since I saw Benny/Rustle¡¯s tropes, an idea began forming in my mind.


    "Guns are not the answer," I said. "Rustle had a trope that made it so that ded weapons would be equal to guns. That''s why when I shot at him, I missed even though he was only thirty feet away. We need ded weapons."


    We could have used them right then, in fact.


    On-Screen.


    We had been running through the woods for ten minutes when the Patchers started to make an appearance.


    "On the right," Dina said.


    One of the Patchers, whose names were rapidly bing less important, appeared, apparently unarmed, but with palpable malicious intent in his eyes.


    Antoine didn''t seem to mind that he didn''t have a gun on him. With his one free hand, he aimed and took a shot.


    One down, a few hundred more to go.


    We were in a run-and-shoot sequence, which I was getting used to in Carousel¡¯s storylines. These sequences would go on until Carousel had gotten the footage it needed.


    One after another, Patchers woulde out of the woodwork with nk expressions on their faces and some random weapon in their hands.


    At first, I thought it was just about lining up and shooting, but then I started to realize that Carousel was depleting our ammo. Every Patcher who had a gun would shoot until their weapon was out of bullets.


    They were aiming at Rose. After all, she did have the lowest plot armor.


    We ran down the trail until there was no more trail, and then we just kept going.


    "Rose!" Kimberly eximed as we came into a clearing in the woods.


    I nced up to see that Rose had been shot. It was one of those ambiguous movie wounds whose only evidence of existence was a lot of blood on her nightgown.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    It could have been a gut shot, which would always be fatal, or it could have been some innocuous wound that even an NPC could survive. We had no way of knowing, and I suspected that the nature of the wound would be determined by what choices we made.


    "I''m fine," Rose said, but her weak voice did not give us much confidence.


    Unfortunately, the run-and-shoot sequence did not reveal any of the main Patchers.


    This was a lead-up to something else.


    It took us twenty or so minutes to break through the forest into the fields of the Harless property. In the entire sequence, Ted the cameraman was never shot once. I couldn''t even tell if he was shot at. That mysterious NPC trope was likely the exnation.


    On-Screen.


    "Rose," I said, "where do you keep all of the tools you use in the garden? Where do you keep your guns?"


    "The garden?" she asked, delirious.


    "Do you have a tool shed or something?" I asked. "I''m running on empty here," I said, holding up my firearm. "Do you have weapons or guns or something?"


    "Behind the house," she said weakly.


    We knew she had a gun, but she wasn''t telling us that.


    We ran across the fields until we got to the Harless house. Sure enough, there was a small shed attached to the back of the house.


    We had failed to explore it before the finale, so my heart sank as we walked near it.


    Discoveries have to be made before the finale.


    You can''t just let weapons appear out of nowhere; they have to be established. Still, it was established that this was a farm and that they did have tools. Logically, there must be some farming implements that could be used as weapons on this property.


    As we got to the shed, there was a padlock on it. Dina ran ahead of us and messed with it for a moment before drawing the gun that Antoine had given her and just shooting the lock off.


    "No use messing with it," she said.


    As the shed opened and we started shining our lights inside, I gained a little bit of hope.


    There was arge pegboard on which all the tools were kept neatly in ce. The tools had been outlined in chalk or something simr to show where they went, so we knew which tools were missing.


    The axe? Gone.


    The machete? Not there. Its space was empty, and I couldn''t see it anywhere in the shed.


    In fact, I felt like Carousel was just teasing us because this shed had space for a few more ambiguous-ded tools, but they were mostly empty.


    There were a few things, though.


    Dina grabbed a small hatchet. Like all the other des in the shed, its de was sharp.


    Kimberly grabbed a pruning knife and a spade.


    Antoine took a sling de, arge wooden handle affixed with a heavy metal hooked de. Guess he liked French fried potaters.


    That left me with two options: the hedge shears and arge, intimidating scythe.


    It made sense that Carousel would give us a scythe. It fit the theme so well.


    I chose both.


    The hedge shears had a delightful surprise attached to them. They had a trope called <strong>Sha-shing</strong> that buffed the user¡¯s Mettle when using a ded weapon if they brandished them for the camera before attacking.


    That was a really cool trope if it had just been attached to a real weapon¡­.


    I shoved the shears into my belt.


    Arming sequenceplete, I turned to Rose and asked, "Where''s your car?"


    "The garage," she answered.


    Of course. Where else would you keep your car if you had a full-size mechanic shop on your property?


    The thing was, though, we hadn''t actually seen it when we were snooping before. It immediately became clear why. The entire car was hidden by boxes and covered in a sheet.


    "I don''t really get out much anymore," Rose exined. "The farmer''s market shut down a few years ago. If people need our produce, they juste here."


    "Does it run?" Antoine asked.


    "Yes," Rose said. "Rustle kept it in good condition for me. He was such a good son." She began to weep.


    We weren''t going off-screen, so I couldn''t exin much to the others. I trusted them to pick up on what was about to happen.


    I doubled over, my hand to my stomach.


    "What''s wrong?" Kimberly asked.


    "This ce feels off," I said. "There''s a presence here..."


    "A presence?" Kimberly asked.


    I had done some minor work to establish my character''stent psychic powers. It would have to do. I just hoped that Carousel would go along with it. I suspected it would.


    "They''re angry," I said.


    After I said that, the wind outside began to pick up.


    "We have to expose what the Patchers did," Kimberly said. "We can''t let them get away with this. Power through."


    "No one''s going to believe us," Dina said. "Are we going to tell them that there''s some sort of ancestor-worshipping mind-melding cult?"


    "We might have to leave that part out," I said.


    Lots of people honor their ancestors. I guess some people''s ancestors are evil.


    Kimberly ran over to the phone that was still on the counter. She picked the receiver up, put it to her ear, and started to dial, but before she could finish, she paused and looked at the phone.


    "The phone line''s been cut," she said.


    "Are they outside?" Antoine asked. "I wish this ce had windows. I hate not knowing what''s out there."


    The garage did have windows, but they had been covered.


    "My guess is that a Patcher works at the phonepany," I said. "Wouldn''t be surprised if all of Eastern Carousel is cut off."


    "What do we do?" Dina asked. "We can''t let them get away with what they did."


    The wind howled outside again.


    "You guys hit the road," I said. "Kimberly, you and Sheriff Stone in the back seat. Ted, you get in the passenger seat and you turn your camera back on them so Kimberly can report what happened here. Having the sheriff there to confirm things lends authority to it. We''ve got next to no proof. Just the hair tie and our own eyes. Get the story on tape. Miss Cano, I hope you''re okay with driving. I have a feeling there might bepany out on the roads. It''s gonna be rough."


    "I can do it," she said.


    One of the first things I learned about Dina was that she liked to drive fast. She passed us on our way to Carousel.


    "What are you going to do?" Kimberly asked.


    "You all need to take Rose with you," I said. "She needs medical help. That little car''s not going to fit all of us. I''m going to stay here," I said. "I''m the distraction. I need to make them think we''re all here locked up in the garage."


    Kimberly paused as she realized what I was suggesting. Her character would need to react to it.


    "Riley, there has to be a better way," Kimberly said.


    "All that matters is that we tell people what happened, right?" I asked. "I told you this story was going to change our lives, didn''t I? We''re gonna be the hotshot journalists taking down the bad guys like on TV."


    Kimberly hugged me.


    "Make sure everyone knows," I said.


    "I will," she said.


    They pulled off the cover of the car, and sure enough, it started right up.


    "I''m going to go clear out anyone who''s out there right now," I said. "When I give you the signal, you open the garage and you drive back to the civilized world as fast as that thing will go."


    It was a n.


    "I''m not going," Rose said.


    "Rose," Kimberly said, "we need to get you to a hospital."


    "You''re a sweet woman," Rose said, "but this is my home. This is where my husband and my son lived. I''m not leaving. Give me a gun. I''m not gonna let those bastards drive me away. They aren''t the only ones who know how to pray, and those I pray to have power the Patchers could never imagine."


    We weren''t exactly going to argue with her. Antoine handed her a firearm and a few bullets. It was time for it to happen.


    <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong> was useless for the task I had in mind. Luckily, I had a lot of Hustle. Good for sneaking.


    As I found my way outside, I realized that the stars were gone. It was overcast, the wind howled, and the crops danced to the music. Lightning struck in the distance. I had to stay on the alert.


    It didn¡¯t take long to find some enemies.


    Some Patchers were walking down the road in front of the garage.


    They weren''t speaking to each other. Whatever had happened to them, I suspected they no longer needed to speak.


    At first, I thought the hive mind trope waspletely meta, that they would merely act like a hive mind. That wasmon enough in movies where there are multiple enemies who seem to anticipate each other''s movement so well that it feels like they''re coordinated by a higher power.


    That wasn''t the case here. These people were clearly connected to each other, connected by blood, marriage, and magic.


    Iid my scythe down on the ground.


    I had tucked my hedge shears into my belt.


    As I walked cautiously around to the back of the two men standing on the road, I withdrew the shears and held them out menacingly. Sure enough, I could hear the metallic shing sounding off the de. I opened it up, and there was a further sound. The Patchers couldn''t hear it, apparently.


    Killing monsters was one thing.


    Killing human monsters was a whole different thing.


    Killing human monsters without the use of a firearm, with a de, was a third thing, and it was the hardest of the bunch.


    But I had a job to do, and I did it. The first one went down with a swipe at his neck; then I rushed the second as he looked at me and pierced his torso. I didn''t know if the wounds were fatal in real life, but they were movie-fatal.


    These guys didn''t have enough grit to stand up to it.


    "Hey!" someone screamed from further down the road, hiding in the trees.


    It was yet another Patcher. This one I recognized.


    It was Corduroy Patcher. In many ways, he was the only person who had to die in this whole story to ensure that we could loot his general store.


    I lifted my shears and prepared for a fight.

 Book Five, Chapters 15: The Reaper

    Book Five, Chapters 15: The Reaper


    It was harder to kill him than the first two because I saw his face and I had spoken to him.


    I truly had difficulty attacking him.


    He was a portly old man. He held in his hands the sawed-off shotgun from his shop. Its trope, the <strong>Hidden Barrel</strong>, was intact, though it wasn''t active because his gun wasn''t hidden, thankfully.


    Still, he looked the most human out of all the Patchers we had seen since they went hive mind.


    He looked scared.


    Then he spoke and said, "In family we find purpose," speaking with a hundred voices all at once, like he was possessed.


    His face went nk, and he lifted his shotgun at me while his mouth continued to chant.


    That made it a lot easier, actually.


    He fired the shotgun at me, but I dodged to the left and ran into a patch of trees near the road. I expected to get peppered with lead. After all, that was what a sawed-off shotgun was for. Luckily, I was too far away for him to hit me. I also suspected he was using slugs as ammunition instead of something that would spread when shot because a huge hole appeared in a tree behind me as I fled into the woods.I felt that was a poor choice, but I wasn¡¯t going to argue.


    He started to reload.


    The trope that made ded weapons equal to guns was very ambiguous about how it would work, but I suspected things like decreasing bullets'' uracy and making guns have to reload more often were part of it.


    Those little tweaks allowed a man wearing an oversized suit and holding hedge shears to beat a possessed man with a shotgun. It didn''t hurt that his Plot Armor was only eight.


    I closed the distance, and as I removed him from the picture, his eyes began to glow.


    I hadn''t seen the others do that because I hadn''t seen them up close when they died.


    Perhaps Carousel wanted to confirm for the audience that these enemies were not exactly human. Typically, that would be done by showing how evil they were, but Corduroy hadn''t done much evil stuff.


    The hundred voices in his mouth did not stop talking after he died, not for several minutes. His mouth wasn''t even moving, and the sounds came out.


    Creepy.


    I wondered if there was a non-supernatural version of this storyline buried inside the story where the Patchers were just normal people.


    I grabbed his shotgun. I was really making a killing here with the trope weapons. A sawed-off shotgun, hedging shears--I was starting quite the collection.


    I ran over to the garage after I saw there were no more Patchers around. I knocked on the garage door so they would know it was me.


    They opened it, restarted the car, and they were off, leaving me behind.


    The wind howled, and I stared out across the fields as people with glowing eyes began exiting the forest.


    "They''re here!" I yelled back into the garage as I shut the door.


    I wanted them to think Kimberly and the others were inside. How long that deception wouldst wasn''t important.


    I assumed that the deception would work because Rose and I were here, and we had the lowest plot armor of anyone being targeted.


    The deception gave cover to exin why we were being attacked and the others weren''t. At least they weren¡¯t being attacked by <em>these</em> Patchers. They likely had their own problems to deal with.


    Once the others left this scene, Carousel would have a challenge ready for them.


    The deception worked, too.


    We were getting good at this game.


    Now, I had fifty or so armed attackersing straight for me.


    What a great n I had made.


    I went Off-Screen soon after Kimberly and the others left.


    I was Off-Screen for quite a while.


    Kimberly recording her report on everything that had happened was clearly more important than what was happening to me. I imagined they were dodging enemies as she recorded things.


    The Patchers just stood and watched from a distance. Usually, enemies will attack you when you''re Off-Screen, just not with much enthusiasm, especially if you''re an important character. With what I had nned, it was obvious that Carousel wanted to make sure that my fate was captured in its entirety.


    I remembered back to when we were scouting this storyline out.


    Cassie had used her trope to try to find out the supernatural nature of the story.


    She spoke of an angry entity upset over blood being spilled. A child of the earth had been killed.


    At first, I thought that might have been Tamara Cano, but as I learned about Rustle and eventually saw him gunned down, I realized it must be him.


    The ancient spirits that had given him life, that had answered Rose Harless'' prayer, were now angry that he had been killed.


    I was going to give voice to that anger.


    I had equipped my <strong>Raised by Television</strong> trope. When I stayed behind to let the others escape, it activated, and as I had hoped, it buffed my Moxie by five points.


    It gave a bit of Mettle, too.


    No Grit though.


    Moxie and Mettle.


    Moxie was used to interact with the supernatural and spiritual. It was also used for Improvisation. I needed it for both.


    I couldn''t say what was about to happen or whether I would live, but if I was right, this would be a great conclusion for my character.


    Of course, I really did hope that I would survive. It would be a bit embarrassing to die grocery shopping.


    I knew things were about to start happening as Rose slowly limped out of the garage and joined me in the field as I stared at the Patchers.


    We were Off-Screen, but she said, "If I had known all of this would happen, I wonder if I would have prayed for a child."


    "You couldn''t have known," I said. "If it wasn''t for them, things would have turned out fine."


    She didn''t look as confident.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "You can never be surprised by what you get when you pray to a nameless thing, whether you''re praying for a child or for a second chance. A person willing to do that doesn''t deserve to plead ignorance. I did what I did, and now we''re here."


    "Now we''re here," I repeated, staring at her, unsure of the full scope of what she was saying.


    I didn''t have time to think about it.


    On-Screen.


    "Come to us," the Patchers all spoke at once, hundreds of voices sounding out of dozens of mouths. "Come to us; we will make it quick."


    I had to wonder if a schr or an ultist had done this story, would we have learned more about the Patchers and their supernatural nature? I supposed we could figure that out the next time we went food shopping.


    If they were going to yell at me, I was going to yell back. It was showtime.


    "You shouldn''t havee here!" I screamed.


    "We have been here since the first war," the voices said, "and we will be here at thest one."


    I didn''t know the history they were referencing, but it was a cool line, I thought.


    "There were those that were here before you," I screamed, "and they are angry."


    I got no response, but I noticed Merle Patcher had moved into the forefront of the group that was closing the distance toward me. That gave me confidence in my n. It was nice to see the main Patcher.


    "We will do whatever it takes to protect our family," he said, except he didn''t say it with a hundred voices like the others; he was just talking himself.


    His eyes were glowing, though. His plot armor was 28. He was the boss.


    Or so he thought.


    The wind started to howl even harder, and Patchers emerged from the woods holding torches, which they promptly used to catch the crops on fire.


    "You really shouldn''t have done that," I said.


    I tried to look panicked, afraid not of the Patchers but of the thing that they were insulting.


    Rose started to call out, "Trees, sky, earth, hear me! These people have killed your child. They killed the child you gave me to protect. Please," she said, "I implore you, let loose your vengeance on them."


    Thunder boomed with no lighting.


    "You should go!" I screamed. "Something is happening."


    I tried to y it like I was so panicked that I just wanted it all to stop. I even shed a tear, though that could have been from the wind whipping my eyes.


    Merle was unfazed. "We will do whatever it takes to protect our family name," he said.


    He lifted his gun and shot Rose. She fell to the ground; this wound <em>was</em> fatal.


    "You really shouldn''t have done that," I said. "You already killed his father, and then you killed him. Now that you killed his mother, he''s really going to be angry."


    Fifty heads tilted in confusion.


    "I don''t think so," Merle said.


    They lifted their firearms. I hoisted my reacquired scythe up and ran as they started to shoot at me.


    Sure enough, the bullets whizzed past but never hit me. I ran into the nearest field of corn. It was on fire, but I wasn''t going to let that stop me. There was plenty of room to hide there, and the fire wouldn''t get to me for some time.


    They followed me into the corn.


    The first one I saw, I swiped at with the scythe.


    I wasn''t sure if the scythe was a good weapon in real life, but in this movie, heads rolled.


    Literally.


    There was a pitter-patter as corn fell to the ground, followed by a thud after my swing. I continued running and swiping and dodging for a long while as the fire spread.


    Even with the buff to Mettle from Raised by Television, I wasn''t abat build. Some of the Patchers were too tanky to be killed in one blow. With a scythe, you either kill in one hit or you don''t kill. It was too awkward as a weapon if you just got it hooked on a Patcher''s overall strap.


    That was my strategy.


    If I saw a low-level one, I swiped. They might die, they might run, but they were no longer a threat. When I killed them, they still had glowing eyes and talking mouths.


    I ran through the corn in a panic. The world was closing in on me.


    I tried running along the field to escape the fire, but arge Patcher stood in my way, and when I instinctively swung the scythe, he caught it.


    That was the end of that weapon.


    I ran out of the corn and back into the main clearing. I could still feel the fire on my skin. The smoke filled my nostrils.


    I was out of room to run.


    The fire ate away at the entire crop. As soon as I got out, I felt something stinging my shoulder.


    I had been shot.


    Perhaps the ride was over. I really was hoping for something more than a few good shots of me taking out Patchers.


    They were closing in now, and I watched the Plot Cycle. It wasn''t moving. We were still firmly in the final battle.


    I hoped that Kimberly and the others were well on their way to Carousel.


    I didn''t have to kill these people.


    I didn''t even have to survive.


    I did have a show to put on, however, because I was the distraction.


    I doubled over like I was sick to my stomach. The stinging bullet hole in my shoulder was only a mild annoyance as my n started toe to fruition.


    I puked on the ground.


    I felt something in the wind, something that felt like battery acid on my skin. The red wallpaper showed my status changing to Infected.


    So that was how it was going to y out.


    "They won''t have any mercy on you," I said, though I struggled to speak.


    After that, I didn''t have control of my mouth. A wicked voice came out of my throat that didn''t sound human.


    "You killed him," the voice used. "You spilled his blood on thisnd," it continued. "Your blood will be spilled for it."


    Merle lifted his gun to shoot at me, and when he pulled the trigger.


    At first, I thought that it had misfired.


    He was only ten feet away, so that didn''t make a lot of sense, but I heard a bang, and I felt nothing.


    It was only a momentter that I realized that my Grit was over a thirty.


    Grit wasn''t even supposed to make you bulletproof, but then I wasn''t exactly human. I was a vessel, and while I didn''t have the presence of mind to read all of the new tropes I had on the red wallpaper, I could see that there were dozens of them.


    A higher power possessed me, and mere guns could not stop me.


    The other Patchers started to fire into me, and their bullets pierced right through my suit but bounced off my skin.


    My hand moved to the sky, and my scythe, which had been taken from me in the corn, flew into my hand.


    "The harvest is nigh," I said in the voice of that terrible entity. "The grain is ripe, and the reaper awaits."


    Was I the reaper?


    No...


    Apparently not.


    The Reaper flew in from above the trees in the distance. As my eyes looked in that direction, I could see that Benny, the Haunted Scarecrow, had arrived. He was more ragged than I recognized. Bullet holes and blood were still there.


    The legs of his coveralls were not tied, so the straw stuffing continued to fall out, though it never seemed to deplete his size. Benny flew over the fields.


    "He seeks his revenge," I said in the voice of that terrible god.


    And he got his revenge.


    Benny was a quick and efficient killer, with his sickle firmly gripped in his gloved hand. He flew from Patcher to Patcher. Not one of them stood a chance.


    This was the Benny from <em>The Final Straw II</em>.


    This was the creature I recognized.


    The Patchers began shooting at him. When they hit him as he flew overhead, a puff of straw would blow into the air, but it didn''t really matter.


    He was there to reap, and the harvest was ready.


    Rustle, or Benny rather, going with the moniker he seemed to have taken, wielded his sickle for ten minutes.


    The Patchers didn¡¯t run at first. They seemed unable toe to terms with what they were up against. They just kept shooting.


    They only started to run after it was toote. A few of them broke out of their trance and started to flee. They screamed for their ancestor to save them, but he did not.


    Benny had no mercy.


    He flew past a group of three and they each fell headless after he passed.


    He went in circles, taking out any Patcher who tried to leave.


    The final Patcher to die in that field was Merle. Benny finished him off with a clean slice.


    I imagined that Carousel would edit that down into a sleek montage of carnage.


    Moments after the final Patcher fell, I was released from my possession.


    Pretty much all of my statuses were ring.


    It was all I could do to kneel. My entire body ached.


    Benny flew down in front of me. The slits that had been cut in the scarecrow''s head as eye holes were still open, but there was nothing behind them. Just straw. He looked me directly in the eye as best he could with the buttons sewn to the mask.


    At that moment, I got a sh of images.


    He was giving me a shback.<blockquote>


    I saw a little blonde kid talking to Tamara Cano. I saw her little ponytail holders with the stic balls. They were walking through the fields toward the special sunflowers. Rustle took out a knife, cut off one of the sunflowers, and handed it to Tamara.


    She smiled and thanked him, and then she said, "My mother loves these."


    Rustle looked at her, confused.


    "I give them to my mother," Tamara said. ¡°She keeps them on the dining table.¡±


    Rustle looked hurt.


    He shook his head and then pped the flower out of her hand.


    I could feel what he was feeling. He was upset because he wanted Tamara to have the flower, not give it to her mother.


    He was frustrated that he couldn''t exin that. In his frustration, he signaled for Tamara to leave.


    She didn''t understand why, and she started to cry.


    "What''s wrong?" she asked. "What did I do?"


    But he couldn''t answer her.


    She walked off that day crying, upset, just as Benny Harless had imed.


    Then, on her way home, she was struck and killed by De Fields (n¨¦e Patcher).</blockquote>


    Rustle med himself. If he hadn''t sent her away, she would still be alive. And he would have to live with that¡­ if you could call what he did living.


    The needle on the Plot Cycle struck The End not long after that.


    The others must have made their way to Carousel proper, or at least far enough to get the victory.


    Benny flew off.


    I wouldn''t see him again until I watched the movieter to see where he had gone. The others had returned with lots of police from the big city, and the CBI was out in force.


    Even though the needle was on The End, the movie was still going, just filming some final scenes. A denouement, as it were.


    We had won; that was all that mattered.


    Well, not all, because technically, I was still in tremendous pain until the movie was actually over.


    The sun came up quickly. Carousel was getting it all prepared.


    I watched the scer.<blockquote>


    Benny had gone and grabbed a sunflower and found Dina, who had apparently been directed to the cemetery where her daughter''s final resting ce had been dug.


    Carousel had set the scene in the future. Bennynded next to Dina and gave her the sunflower.


    Dina, confused, simply said, "Thank you."


    Then Benny flew off into the distance.</blockquote>


    And finally, it was over.

 Book Five, Chapter 16: Looting

    Book Five, Chapter 16: Looting


    Iy still in the cornfield as I waited for my wounds to disappear.


    I didn''t even notice when it actually happened. My head wasying on my arm, and at some point, I noticed that the fabric of my loud 1970s business suit had turned back into the soft fabric of my hoodie.


    I got up off the ground as fast as I could.


    It was daytime, and I hadn''t received my rewards, but I still felt like I needed to hurry. We weren''t here just to get a couple of tickets or a few coins; we were here to shop for groceries.


    I started to run back toward the road, but I stopped short and turned in the direction of the farmhouse. Patchers, or at least parts of them, were strewn about to and fro, but I did my best to ignore them.


    I was looking for something else¡ªa wagon, perhaps. I checked around the shed that we had investigated but found nothing. Luckily, it didn''t take too long for me to find the Harless woodpile that stood protected under a small overhang of the roof.


    Next to it was a thing of beauty: a wheelbarrow.


    I grabbed it, yanked it from its location, and started wheeling it across the yard. It moved like a dream. It was heavy, solid, and perfect; the painted orange metal hadn''t even begun to rust.


    For a moment, I was tempted to continue searching the sheds and garage for tools that we might need, but at that point, I couldn¡¯t afford to waste time window-shopping.I didn''t know of anything specific to look for, and I didn''t know what time limits we had before the story started to reset.


    I took the wheelbarrow, aimed it at the road, and, with great effort, built up enough speed to get it to the asphalt and continue running with it down the street all the way back to the general store.


    As I went, I started to see some of the action that the others had gone through after leaving me. There were car wrecks and at least a few fatal idents where Patchers had tested their Grit against the little blue motor vehicle the others were riding in.


    As I walked, I found more Patchers and, regrettably, they were moving. Even some of them that shouldn¡¯t have been moving were twitch. I heard a moan. I didn¡¯t know if that was old country ancestor magic or the storyline resetting in some gruesome way.


    I didn¡¯t stop to check.


    As I ran, I couldn¡¯t help but watch the sequence of my friends trying to escape Eastern Carousel.


    It was utterly dark outside of the car as they drove. Patchers would suddenly pop out of the darkness, shooting at the car or screaming at them, and Dina had little trouble either ¡°helping them off¡± the road or rolling over them altogether.


    In the final cut of the movie, the revtion exining everything that had happened was moved to the scene with Kimberly exining everything to the camera as they drove out of Eastern Carousel. It was a tense sequence filled with shbacks and a few close calls.


    I nearly ran the wheelbarrow off the road, trying to watch it while running.


    I didn''t have time to watch it closely because I was afraid that if I was too slow, I wouldn''t make it in time. I ran that wheelbarrow as fast as I could down thework of gravel and asphalt roads.


    It would seem I had nothing to worry about because as I pulled the wheelbarrow into the Eastern Carousel General Store, the others were just arriving there, too.


    As soon as he saw me, Antoine started to smile.


    "Brought your own wheelbarrow,¡± he said.


    "This is what they had to do in the frontier days," I said. ¡°There were no shopping carts back then.¡±


    I stared up at the old country store and grinned ear to ear. That wasn¡¯t the type of ce I would usually step foot in on a road trip, but to us, it was an oasis.


    "So, do we have to worry about Corduroy Patcher showing up?" Kimberly asked.


    "No," I said. "I cut him down to size."


    I tried to make it sound funny, but it still felt weird talking about killing a human, even if it was an evil human. It even felt different than killing one of the body-swapping sorcerers from the Strings Attached storyline.


    Kimberly quickly changed the subject.


    "All I hope," she said, "is that they still have the fresh produce. I was worried that because of the crop problems, they might not have it.¡±


    Dina was messing with the locked door. It took her a few minutes. The funny part was, she wasn¡¯t picking the lock, per se, she was just wiggling a bobby pin in the keyhole. After a while, the door swung open.


    It looked smooth, though, if you didn¡¯t know what was going on.


    "The gun''s missing," she said immediately.


    I pulled it from my hoodie pocket and said, "I''ve got it right here. Dude tried to kill me with it."


    She grabbed it from my hand and examined it.


    "We''re going to need ammo," she said.


    She walked around to the other side of the register, following some keen instincts. She shuffled through a cab back there and pulled out a handful of loose cartridges.


    "It''s a start," she said as she put both the gun and the bullets inside of her purse.


    Kimberly was looking through the store and said, "Let''s get to it."


    So we did.


    Canned foods were first. They were the building block of any survival stash.


    I wasn''t sure we were going to need all of the canned fish in mustard sauce, but if we ever did, we would have a ton of it. We also got lots of crackers and staples like flour, sugar, and salt.


    Antoine grabbed a few cases of old-fashioned beer and shrugged his shoulders with a smile.


    Kimberly said, "No. We aren¡¯t here for that, and that''ll take up too much room."


    Antoine put the cases back sheepishly. ¡°I was just ying,¡± he said.


    Bagging up as much of the fresh produce as we could took a while, and as we did it, I began to reflect on the storyline.


    "You know, I was thinking that your veil of silence trope was going to be huge in a storyline like this," I said. "I couldn''t figure out why people weren''ting out of the woodworks to tell us we were in danger, and it turns out it was because all of the people that knew we were in danger were bad guys."


    Iughed, and theyughed, and then we continued talking.


    We were exhrated. Not only had we nned out a run and had it gone basically perfectly, but for the most part, we had gotten through it without any pain at all.


    How many times had we seen the Vets take on vampires or cultists like it was taking out the trash? That was us now.


    Dina recounted her time driving through the dark, dodging Patchers. She exined that the headlights only went about ten feet in front of the car, and then the light just stopped.


    "It was like a dark ride at Disnend," she said.


    There were a surprising number of things here that were. Even the shoot-and-run sequences seemed almost like a ride. As we got used to ying the game, parts of it really did start to feel like a game.


    I wished I could show them what I had gone through being possessed by these spirits of the fields and forests, but I was unable to. Maybe a tripe to Carousel Family Video was warranted. What¡¯s the worst that could happen? Death?


    We continued piging.


    Heavy items could be put in the wheelbarrow, and light items could be packed inside paper sacks for us to carry manually. The car they were driving had stopped working as soon as the movie ended, so it wasn''t like we could just load it inside of it, even if we were willing to risk driving through an omenden Carousel.


    Before long, we had stripped the shelves of everything edible or even close to tasty. Not al of what we wanted was practical. There was just too much.


    ¡°If we stretch this, it couldst us three weeks,¡± Kimberly estimated.


    "Of course, if we start rescuing people," I said, "that''s going to shrink down real quick."


    "That''s a problem for another day," she said.


    ¡°We can bring this candy,¡± Antoine said, pointing to some ancient-looking taffy and strawberry hard candies. ¡°When those start to look appetizing, then we know it¡¯s time to go shopping again.¡±


    Stolen from its rightful ce, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure Carousel has never had to restock those things,¡± I said.


    ¡°That reminds me,¡± Kimberly said, ¡°We¡¯ll have to buy modern toothpaste. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m using something called Dr. Mandora¡¯s Vita-Paste on my teeth.¡±


    As we finished sorting through our groceries and deciding how we were going to carry them all, Dina said, "There''s someone outside waiting for us. You''ll never guess who."


    Except we didn''t have to guess because he was repeating his ordinary phrase: ¡°Congrattions! You''ve won a ticket."


    "Just a minute," Antoine screamed through the door.


    Ss, the mechanical showman, didn''t take too kindly to that. In the blink of an eye, he appeared inside the store with us.


    "Congrattions! You''ve won the ticket," he said again.


    Seeing no reason to put off the inevitable, we each went up, pressed his red button, and received our rewards.


    I got one trope, a couple of coins, and an enemy collectible for Corduroy Patcher.


    Everyone had taken out a Patcher by the end. Their names weren¡¯t important. We all tucked them away. Some trophies weren¡¯t meant to be shown around.


    My trope was an interesting one:


    Just Out of Shot


    Type: Rule/Insight


    Archetype: --


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Hustle


    Often, stealth and jump scares are a matter of fancy camera work, not agility or shadows. If the camera can¡¯t see you, neither can the enemy.


    When equipped, the yer will be able to see where the current active camera is when sneaking near an enemy. If they can stay out of view of that camera, the enemy will not notice them either.


    Beware: cameras can move.


    Carousel would rather let you waltz past an enemy than let you get killed when it doesn¡¯t have a good shot.


    Carousel would rather let you waltz past an enemy than let you get killed when it doesn¡¯t have a good shot.


    After I had read that trope, I had to reread it several times. I immediately realized how useful it could be and had to check to see if I had read it correctly.


    Just because a yer was On-Screen did not mean they were in the actual shot. I had figured that out from watching plenty of storylines and from reviewing the raw footage.


    One scene probably had four or five invisible cameras pointed at it from different angles, which meant that being On-Screen only meant you were captured by one of the cameras. To be able to see which camera was currently active sounded incredible, and I hoped it was as good as it sounded.


    It was also crazy to confirm that actual discrete cameras were used, even if they were invisible magic ones.


    My collectible was as expected.


    <strong>Corduroy Patcher</strong>


    <strong>Family Man</strong>


    Corduroy Patcher belonged to the abundant Patcher family, small-town royalty known for their extreme veneration of their fore-bearers and family loyalty. The Patchers were ruled by their ancestral Patriarch from beyond the grave, who demanded absolute loyalty and obedience.


    Corduroy grew up in a close-knitmunity where the voices of his ancestors were always nearby. While the benefits of a big family helped him grow his business and have a prosperous life, the demands asked of him sought to forfeit his soul. As a devoted Patcher, he was expected to assist with family affairs in all things, even if it meant covering up murders¡­ ormitting them himself.


    Antoine didn''t get any tropes. He got a collectible for killing a patcher like I did, but that was it. He got a few measly coins.


    No one said anything. He didn¡¯t act surprised.


    It wouldn''t be until that night that I found out why.


    Dina got a trope and some coins with her collectible.


    Getaway Driver


    Type: Rule/Buff


    Archetype: Outsider


    Aspect: Criminal


    Stat Used: --


    A chase scene in a horror movie usually involves a masked killer and a sorority girl. Of course, an old fashion car chase is still possible


    When equipped, the user¡¯s Hustle will be buffed when driving a vehicle. All passengers in the vehicle are safe from outside forces as long as the chase scene is going and entertaining.


    Keep it running.


    Kimberly got more than we could have expected from this storyline. It would seem that her performance had been good enough to be deemed perfect, which meant that Carousel got enough footage to put together aplete, consistent story from her.


    I thought she would have gotten it from The Die Cast, but that story¡¯s ending was bonkers (which was my fault).


    She pressed the button, and Ss recited a poem:<blockquote>


    ¡°You can pick one from three, what will it be?


    No matter the choice, no room to rejoice.


    All three can save your skin or tear it off again,


    The question remains, you must choose your pains,


    In this game of dread, you can choose well and still be dead.¡±


    Ss the Mechanical Showman thought that was very funny.


    He first spat out a ticket exining things:</blockquote>


    You¡¯ve reached a level where the game starts to get more difficult. Luckily, you are about to get the tools to fight back.


    Having achieved Plot Armor 21 and having afterward aplished the requisite feat of [<em>putting forth a ¡°perfect¡± performance</em>], you have now unlocked your choice of aspect.


    Choosing an aspect allows you to decide what type of [<em>Eye Candy</em>] you wish to be. Good luck!


    Immediately afterward, Kimberly jumped back.


    ¡°I see the options,¡± she said. ¡°Beauty, Socialite, and Celebrity¡­¡±


    She began reading off the descriptions for the options.<blockquote>


    ¡°As an Eye Candy, you are the master of obtaining and manipting attention from many sources. However, whose attention you receive can vary greatly, leading to different paths: the Beauty, the Socialite, and the Celebrity. The choice of aspect will shape your abilities and influence your journey in significant ways.


    <strong>Beauty</strong>: This aspect emphasizes the Eye Candy''s allure, charisma, and ability to captivate others. A character embodying this aspect could use their charm and social skills to distract adversaries, win allies, and navigateplex social situations. Their high Hustle reflects their ability to stay one step ahead, often being the target in horror films. They also have a high Moxie stat, representing their social prowess and charm.


    Beauty has tropes like <strong>ck Hearted Killer</strong> which debuffs the killer if the user is crying when attacked and <strong>y Dumb</strong> which causes enemies to underestimate and possible spare the user.


    <strong>Socialite</strong>: This aspect highlights the Eye Candy''s status, wealth, and worldly experiences. A character embodying this aspect could be a famous socialite, a well-known reporter, or a sessful entrepreneur known for their influence, connections, and broad knowledge. Despite their privileged background, they are often quite capable and resourceful. Their high Savvy reflects their education, experiences, and understanding of a variety of subjects.


    Socialite has tropes like <strong>Meet and Greet</strong> which creates situations where important characters will seek out the user and <strong>The Agency Sent Her</strong> which give the yer¡¯s character an NPC helper.


    <strong>Celebrity</strong>: This aspect underscores the Eye Candy''s poprity with the audience. Yes, the audience. The Celebrity treats the yer like an actor, and the storylines are like films. Using meta tropes to create hype, fan favoritism, andrger-than-life roles, the Celebrity is the most versatile of the Eye Candy aspects. Using past roles to help their ¡°career¡±, the Celebrity can specialize in virtually anything.


    The Celebrity has tropes like <strong>Body Double</strong> which allows them to sub in a stunt double when doing dangerous stunts, <strong>Character Actor</strong>, which allows them to bring in elements of past performances like fighting ability or weapons specialty.


    Choosing your aspect is a crucial decision. It not only determines your abilities but also sets you on a unique path. Whether you''re a Beauty, a Socialite, or a Celebrity, your natural maism will guide you, but your approach to it will define your journey. Choose wisely.¡±</blockquote>


    She also received three special tropes, simr to the ones I had received. I had chosen <strong>Director¡¯s Monitor</strong>, which gave me ess to Deathwatch and let me watch storylines whenever I wanted.


    Aspect Trope Choices:


    The Throes of Obsession


    Type: Rule/Insight


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Aspect: Beauty


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Passion, emotion, friendship, love, obsession¡­ these are tools that the Beauty wields in ce of guns and swords, and they are better for it. You have always been maic, whether you wanted it or not. High drama and intense passion have swirled around you like a hurricane, and you have deftly survived and thrived within it. Your social abilities are sharp, and your charisma and likability are practiced. They¡¯lle in handy for you in a horror movie. After all, horror is just drama with more teeth.


    <strong>Center of Attention</strong>: the yer will have heightened involvement with all plot threads rted to their aspect.


    As a Beauty, <strong>Center of Attention</strong> makes story elements rted to emotion, friendship, love, hate, passion, anger, or any other strong emotion more prevalent for the character and influential in the story, especially the Party Phase. You will be strongly involved with the emotional, dramatic, and passionate aspects of the story.


    Additionally, all tropes that derive power from rtionship dynamics will be more powerful.


    This ticket is granted after the yer provides sufficient material for aplete and ¡°perfect¡± story to be created following the achievement of Plot Armor 21. Selecting this ticket aligns you with the Beauty aspect.


    Let¡¯s see if Beauty really can y beasts.


    The Pedestal of Admiration


    Type: Rule Insight


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Aspect: Socialite


    Stat Used: Moxie


    You¡¯ve been everywhere and done everything. You have acquired resources and wealth that have allowed you to aplish amazing things. Whatever it is you do for a living, you excel at it and have developed fame and a following. Maybe, if you can harness that, you can survive.


    <strong>Center of Attention</strong>: the yer will have heightened involvement with all plot threads rted to their aspect.


    As a Socialite, <strong>Center of Attention</strong> makes story elements rted to information gathering and resource collection more prevalent for the character and influential in the story, especially the Party Phase. You will be strongly involved with pursuits of knowledge, (especially from those individuals in awe of your fame) and the resolution of mysteries, as well as general problem-solving.


    Additionally, all tropes that involve information gathering will be more powerful.


    This ticket is granted after the yer provides sufficient material for aplete and ¡°perfect¡± story to be created following the achievement of Plot Armor 21. Selecting this ticket aligns you with the Socialite aspect.


    In horror movies, characters are never just famous. Fame is a tool for influence and investigation.


    The Hall of Fame


    Type: Rule Insight


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Aspect: Celebrity


    Stat Used: Moxie


    You aren¡¯t a character in this story; you¡¯re just ying one. You were cast in this movie because it will put butts in seats. Your face on the poster will drive ticket sales. Maybe you are a teen heartthrob, an infamous heiress, a renowned scientist, a musician, or even a wrestler. Heck, you might be a basketball yer cast in a movie with cartoon characters. Whatever the case, what you bring into the storyline as a well-loved Celebrity will help your character survive this storyline. Or at least go out with a bang.


    <strong>Center of Attention</strong>: the yer will have heightened involvement with all plot threads rted to their aspect.


    As a Celebrity, <strong>Center of Attention</strong> makes meta and self-aware or referential elements more prevalent for the character and influential in the story, especially the Party Phase. You will be strongly involved with the main plot of the story and will get a big, explosive scene to star in.


    Additionally, all meta tropes that revolve around engagement or input from ¡°the audience¡± will be more powerful.


    This ticket is granted after the yer provides sufficient material for aplete and ¡°perfect¡± story to be created following the achievement of Plot Armor 21. Selecting this ticket aligns you with the Celebrity aspect.


    Wee to Carousel. You¡¯re famous here.


    She passed around her potential tropes, and we started to discuss them.

 Book Five, Chapter 17: Dissociation

    Book Five, Chapter 17: Dissociation


    Kimberly looked through the tropes and then stared back up at us, hoping that we would be able to encourage her decision.


    We had discussed this a long time ago, back when we had nothing but time and the Carousel As to look through. When it came to the Eye Candy archetype, there were no bad choices.


    The As made it a point to warn that the Beauty aspect required a lot ofmitment because the Beauty had to juggle a lot of characters and interactions. That made them powerful in ways that might not be obvious.


    Storylines in Carousel were, well, stories, after all, and it was true that the characters in them often got overshadowed by the plots, dangers, and fear. However, being able to connect with NPCs and fellow yers and use those connections was quite valuable, even if newer yers weren''t able to appreciate that yet.


    The Socialite aspect was seen as incredibly useful for information gathering and manipting NPCs in its own ways. Picking that aspect usually resulted in you being cast as some sort of famous person within the story world.


    From the description, you ended up with a story kind of like <em>Sinister,</em> where the character is a famous author, and other characters all know who he is and either hate him or love him because of it. Socialite also had lots of perk tropes, and as we have learned so far, never underestimate perks.


    That left the Celebrity aspect¡ªone of the hardest to use and most versatile. If Kimberly chose the Celebrity aspect, it wouldn''t significantly alter which characters she portrayed. However, the treatment of her character in the film would change, as the role would now be yed by a famous actress.


    The benefits of the Celebrity aspect were numerous, though not particrly well-coordinated for any given strategy. It was a jack of all trades. Even trades you didn¡¯t know existed. It required thinking on your feet and a willingness to go out with a bang.


    When we got here, I thought Kimberly would have chosen Beauty or Socialite. Those were more straightforward. She had changed a lot in Carousel.She looked at us and said, "Celebrity," as if asking for permission.


    "It''s your choice," Antoine said. "We told you this before: we¡¯re not going to be upset no matter what you choose."


    She looked down at the tropes she had been given as options and went back toward Ss, the Mechanical Showman, and returned two of them.


    Upon doing so, I could see her que on the red wallpaper change. She was now a Celebrity-Eye Candy.


    To her, it wasn¡¯t just an arbitrary decision; it wasn¡¯t even really about the roles or the abilities. To her, picking the more versatile option meant that she could take on more responsibility.


    With Project Rewind and the deaths of so many people we cared about, none of us wanted to be the person who coasted.


    After she made her decision, Antoine hugged her, and we sort of pped as we finished gathering up groceries.


    Then we walked back to Kimberly''s loft downtown. Antoine was kind enough to push the wheelbarrow. I didn¡¯t know if that was out of kindness or out of some apology for his own perceived failures.


    Why had he gotten no tropes from that storyline?


    By all rights, he should have. From what I saw, he did great.


    It was possible that his experience level was just at a particr ce where he wasn¡¯t close to being awarded another trope, but it seemed more likely that something else was going on.


    ~-~


    "I hope you like it hot," Isaac said as he put a steak onto my te.


    It had once been a pristine cut of ribeye. I couldn¡¯t tell anymore.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if that was a joke or if he actually did think that torching the steaks was the right way to cook them, but none of us really cared. He seemed genuinely proud.


    ¡°I was always the cook in our family,¡± he said. Cassie didn¡¯t seem to give him grief for it, so I didn¡¯t either.


    We sat on the roof of the loft and watched as the sun moved across the sky.


    Even though <em>The Final Straw</em> was not the hardest storyline we ever went through, it felt like one of our biggest aplishments. Most of the time, we had either been thrust into storylines or chosen them because we didn¡¯t want to get axed (even though I was the only one who knew that would happen).


    With <em>The Final Straw</em>, however, we were doing it because we needed to provide and survive. There was something veryforting in making our own choices and seeding at them.


    "So you¡¯re really not going to tell us what it was about?" Isaac asked after he sat down with his own food.


    Baked potatoes and steak were our reward. It probably wasn¡¯t normal for a rural general store to have fresh meat, but we weren''t going toin.


    This novel is published on a different tform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    It took a while to get used to eating meat in Carousel and wondering where it came from, but we were past that.


    "No, we¡¯re not going to tell you what it¡¯s about," I said, "because you are gonna go run it next time."


    "You think we can do it?" Cassie asked. She seemed nervous.


    I thought for a moment and said, "Well, maybe not the very next time, but eventually, you guys are going to go get groceries."


    There was a lull in the conversation as we ate.


    "So, have you seen it yet?" Kimberly asked. She was wondering if I had watched <em>The Final Straw</em> on the red wallpaper yet.


    "Yep," I said. "You are the star. They cut my lines down by about half."


    "But at least you¡¯re not bitter about it," Isaac said.


    "I¡¯m just d I survived," I said.


    I could see this lingering look in Kimberly¡¯s eyes that told me she wasn¡¯t really asking about the storyline.


    She was asking about Antoine.


    She wanted to know if I had seen what had happened that caused Antoine problems. I hadn¡¯t yet.


    Whatever had happened had been cut from the movie, but when nighttime came, I would get to see the raw footage or at least some of it, and I was betting that Carousel couldn¡¯t wait to show me.


    As night came, I couldn¡¯t tell if I was dreading seeing it or excited.


    ~-~


    I excused myself and retired to my room. On my way downstairs, I ran into Ramona.


    "We have steak and potatoes up there," I said. "I hope you like them medium well because Isaac thinks that''s how they''re supposed to be done."


    Not another awkward silence.


    "I¡¯ll go look," she said. Then she stopped and said "So, you survived."


    "Yep," I said.


    "And what, we just do that over and over again?" she asked. ¡°That¡¯s our life now?¡±


    "As long as Carousel allows it," I said. I meant it as a joke, but it came out a bit more grim than intended.


    After a moment, I added, "Nobody died in this one. You can¡¯t guarantee that, but sometimes you get lucky."


    I decided not to tell her that my nervous system had been burned out after being possessed by ancient nature spirits.


    "So what¡¯s next?" she asked.


    It took me a moment, but then I said, "We start the rescues. It¡¯ll be good to see some old friends."


    "I imagine," she said.


    I knew I was supposed to say something there, but I couldn¡¯t figure out quite what, so instead, I just said, "If you ever need to talk,e find me."


    Then we awkwardly parted, me going downstairs and her heading upstairs.


    When I got to my room, Iy down on my pitiful little bed and stared up at the ceiling.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an eagle carrying a skull across the sky out the window. It was funny; the thought that went through my head was, "Oh, cool, an eagle." And then my Dailies trope activated.


    I fast-forwarded through it all.


    There was a bunch of footage of Patchers quitting what they were doing and rushing out to try to stop us from getting the truth out. Much of that had ended up in the final cut. Or at least parts of it.


    I kept going back, looking for what Antoine had been up to when he was away from us.


    Then I found it.


    I saw Antoine running through the woods near the gorge. This was when we had separated and we had stupidly sent him off alone into the forest.


    When he arrived to find Benny (actually Rustle) killing the Patchers who were digging up Tamara''s body, he was more or less okay.


    The adrenaline had kept him moving, and from the way the footage was shot, it looked like he saw something, like perhaps he was chasing Benny through the woods. As this was raw footage, it was hard to tell.


    He found the dead and dying Patchers that Benny had left near the burial site before running away.


    Antoine continued to pursue Benny, realizing that he was headed back toward the Harless property where Kimberly and I were.


    He ran out of the forest near the campsites by the gorge, then crossed the street to head into the forest that would eventually connect to the Harless property.


    And then, after he had run far enough to bepletely surrounded by trees, he stopped running.


    He had his gun drawn, and he was in the middle of the action, and then he just abruptly stopped and looked around like he had gotten lost. At that moment, his expression changed, and I could see every bit of the light in his eyes disappear.


    He just stood and stared into the trees, and that was it.


    It was full-on dissociation.


    Iy in my bed and watched footage of Antoine standing still and staring forward for thirty minutes.


    It wasn¡¯t that I watched him that long, he was standing there that long. Just staring forward.


    I fast-forwarded through it at first, but then I just let it y as I watched in morbid fascination.


    Antoine froze up On-Screen in the middle of a chase scene. I couldn¡¯t believe it.


    It only ended when Benny or Rustle or whoever returned to him, likely under instruction from the script, drew his sickle and made as if he were about to strike Antoine.


    But if those were his instructions, he didn''t do it.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what I was watching.


    Benny tilted his head and poked Antoine. Then, in ast-ditch effort to jog him, Benny shoved him.


    Antoine fell back onto the ground hard.


    That worked.


    Antoine dropped his gun but was quickly scrambling for it as Benny returned to his escape. Antoine stood up in pursuit of Benny as if nothing had happened.


    I didn¡¯t want to watch anymore.


    Finally, I understood.


    Antoine had frozen up, an obvious symptom of his torture in the Straggler Forest.


    Carousel had no choice but to get rid of his character. Writing off a character was fine, but it was probably difficult to do that when that character was in the middle of a chase scene and refused to move. Being Written Off usually resulted from being a no show to your next scene. I didn¡¯t have any idea what would happen to someone who froze in the middle of one.


    It had decided to send the killer back to kill him, from what I could tell. I supposed that under normal circumstances, a killer would have slit Antoine¡¯s throat, and we would have been greeted with his severed head as some sort of grim calling card.


    That didn¡¯t fit the story necessarily, but what else was Carousel going to do?


    I stopped watching the red wallpaper.


    I didn¡¯t know what to do.


    We literally had no option but to move forward with Antoine as our only fighter. I was going to have to have a conversation with the others about this, or at least with Kimberly and Antoine.


    We could never put ourselves in a situation where that happened again.


    I understood that the architects of Project Rewind probably did not understand that Antoine¡¯s condition would be a consequence of their decision to teach us about secret lore by forcing us into it during the campfire anthology.


    I hoped whoever the insider was, that they were at least regretting their decision now, assuming they were still alive.


    I got up from my bed and walked back upstairs to the roof.


    Everyone was still up there.


    They were ying a game of cards under the light from string lights that were hung around poles.


    As I arrived, Antoine made eye contact with me. He knew that I had seen it, and I could see the shame and embarrassment on his face. I went to the table and sat down. Kimberly looked like she wanted to ask me what I had seen. Antoine nonverbally begged me not to tell her.


    The game went on with the added weight of my new knowledge.


    I grabbed a drink from the cooler, returned to the table, and said, "Deal me in."


    Tonight, we were celebrating a victory.


    Tomorrow, we could discuss what we had lost along the way.

 Book Five, Chapter 18: The Fallen

    Book Five, Chapter 18: The Fallen


    "Are you sure we can''t just call Sal again?" Isaac asked. I could tell there was something he was aching to say. He was afraid. Unfortunately, his fear came out in the form of insincere apathy and overdone caution. "We just need to ask him the right questions."


    "We already talked to Sal," I said. "I am telling you, it is best to just have a good attitude about this sort of thing."


    If not a good attitude, at least dread things silently.


    "I am telling you, I have a funny feeling that I¡¯m really going to regret this," Isaac said. ¡°We should pick a different story.¡±


    "I have the same feeling," I said. "About you regretting it. Still, there is no right story. There is only the next one."


    We had all taken a walk to a small suburb in western Carousel. There was amunity center there, and inside thatmunity center was an omen for a story called <em>The Box Lunch</em>.


    We had encountered a problem. Ramona was way too low-level topete in the higher-level storylines the rest of us were attempting. Isaac was the next lowest-level yer. Her Plot Armor was 11, and his was 18.


    There was a lot of difference between those two levels, in my experience.


    The problem was everyone had to run a storyline every few weeks. In fact, running them more often was better so that no one got too rxed.The question was, how were we supposed to send Ramona out on a storyline where she wouldn¡¯t just get torn to shreds because of her low plot armor?


    Our solution was <em>The Box Lunch</em>.


    The Carousel As had a list of storylines that were good for low-level yers. It wasn¡¯t exactly phrased that way, but that was the gist.


    Storylines didn¡¯t scale down to the yer''s level, but they did scale up to the highest level yer, which presented a problem.


    Most low-level storylines appropriate for Ramona would cease to be appropriate as soon as we added higher-level yers to go along with her.


    Luckily, storylines in Carousel were not scaled one-to-one. Storyline difficulty came in stages that were unique to each storyline. While enemies might scale to the highest-level yer to ensure that they are engaged, the story overall would usually be in a preset difficulty range. We had experienced some exceptions to that rule, but we didn¡¯t expect more of them.


    Running storylines to avoid the axe was routine.


    Case in point, <em>The Box Lunch</em> was a storyline that, ording to the As, had a difficulty of about plot armor 15. The difficulty did not jump until you had a yer at level 30 enter it. That was a very generous range. It meant we could put Ramona, Cassie, Isaac, Dina, and Bobby on the team, and they should have no problem beating it without worrying about it scaling up.


    Ramona had reacted jubntly to our solution. Which is to say, she had said ¡°Thanks¡± without making eye contact. I hated to think she med us. If she got a few painful deaths thrust upon her, she would definitely be salty.


    I just hoped we could level her up fast enough that she wouldn¡¯t be the target for too long.


    The problem was that <em>The Box Lunch</em> was not exactly a desirable story.


    The Carousel As had not been explicit, but when Kimberly had called her fake agent Sal, he made it clear to her that if she were to run through that movie, there would be gifs of her floating around the inte that wouldpletely destroy whatever sex appeal she had built up.


    We interpreted that to mean that it was kind of a gross-out movie.


    Gross-out beats torture any day.


    In theory at least.


    Other than that, it was a perfect storyline.


    "Have I ever told you about how my first death went?" I asked.


    "Yes," Isaac said. "Have I ever told you that I have a weak stomach?"


    Had we been that stubborn when we started out?


    Antoine and Anna had been pretty gung-ho about the whole thing, and we didn¡¯t really have a chance to have a bad attitude because of it.


    Now, we didn¡¯t have Anna and Antoine was¡­ not himself.


    Still, we trudged onward.


    "Better invest in some grit then," I said.


    Antoine and Kimberly were off walking by themselves, staying with the group only enough to avoid running into any omens.


    We had some hard talks ahead of us. It was nice to get everyone else out of the loft for a while so we could discuss things.


    "Two days, though," Isaac said. ¡°This storylinests two days.¡±


    "That''s enough," Cassie said, elbowing him in the arm. "I thought men were supposed to be brave for the women."


    "That depends on the men," Isaac said. "It also depends on the women."


    Ramona said nothing in all of this. She had been amenable to discussing strategy and learning the game as best as I could teach it. She was still under a perpetual rain cloud and I couldn¡¯t me her.


    Luckily, the suburban area where themunity center existed was fairly quiet of omens.


    There were the normal things, like the chunk of sidewalk that was missing, leaving a hole that led so far down we couldn''t see the bottom. We were stared at by NPCs and others from every window we walked past, but it was no big deal.


    When we got to themunity center, everything felt normal.


    "Let¡¯s go in and look around," I said.


    Antoine didn¡¯t have a lot to say, but he took the cue and walked in front of us with his baseball bat ready to protect us.


    We walked through the doors and were greeted by a series of tables. On the far side of the room was a cubby cab that kids in kindergarten might keep their belongings in, but in this case, it was used for all manner of board games and personal belongings of the people who were visiting themunity center.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I quickly got an eye on the omen across the room. It was one of those that was difficult to identally trigger.


    "OK," I said. "What you''re going to do is go search behind the cubby, and you¡¯ll find a thermos that looks like it''s been there for a while. Just take the thermos and put it up with all the other lunches in that cubby over there, and that''s all it will take.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Cassie said.


    ¡°I told you it was simple,¡± I said.


    "Be careful; there are other omens in that cubby. Don¡¯t touch anything except for the thermos," I added.


    I looked around at the newbies to make sure they were paying attention.


    "Does anyone else hear that music box? That''s way louder than it should be," Isaac asked.


    As soon as he did, a loud bang was heard as somewhere the music box closed loudly. That had been an Omen.


    "Focus and you¡¯ll be fine," I said, looking back toward where the thermos was and ncing at the poster for the storyline. It looked like the cover of a Goosebumps book. They would be fine.


    They would just have to barf up a few gtinous monsters first.


    Kimberly, Antoine, and I made our way out of themunity center, leaving the others to run their simple, little, disgusting storyline where no one had to die, and everyone would want mouthwash after.


    "They¡¯ll be OK, won¡¯t they?" Kimberly asked. She had put on a brave face and tried to do her best Adeline impression when prepping them for the run. Newbies begged and pleaded, but at the end of the day, they had to run storylines.


    Luckily, Dina and Bobby were willing to help.


    We continued walking. We weren¡¯t heading back to the loft yet. We had another stop that also happened to be in western Carousel.


    We walked in silence. I didn¡¯t know if they were expecting me to say something, but I wasn¡¯t going to.


    As soon as Antoine knew I knew of his problem, he told Kimberly everything. He told her that his problem wasn¡¯t just being startled in his sleep, which had been a lot of what had manifested so far. His problem went deeper than that.


    He hadpletely zoned out while On-Screen for nearly half an hour.


    He wasn''t trying to y down what had happened. Still, I could see the desperation in his eyes to just let him continue to hide his issues. I was tempted to let him. We couldn¡¯t scare the newer yers.


    After we had walked for a while, he started to talk. "All we have to do is stick to storylines that don¡¯t take ce in a forest," he said, "just until I get things figured out. And that was also the first storyline where we didn''t use my nightmare trope. I think that was the real mistake."


    He had such a charming cadence to his voice. I bet guys like Antoine never got fired, not when they could talk so smoothly.


    I hoped he was right. In previous storylines, we had kept his mental health problems at bay by using his <strong>You were having a nightmare¡­</strong> trope to help transform his very real traumatic memories into dreamlike echoes that he could work through more easily.


    No matter what we tried, his trauma re-exerted itself. Part of the problem was that he didn¡¯t have enough Moxie to use the trope to its full effect. Unfortunately, he couldn¡¯t just put all of his points in Moxie because he was our fighter.


    We had ignored the problem for too long.


    "Antoine," I said, "I¡¯ve got an idea to fix¡­ the problem."


    "I¡¯m telling you it¡¯ll be OK," he said.


    "I know," I said. "Maybe we should change our rescue ns just for a little bit."


    He took a few deep breaths before speaking. "I know what you¡¯re actually saying," he said. "Look, I got it under control. That was just one time. I¡¯ll be fine."


    ¡°Antoine¡­¡± Kimberly said softly.


    I didn¡¯t know if he was right, but I had an idea for a solution. "Just hear me out. I think we need a doctor," I said. It just so happens I know of one who needs rescuing."


    He met my eye for a moment as we walked. His attitude changed as he considered my motives.


    "So that''s it," he said. "You want to go after the Hughes brother?"


    I nodded.


    "I know we were talking about trying to get some easy rescues in, trying to find the lowest-level yers from the lowest-level storylines, but I really think we need to hit the ground running. If we can get a doctor, someone with some psychiatrist tropes, that''ll be all the better."


    "Isaac and Cassie will be happy," Kimberly said. "From the way they talk about Andrew, he was always a positive, calming force in their lives. It might be a good idea to get him."


    Antoine didn¡¯t say anything. That didn¡¯t mean that he was done, but I thought he was ready to drop it.


    As we arrived on the street with the diner, the missing person board loomed in the distance. It was just as massive and overstuffed with missing posters as I remembered.


    I was relieved to see that it had not been cleared. In the back of my mind, I was always afraid that we would arrive at the rescue board to find that our friend''s posters were gone and that had been toote.


    When we reached the boards with the hundreds of papers covering them, we stood and stared for a moment.


    We were always awestruck when we looked at it.


    "Which ones do we take?" Kimberly asked.


    The three of us looked at each other for a moment, and then I said, "All of them."


    We knew that when you took a poster, it would eventually get reced by the NPC who took care of the board. It couldn¡¯t hurt for us to just grab all of the posters. We had nning to do.


    Kimberly grabbed Anna and Camden, as well as many of our other friends from Camp Dyer as she could.


    Antoine was tall and able to reach the top of the board, so he just started collecting them hand over fist. I made a beeline for the posters that had Dr. Andrew Hughes and those of his apparent teammates.


    I stared down at them.


    They were all in their mid tote 20s in plot armor. They went missing near a power nt.


    Missing posters didn''t tell you what storyline a person died in; they just told you the location of the omen for that storyline.


    We would have to research and figure out where they were ourselves.


    We carefully ced the huge stack of missing posters inside one of the kitchen cabs back at the loft in hopes that they would remain safe. Truthfully, it was difficult to look at them and to know what they represented.


    The three of us stood around the kitchen table staring down at the remaining five posters.


    "So these are our targets," Antoine said.


    I nodded. "A Soldier, a Doctor, a Wallflower, an Eye Candy, and a Comedian," I said.<blockquote>


    MISSING


    Name: Michael Brooks


    Plot Armor: 26


    ce Last Seen: KRSL Powerworks Pavilion, April 22, 2022.


    upation: Soldier


    Reward: 100 Dors</blockquote>


    ~<blockquote>


    MISSING


    Name: Dr. Andrew Hughes


    Plot Armor: 28


    ce Last Seen: KRSL Powerworks Pavilion, April 22, 2022.


    upation: Doctor


    Reward: 100 Dors</blockquote>


    ~<blockquote>


    MISSING


    Name: L White


    Plot Armor: 23


    ce Last Seen: KRSL Powerworks Pavilion, April 22, 2022.


    upation: Wallflower


    Reward: 100 Dors</blockquote>


    ~<blockquote>


    MISSING


    Name: Avery Lawson


    Plot Armor: 27


    ce Last Seen: KRSL Powerworks Pavilion, April 22, 2022.


    upation: Eye Candy (Beauty Aspect)


    Reward: 100 Dors</blockquote>


    ~<blockquote>


    MISSING


    Name: Logan Maize


    Plot Armor: 29


    ce Last Seen: KRSL Powerworks Pavilion, April 22, 2022.


    upation: Comedian (Cynic Aspect)


    Reward: 100 Dors</blockquote>


    "No Final Girl," Kimberly observed. "And only five yers."


    It was rarely lower than that. Most teams did have a Final Girl, but not all. A soldier tended to bnce things out.


    Of course, there was always the possibility that they did have a Final Girl, and she had just not lived up to her name, so to speak.


    I lifted up the Carousel As and ced it on the table. The As allowed you to search by geographic region, which was useful because I didn¡¯t even know that there was such a thing as the KRSL Powerworks Pavilion.


    I flipped around in the As until I found it. It was in southern Carousel, where we rarely went out.


    "Damn," Antoine said. "It''s out of town."


    We knew what he meant by that. It was way off in the boonies. There would likely be trees and forests just waiting to trigger whatever magical psychological problem he had.


    I read the As closely. "There are eight omens in that area that the As has info on," I said.


    "Do we have any way of knowing what levels they are?" Antoine asked.


    I shook my head. "We can look them up individually and hope that there''s information on them, but if not, we''re going to have to go check ourselves."


    A quick flipping back and forth revealed that seven of the omens had entries in the As, but only three of those had information about how dangerous the storylines were.


    "High 30s, mid-40s, mid-40s," I said. All three we had information on said their plot armor level was out of our league. ¡°I doubt it was any of those, given their levels."


    "That narrows it down at least," Antoine said.


    At the end of the day, we were going to have to go there ourselves and do some scouting.

 Book Five, Chapter 19: A Party Divided

    Book Five, Chapter 19: A Party Divided


    Antoine put on a big smile this time as we walked along. He was still angling to show how confident he was, but the further we walked south, the more apparent it became that that would be a liability.


    There were stretches of trees and fields simr to those in eastern Carousel, although there were quite a few more pine trees in this direction.


    I didn¡¯t say anything. I just hoped that if we could find a solution to his problem as fast as possible, we wouldn''t have to make any hard decisions.


    So, we moved forward at a faster pace than normal toward the nearest solution. Dr. Andrew Hughes was likely to have some psychiatrist tropes that would help with diagnosing and fixing whatever glitch had caused Antoine to dissociate On-Screen.


    I had used this to justify why we would be rescuing Andrew Hughes first instead of searching for some low-level storylines to do rescues in.


    The truth was a little moreplicated than that.


    We had agreed to go to the poster wall and find the easiest storylines we could use to practice rescues.


    The logic was sound. Start with the easiest storylines and then work our way up.


    Another consideration was what to do with the rescued yers.If yers were very low-level, that meant they would be malleable and more likely to follow our lead. One of the biggest worries we had about rescuing yers that we didn¡¯t know was that they wouldn''t respect us or that they would cause infighting.


    Low-level yers were less likely to be a threat, but I still didn¡¯t want to rescue someone I didn¡¯t know. At least we knew that Andrew¡¯s team had been at Camp Dyer. We didn¡¯t know them, but I thought ourmon experience would lead to cohesion.


    If they had experienced Camp Dyer, then I was almost certain that they would work toward returning to that level of cohesion and peace.


    So that¡¯s who we were going to rescue, even though the storyline that had killed them was likely going to be a challenge for us.


    It was worth investigating.


    "Isn¡¯t it really creepy that these yers died less than a month before we got here, and no one at Camp Dyer wanted to talk about them?" Kimberly asked as she leafed through the missing posters that we had brought along with us.


    In fact, it was a little creepy. Back before rescue tropes had returned, death was a taboo.


    ¡°I can¡¯t me them,¡± Antoine said. ¡°What¡¯s the point in scaring new yers?¡±


    What indeed.


    It became apparent that we were headed in the right direction as power lines started to converge and be bigger the further we walked along. There weren¡¯t a lot of omens on this road, perhaps because there wasn¡¯t a lot of anything.


    I doubted that it was because Carousel just didn¡¯t have enough storylines; it was probably because the emptiness of a dusty back road offers a certain feeling of istion. The further we went, the more isted I felt.


    We were just on a scouting mission. Everything would be fine.


    As we traveled, the barren fields turned into rocky hills, and the trees grew taller and taller.


    "Now that I think of it," I said, "I thought the dam on Dyer''s Lake was hydroelectric. Why do we need another power nt?"


    I didn''t know how much energy one extra-dimensional town could consume.


    No sooner had the words left my mouth than we turned a corner on the dirt road winding up the hills and saw the power nt in the distance, jutting off the side of arge mountain.


    "Good question," Antoine said.


    There were giant candy-cane-striped smokestacks and lots of barbed wire. Giant buildingsrge enough to house football stadiums loomed in the distance.


    Powerworks.


    Sure.


    This was a haven of Omens, no doubt. It could act as a power nt, but looking at it, I could see many movies being set there. Because of therge building built into the mountain, it had an industrial look but also a superviin vibe.


    "Stick to the road," I blurted out instinctively as some feeling in my gut kicked into gear.


    I was feeling anxious. I kept my head on a swivel, looking for omens, but I didn¡¯t find any other than the normal border omens that existed off in the distance to keep you from running into the woods.


    We continued down the path. As we walked, we came across arge chain-link fence on the left of the road, but it was not for the power nt. The sign said, "Derelict Machinations Incorporated."


    It was a sort of junkyard, but the items contained within it were not the usual kind of junk.


    "That¡¯s a roller coaster," Kimberly said, staring off into the yard.


    In fact, it was. There was a dismantled roller coaster and an anti-gravity machine ride shaped like a UFO. There were also a bunch of those little machines that you used to be able to find out front of a supermarket, where you could put a quarter in and ride in a rocket ship¡ªif you were eight years old at least.


    "Is this where they keep all of the rides from the Centennial?" Kimberly asked.


    "Maybe," I said.


    But truthfully, I didn¡¯t recognize a whole lot.


    Something that stood out to me was that all of the rides and other machines in the yard were themed around sci-fi. There were spaceships and battle mechs as well as aircraft and robots. All of it was apparently rted to some sort of carnival rides or simr, but I didn¡¯t get a close look.


    "Let¡¯s stay out of there," I said. "Omens are lighting up like the Fourth of July."


    We continued on past the junkyard, the second one we had seen in Carousel.


    This tale has been uwfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    We went on further until, eventually, we found the entrance to the power nt. There was a small shack at the gate with a sign that said, "Power nt Tours $5."


    We would have considered paying that price, except there was no one there to give our money to. Besides, the gate was open. Suckers.


    "This is as far as we go, right?" Antoine said as he looked around.


    I nodded. ording to the As, no matter which direction we walked from there, we would run right into an omen.


    This area was called the Pavilion because it was built like some sort of "Age of Tomorrow" sci-fi proselytizing area for the press to take pictures of when a CEO gave a speech. KRSL was advertising its amazing technology in murals on the walls. It could have been beautiful if it wasn''t abandoned.


    As far as I could tell, all of the buildings were locked and secured, but several paths led into thepound.


    "There¡¯s no one around," Kimberly said.


    "If we trigger an omen, there will be," I said.


    "Here, you each take two," she replied, handing us the missing posters.


    "ording to the As, we just have to look at the omen, and we¡¯ll be able to see if our rescue tropes will work," Antoine said.


    "That¡¯s the theory," I replied.


    "I only see one," he said after a few moments of concentration. "Over there, the loose cable."


    He pointed in the direction of a set of stairs that would lead to a metal walkway that reminded me of something out of Jurassic Park. The walkway moved out over arge ravine of some sort, but I couldn¡¯t say what was inside the ravine because I didn¡¯t want to move close enough to look.


    The loose wire swung gently as if something was hiding there, trying to get our attention. The omen was for a storyline called Apex. It was a very difficult storyline, and my scouting trope told me next to nothing about it.


    I couldn¡¯t even see the poster for it.


    "I¡¯m not getting anything," I said. "My rescue trope doesn¡¯t seem to be triggering."


    "Mine neither," Kimberly said.


    "Mine does," Antoine said. "It¡¯s a big que that says ''rescue.''"


    My rescue trope worked on the premise that the enemy of a storyline where yers had been killed would have somehow been filmed themselves doing the evil deed, and then somehow I found those tapes.


    The enemy would then attack my base, and I would have to survive until morning. Whatever the enemy of the Apex storyline was, it was not the kind that would film itselfmitting its crimes or care if those tapes got out.


    Kimberly¡¯s rescue trope was for things like serial killers. She would mourn the death of her friends (aka the yers we were trying to rescue), and the killer would show up at the funeral.


    Antoine¡¯s rescue trope was a little different; he turned the storyline into a race of some kind. Whatever the enemy of the Apex storyline was, it was ready for a race.


    "Where are the other Omens?" Antoine asked. ¡°I only see the one.¡±


    If you didn¡¯t have a scouting trope, it could be pretty challenging to find omens, especially to the untrained eye. When we walked into <em>The Final Straw II</em> storyline upon first arriving in Carousel, I didn''t see the poster on the red wallpaper until the storyline was almost already triggered and that was with the Vets telling us it was there.


    "Look to the left of the Apex omen," I said. "Do you see the building with the dirty windows that have a smiley face drawn into the dust of the ss?"


    "Yep," Antoine said, following my instructions.


    "Oh," Kimberly said. Suddenly, she was able to see that omen, too. All it took was to focus and know what to look for¡ªthat plus a few free moments to stare into danger.


    It was difficult to spot Omens walking down the street, but we had all the time in the world.


    "That one works for me," Kimberly said.


    "I still can¡¯t see it at all," Antoine said.


    "It works for me too," I said. "But it¡¯s really high level. I can¡¯t even tell what the title is."


    That wasn''t the only problem. We weren¡¯t finding the storyline that Andrew Hughes and his team had died in. That was the entire reason we hade. We knew that the posters were supposed to allow us to see which storyline it was when we stared at its omen.


    We would have to keep looking.


    "Alright, I¡¯m not seeing any more. I¡¯m going to take a few steps forward," I said.


    I could almost feel them take a gasp of air as I said that. A few more stepster, I looked around at all the empty buildings.


    "OK, look over there. Do you see that poster that says, ''This facility is restricted by section 14 of the Carousel Health Code''?"


    They stepped forward.


    "That one works for my rescue trope," Antoine said.


    Kimberly shook her head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t work.¡±


    "Doesn¡¯t work for me either," I said.


    I kept looking around, trying to find the omen that had led to Isaac and Cassie¡¯s brother''s demise.


    Finally, I found it.


    I was holding Andrew Hughes'' missing poster and one of his teammates, Michael. As soon as I saw a distant building with graffiti on it, I saw the omen.


    "There it is," I said.


    "<em>Itch</em>," I read. That was the title of the storyline.


    "My rescue trope does¡­ not work with that storyline,¡± I said.


    Despite that, I could still see copies of the missing posters in my hands ced on the red wallpaper underneath the poster for <em>Itch</em>, which showed some kind of 80s tech control panel.


    "My rescue trope doesn¡¯t work with that one," Kimberly said, "and I don¡¯t see a missing poster on it."


    "Well, my rescue trope does work," Antoine said, "and I only see one missing poster."


    That was troublesome because he was holding two.


    "Wait, what?" I said.


    "It¡¯s what I¡¯m telling you. I¡¯ve got Logan and L, but Logan''s poster isn''t showing up on the red wallpaper," he said. He handed it over to me.


    Sure enough, nothing changed on the red wallpaper. I stared more intently until I could finally read the graffiti: "Death to scabs."


    Great.


    "Hand them here," I said, gesturing for them to give me all of the posters.


    Once they were all in my hands, only one more appeared on the red wallpaper.


    "L, Michael, Andrew... they''re all here, but these other two, Logan and Avery, don¡¯t register."


    "What does that mean?" Kimberly asked.


    "It means they got separated," Antoine said.


    I agreed. That was the only logical exnation.


    It was our understanding that you could rescue as many people as you had posters for. The fact that only three showed up in this <em>Itch</em> storyline meant that only three had died there.


    "The other two are in a different storyline," Kimberly said.


    I shrugged my shoulders and continued looking around. That was the best exnation.


    It took 15 or so minutes, but I eventually spotted every single omen that the Carousel As told us was in this area. Yet, I never found any storyline that contained Avery or Logan.


    "This doesn¡¯t make any sense," Antoine said. "Their posters say that they died in this area, right?"


    "Right," I said, double-checking.


    "So there must be some sort of omen that doesn''t show up all the time," he said. "Like a mobile omen, like at the bowling alley."


    That was one exnation.


    I kept my head on a swivel, looking from omen to omen. Then my eyes caught something.


    It was not an omen but a road. It was in the forest behind us, and we had passed by it on our way to the power station.


    I noticed that in the distance, in the deep part of the forest, there was a t ne where gravel had been run up in a line like it often does at the edge of a dirt road.


    "There¡¯s something back there," I said.


    I almost felt my heart stop beating.


    A fear rose up that I was familiar with.


    My<strong> I don¡¯t like it here¡­</strong> trope didn''t just give me information on the red wallpaper; it also made me feel anxious and afraid. In this case, those aspects were a feature, not a bug. It made it easier to spot omens and kept me on high alert.


    Thest time I had felt anxiety this strong was when the ck snow had appeared, and the apocalypse had almost killed us all.


    "What is it?" Antoine said, staring off into the woods, a slight twitch in his eye.


    "Is it an omen?" Kimberly asked.


    "No," I said. "Yes. Wait, I don¡¯t know."


    I started to back away from the power nt entrance and walked slowly toward the woods we had passed.


    There was a small field between us and the thick grove of trees. Beyond that was the road I had seen going up the mountain, and yet something in the back of my neck was on edge.


    Was that my hysteric trope, or was it something else? After all, my grandmother did have the gift, or so my background trope said.


    Slowly, the three of us walked toward the woods, and as we walked, I saw something move in the shadows in the distance.


    "Stop," I said.


    "What?" Antoine asked. "Do you see an omen?"


    "No," I said. "There¡¯s no omen there, but I <em>feel</em> an omen. I don¡¯t know if that makes any sense."


    I wasn¡¯t used to the feeling of an omen being near without being able to see it on the red wallpaper, yet that''s exactly what was happening.


    Then, an idea dawned on me.


    "I think I know what happened," I said. "I think that those other two members of Andrew¡¯s team did die here, but they didn¡¯t die from an omen or in a storyline."


    Antoine immediately put together what I was saying. "There''s a monster''sir out there," he said.


    I didn¡¯t have the right tropes to confirm it, but all the facts added up, and my gut loudly sang to me that something dangerous was watching us from those woods.


    "Let¡¯s get out of here," I said. "We have some research to do."

 Book Five, Chapter 20: Lairs and Libraries

    Book Five, Chapter 20: Lairs and Libraries


    It didn''t take long after acquiring the Carousel As to figure out that the book was made for Schrs, not puny Film Buffs.


    At first nce, it did look organized.


    Everything was divided into sections based on spoilers, geography, and by topic. But beyond that, there was no way to navigate the massive tome.


    There was no reference section in the back of the book like you would expect.


    The best you could do was try to find something rted to what you were looking for and see if that section pointed you to the section you were actually looking for. Schrs didn¡¯t have to worry about that because they had the <strong>Eureka</strong> trope, which allowed them to move from page to page as if the location of any given fact was obvious.


    We managed to find the monsterir entry pretty easily.


    The problem was that there was no centralized map of monsterirs. There was just a long list that referenced locations by description rather than plotting it out so we could easily figure out where things were.


    The reason for that was simple: the authors of the As didn¡¯t really care about monsterirs. That wasn¡¯t an omission on their part; the fact was, as we read through the entry on monsterirs, we realized the subject ofirs just didn''te up a lot, which sounded insane.


    There were literal monsters underneath the streets, in boarded-up houses, and hidden in the woods. But in Carousel, that was thest thing on your mind.Omens would go out of their way to hunt you down and trick you if you didn¡¯t have a good scout with you who could suss them out. Monsterirs, on the other hand, were not designed as traps.


    After some research, it seemed that they were there for logistical reasons, as crazy as that might sound.


    Or, as the man named Harley put it when he wrote their entry in the As:<blockquote>


    ¡°Carousel keeps its beasts under control. When they aren¡¯t inside a storyline, they don¡¯t leave theirirs¡ªat least the non-human ones don¡¯t. Sure, there are serial killers you pass by on the street and don''t even know it. The monsters, though, are hidden, and the only hints that they exist are their roars at night and the asional yer whoes up missing because they couldn''t follow directions.¡±</blockquote>


    The fact was, my friends and I knew about monsterirs, although we didn¡¯t often call them that.


    After all, we lived on Dyers Lake for months. We knew there were things living in thatke, some of which were attached to omens, but others just swam through those haunted waters, an ominous reminder of whaty in wait in the depths of Carousel.


    In fact, when the ck Snow Apocalypse had urred, we hade across monsters fleeing theirirs to get out of the way of the uing apocalypse.


    We heard howls in the night.


    We heard screamsing from darkened windows in neighborhoods as we passed by houses.


    However, we had never encountered a monster¡¯sir other than the sewers, which seemed to be home to many monsters, not that we had dealt with many of them.


    ¡°What exactly are we saying happened here?¡± Antoine asked.


    We had been discussing Andrew Hughes¡¯ team and their odd fate all morning, but we weren¡¯t getting anywhere.


    ¡°I think it looks pretty straightforward,¡± I said. ¡°I think they somehow wandered into their of some monster, and it chased them, killing two of them. Three managed to get to an omen, which triggered the storyline they ended up dying in because they only had three yers and couldn¡¯t win.¡±


    Andrew Hughes, our target, had died in a storyline called <em>Itch</em>. It was a tough story, but it should not have been so far out of their grasp to justify their team''s wiping, especially if they had done their research. The fact that they had apparently just run in there for refuge from some unknowable terror exined a lot.


    ¡°Are we safe to be over there?¡± Kimberly asked.


    I had no idea.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to imagine why they would wander into the woods in the first ce,¡± I said.


    ¡°Hunting, maybe,¡± Antoine said. ¡°There are deer and wild boar in the woods, along with a lot of other things. The vets used to say that they would gather together hunting parties just to go get food back in the day.¡±


    ¡°Before they found Eternal Savers Club?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Antoine said, ¡°just for the variety. They wanted to go get fresh meat, and they had a few tropes that would help them do it.¡±


    That sounded like the Vets. They were here so long that a hunting trip into monster-infested forests was something they would do.


    Of course, there was probably a reason they had stopped doing it by the time we arrived, but they wouldn¡¯t tell us something like that.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they were hunting in the woods,¡± I said, ¡°but maybe they were on some kind of expedition. I don¡¯t know why. The As doesn¡¯t seem to have anything going on over there except a few omens.¡±


    Antoine flipped the As around and looked through it.


    ¡°It is crazy to me that there is no way to look at a location and tell whatirs might be near,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°I guess no one was looking forirs,¡± I said. That was the only exnation I coulde up with at first.


    ¡°Maybe the people who did go looking for monsterirs didn¡¯t stick around long enough to write it down,¡± Antoine said.


    Maybe. Wouldn¡¯t be the only time someone died before being able to tell others why.


    ¡°So, what are our options?¡± Kimberly asked.


    I looked at Antoine. He looked at me, and we both shrugged our shoulders.


    ¡°We could go take a look,¡± I said sheepishly.


    ¡°What?¡± Kimberly asked, appalled.


    ¡°If we know what they are, we can better guess what storyline they belong to,¡± I said. ¡°We just need a peek.¡±


    ¡°Is that even true? Antoine asked. ¡°Is knowing what the monster is even helpful? Is there a way to look up what type of monster is in each story?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said, and then it hit me. ¡°Of course, they don¡¯t have one ce where you can look up where all the monsterirs are or which monsters are in which stories. That would all be spoilers. If you knew that there were vampires at the lumber mill, you would hugely be spoiling yourself about the nearby storyline.¡±


    Lair location did correspond to the storylines the monsters belonged to, we knew.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s probably it,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Damn.¡±


    The rules of what was spoilers and what wasn¡¯t usually revolved around whether you got information from a trope or some other allowable source. Knowing what was allowed and what wasn¡¯t took some guesswork.


    ¡°Whatever,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t know why they wandered into a monsterir, but I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any evidence that the monsters just attacked them on the road. If they had, they probably would have attacked us when we were up there. So, unless we want to rescue a Monster Hunter so they can use their tropes to tell us what lives on that mountain, we may never know.¡±


    ¡°Well, we do know where some eyewitnesses are,¡± Antoine said, pointing across the table to the missing posters for Andrew Hughes and his two fellow yers who had died with him in the storyline called <strong>Itch</strong>.


    They would know what happened to their teammates, I had to assume.


    At the end of the day, you could only be so cautious before you had to take action. I had no idea why their team had been attacked, but I couldn¡¯t find any reason to think it would happen to us. Monsterirs were put out of the way so that yers wouldn''t run into them by ident.


    There were only a few possibilities for what caused them to fall prey to some random beasties, and there was little chance of it happening again.


    We decided to take a break. Investigating the monsterir wasn¡¯t a priority. It was just a precaution.


    We felt we had done our due diligence. It was time to move on.


    Antoine and Kimberly were up on the roof as noon rolled around. They were making hot dogs or hamburgers or something. They had to do it now so that Isaac wasn¡¯t around to burn things.


    I was down in the loft, sitting at the table, searching the As in vain for any reference I could find to ¡°The Town of Carousel: Horrific Events Through the Ages.¡± Of all the books in Carousel, that was the one that I wanted the most.


    I had seen Anna and Camden using it in <em>Post-Traumatic</em>, the storyline they had yed through and eventually died in.


    I had to believe that it was an important clue.


    If I could just find it, it would give me valuable insights into how my two best friends could eventually be rescued.


    As far as I could tell, using the book wouldn¡¯t be a spoiler because I learned about the book by using a trope. It was my Film Buff trope that allowed me to watch trailers of other ongoing or recent storylines.


    It had allowed me to see my friends in peril.


    I could still watch that trailer on the red wallpaper at the end of <em>The Strings Attached</em> storyline.


    It hurt to watch.


    Camden was in bad shape. If only I could find that damn book.


    I flipped the As open to a page for the library, of which there were several. This one contained a flyer for some sort of event the library was hosting, but I couldn¡¯t see what it was because so many other pieces of paper were attached to the page detailing the ongoings inside the marble building.


    I couldn¡¯t just go in and check out the book. There was a very powerful mobile omen in the library that would pretty much guarantee we would get postered.


    Even the Vets were afraid of it. The problem was that the Vets¡¯ method of avoiding that mobile omen, which was said to run around the library at knee height, was to y through another library omen that we were also too under-leveled toplete.


    They would y through that second storyline and burn down the children''s section of the library so that the mobile omen wouldn''t be around to be a threat.


    But if we couldn''t do that, then what could we do?


    I stared at the page, hoping that if I stared at it long enough, I would see the matrix and know exactly what we needed to do.


    I stared at it for so long that I fell asleep.


    ¡°What are you researching?¡± Kimberly asked.


    My head jutted up, rmed. I looked around.


    Kimberly had brought me a pork chop and potato sd.


    ¡°Just trying to figure out how to get a book out of the library,¡± I said.


    ¡°I always used my library card,¡± she said.


    I gave her a polite chuckle.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not enough,¡± I said.


    ¡°What was the deal with the book again that you''re trying to get?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s a prop that they used in the storyline that they died in,¡± I said. ¡°Anna and Camden seemed to think it was important. If we can get a copy of it, maybe we will be that much more prepared.¡±


    Kimberly nodded. ¡°But we can''t go in the library,¡± she said.


    ¡°Nope,¡± I said, ¡°but I¡¯ve got a n.¡±


    She waited eagerly for me to tell her about our heist.


    ¡°That mobile omen that gives us so much trouble in the library is only active during business hours,¡± I said. ¡°So, if we were to get Dina to pick a lock, we could sneak in, and as long as we avoided the fairy tale section, we would be home free to find that book. Oh, and we would have to be careful not to ¡®wake the books up,¡¯ which means something ominous, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°How dangerous is it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s probably really dangerous, but it could help us in rescuing Anna and Camden.¡±


    She thought for a moment, then she pulled out her cell phone, brushed away a piece of paper that had covered the library flyer, and started dialing a number.


    Someone answered on the other end.


    ¡°Hello, Sue,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I was hoping to put a book on hold¡­ Kimberly Madison¡­ As soon as possible... It''s called ¡®The Town of Carousel: Horrific Events Through the Ages.¡¯ I don¡¯t know the author.¡±


    She waited for a moment.


    ¡°You do?¡± she asked. ¡°That¡¯s great! When will we be able to pick it up?... That sounds great¡­ Also, I know this is weird, but it would mean the world to me if you could have someone deliver it to us outside of the library. My friend is afraid of books... You are such a sweetheart. Thank you so much. We''ll be there.¡±


    She hung up her phone with a smile.


    ¡°We can pick it up tomorrow,¡± she said.


    Of course, the solution was talking to people.


    How did I always manage to forget that?


    I thanked her, and she went back up to the roof.


    Now, I had to research if Kimberly¡¯s little n would get us killed in some other way.

 Book Five, Chapter 21: Hard Scouting

    Book Five, Chapter 21: Hard Scouting


    Having not been able to find anything explicitly forbidding Kimberly''s NPC trickery, I decided to join her and Antoine on the roof. At the end of the day, we needed the disaster book to prep for a single rescue. If Carousel wanted to prevent that, it wouldn''t have shown the book to me when I used <strong>Coming to a Theater Near You</strong> at the end of <em>The Strings Attached</em>. All signs were a go.


    When I got up to the roof, I saw Antoine staring through the telescope, searching for omens while simultaneously petting dogs on his left and right.


    The dogs were very obedient and well-trained, but they were anxious with Bobby gone. Antoine <em>seemed </em>to be in a good mood, but I couldn¡¯t say whether he actually was.


    It had been two days since the others had gone on their run.


    The n was for us to go pick them up because, although Isaac did have a scouting trope, it was a lot more hands-on than mine was.


    He had to notice things first andment on them, and then he would be given information. It was safer if I guided them.


    That n apparently wasn¡¯t good enough for them.


    ¡°I see the others,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°Already?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°We were supposed to head over there in a few. Do they look OK?¡±Antoine stared through the telescope. ¡°They don''t look happy,¡± he said.


    They didn¡¯t need to look happy; they just needed to be alive.


    Before too long, they were storming in from the back door into Kimberly¡¯s loft.


    We greeted them in the living room area.


    They marched in one by one. Isaac lookedpletely exhausted mentally. Cassie gave me a weak smile. Ramona looked utterly emotionless. Bobby seemed like his old chipper self and quickly made his way up to the roof to see his dogs after waving hello.


    I couldn¡¯t see that Dina had any negative impacts from the storyline they had run, but then she was pretty high level for that story.


    ¡°Did you guys know?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°Did we know what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You know,¡± he said. Did you guys know what the storyline was about?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°We didn¡¯t know anything more than you did going in.¡±


    That was true.


    Of course, I did avoid some educated guessing that might clue them into things that might make them hesitant to do the run.


    I didn¡¯t want to send them into a storyline that would disgust them, but I would rather do that than send them into one where they could lose.


    ¡°Normally, I would be alright with you venting about this,¡± I said, ¡°but we don''t want to risk you spoiling the story for us if we need to run it in the future. I''m sure you understand.¡±


    Isaac nodded his head and then found his way to the bathroom, where he could be heard loudly brushing his teeth as if he were making some point.


    Of course, there was no real chance that we would ever run that storyline. Spoilers didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Cassie asked as she saw a missing poster on the table and picked it up. ¡°Oh my God, are you guys going to rescue him?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the n,¡± Antoine said.


    Cassie started to tear up. ¡°Isaac, Isaac, get out here! They¡¯re nning to rescue Andrew!¡±


    I could hear Isaac spitting into the sink, and then he rushed out to join us again. ¡°A rescue? I thought you guys said you weren¡¯t going to do it yet,¡± he said.


    ¡°We moved it up on the schedule,¡± I said.


    ¡°Are we going soon?¡± Cassie asked, suddenly excited.


    ¡°We¡¯re still in the nning phase,¡± I said. ¡°We can''t risk rushing this.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to use my trope?¡± she asked.


    I nodded and said, ¡°That''ll be tomorrow, though. You guys need to rest up.¡±


    Isaac and Cassie suddenly were in a good mood, as good as could be expected.


    Isaac even promised to cook us dinner.


    I noticed that Ramona stayed back and listened before returning to her room. Her face was nk.


    I decided to talk to her again.


    Even if we didn¡¯t have a personal conversation, at least we could talk about the storyline¡ªa sort of debriefing. As she turned to close the sheet that separated her area from the rest of the dead-end hallway, she saw me following her and paused.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said.


    I''m d to hear it,¡± I said. ¡°It would be cool if you could talk about the storyline.¡±


    ¡°I thought we couldn¡¯t talk about the storyline because of spoilers?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just something I told Isaac so he wouldn¡¯tin,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s no chance that I¡¯m ever going to run <em>The Box Lunch</em>, so spoilers don''t matter.¡±


    She smiled at that. ¡°So what do you want to know?¡± she asked.


    ¡°This may be a silly question, but how was it? Do you feel like you contributed? Did you get any rewards?¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°I got two stat tickets and a trope,¡± she said. ¡°I also got a buy-one-get-one-free coupon from a buffet in town that promises no omens or danger while eating.¡±


    She pulled the ticket out of nowhere and showed it to me.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing thest thing you want to do is go eat at a buffet.¡±


    ¡°You''re guessing right,¡± she said. ¡°Cassie locked me in a freezer, and I ate all of the frozen food. Just shoved it in my mouth. I¡¯m not proud of that.¡±


    ¡°Dentists don¡¯t rmend doing that, you know,¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh, trust me, I know.¡±


    She ran her finger over her teeth.


    ¡°So, how are you doing? Are you feeling OK?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You know, if you keep asking me that, I will lie to you eventually.¡±


    I had the same tactic.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine how you feel.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel anything at all,¡± she said, shrugging her shoulders. ¡°So you don¡¯t have to worry anymore.¡±


    That was part of what I was worried about.


    In addition to my concerns about her mental health, I knew that her mental well-being was important in other ways, too.


    She was a Hysteric, an archetype that weaponized their emotions.


    I wondered if she would be able to do her job and survive if she closed herself off. Perhaps her plight was yet another reason we needed to rescue a Doctor. I didn¡¯t know what tropes Andrew Hughes had, but if he had a Psychiatrist trope that could help, it would be a lifesaver. Possibly literally.


    ¡°After you guys went into the story, we got the missing posters and I saw that no one had ever wiped out in that story, so there were no rescues to be done in it. I decided to spoil it for myself and read what the story was about in the As... I am so sorry for sending you there,¡± I said.


    I couldn¡¯t contain myugh as I said that.


    Ramonaughed, too.


    That was a good thing, I thought.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t bad,¡± she said. ¡°Really. After I got¡­ infected, I just wanted to eat and make more of the slimes. It was all I wanted. It made me happy. I could feel dopamine surging in my head like bubble wrap popping.¡±


    ¡°Gotta love a generous parasite,¡± I said.


    ¡°You should have seen Isaac running from me, though,¡± she said. ¡°He cursed so much we went Off-Screen.¡±


    I smiled. That was likely why he didn¡¯t get a single stat ticket.


    ¡°He should have given in to the slime,¡± I said. Isaac already had some experience being honked out of his mind for most of a storyline.


    ¡°He did eventually,¡± Ramona said, ¡°but it was like Carousel was messing with him because he was a Comedian, and the story was kind of aedy but not really.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, something simr happened with him in The Die Cast storyline. He must give really good reactions if Carousel is keeping him alive to terrify him.¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell,¡± she said. ¡°I just couldn¡¯t figure out why he didn¡¯t want the slime.¡±


    ¡°I think he likes his slime well done,¡± I said.


    She smiled but didn¡¯tugh.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m d it wasn¡¯t traumatic for everyone.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said as she stared into the distance. ¡°Not for me.¡±


    There was a silence then that seemed to stretch forever.


    ¡°So, I was going to take a nap,¡± she said.


    ¡°Great,¡± I said. ¡°Get rested up.¡±


    I turned and left. It felt like a productive conversation.


    At least we were talking about something.


    It was a step in the right direction, at least.


    <em>Itch</em> was not a popr storyline.


    The rmended archetypes for scouting were Schr-Researcher, Adventurer, and Engineer, which was an advanced archetype I had note across before.


    The section that had information from scouting tropes that were not considered spoilers was nk.


    No one had gotten around to scouting out this story, at least not at the time this copy of the As was obtained.


    There just wasn¡¯t a lot of information on it. That was unusual, as there was usually at least one Psychic scouting trope in every storyline. There were none for <em>Itch</em>.


    But we weren''t entirely out of options.


    We had our own scouting tropes.


    "Kimberly, we haven¡¯t talked in so long," Sal said. "Are you quitting acting or something, sweetheart?"


    "You know I could never quit," Kimberly said. "I was hoping you could give me advice about this movie called <em>Itch</em> that I¡¯ve been hearing about. If you could tell me all about it, I¡¯d appreciate it."


    Kimberly''s trope that allowed her to call her talent agent for information was really useful for <em>The Final Straw</em>. We hoped it would help here, too.


    And then we waited for his response, which took a moment.


    "Oh, that one," Sal said. "I¡¯ve heard of it. I wouldn¡¯t say I¡¯m a big fan, but it''s not exactly a mistake if you want to go for that sort of thing. You definitely have the range. Though I will say the old saying ''looks don¡¯tst'' is very literal in this screeny."


    "What¡¯s it about?" Kimberly asked.


    "I don¡¯t recall," Sal said. "Certainly a psychological horror, maybe a creature feature. Who knows? It''s not my sort of thing. I just skimmed the script."


    We all looked at each other. We had yed around with this trope a ton, and he had never been this tight-lipped.


    "Is that all?" Kimberly asked.


    "It is. I wish I had more for you. I¡¯ve got to go. Bye now."


    Sal hung up.


    "What just happened?" Kimberly asked.


    "Is this storyline that much harder than the ones we''ve tested before?" Antoine asked. "Maybe you just don''t have high enough Moxie to get a good reading."


    I wasn¡¯t so sure. <em>Itch</em> was a harder story than <em>The Final Straw</em> was, but not that much more difficult. Her trope should not have been nking that hard.


    "When I used my tropes on it when we were out there, they didn''t seem to have too much trouble," I said.


    <strong>Location Scout</strong> had given me a whole list of rooms and hallways that included terms like "living quarters" and "storage." Not incredibly useful, but pretty standard for the trope.


    If I had wanted it to do better, I would need to put a lot more points into Savvy.


    <strong>I don¡¯t like it here¡­</strong> had told me how to activate the trope just fine and told me its difficulty was higher than average, but then there were only three of us there, so it might actually be pretty average in difficulty for us.


    Of course, when we used a rescue trope on it, it would be more difficult, but its base difficulty seemed to be about in line with what our levels were.


    "Just a second," I said. "Antoine, equip your rescue trope."


    He quickly did.


    "Now Kimberly, call Sal again."


    She dialed out again.


    "Kimberly, I was just thinking about you. What are you doing?" Sal asked.


    Kimberly paused, looked at me, then looked at Antoine, and then said, "I was hoping you could tell me about that new movie <em>Itch</em>. Do you know anything about that?"


    "Huh, you know I was reading about it, but I gotta say I¡¯m not a big fan. It''s a little bit of psychological horror, a little bit of a thriller, a creature feature, more or less. You probably wouldn¡¯t stand out in all that testosterone."


    "What kind of character would I y?" Kimberly asked.


    "I can¡¯t imagine," Sal said.


    Again, he didn''t have much to say.


    I waved my hand across my neck, telling her to cut the call.


    She did so.


    "He''s just not saying anything," Kimberly said. ¡°Not as much as usual.¡±


    "Not only is he not saying anything, but he¡¯s saying the same amount he did before," I said. Even though the rescue version would be more difficult. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the difficulty that¡¯s the problem."


    When Antoine had equipped his rescue trope, Sal had a new version of the screeny to go over with Kimberly¡ªa version that should have been harder and should have given us even less information than the original.


    That''s how rescues worked; they were supposed to be harder.


    But the two summaries from Sal were roughly equivalent.


    Something else was at y, but I didn¡¯t know what.


    "Should we try Dina¡¯s rescue trope?" Kimberly asked.


    It was better than hiking all the way out there to see if it would work. I nodded my head. Antoine unequipped his rescue ticket, and then Dina equipped hers.


    Kimberly called Sal again.


    "Kimberly!" Sal eximed when he answered the phone. "I¡¯m having major d¨¦j¨¤ vu. I just knew you were gonna call me. It is so weird."


    "Hey, Sal. I was wondering about that movie called <em>Itch</em>."


    "Straight to business there, aren¡¯t you?" he asked. "I know we were talking about Itch a few days ago, and I know you were excited to do psychological horror, but unfortunately, I got a new copy of the script, and your role has been almostpletely cut. They revamped the script to focus on some other characters. It''s still a creature feature or something like that, but you barely get a cameo in it. There was nothing I could do."


    "Do you know what the plot is about?" Kimberly asked.


    "I did before, but I have had so many things on my mind it must have gotten pushed out," Sal said. "Well, if that''s all, I¡¯ve gotta be going."


    Again, he hung up.


    This time, we just sat back and stared at each other, bewildered.

 Book Five, Chapter 22: Horrific Events Through the Ages

    Book Five, Chapter 22: Horrific Events Through the Ages


    The Carousel As¡¯ section on rescues was written, or at least rewritten, by Curtis W., who was the same guy whose journal entries in the As told us about Project Rewind.


    He proposed a system for rating rescue tropes based on three criteria: Potency, Avability, and Risk (PAR).


    I read through the entry in the As aloud so that everyone else could hear.


    "Avability is exactly like it sounds," I said. "It''s how likely, on a scale of one to five, a rescue trope is to work in any given storyline. Potency is about how straightforward and beatable the ''game'' bes, with emphasis on the win condition that the rescue trope creates. Risk is a question of the conditions for the rescue trope and whether they favor rescuers or not."


    I continued reading to myself for a little bit, but Antoine interrupted me.


    "What kind of conditions are we talking about?" he asked. "Is that talking about the live-to-tell-the-tale part?"


    "Yes," I said. ¡°Rescue tropes with high risk create storylines that are just as dangerous to the rescuers as they are to the people they were rescuing. The ones with low risk: You can fail the rescue, but as long as you don''t die, you¡¯ll be fine."


    Antoine nodded. "Mine must be low risk then."


    In fact, there was a way to check.Popr rescue tropes had their own small sections. Antoine¡¯s rescue trope was called a <strong>Race Against Time</strong>. It had a risk of two, a potency of four, and an avability of three.


    Kimberly''s rescue trope was <strong>A Woman in Mourning</strong>. It had an avability of one, a potency of five, and a risk of four.


    My rescue trope was not listed. Overall, the As didn¡¯t have much information about Film Buffs.


    "I kind of like Dina''s," I said. "It was a pretty popr one from what I can tell."


    I looked up from the book. She wasn¡¯t there.


    "Where¡¯s Dina?" I asked.


    "She went downstairs," Kimberly answered.


    For the first time in a while, I put the As down and took a moment to see what the others were doing. Surprise, surprise, they had not been just listening to me with rapt attention. Cassie was trying to use her psychic trope to learn more about the enemy we faced. She was not having a good time.


    "I¡¯m sorry," she said, tears flowing down her cheeks. ¡°I¡¯m trying my best, but it just isn¡¯t working."


    Kimberlyforted her. "There¡¯s clearly something about this storyline that makes scouting it hard," Kimberly said soothingly. "We¡¯ll figure it out. Don¡¯t you worry."


    But Cassie <em>was</em> worried because her brother''s life was literally on the line.


    At that moment, Dina came back upstairs holding a beer with itsbel torn off, which is how they sometimes appear in movies to obstruct the brand name.


    "The creepy guy''s back," she said.


    There was a man who was clearly up to something, but it wasn''t clear what. He would just stare at us anytime we went down to the restaurant. He wasn¡¯t an omen, and he wasn¡¯t an enemy as far as we could tell, but he was unnerving because he wasn''t hiding his staring at all. He was an NPC with a generic title, ¡°Drifter.¡±


    No name other than that.


    We had seen him a few times.


    "I got something," Cassie said. "It''s weird, but I¡¯m definitely hearing something."


    Dina stopped and stared as we waited for Cassie to extract as much information as possible from her <strong>I¡¯m Blocked</strong> trope.


    "It¡¯s talking too fast," she added.


    We waited as Cassie listened to something we couldn¡¯t hear.


    "Well, I¡¯m going upstairs to get some ice," Dina said. She went toward the stairs that led up to the roof, and after she was out of the room, Cassie eximed, "I lost it!"


    Cassie started to cry; her eyeliner was hopelessly smeared.


    I didn¡¯t know what was going on with this storyline that we were having such difficulty doing scouting. It was true that whatever tropes the storyline had would apply to the scout¡¯s abilities as if they were in a storyline.


    That was likely the reason that the As contained very little scouting information for the story.


    If we could just figure out what was going on, we might be able to learn something more. Of course, it would be easier one day when we had lots of yers who could contribute.


    Back at Camp Dyer, anytime someone needed to scout out a new storyline, they could make the rounds, talking to all the different archetypes they could find with dozens of different scouting tropes that could tell you all kinds of information.


    They never let us do that because they wanted us to learn to y the game the old-fashioned way.


    After a moment, Dina came back down the stairs and asked, "Why can we not keep the ice scoop in the ice machine?"


    "Just use the cup," Isaac said. "It''s there for a reason."


    In the middle of a town filled with horror stories, the biggest debate going on at the loft was whether the metal scoop we owned should be used in the rice bin or the ice machine. Everyone took sides, and it got messy.


    "It¡¯s back," Cassie said. "I hear it again. It''s just talking so fast."


    "Whatever," Dina said as she went back upstairs again.


    "What are you trying to drink beer with ice?" Isaac asked.


    "I want a ss of ice water," Dina said as she continued walking back upstairs.


    Isaac shrugged.


    "I lost it," Cassie said again. This time there were no tears, just resignation.


    I started to notice a pattern.


    "Dina,e back down here," I said. "Just for a second,e back down."


    She did just that.


    "What?" she asked.


    "Cassie, try to use your trope again."


    So, Cassie did.


    "It''s working!" she said. "I keep hearing this voice. It¡¯s definitely a voice, but it¡¯s talking so fast I can¡¯t understand it."


    "Now, Dina, go back upstairs," I said.


    Intrigued, she did as I asked.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Right on cue, Cassie said, "Now I¡¯ve lost it."


    We all stared at each other. Antoine stood and started looking back and forth between Dina and Cassie. He motioned for Dina toe back down.


    Cassie, noticing what we were doing, immediately reported that when Dina got back down to the living room, she could suddenly hear the voice again, an unintelligible whisper telling her in some manner or another to stay away.


    "What¡¯s happening right now?" Dina asked.


    We didn¡¯t exactly have an answer, but I had a hunch.


    "Dina, unequip your rescue trope," I said.


    She did so.


    Immediately afterward, Cassie said, "The voice is gone."


    We all looked at each other.


    I had a theory.


    "The base story cancels out psychic tropes," I said.


    That was the only exnation that I coulde up with. When Dina was around and a part of the party, so to speak, Cassie¡¯s power was being used to scout out the rescue version of the storyline.


    When Dina left, she was scouting out the base version.


    "Now, Antoine, try," I said. Antoine equipped his rescue trope.


    We waited a moment for answers toe.


    "I¡¯m not hearing anything," Cassie said.


    We looked at Dina.


    "So that¡¯s weird," Dina said.


    "It sure was."


    We tried to confirm many times that Dina¡¯s rescue trope was affecting Cassie¡¯s scouting trope and every time, we came to the conclusion that it was.


    We knew that rescue tropes changed the base storyline, but whatever Dina¡¯s trope did, it changed it in such a way that Cassie¡¯s psychic trope was able to be used. We didn''t know what to make of that.


    "Maybe we should just run the base storyline," Antoine said. "I feel like everything we learn about this thing, the more confusing it gets."


    "No," I said. "Half the point of running rescues is to grind levels. If we do the base storyline first, we¡¯ll be cutting ourselves off at the knees.¡±


    We had to at least try a rescue. Doing the base story would dramatically reduce the rewards we received.


    ¡°Look at this: Dina''s rescue trope has a one in risk and a five in avability. I think it¡¯s the perfect way for us to try our first rescue. We¡¯ll have a shot at big rewards.¡±


    "Counterpoint," Antoine said. "The As also says that all rescues are dangerous, even ones that have a one in risk. Thatparison is to other rescues, not to general storylines. And also, we don''t even know what the story is about other than it''ll make you ugly. We also know that her trope has a one in potency. Mine has a four."


    He wasn''t wrong. No rescues were actually easy; they were all more difficult than the base storyline. But if we were going to do a rescue, Dina¡¯s trope was the one.


    I could just feel it.


    We tabled that conversation.


    There was no need to make decisions in a rush.


    As confusing as the storyline was, I was also excited. We didn¡¯t know how to navigate the road exactly, but at least we had our hands on the steering wheel.


    I woke up with my heart racing because I knew that in a matter of hours, I would finally have my hands on the book that chronicled Carousel''s horrific past, even if it was fictionalized.


    ¡°The Town of Carousel: Horrific Events Through the Ages¡± had been in the back of my mind for months. I didn¡¯t know what kind of clues it would give us but I had to believe it had some vital information we could use to save our friends.


    The book seemed to be a nonfiction collection of terrible events that took ce in a fictional version of Carousel, and ever since my scouting trope had told me it existed, I felt that there was a reason.


    As we walked to the library to pick it up, I could feel the nerves vibrating through my body.


    Kimberly''s little trick to be able to get a book out of the library without having to go in worked well. The As had a section on how to interact with NPCs in Carousel proper, and using your stats or tropes in those interactions was perfectly normal.


    In fact, the vets had done it plenty when they were researching Secret Lore and the Western Excursion. We had to file that away for future use. Kimberly even wrote it down in the As if anyone in the future ever needed to know there was a way to check out a book as long as you knew its title.


    The pickup was easy.


    The NPC holding it smiled as we approached and simply handed it to Kimberly. I kept waiting for some omen to appear, but none did. The book itself didn''t show up on the red wallpaper, nor did it give off any scary vibes, as I had felt from the monster''sir on the mountain.


    Cassie picked up the book and tried using her newly acquired trope, <strong>Curios and Trinkets</strong>, to feel if it was an ult item. It allowed her to intuitivelypare one magical item to others that she had collected.


    She said, "This is nothing like the sk."


    She shrugged her shoulders and handed the book to me.


    The sk was the now cement-filled item that had been used to summon the Spirit of Vengeance in the Die Cast storyline. If the book was nothing like it, that meant that there was no spirit inside the book that could be invoked, or at least that¡¯s what I understood the trope to mean.


    Did that make it safe?


    I had to hope so.


    It would be unfair if my scouting trope had told me about this book in the trailers for <strong>The Strings Attached</strong> storyline, and it turned out to be a trap. However, we couldn''t be too careful.


    As we walked back to the loft, I couldn¡¯t even open the book and take a peek simply because I needed to keep my eyes out for omens. But when we finally reentered our safe space, the first thing I did was take the book up to the roof and find a chair in the shade.


    It didn''t take me long topletely regret finding the book.


    Reading through it was like reading one of those Guinness World Record books that everybody wanted in the 5th grade. The cool pictures and the fun text entries convinced our young minds that everyone in the world was trying to win records through various odd feats of human skill.


    This book had the same tone.


    Whoever wrote about these massacres and horrific deaths did so as if they were reporting feats of human athleticism or mental prowess.


    ¡°Six dead from a rat poison ident at Sundown Bakery,¡± one entry read.


    The entrymented the fact that the ident happened at a rtively unpopr bakery¡ªnot that they wanted more deaths, but that they wanted a better record.


    The entire book was ghoulish and unsettling, especially because, as I came to realize, many of the photographs were too close to the idents. They were taken too soon as if the photographer knew what was about to happen and was sitting around waiting for it.


    I was reading through a sickening entry about crowd crush at some sort of festival in Carousel when I saw something that made me jump up from my chair and run to the others.


    "It¡¯s them," I said. "Look!"


    I pointed to the ck-and-white photo. It was a horrifying image, and I wish I had warned Kimberly and Antoine before they looked. Bodies were mangled together as if twisted and fused, the people dying from the weight of those on top of them¡ªa terrible image.


    Next to the alleyway where that urred, I saw a brte in a denim jacket with her hair tied in a ponytail next to a man with jet ck hair and a missing arm, cut off at the elbow.


    "Oh my God," Kimberly said as she looked at the photo.


    Antoine stared at the image and then looked up at me. "So we can track where they were in the storyline, right?" he asked.


    All we knew, aside from what I had seen with my scouting trope, was that their storyline involved time travel. Anna was not willing to spoil anything more than that in the letter she wrote us and attached to the back of Ss the Mechanical Showman.


    "It might be useful," I said. "I don¡¯t know. I can check to see if they¡¯re in any of the other photos. Maybe we can trace their path, assuming they went to other dates in the book."


    That was something I could do. It felt like progress.


    I didn¡¯t like looking at the horrific pictures.


    Funny enough, if these exact same pictures had appeared in a movie, they might not have bothered me aside from maybe a jump scare here and there.


    But the book, with its strange tone and the knowledge that in some way these deaths were real, whether it was a fictional event portrayed by NPCs or real events brought here from a universe unknown...


    I went back to my seat and flipped open the book, double-checking to see if there was any indication of who the author was or when it was published, but I got nothing. For all I knew, the book was self-published within its storyline.


    There was no way to tell.


    But the more I read it, the more I got to know its voyeuristic author.


    The entries were written in the tone of someone who really enjoyed the sport of rubbernecking history''s greatest tragedies.


    He didn''t emphasize the gore or the sadness, but he didmentate on how there could have been more deaths or why a particr tragedy didn''t rank highly for him in one way or another.


    One quote I picked up on was, "There was very little screaming because the victims did not realize their fate until it was upon them. Oh well, the looks on their faces at the end were well worth the trip."


    At that moment, it dawned on me that this wasn''t just some book written by coincidence that was used in a time travel storyline.


    From the way he talked, it almost sounded like he was collecting mini-vacations to tragic events.


    Still, he didment the deaths of children and women on asion but was never overly sympathetic to them.


    After enough time, I finally found another picture with Camden and Anna in it.


    It was something that happened in 2010¡ªa group of teenagers died in the woods from apparent suicides.


    One picture was of the police investigating.


    In the background, I saw Anna and Camden walking down the road. I recognized the road. It was one of the roads that led to Camp Dyer.


    And suddenly, I had all the pieces, and I could put together what had happened. They had gone to that specific tragedy to collect the As in 2010, back before it was so heavily censored.


    But that mere rification was not what I was after. That was just details of information I already knew.


    What I needed to know was how to save them.


    That answer didn¡¯te.


    As I flipped through the pages and looked intently at each picture to try and find my friends, I started to notice that there was one obscured figure in many of the pictures. It was the same man I had seen in the shadowy alleyway in the trailer for Post Traumatic¡ªthe man wearing an overcoat with the strange amulet.


    I was done reading. I started to bring the book back down inside, but something within me did not allow it. The book had genuinely creeped me out, and I had no desire to take it inside our sanctuary. I went to the bar that was on the ceiling not far from where I was sitting and found a cab to stash the book in. The ceiling was off-limits to enemies and omens the same as the loft, but it was also outside, and that¡¯s where I left it.

 Book Five, Chapter 23: Moon

    Book Five, Chapter 23: Moon


    That day and the next were some of the many peaceful days we had at Kimberly¡¯s loft.


    We hade to savor them, even though the longer theysted, the sooner we would start to feel the panic and dread that came with running another storyline.


    That night, however, we would not get to rx.


    In our first few weeks there, we got used to the asional knock on the dooring as we went to sleep. Isaac took pride in being able to disengage and send away whatever omen hade to try and trick us into a storyline.


    We saw no reason to exercise anything but abundant caution, so it was pretty standard for us to use multiple opinions. He would look, then I would look, and then we would decide what to do to send the omen packing.


    Even though the others didn''t have scouting tropes that would allow them to be helpful whenever omens knocked on the main entrance, they still got up and got dressed enough to be ready on the off chance we failed to send away the omen, and we were all drawn into a storyline.


    Everyone was wide awake by the time we assembled outside the main door after that night''s knock.


    Isaac held his breath as he walked up to the door and put his eye to the peephole.


    He froze.He literally didn''t move for about 10 seconds, then he backed away and looked at me.


    It was my turn.


    From the icy look on his face, there was something terrifying on the other side of the door.


    I couldn¡¯t imagine what it was.


    Usually, other sounds apanied the knocking¡ªsomething like a person asking to be let in or some ominous growls. When I looked through the peephole, what I saw was Camden.


    My friend Camden Tran, whom I had known since I was a little kid, was standing out in the hallway, anxiously waiting to be let in. He dressed like Camden: short-sleeved, buttoned-up shirt with the top few buttons undone, surfer shorts, a ne with little white shells on it, the works.


    He had a smile on his face and strangely seemed to know that I was looking at him as he made eye contact with me even though we kept the lights off on our side so they couldn¡¯t see the shadows.


    I knew it couldn¡¯t be him, but the sight of it made my heart jump. I made sure to look at the omen on the red wallpaper. The storyline was titled <em>Suitability</em>. It was dangerous, which made it hard to see what was on the poster, but I could guess it had something to do with shape-shifters or simr, given that my dead friend was staring back at me.


    I didn¡¯t need to know anything except how to dismiss the omen, how to send it away.


    My hint was helpful: "Be a better stranger," ording to the red wallpaper, was what I had to do to send him away. Normally, my trope told me how to trigger an Omen, but inbination with the rules for Kimberly''s loft, it instead told me how to avoid its automatic triggering.


    However, it wasn''t as straightforward as some of the hints had been, which made me dread the day when the hints were so obscure that we could guess wrong.


    Being a better stranger to someone who looked like my oldest friend meant something pretty clear to me. I just hoped that I was right.


    I found myself afraid to speak, but I took a deep breath and spoke anyway.


    "Go away," I said. "I don¡¯t know you."


    It made sense to me. A creature that imitates your loved ones would probably be thrown for a loop if you imed not to recognize it.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I seemed to have guessed right because Camden suddenly looked very confused.


    "Are you sure? I thought I was at the right ce," Camden said.


    "I¡¯ve never seen you before in my life. Get out of here," I said through the door.


    And then we waited to see if I had guessed right.


    Slowly, Camden¡ªor whatever looked like him¡ªturned and walked away.


    Dina stood near the door with the sawed-off shotgun pointed and at the ready. If I had been wrong and fake Camden had tried to bust through that door, he would have gotten a real surprise.


    No one spoke, but Antoine looked at me like he was hoping I would exin.


    "I¡¯ll tell youter," I said. I was afraid to acknowledge what I had seen because I was low-key afraid the monster would hear and realize I secretly did recognize it.


    I took a deep breath, and we all just kind of walked back into the living room, none of us ready to go back to bed.


    "I don¡¯t think I¡¯m ever going to get used to that," Kimberly said.


    "Not after Camp Dyer," I said.


    ¡°I miss it so much,¡± she said. ¡°Scratch that. I miss the real world. But I do miss Camp Dyer.¡±


    We stood in silence for a moment longer. It urred to me that every base we would ever live at would have some drawback, just like this one.


    This one had omens that would tempt you.


    They were easily avoidable, but still, the constant barrage brought on a stress that reappeared every time we heard that knock.


    And then, as I thought about it, an idea urred to me.


    "Kimberly, can I see the writ of habitation for this ce?" I asked.


    Because writs were stored in thin air like our tropes, she immediately handed it to me. I read through it until I found the section I was looking for.<blockquote>


    <strong>¡°Guarantee Against Encumbrances and Hostility:</strong> The described property shall remain free fromirs, nests, or havens of any adversarial entities. All hostile presences nearby will immediately vacate the vicinity and abstain frombative behavior.¡±</blockquote>


    "This writ of habitation protects us and guarantees that there are noirs at this base," I said. We had recently been researching monsterirs, but because their presence was a huge spoiler, the Carousel As didn¡¯t have much on them other than basic exnations.


    "And?" Antoine asked.


    "We looked through the As for monsterirs, but did we check under the section on bases?" I asked.


    We knew that there was a monsterir out by the Powerworks area, but we didn''t know much about it. We had deduced that two members of Andrew Hughes'' party had gotten killed in it. The As was not well organized because it didn''t usually have to be. We went to the As at the kitchen table, flipped it open, and started looking through the tabs until we found a small section on bases, which were locations throughout Carousel where yers would be safe from omens¡ªthings like Kimberly¡¯s loft or Camp Dyer.


    I flipped to it and started looking through to see if I could find a list of bases that other yers had used. I was in luck. I found one.


    I started moving my finger down the list. "Monastery, farm, cabin, apartment, house, cave," I read out loud. "There," I said. KRSL Powerworks Pavilion."


    There was an entry on it.


    Someone had used it as a base at least once.


    It made sense; it was a vastpound that could be very easily secured and hold a lot of people.


    I flipped to the section where the information on that base was located, hoping that I would find all kinds of helpful tips, but when I found it, I was deted. It was a small section with barely any writing, and the information wasn''t even first-hand.


    CW had written:<blockquote>


    "Had a conversation with a Stranger today. Pretended not to know who they were--Strangers hate to be recognized--but I know they live in a base up at the Powerworks Pavilion. Bought him a beer and he told me that his crew has to clear out of their base a few days out of the month and he spent the whole time at the bar."


    "What happens every month?" I asked him.


    "Full moon," he said.


    Hmm.


    -CW</blockquote>


    I took in a deep breath.


    Was that a spoiler? Or maybe it wasn¡¯t because that information would have been found on his writ of habitation. Information from the writs was not a spoiler.


    That¡¯s what I told myself, at least.


    If that wasn¡¯t spoilers, it was great information. I knew a monster that came out on the full moon.


    And I had been looking for it ever since I got to Carousel.


    ~-~


    After that revtion, we stayed up and spoke at length about its implications.


    "So what are we thinking?" Antoine asked. "The team got attacked by...werewolves, two were killed, and the rest fled into <em>Itch</em>?"


    "That''s my best guess," I said. We were making a lot of assumptions.


    We were one step closer to figuring out what had happened to Andrew Hughes¡¯ teammates, who had not entered <em>Itch</em> with him.


    It wasn''t really a priority, but in some ways, all mysteries felt like priorities in Carousel.


    Iy back in my bed and stared out my window, thinking about everything we had aplished over the past few days: our grocery run, our research, our teamwork.


    I noticed that in the sky, the moon was almost full, and I watched it without thinking about anything particr for a long time.


    Eventually, I saw something or someone fly across the sky, directly across the moon. A witch on a broom?


    It snapped me out of it, and I rolled over and went to sleep.


    We had so many things to do, and it would all start tomorrow.

 Book Five, Chapter 24: Before the Rescue

    Book Five, Chapter 24: Before the Rescue


    I stood in the living room area of the loft next to Antoine and Kimberly. We had taken days off, but knowing the task thaty ahead, there was only so much rxing that we could do.


    The storyline, <em>Itch,</em> taunted us.


    No matter how much work we put into it, we never felt like we were learning enough. But at the end of the day, we were never going to escape Carousel without taking risks.


    "Right now," I said, "I see <em>Itch</em> as being a science fiction movie."


    "So you don¡¯t think the werewolves are involved?" Bobby asked. " Werewolves usually aren¡¯t strictly science fiction. <em>Itch</em> does sound like the title of a werewolf movie."


    I was in agreement with that; I imagined that growing fur would be very itchy.


    "I don¡¯t think so," I said. "I have a few reasons. First, we have no exnation for what happened to the remaining two members of Andrew Hughes¡¯ team. Our working theory is that they were killed by whatever lies in the monster''sir, which we think are werewolves. So, if they were killed by the werewolves, and the werewolves are a part of <em>Itch</em>, then they should show up as potential rescues for that movie, but they don¡¯t."


    The As was clear that if you got killed by monsters outside of a storyline, you could be rescued from the storyline those monsters were originally from.


    "Also, the poster for Itch was some kind of control panel, like for aputer from the ¡¯80s. I don¡¯t know what that means, but that doesn¡¯t seem like werewolves. But most of all, right now, we''re pretty sure that the base story of <em>Itch</em> doesn''t allow psychic powers, and I have a hard time imagining a werewolf story where psychics couldn¡¯t exist."Of course, it was always possible that there was just a very powerful psychic trope that canceled out other psychic powers, but there were a million possibilities. I just had to make my best guess.


    "Well then, that opens back up the question of how science fiction works in Carousel," Bobby said.


    This type of subject was something that Bobby liked to talk about. We had both been working to try and find our way through the Carousel As as best we could. When it came to things like genre, the problem wasn''t that there wasn¡¯t enough information¡ªit was that there was too much information, and it was spread out all throughout the As.


    The first thing we wanted to know was exactly how technology lined up with the year the storyline was supposed to be set. We were aware that Carousel was more or less organized by date. We had been hauled up and down time enough to know that.


    The period that was supposed to look like 1960 was called Carousel 1960, and sure enough, all of the stories from that era looked like they took ce at the appropriate time.


    But then, how would science fiction work?


    Would we have to wait until 2198, when technology really started to pop off?


    The answer was no.


    Science fiction seemed to be the biggest counterpoint to the charade of Carousel¡¯s timeline. The As referenced things that just did not exist in the time periods their stories were set.


    We found references to ray guns and teleportation, as well as gic advancements like those we had seen during our fake tutorial, that just could not possibly exist in our world, even in modern times, and yet they existed in stories set in the ¡¯80s, ¡¯90s, or even further back.


    If <em>Itch</em> was science fiction, we had no way of knowing what to expect.


    "Another point for <em>Itch</em> being science fiction and not werewolves," Antoine added, "is that there were no forests or woods, right?"


    I looked at him for a moment and nodded. My location scout ability had not given any locations that involved a naturalndscape of any kind. It appeared that the story took ce inside a building with hallways, control rooms, and storage areas.


    Of course, Antoine intentionally pointed out that there were no woods because he wanted to go on this rescue, and he knew I was hesitant to support him if there was a chance he would have another episode.


    "The whole thing takes ce inside, right?" he asked.


    I reluctantly nodded. "It would appear that way," I said. ¡°Noting explicit, at least. Of course, I am missing information because Location Scout wasn¡¯t giving the best information.¡±


    My Savvy was good, but it wasn''t exactly my dominant stat; it was more tied with Moxie and Hustle.


    "So, what else is there to discuss?" Dina asked. "We have literally talked ourselves around in circles on this subject. We either need to do it or move on to something else."


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any urrences.


    Dina was never really big on discussion or talking things through. When we talked about going on <em>Itch</em>, her contribution was, "When are we leaving?"


    I gazed around the room at our little group of friends. We still looked like squatters because we had no furniture, and yet we had all made ourselvesfortable on the floor or in fold-up chairs.


    "We need to figure out who''s going," I said.


    In the pit of my stomach, I knew there was no good answer, but I was hoping someone woulde up with one.


    "We know that because of Dina¡¯s rescue trope, we¡¯re all going to be background characters,¡± I said. ¡°We don¡¯t know if that means we¡¯ll be off-screen the entire time¡ªwe just have no idea. And we also know that because it¡¯s a rescue story, some tropes just basically won''t work. So that needs to go into ount for who we bring, what tropes we bring."


    Antoine took in a big breath and walked forward.


    "I know that Cassie and Isaac were hoping to go," he said.


    He looked at them, and they nodded.


    "We need to save Andrew," Cassie said.


    This was one subject that Isaac didn¡¯t joke about.


    "So, I think what we have to do," Antoine said, "is bring everybody. We have to bring all of our top yers, and we can''t leave anybody behind. I know you were talking about only bringing five yers," he said, looking at me, "but I just don¡¯t see how that could work."


    Of course, there were problems with bringing everyone.


    I hadin awake the night before, counting them all. If we brought everyone, Bobby would have to bring his dogs, too.


    If we brought everyone¡ªall eight of us¡ªand it turned out that there was a yer limit, say six yers, that meant that two of us at random would just suddenly¡­


    What? We didn''t know.


    The As said that you just wouldn¡¯t be in the story if it had met its limit, but then what did those yers do? What if none of them had scouting tropes, and they were trapped at the power station alone?


    What if we got punished for bringing too many yers?


    Antoine stood and argued his case very convincingly, but the truth was, I already agreed with him¡ªbut not for anything he said. He talked about how rescues were never going to get easier. This would literally be the easiest one we ever did, so it was the ideal one to bring the lower-level yers on.


    He was only saying that to rile them up and get them enthusiastic. I wasn¡¯t going to poke holes in his argument.


    Finally, he got to hisst and best argument¡ªthe very one that I hade up with myself and agreed with.


    "The fact is," he said, "we don¡¯t know how long this storylinests. It couldst weeks¡ªwe don''t know. Even if we could leave behind three yers, we don''t know how long they would be left here waiting. With only three yers, they wouldn''t be able to run any storylines safely. And whatever happens to yers who don¡¯t run storylines could happen to them."


    It was the same old problem. We didn¡¯t have enough yers to split up yet.


    There was a palpable tension in the air as he said that.


    In fact, I was the only person who allegedly knew what happened to yers who didn¡¯t run storylines¡ªor, more specifically, I knew what happened to yers who quit them. But I wasn¡¯t going to exin the nuance.


    "I agree," I said. "Now, let¡¯s get to nning our loadouts."


    Antoine was surprised that I agreed so easily. He had clearly been expecting me to argue against it. After all, he knew what I had seen. He knew what liability he represented.


    But that was just one more risk we had to take.


    We were going to use pared-down tropes across the board. A rescue trope was vtile and could change stories tremendously and in unpredictable ways. The Carousel As spoke of rescue tropes and advanced archetypes as carefully bnced chemical mixtures that could create chaos with the slightest bit of contamination.


    Even the vets knew that, and I doubted that they had the section of the As that I was reading. When I had gone on my run with Arthur, and he used his advanced archetype to help change the story into an action-oriented monster-hunting story instead of the psychological horror that it was originally, all of the other vets had chosen tropes that were neutral¡ªuseful in and of themselves, but that didn''t have huge effects on the rest of the story.


    They didn''t even use their aspect tropes. You don¡¯t want to step on the toes of the guy who¡¯s disarming the bomb, so to speak.


    In this case, Dina¡¯s rescue trope would take the lead, and we would let it.


    "So we¡¯re not trying out my new trope?" Kimberly asked.


    "Right, not this time," Antoine said.


    She had just gotten her aspect trope for Celebrity, called <strong>The Hall of Fame</strong>, and it promised some story-altering and emphasis-changing effects that would normally be really great for a strong yer. But we didn¡¯t know which elements of that trope would even be taken into ount in a rescue. Story alterations were canceled out across the board.


    We focused on ourselves and our backgrounds and tried not to think about hedging our bets or relying on improvisation because, if we were background characters, we probably wouldn''t have the time to set up the improvisation, to begin with.


    That ruled out tropes like my <strong>Raised by Television</strong> ability or <strong>Cinema Seer</strong>, which required early ess to the on-screen.


    We even debated whether Bobby would use his trope to swap into the role of a background character because we didn''t know if that would be duplicative or cause problems. Then we decided that he ought to use it because that was the ability that allowed him to see the script, and truthfully, that was a very powerful ability for a run like the one we had ahead of us.


    The newer yers had an easier time. They left behind the tropes that they shouldn''t bring on a rescue and didn''t have many left to go through.


    As far as weapons went, we brought all we had, including Antoine¡¯s baseball bat, the sawed-off shotgun with a trope, and even my hedge shears, even though I didn''t know if they woulde up organically.


    Bobby, of course, brought his gaggle of dogs¡ªfive dogs, varying in size from gigantic to mid-size. They all had names, but I had not learned which belonged to which. It wasn¡¯t that I¡¯m not a dog person; it¡¯s more that I wasn¡¯t sure they were dogs¡ªnot on the inside.


    I could understand that people could be under the influence of mind control and still be people at their core, trapped by the script, not knowing why or how.


    But was a dog under mind control even really a dog?


    I didn¡¯t bring up these questions with Bobby because he loved those dogs.


    After much discussion, Kimberly moved to the kitchen and said, "Tonight we feast. All perishables get eaten."


    "What?" Isaac asked. "I¡¯ve been eating those gross sardines because I didn¡¯t want them to be the only thing that was left so we wouldn¡¯t have to just eat sardines, and now we¡¯re going to eat everything but the sardines? What was the point of that?"


    "We never asked you to eat them," Antoine said.


    And then we began preparing our feast because when we left, we didn''t know when we would be back.


    Or if we would be back.

 Book Five, Chapter 25: Itch

    Book Five, Chapter 25: Itch


    Antoine Stone is <em>the Athlete</em>.<blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Antoine has a Plot Armor score of 26, Mettle of 7, Moxie of 4, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 3, and Grit of 7.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    "<strong>Off the Bench</strong>" the yer feels more rested for each scene they are not in. Eventually buffs Hustle and Moxie.


    "<strong>The ybook</strong>" the user will be able to see when it is their turn to act in an established n.


    <strong>¡°Time Out!¡± </strong>allows him to send a fight scene Off-Screen for a set time.


    <strong>¡°You were having a nightmare¡­¡± </strong>reduces traumatic memories to nothing but a lingering dream and can undo much of a storyline at a very high level.


    <strong>¡°In Bed By Nine¡± </strong>allows the yer to incorporate a restorative sleeping break into the shoot."<strong>y it Cool</strong>" suppresses mental trauma if the user acts calm and collected.


    <strong>"Gym Rat"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory.


    Swinging it will cause his opponents to falter, if only for a moment, based on Moxie because of ¡°<strong>Swing Away</strong>.¡±


    Borrowed from Riley: ¡°<strong>Out Like a Light</strong>¡± allows him to fall asleep instantly.</blockquote>


    ~


    Kimberly Madison is <em>the Eye Candy</em>.<blockquote>


    Her aspect is Celebrity


    <strong>Celebrity</strong>: The Celebrity aspect treats the yer like an actor and the storylines like films they sign on to. Using meta tropes to create hype, fan favoritism, andrger than life roles, the Celebrity is the most versatile of the Eye Candy aspects. Using past roles to help their ¡°career¡±, the Celebrity can specialize in virtually anything if they have long enough to build a career.


    Kimberly has a Plot Armor score of 26, Mettle of 5, Moxie of 10, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 1, and Grit of 6.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    <strong>"Convenient Backstory"</strong> allows her to believably change her backstory to assist with the current task, buffing the relevant stat.


    <strong>"Social Awareness"</strong> allows her to see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs and intuit rtionship dynamics.


    <strong>¡°Does anyone have a scrunchie?¡±</strong> allows her to shift Moxie''s points into another stat by putting her hair up.


    ¡°<strong>Carousel Academy Awards</strong>¡± buffs her Moxie based on the quality of her performance in the previous storyline.


    "<strong>The Penthouse</strong>" The character will get the nicest, safest amodations in a multiday storyline.


    "<strong>Contract Negotiations</strong>" the user will get a buff to an Improvisation after "discussing" an improvisation with Carousel.


    <strong>¡°Breaking the Veil of Silence,¡± </strong>the user will get warnings from knowledgeable NPCs. Outside of storylines, NPCs will warn of dangers to women and hint at storyline rewards.


    ¡°<strong>A Lip Cease</strong>¡± allows her to take the story Off-Screen by halting the conversation while exploring and then picking it back up in a different setting.


    <strong>"When in Rome"</strong> buffs her Grit until Rebirth if her performance matches the tone of the movie.</blockquote>


    ~


    Dina Cano is <em>the Outsider</em>.<blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Dina has a Plot Armor score of 21, Mettle of 3, Moxie of 3, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 3, and Grit of 7.


    Free Background Trope: <strong>"A Haunted Past" </strong>A background trope that gives her character some past trauma that haunts her, often literally.


    Current Trope Limit: 8


    <strong>"Guarded Personality" </strong>resists all insight abilities.


    <strong>"An Outsider''s Perspective" </strong>alerts her to new, out-of-ce, or unusual information.


    <strong>"Encouragement from Beyond" </strong>soothes her when stressed, scared, or in pain and may provide useful information in the form ofmunication from the beyond.


    <strong>¡°They Fell Off¡± </strong>allows her to quickly get out of handcuffs and simr restraints.


    <strong>¡°Light Fingers¡± </strong>buffs the yer¡¯s attempts at stealing items from the set.


    <strong>"Savvy Safecracker" </strong>tells the character how long it will take to pick a lock of some kind. Buffs Hustle in the attempt.


    ¡°<strong>You don¡¯t know me, but¡­</strong>¡± creates a rescue that allows the yer to guide NPC surrogates through the storyline from the shadows. If the surrogates survive, their postered yer counterparts are rescued.


    <strong>"Outside Looking In"</strong> grants her the ability to discern ideal spots to linger and observe events without actively participating in the narrative.</blockquote>


    ~


    Riley Lawrence is <em>the Film Buff</em>.<blockquote>


    His aspect is Filmmaker.


    <strong>Filmmaker</strong>: The Filmmaker has aprehensive understanding of the filmmaking process. They can manipte the game environment effectively, altering the game''s dynamics in subtle but impactful ways. Their abilities are a mixture of meta-Insight and meta-Rule tropes. They have higher Hustle, reflecting their ability to stay out of the way, stay alive, and remain unseen as they manipte meta-movie elements.


    Riley has a Plot Armor score of 28, Mettle of 3, Moxie of 7, Hustle of 7, Savvy of 7, and Grit of 4.


    Free Background Trope: <strong>"My Grandmother Had the Gift¡­" </strong>A background trope that gives Riley¡¯s character some ambiguous connection to ¡°The Gift¡± through his heritage.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    <strong>"Trope Master"</strong> grants him the ability to perceive enemy tropes, but at the cost of sacrificing half of his Plot Armor.


    As an <strong>"Oblivious Bystander,"</strong> Riley remains untargeted by enemies as he convincingly acts oblivious to their presence.


    <strong>"Escape Artist"</strong> buffs his Hustle to help enact usible escape ns.


    <strong>"The Insert Shot"</strong> makes allies aware of an object the yer chooses. The object will be shown to the audience and its use will be buffed in the Finale.


    ¡°<strong>What Doesn¡¯t Kill Them Makes Them Angry</strong>¡± allows the user to antagonize the enemy into attacking and lowers their Savvy.


    "<strong>The Dailies</strong>¡± allows him to see a selection of raw footage from the day''s shoot.


    <strong>¡°Cinema Seer¡± </strong>allows him to buff allies¡¯ Grit and Savvy when making big meta predicitons.


    ¡°<strong>Just Out of Shot</strong>¡± allows him to see ¡®cameras¡¯ when sneaking near an enemy to avoid being seen.


    <strong>¡°Method to the Madness¡± </strong>allows him to have increased in-character conversations with enemies Off-Screen.</blockquote>


    ~


    Bobby Gill is The Wallflower.<blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Bobby has a Plot Armor score of 24, Mettle of 3, Moxie of 7, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 5, and Grit of 4.


    Free Background Trope: ¡°<strong>Actually, I''m a Veterinarian</strong>¡± changes his character¡¯s background to being an animal doctor.


    <strong>Current Trope Limit: 8</strong>


    <strong>¡°Background Noise¡±</strong> allows him to get background information from NPCs when Off-Screen.


    <strong>¡°The Good Samaritan¡± </strong>buffs his Mettle and Grit for helping allies in a crisis if they have not met On-Screen and are strangers.


    <strong>¡°Last-Minute Casting¡±</strong> recasts him as an NPC that is moderately involved in the plot. The selection is seemingly random. He will get some limited background information for the character and some ess to the NPC script.


    <strong>¡°From Humble Beginnings¡±</strong> debuffs the yer¡¯s stats 30% in the Party, then but buffs them 15% in Rebirth, the Finale, and the Final Battle resulting in a 15% buff by the end of the story.


    <strong>¡°Craft Services Are The Real Heroes¡±</strong> ensures that there is edible food and water on set somewhere during the storyline.


    <strong>¡°My Only Role is Exposition¡±</strong> gives him some useful information to be ryed On-Screen but takes it away if he starts to bore the audience.


    ¡°<strong>If you Can''t see it, it Won''t Bleed</strong>¡± allows him to temporarily mend wounds by covering them from the audience¡¯s view.


    <strong>"Act Like You Belong" </strong>lets the user blend into any scene by quickly adopting small, fitting elements like props or attire. However, all these elements must work together to maintain their cover.</blockquote>


    ~


    Cassie Hughes is <em>The Psychic</em>.<blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Cassie has a Plot Armor score of 23, Mettle of 3, Moxie of 10, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 4, and Grit of 1.


    <strong>Trope Limit: 8</strong>


    <strong>¡°The Anguish¡±</strong> lets her see her allies¡¯ health stats from anywhere and lets her take some of their pain by feeling it herself. This can reduce their overall injuries.


    <strong>¡°We are not abandoned¡­¡±</strong> can keep her allies¡¯ spirits high by weaving a narrative of some higher power in control. When done well, this trope can heal Incapacitation, certain forms of spiritual Infection, and even buff Grit.


    ¡°<strong>Reflective Jump Scare</strong>¡± allows her to get a glimpse of the enemy when she looks in a mirror, giving her some small insight into what is in store.


    ¡°<strong>Foreboding Signs</strong>¡± gives her insight into who will die next and how in character, allowing her to prepare for what is toe.


    "<strong>Empathic Shield</strong>" buffs an imperiled ally¡¯s Grit by expressing genuine concern for them On-Screen.


    "<strong>At Your Own Peril</strong>" debuffs characters¡¯ Grit and Effective Plot Armor if they ignore her psychic warnings.


    <strong>"rity of Purpose"</strong> lets the user substitute Moxie for Grit when enduring tasks that cause constant pain, like handling dangerous objects.


    ¡°<strong>The Road Not Taken</strong>¡± allows her to get a sense of whether a certain choice will result in powerful emotions, but not what those emotions are.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the vition.</blockquote>


    ~


    Isaac Hughes is <em>The Comedian</em>.<blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Isaac has a Plot Armor score of 18, Mettle of 3, Moxie of 4, Hustle of 3, Savvy of 4, and Grit of 4.


    <strong>Trope Limit: 8</strong>


    <strong>¡°If he¡¯s still cracking jokes¡­¡±</strong> allows the yer to reduce or eliminate injuries by using humor the next time he is On-Screen before the audience know how injured he is. Works on allies situationally.


    <strong>¡°Weapons of Mass Absurdity¡±</strong> using humorous weapons Buffs his Mettle and Hustle. The buff extends to weapons that are used if the original weapon fails.


    ¡°<strong>Blood Loss Delirium</strong>¡± gives the yer a pleasant drunken stupor when they have major blood loss and provides cover for antics.


    ¡°<strong>Gallows Humor</strong>¡± allows him to ease mental pain with dark humor rted to a dreadful relevant topic.


    "<strong>Trash Talk</strong>" allows him to debuff the enemy¡¯s Mettle by insulting them.


    <strong>"Hindsight is 20/20"</strong> allows the user to recognize mistakes they''ve made after the fact, helping them or their allies avoid simr errors in the future. Commenting on these mistakes increases the sess of future ns based on the lesson learned.


    <strong>"Lights Gone Out"</strong> grants the user a tragic backstory that makes them emotionally dead inside, providing resistance against mental maniptions and false hope that would affect a normal person.


    ¡°<strong>Bleeping Censors</strong>¡± allows him to take a scene he is in Off-Screen by cursing in an inappropriate way.</blockquote>


    ~


    Ramona Mercer is <em>the Hysteric.</em><blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Ramona has a Plot Armor score of 13, Mettle of 1, Moxie of 3, Hustle of 3, Savvy of 3, and Grit of 3.


    Current Trope Limit: 5


    ¡°<strong>Just Us Monsters</strong>¡± buffs her Mettle and Grit when she lets loose fighting against a monster alone.


    ¡°<strong>Afraid for Others</strong>¡± allows her to harness fear to use Moxie as Mettle when protecting or saving loved ones.


    ¡°<strong>Close-up Scream</strong>¡± allows the user to be the sole On-Screen character when screaming about something they see.


    ¡°<strong>Just the Jitters</strong>¡± allows the user to avoid feeling nervousness or unease by acting out those emotions intentionally.


    ¡°<strong>Before you get us killed</strong>¡± allows the user to divide the party, sending their group mostly Off-Screen and guaranteeing some sess to the surviving group.</blockquote>


    ~-~


    Walking into the unknown, I was forced to lead the way because I was the best at detecting Omens¡ªwhat a life I was leading.


    As we walked down the long stretches of gravel roads toward the mountain where the power station was, I had no idea what was in store.


    This was a strange run. The priorities were different. The As told us that Dina''s rescue trope, <strong>You don¡¯t know me, but... </strong>was full of entricities. The story would not be about us. We would be trying to babysit yer surrogates who would each represent one of the fallen yers¡ªAndrew, Michael, and L. If we led them to safety andpleted the storyline, the yers would survive. If not, they stayed dead.


    We would be safe. That''s something that got repeated a lot. On this rescue, we would be as safe as we let ourselves be. But then, without taking risks, how could we possibly win?


    If one of us died and the survivors did notplete the storyline, they would stay dead. They would be another face on another poster needing to be rescued.


    I asked myself if I secretly wanted to use Dina''s trope instead of Antoine''s because I was afraid to take risks. I didn''t know the answer.


    If it was just my life at risk, I might have chosen Antoine''s trope. What little we knew suggested it would be more action-oriented. I had never been in a situation where I had to risk someone else''s life and might be forced to live with the consequences. Typically, if my teammates died, I would die, too. It was all or nothing.


    Neither Antoine''s nor Dina''s rescue trope carried that standard all-or-nothing promise. We could get picked off one at a time doing these rescues. Given that, I chose Dina''s. It gave us the option of disengaging to be safe.


    But in the end, could we ever be safe in Carousel?


    ¡°They really put it all the way out here, didn¡¯t they?¡± Bobby asked as he wrangled his dogs, who were mostly obedient but still acted like dogs and tugged their leashes toward exciting smells.


    I felt nauseous in the pit of my stomach. I tried not to think about what wasing up¡ªall of the unknowns. We passed by the strange junkyard, but this time, we didn¡¯t stop to stare; we pressed forward.


    ¡°Bobby, watch out. We¡¯re approaching the forest with the monsterir,¡± I said as we approached thepound of the power station.


    ¡°Roger that,¡± he said.


    I didn¡¯t know if the dogs would react to the werewolves lurking in the woods, but I noted that they became very vignt as we passed it.


    I noticed that Isaac and Cassie were silently encouraging each other behind me as they stared at their brother''s missing poster.


    They were lucky in a way¡ªto get answers so fast and to rescue their loved one so soon. I was jealous, but at the same time, I was happy for them because I was ready for people to start having wins.


    Other than the sound of our footsteps, we didn''t make a sound as we approached thepound.


    We nervously looked over the entrance. We paused for an electric minute of shaking breaths.


    ¡°It¡¯s so big,¡± Cassie said under her breath.


    It was. It was a huge campus with tons of buildings, and none of them were small, other than the booth where you could buy a tour for 5 dors¡ªif only someone were there to ept your money.


    ¡°What do we do to trigger it?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°We walk toward the spray paint on the wall over there and then past that through the alley. Do not touch or interact with anything else. Stay close to each other,¡± I said.


    The spray paint read: ¡°Death to Scabs.¡±


    Isaac read it aloud. ¡°What can that mean?¡± he asked.


    It could mean several things, I thought, but didn¡¯t answer. Perhaps scabs were the enemies we were facing. It would certainly make sense for a storyline called <em>Itch</em>. I envisioned zombie-like creatures withrge ws and swollen tumors all over their bodies. I immediately stopped myself from picturing that because I really didn¡¯t want to confront a creature like that.


    We got to the spray paint.


    ¡°It¡¯s fresh,¡± Antoine said, noting that it looked like it had just been painted.


    And then we walked further down through the alleyway. The plot cycle appeared, and our choice was made. We were on to the Party Phase.


    I could see that we had sessfully triggered a rescue because the word Rescue was on the red wallpaper along with all three of the missing posters for yers who had died in <em>Itch</em>.


    Behind us, we started to hear screams and taunts, and fear rose up in me because I worried that those scabs I made up were about to start chasing us. But when I looked behind us, I saw that the screams were noting from inhuman parasites but from ordinary humans holding up signs and pickets, screaming ¡°Death to Scabs¡± and other phrases that I couldn¡¯t quite make out.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Scabs. I think we just crossed a picket line.¡±


    ¡°Scab¡± was a mean way to describe a person who worked the job of a striking worker, preventing the strike from having an effect.


    We continued walking forward, and the campus that we had seen before¡ªthe lonely ce filled with creepy, abandoned aesthetics¡ªhad changed to a beautiful campus with bright green grass, statues, andrge towering buildings that didn''t look like they contained nuclear bombs as before, but instead looked like they held the wonders of science. There were banners and balloons.


    We approached a red carpet where an NPC named Tripp was waiting for us. He was pping his hands, excited as all get out. He was wearing a tweed jacket and a piano-key necktie.


    ¡°Oh, joy,¡± he said as we approached. ¡°Today is an auspicious day, don¡¯t you think?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Took the words out of my mouth,¡± Isaac said.


    All around us, NPCs were busy with hustle and bustle, wearing hard hats and shiny uniforms that scientists would wear in movies to keep themselves sterile. And yet, bewilderingly, they were wearing them outside.


    ¡°As our seven lucky winners, you are certainly in for a treat,¡± Tripp said. ¡°But really, this is bigger than just one experience. This is about giving other people the confidence to explore without fear. Did you like that slogan¡ª¡®explore without fear¡¯? My bosses say we shouldn''t be putting the word ¡®fear¡¯ into people''s minds, but I think it suggests courage. ¡®Explore without fear,¡¯¡± he said as he opened and closed his hands, letting his fingers sy out.


    He shook his body as if that phrase was just <em>so</em> good. We all just kind of nodded because we noticed, first, that we were not on-screen, and second, we still had no idea what was happening.


    Luckily, our ringer, Bobby, had already been taken off to his ce somewhere in the storyline, and when we found him, he could fill us in on anything we missed along the way. His dogs were gone, too.


    Then again, it quickly became apparent that everything we had brought had been confiscated. Without our noticing, we were each holding a small duffel bag with ¡°KRSL Astronautical¡± on the side. As I read those words, I stopped breathing automatically and had to force myself to take in air.


    Astronautical... Oh dear.


    We all looked at each other with clear rm. Even Ramona seemed properly hysterical as we realized that this was not an ordinary power station.


    ¡°Where''s the power generator?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°Isn''t there a power station around here?¡±


    ¡°We''re pure nuclear,¡± Tripp said, ¡°I know, I know. It¡¯s old-fashioned, but you should see the project we are building on the other side of campus. Fusion reaction. Who thought we''d get that in Carousel, huh? Finally catching up to the rest of the world.¡±


    Exactly how advanced was this storyline?


    ¡°Now, if you''ll follow me, I''ll take you to the flight deck.¡±


    He led us into arge building, bigger than a football stadium, with a covered dome that began opening as we walked inside.


    This gave us a beautiful view of the sunset-colored sky.


    ¡°The stars areing out to say hello,¡± Tripp said. ¡°Don''t you worry; you''ll be meeting them soon enough.¡±


    As he led us into the building, we realized that the entire ground-level floor was mostly carved out, and there were multiple lower floors beneath us. At the very bottom was a white object the size of arge airne. As we stared over the side of the railing down at the object, none of us could speak.


    We were off-screen, so we didn''t have to worry about breaking character, so I just went for it.


    ¡°Can you exin exactly what our duties entail?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Just enjoy yourself,¡± Tripp said. ¡°It''s testimonials from ordinary people like you that keep us in business. Trust me, if we could get space tourism to be as big as deep-sea tourism was 20 years ago¡ªwhy, just imagine the possibilities.¡±


    ¡°What year is it?¡± Antoine asked as he stared at the white object down on the ground beneath us.


    ¡°I know, right?¡± Tripp asked. ¡°It feels like we''re living in the future like we somehow beamed that ship right out of the year 2000.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Who knows what they''lle up with in the year 2000.¡±


    ¡°Who knows, indeed,¡± Tripp said. ¡°Just know that KRSL will be leading the charge, and in some small way, your feedback could help decide that question.¡±


    ¡°It looks like the ship from <em>20,000 Leagues Under The Sea</em>,¡± Dina said quietly to me.


    She was right. It looked just like the Nautilus, the ship from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.


    Except it was eggshell white, and the edges were all rounded. It definitely had spherical porthole windows and an aquatic animal look to it. Of course, it also had the obvious thrusters and wings that made an X shape when we looked down on it from above, but it didn''t really look like a rocket.


    It looked organic, like the dried bones of some cosmic being.


    And it didn''t fit in with anything else in the building. While it was white and rounded and looked like a 1960s vision of the future, all of the tech around it looked brutalist and early cyberpunk.


    Theputers looked like props from a 1980s sci-fi movie, and all of the partial rockets and other spacecraft that surrounded the white ship had exposed metal features.


    ¡°It doesn''t quite look like it belongs here,¡± I said under my breath, without really understanding why I felt that beyond basic aesthetics.


    ¡°Oh, she''s state-of-the-art,¡± Tripp said. ¡°You''re so lucky to be able to go up on her.¡±


    Tripp led us forward, but truthfully, all of my muscles were numb as we made our way through the facility and over to an elevator with ss panels that would lower us down.


    It didn''t feel real.


    We passed by blinking and beeping machinery that looked very much like the control panel I had seen on the movie poster.


    Were we really about to go in a spaceship?


    The vets had said that Carousel ys its role too. That''s how we exin that sometimes small-town Carousel had skyscrapers, and other times, the river that ran east to west instead ran northwest to southeast.


    But a space program?


    A corporate space program that KRSL seemed to run from their mountain hideaway. What the heck?


    While most of us were increasingly nervous, Antoine seemed to be getting excited. It was almost like he liked the idea of going up in space. What a freak.


    ¡°In space, they can''t hear you scream,¡± I said to him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t n on screaming,¡± he answered. I wasn''t sure if he got the reference.


    I really wanted to take a break and contemte what we were about to do, but there was no break to be had.


    We were off-screen, and we were background characters. Everything seemed to be running at top speed to get us to our positions, and little things like stopping to reflect didn''t fit into that time frame.


    ¡°All right, if you''ll walk through there, you''ll be given your uniforms. In a few hours, you''ll be looking back down at us from up there,¡± he said, looking up.


    He pointed us in the direction of what appeared to be locker rooms¡ªbut not the kind of locker room I preferred, which usually had walls to stop people from peeking at you. As we looked over there, we saw NPCs getting dressed right out there in the open in front of their lockers.


    Men and women.


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± Kimberly said as she realized how little privacy we were going to get. ¡°I bet it''s going to be even worse on the ship,¡± she added.


    ¡°Well, you don''t get rocket ships and fusion energy without coed locker rooms,¡± I said. ¡°It''s the rule of science fiction.¡±


    Because we were off-screen, NPCs didn''t stop to talk to us or give us information. That was going to be a problem.


    We were basically Wallflowers without the tropes to go along with it, but even worse, people who had used this rescue trope made it clear that you were not going to be directed to scenes where you could interact with the story. You would have to find your openings on your own.


    This was going to be work.


    And Antoine got right on it.


    ¡°Hey, buddy,¡± he said to an unclothed, hairy guy who had no shame standing in the locker room.


    The man turned to us; his name was Rudy, and he had a big, wide smile.


    ¡°You must be the prize winners,¡± he said. He stuck out his hand for Antoine to shake, and Antoine did.


    ¡°I was just wondering,¡± Antoine said, ¡°what were all those people protesting outside?¡±


    ¡°Happiness,¡± he said. ¡°A bright tomorrow, you know, the normal things that people like that protest.¡±


    I didn''t know what -ism was going on in this story, but it was one of them. Whether it was fascism or corporatism, something was up.


    ¡°No, really,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°I''m telling you,¡± Rudy insisted. ¡°They were too picky, didn''t want to go up, and now they don''t get to.¡±


    He continued getting dressed.


    The problem was that Antoine did not have a whole lot of Moxie.


    I had plenty, though.


    ¡°Come on, man, give me the dirt. Don''t trash-talk them without letting us in on it,¡± I said.


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± Rudy said. ¡°Those sad suckers out there, they would have been rich, but they went to their union over some minor issues, went on strike, and got reced.¡±


    ¡°I didn''t realize that astronauts could unionize,¡± I said.


    ¡°Them? Astronauts?¡± Rudy asked. ¡°No, those are miners.¡±


    ¡°I guess they couldn''t get their parents to sign their permission slips,¡± Isaac said.


    Rudyughed generously. ¡°They''re space miners, supposed to be professionally trained, but apparently, they weren''t too enthusiastic about keeping their jobs, so they''ve been picketing us for thest 18 months or so, if you believe it. If they don''t have to work for 18 months, then they must not need jobs.¡±


    ¡°Space mining,¡± Antoine said, impressed. ¡°Will we be seeing any of that?¡±


    Rudy shook his head. ¡°No, no, that ship already sailed about 13 months ago. We will probably be doing a quick flyby of the ship they''re on, seeing as the Helio is so much faster, but I doubt that we''re going to be looking at the new mining colonies. There''s not much to see, just a bunch of mindless robots.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Isaac asked as he started to change his clothes. ¡°If you have robots who can mine, why do you need people?¡±


    ¡°Well, the humans aren''t mindless, technically, but they''re still basically robots if you ask me. There are some things that AI just can''t figure out yet, like what to do when everything goes wrong.¡±


    Rudy finished getting dressed and said, ¡°I''ll see you on the ship. Don''t forget to get sanitized.¡± As he left, he wore a gray uniform with orange stripes. The uniforms we had been given were very simr, except ours had ck stripes.


    The sanitizers were not gentle. NPCs came to collect us and put us in a machine that doused us from head to toe with chemicals. It felt like we were in a car wash. All of our belongings were searched, and then we were led back into the locker rooms wearing nothing but towels.


    I quickly changed, hoping that none of the NPCs got a peek at me.

 Book Five, Chapter 26: Countdown to launch

    Book Five, Chapter 26: Countdown tounch


    Words couldn''t convey the feeling coursing through me¡ªexcitement, wonder, and abject fear¡ªbut they were all there.


    I knew that horror movies could take ce in space, but I still never pictured myself traveling there. I thought that the small town of Carousel would be the limit of our exploration. As I walked up to the giant ship, I almost forgot that I was in a horror movie, and I was thrilled.


    But that feeling quickly left me because, in space, small mistakes could be big mistakes, and whatevery in the stars waiting for us would be deadlier than I could imagine.


    "So, what''s the story, you think?" Isaac asked nervously. It was on everyone''s mind as we were waiting to load onto the ship, which was leaving much sooner than the tour guide Tripp would have seemed to suggest.


    "Are we going to fight aliens?" he asked before I could answer. ¡°In space, they have a home-field advantage."


    "Well, to them, we''ll be the aliens," Antoine said, "which means we have the home-field advantage in space."


    Isaacughed.


    "I don''t know," I said. "Aliens are likely, but there are other possibilities, like robots¡ªwhich got name-dropped. We could be dealing with something like interdimensional demons, but I haven''t seen any clues for that yet. Of course, there are always environmental disasters in a closed space like this. Maybe we hit an asteroid field, or we get stranded on a moon. But yeah, aliens seem most likely."


    No one wasforted, but then I wasn''t trying tofort them.As they stood and waved, I approached Ramona and pulled her aside.


    Something had urred to me.


    "This is the worst time to bring this up," I said as we got away from the others. "I''ve put off asking you about this, but I just have to."


    "Okay," she said. "So ask."


    "We''re about to be in outer space in a little metal box. I have to wonder whether or not your friend ising, too."


    "My friend?" she asked.


    "The Mercer poltergeist," I said. "We know about that. We didn''t want you to feel excluded, but I just have to know if we''re in danger because, if so, you may need to just stay behind."


    Even if it meant she was written off, we couldn''t risk her family''s gic curse appearing on a spaceship.


    "Well, I haven''t had an attack since I was a little kid, and that was before I remember, so I doubt one ising now," she said. "I didn''t realize you guys knew so much about that."


    "Yeah, I''ve met him before. Great guy," I said.


    "That''s not my experience," Ramona said. "It only starts to act up when you''re in contact with other Mercers, or at least normally. Honestly, I haven''t had it happen in my entire adult life. I don''t think it''s going to happen right now. I don''t think Carousel would like that."


    She made a good point. Carousel itself might step in to prevent any unscripted visit from the poltergeist. At the end of the day, Carousel wanted a good film. Strangely, that wasforting to think about.


    Maybe she would even need tropes to use him.


    "Is that why you guys look at me the way you do?" she asked. "Because you know?"


    "No," I said. "It''s the whole being born in Carousel and the strange rtionship with Ss Dyrkon that does it."


    "Oh," she said. "Right."


    I realized she might have been hurt by that.


    "I was trying to make a joke," I said. "We¡¯re good with you. You''re fine. Now, let''s go kill some aliens."


    She nodded, and we returned to the group. I wondered if I could have handled that any worse.


    As we walked back, I saw arge transparent cube sitting on a desk in the distance. Inside the cube was a floating hologram of a ship, or at least its blueprints. I noticed thatrge rubber gloves were attached to the cube so that you could stick your hands through and manipte something inside.


    As I approached it, it became clear how it worked.


    I put my hands into the rubber gloves and started moving the hologram around in three dimensions. The device seemed both high-tech and low-tech at the same time. I could almost imagine something like this existing in the real world.


    The thing was, the hologram that I was manipting was not the ship that stood before us. In fact, I could hardly think of it as being a ship. It looked more like a giant barge, an interconnectedbyrinth of high-tech structures in the 1980s style, like everything else other than the white ship in the building.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I read closely:


    I.B.E.C.S.


    Integrated Behavioral and Environmental Control System.


    As I yed with it, the others approached.


    "It looks like Legos," Isaac said, "or like hamster tubes but with more metal."


    He was right. The design was modr in that there were lots of different units that looked like they had been connected to each other, and there were many ces where additional units could be connected but were not.


    "Uh, the IBECS system," one of the NPCs said as she approached. Her name was nnery. "Old technology," she said, "but charming. You could attach new modules to suit your needs. I always wished they hadn''t scrapped that product line."


    "Why did they scrap it?" I asked.


    "Oh, who knows," she answered. "A million reasons, but mostly quality control. They used to make a big deal out of bringing in clients and letting them design their own special ships that would meet their unique specifications. Project managers loved these because they could make their ships without having to consult a scientist or engineer. Of course, there were inefficiencies and an overreliance on automation to keep the ships running. If you''re interested, we''ll probably get a good look at this one while we''re up there."


    "The one that left 13 months ago?" Antoine asked.


    She nodded. "Our ship¡¯s faster. We''ve just been told that we are to meet up with the captain of the IBECS so you can shake his hand, either virtually or maybe even physically. That should be a fun experience, don''t you think?"


    I did not predict it would be a fun experience, but I smiled and nodded.


    So we were going up in an advanced spaceship to meet a far less advanced spaceship with noted engineering problems.


    Since we were off-screen, Antoine didn''t have any problems asking, "Do you think that''s where the main characters are?"


    I wasing to that conclusion as I yed with the hologram, trying to memorize things. Location Scout hadn''t lied to me. All of the rooms, hallways, and other locations it had told me about were in this story; they were just on a spaceship.


    I nodded my head.


    There were a lot of miners on that ship if the number of sleeping bays was any indication.


    We needed to be on the lookout for three NPCs who represented the yers we would be rescuing. Keeping those NPCs alive was how we aplished the rescue. Now, we just needed to find them.


    There were so many things lying about that room and so many NPCs shuffling to and fro. We were in the very early part of the Party Phase, and it felt like there was so much to learn, so we all just spread out and tried to discover things. Ultimately, the NPCs were too busy, and it looked like we had already reached our limit for what we were going to learn here in Carousel.


    It was time to take off and fly into outer space, which was also in Carousel somehow.


    After much more searching and not much finding, other than a few scraps of details here and there, we found the names of some of the officers who would be on the ship we were headed toward¡ªthe IBECS.


    We also found the name of our ship, the Helio.


    Then, NPCs, including nnery and Rudy, ushered us onto the white ship and showed us where we would be sitting during takeoff. The design of the ship was strange; it oddly reminded me of a racquetball court with a walkway wrapped around so that people could look down at the yers.


    It was an odd description, but it felt right. We would sit down in the ce where the court would be, and up above, on the walkway, was the bridge.


    Was it possible that Location Scout had mentioned ¡°bridge¡± and that I had not realized what it meant? I didn¡¯t remember. It didn''t seem like anything on this ship was a shooting location.


    Other than the main galley, there weren''t a lot of other ces on this ship. There were a couple of hallways and a few rooms here and there, but not enough to ount for all the locations I had seen.


    The rest must have been on the IBECS.


    Whenever we lost gravity, we would be able to float from our seats all the way up into the bridge to see what the pilot and the various crew members were doing¡ªif we wanted to, at least. This assumed they had not yet figured out artificial gravity, which was a staple of space horror.


    I was so nervous I couldn''t stand it.


    All of the surfaces were white, and the only colors were a sort of desaturated orange and a desaturated blue. Machines beeped, and lights shed all around the main room. They didn''t fit with the aesthetic of anything I had seen so far, but I was not going toin.


    As I sat on the ship, I became certain that this ship was not from this storyline.


    It didn¡¯t fit. It was too advanced.


    It was from somewhere else¡ªsomewhen else.


    It was just here for us.


    We all strapped in. Kimberly sat tucked into her seat¡ªwhich looked like a big white egg¡ªwith her eyes closed, clearly not thrilled about what was about to happen.


    They did not take their time or walk us through it, which frustrated me to no end. I wished that someone had talked to us and told us what was happening, but they just didn''t¡ªbecause none of it was on-screen.


    "Take off in 5... 4... 3... 2¡­"


    Beneath us, thrusters started toe to life, and our strange egg-shaped chairs seemed to adjust to the vibrations.


    "Lift off."


    We were in the air, rising quickly. Around us were portholes with bubble-shaped windows so that we could see outside. The biggest of those were the ones above us, which were sorge that they took up much of the front of the ship.


    I don''t think I breathed once the entire time we were rising.


    I heard the others screaming, but I didn''t really register it.


    The turbulence increased, and the chair tried to counteract it, but I still felt it. The G-forces pressed down on me as I sunk back into my seat, and it felt like my skin was being pulled down over my face. Then, just as I couldn''t take it anymore, it all stopped.


    "Congrattions," a voice sounded over the inte. "You have officially made it to space."


    The feeling of weightlessness overcame me for a moment, but only for a moment. As I predicted, the artificial gravity kicked in.


    But strangely, it was dragging us toward the nk white wall in front of us instead of toward the back of the ship. I felt like I was about to fall forward¡ªexcept I didn''t because my egg-shaped seat, as well as all of the other objects in the room, started to move forward along lighted paths in the ground.


    We moved forward until we reached the wall, which had a curved corner instead of a sharp 90-degree turn. Then, our chairs just kind of moved along the wall until the wall became the floor beneath us, and the artificial gravity suddenly made sense.


    Everything in this room had done that, including the bridge, which now stood before therge portholes that were at the front of the ship so that the pilot could now see out¡ªand so could we.


    We could see the stars.


    We were in space.


    My sense of wonder was on overdrive, but the longer we moved along, the more my sense of dread kicked in. Kimberly might have passed out in her seat; I couldn''t tell because she just sat there with her eyes closed. Isaac looked dizzy, and Cassie was crying.


    Antoine was still excited and was hooting and hollering.


    I wanted to throw up or pee my pants.


    Maybe both.


    They say space is dangerous. They say that it''s unforgiving. They say that everything in space is trying to kill you.


    But hey, we were used to that.

 Book Five, Chapter 27: Deep Sleep Tech

    Book Five, Chapter 27: Deep Sleep Tech


    It was impossible to forget that I was in space.


    Even as I stood up and walked around to explore the futuristic vehicle, I could always see the stars through the numerous viewports around the ship. I didn¡¯t know if it was the result of Carousel¡¯s magic or just the magic of space travel, but I felt an overwhelming awe as we soared through the final frontier.


    I had a theory that I was never able to disprove.


    I believed that the ship we were on had nothing to do with the storyline we were running. It was only there to transport us to the setting of the real story. Part of that was the aesthetic difference between it and the rest of what we had seen, but more than that, it was the sterile environment.


    There was nothing to be learned here; there were no clues about the storyline hidden throughout most of the ship.


    The NPCs were also very uninterested in the amazing technology that they were operating mindlessly.


    It was almost as if they themselves didn¡¯t realize how incredible this ship was.


    I couldn¡¯t shake that feeling.


    There were only two NPCs actually awake aboard the ship. There were three others, but I wouldn¡¯t see them for a few hours after we took off. If there was only one part of the ship that was relevant to the story, it was in an area called the Cryo Sleep Quarters. Interestingly, even though the room was called Cryo Sleep Quarters, when we entered it and looked around, it became clear that Cryo Sleep was an exaggeration.


    The NPC nnery was there to exin to us something called the Deep Sleep Chambers.


    These chambers stuck out like a sore thumb.


    They were made of polished metal, not that weird white material that the rest of the ship was, and they had lots of loose hoses and cordsing from them. Whereas every other piece of advanced technology on the ship seemed to operate without any such cords, the Deep Sleep Chambers fit better in with the technology we had seen back on the ground.


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®Deep Sleep Chambers¡¯?¡± Dina asked.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ll go to sleep in these beds, and they¡¯ll keep you alive for the dull parts of the flight,¡± nnery exined.


    Dina did not seem very happy about that. In truth, none of us did.


    ¡°How long exactly will we be asleep?¡± Kimberly asked as nnery started to open up one of the chambers to show us what it looked like inside. Although the upper of the chamber lid was covered in ss, it was difficult to see inside because that ss was frosted.


    ¡°It should take us approximately four months to catch up with the IBECS,¡± nnery said.


    We all looked at each other. Being Off-Screen, we didn¡¯t have to hide what we were thinking.


    ¡°I really hope that¡¯s a fake four months,¡± Isaac said.


    We couldn''t imagine spending a literal four months asleep, wasting even more of our lives on one storyline, but we totally believed that it was possible.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It really is just like falling asleep,¡± she said.


    I examined the machine closely, along with the others. Three of them were in use¡ªit was easy to tell because we could see the NPCs inside of them through the frosted ss on the red wallpaper.


    I was hoping that Bobby would be inside one of them, but he wasn¡¯t. That would be cheating because he would have the general backstory for his character and be able to fill us in on everything we needed to know.


    ¡°How about that thing over there?¡± Cassie asked, pointing toward one of the pieces of machinery on the wall of the room. It was quiterge, and it was made of the same white material that everything else on the ship was. At first, I didn¡¯t think anything of it, but then I realized that it did show up on the red wallpaper in the way that trope items did, except it had no trope¡ªit was justbeled ¡°Foremother.¡±


    nnery looked over and said, ¡°That¡¯s our Foremother. It contains gic samples from all the animals on Earth and is capable of cloning them. In fact, we have some samples that we¡¯re supposed to be supplying to the IBECS. Get this¡ªone of the officers asked for clones of his dogs.¡±


    She started tough.


    It sounded like we had found Bobby.


    And his dogs.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°So you¡¯re telling me that this machine can create any animal it wants based on its gic code?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°It''s something new KRSL is trying just for this flight. One day, it will be a basic requirement for all star-faring ships. In case it gets stranded on a new without much life, it can seed the with animals from our world and help make sure that they have the traits they need to survive on that, either as a food source for humans or simply to spread the embers of life around the universe. Or, in this case, carry dogs into outer space.¡±


    I had a hard time believing that the same civilization that built these 90s anime Deep Sleep Chambers was able to build a sophisticated cloning machine like that.


    I imagined that it hadn¡¯t. That machine wasn¡¯t part of the story. It was a prop.


    ¡°I have a question,¡± I asked. ¡°Is there some part on that contraption that, if it went missing, would shut the entire machine down so that it couldn''t be operated?¡±


    nnery looked at me, confused, but after a few moments, she said, ¡°Sure. It has a dynamic spark in its power ry that would shut it down if it went missing. But I assure you, we checked, and it is there.¡±


    She left us inside the room, and I turned to Dina and said, ¡°Maybe it would be best if that dynamic spark, or whatever it is, went missing.¡±


    I really didn¡¯t have time to deal with clones.


    "I just want your bosses to know that if the idea is that we''re all tourists who won a prize to get to see the sr system, then putting us inside ice boxes like this is counterproductive and inconsistent with our underlying character arcs," Isaac said aloud as the lid on his Deep Sleep Chamber was being closed.


    "I have told you a dozen times that you are not going to be frozen," nnery said. "You''re just going to be put into an induced sleep and fed intravenously."


    He was having fun with her, watching how she reacted to his rants and remarks. He knew that somewhere, someone was writing a script for her, and he was dead set on talking directly to them.


    "I also know what ''intravenously'' means," Isaac said, "and you haven''t put any tubes in me yet, so I don''t know how this thing is going to work."


    nnery closed the lid, and while he was muffled, we could still hear what he was saying because the Deep Sleep Chambers were not airtight.


    These were not Cryosleep or anything simr to that. We were literally just going to be put into inducedas, or at least that''s what the lore of the storyline indicated.


    Carousel''s magic would probably do the real trick.


    We had yet to be On-Screen during our entire trip, which told me that nothing that was happening mattered.


    Isaac had a point¡ªour characters were allegedly contest winners who got to tour the gxy so that we could write testimonials used in advertisements for KRSL¡¯s space tourism ventures.


    But that was a very thin premise that was clearly not part of any story. It was just supposed to help us understand why we were there. The real story was on the ship we were headed toward.


    The Deep Sleep Chamber was actually quitefortable. At first, it looked like I would be lying on a cotton sheet, but it wasn''t cotton. It was a soft material that felt like fabric but was clearly rubber or gtin or something simr.


    Laying down on it felt like I was floating.


    There was machinery inside that started to wiggle as Iy down and gotfortable. I jumped when I felt some weird machinery jiggle my thigh muscle from underneath the gtin I was lying on.


    "Don''t worry about that," nnery said. "The machine is designed to make sure that your body gets the movement it needs to stay healthy while you''re asleep."


    "You said we''d be fed intravenously?" I asked.


    "Yes," she said.


    The thing was, I could actually see the part of the machine that was supposed to fit around my arm and connect a series of tubes to my circtory system or whatever, and yet she made no effort to attach it.


    I had a feeling that we weren''t actually going to be put to sleep¡ªnot using whatever technology the bed was designed for.


    Then why were we being put in the beds at all?


    Was this a learning opportunity?


    Iy back and rested my head on a pillow made of the same material as the rest of my body. I watched as the frosted ss moved up and covered my face. I looked around and realized that while the technology had reminded me of something that would take hundreds of years for humanity to develop, it wasn''t the futuristic thing that it appeared to be.


    There were no fancy arms that could stitch my wounds or perform surgery. There were no holographic disys of my vitals. It was just a fancy bed and some sleeping chemicals.


    While the ship that we were on was so advanced that I couldn''t even picture humanity being able to build it, this device was not. While it was difficult to imagine it being built in some alternate history¡¯s 1980s, it wasn''t impossible.


    It felt grounded and real, and for that reason, something was foreboding about it. Unlike the futuristic ship, which was basically magic to me, this chamber felt like a product¡ªa house appliance.


    Iy there and tried to identify what my misgivings were about it, but while I was thinking about it, I fell asleep.


    I awoke rested and ready for whatever came. I was still Off-Screen, and we were nearly halfway through the Party phase. All of this, and we still didn''t know what this storyline was about.


    The apparatus that was meant to feed and monitor my health intravenously still wasn''t attached to my arm.


    To us, it was basically a prop.


    "Rise and shine," nnery said as she pulled back the top of my chamber.


    I took a deep breath and sat up. I felt great¡ªgenuinely happy. Antoine had brought his trope that was supposed to make sleep very refreshing (among other things), and while I was skeptical that it was worth taking up the trope slot, I definitely wasn''t going toin about it.


    "Come on, people, get up!" Antoine said. "We have some touristing to do!"


    He jumped up from his chamber, hooted and hollered, and pped his hands. I felt excited to get out of bed.


    Even Cassie looked happy, and looking grumpy in the mornings was one of her things.


    I noticed that my clothes were still clean. It was almost as if I hadn''t really been wearing them for four months¡ªahem.


    As I walked out of the room, I saw Isaac standing in front of one of the portholes, looking out at the stars.


    "Are these our stars?" he asked.


    It was a good question. Carousel had different stars than the real world. I hadn''t quite memorized them in the way that I had the Big Dipper or Pris, so it was hard for me to say if we had actually moved into outer space or if we had just been flying in circles.


    To Carousel, would that be a trivial thing? Would it be hard to send us out into the gxy for a storyline?


    I had no idea.

 Book Five, Chapter 28: Bitten

    Book Five, Chapter 28: Bitten


    "Hey, you''re awake," said Rudy, the only other named NPC on the ship besides nnery. There were three others, but they were named Ship Assistants 1, 2, and 3.


    Rudy was something of a captain, but it was hard to tell what his actual rank was until he said itter. I didn''t even know if he would have lines in the actual storyline or if he and nnery were just here to guide us to where we needed to be.


    "We''re having a little bit of trouble here with the IBECS," he said.


    "Here we go," Antoine said. "What kind of trouble?"


    "Nothing big. They''re not putting out a mayday or anything like that, but we can''t get them to respond. The IBECS itself is responding, but it would appear¡ªwell, here, let me just call again."


    "Why would you show us the message? Aren''t we supposed to be reviewing you or something? Why would you want us to see you fail?" Isaac asked under his breath.


    Luckily, Cassie was there to elbow him. I didn''t think Carousel would punish him for mocking it Off-Screen, but it might. He was a Comedian, so it wasn''t exactly unexpected, but I sure wished that he would vent his frustrations without his little jokes.


    As someone who felt they had a disturbingly personal rtionship with Carousel, I didn''t think he wanted to poke that bear, but I couldn''t quite get him to stoppletely.


    "Here''s the IBECS," Rudy said."Hello, you can call me IBECS. Is there something I can help you with, crew of the Helio?"


    "Yeah, IBECS," Rudy said. "We''ve got a rendezvous with youing up, but we can''t seem to signal Captain Marlin. Can you help us out with that?"


    "Of course. Would you like me to send him a personal message? He can read it when he wakes up."


    "Is he not up?" Rudy asked. "Is he still in Deep Sleep?"


    "While I appreciate your concern for Captain Marlin''s health, information about KRSL employees, especially officers, is private. I''m sure you can understand."


    Rudy hit a button on his control panel, which appeared to mute his mic.


    "Oh, these damn things," he said. "Computer, is the IBECS running an outdated artificial intelligence?"


    The ship we were on, which I had not yet heard speak, suddenly spoke. "No, Captain. The IBECS has been updated with thetestpatible artificial intelligence. Its centralputer could operate under strict KRSL operational procedures."


    Rudy looked back at us and said, "You gotta learn how to speak to these things. They''re really smart out-of-the-box, but then corporate goes in and gives them parameters and limitations. You never know what you''re gonna get."


    "It''s not going to tell us about what''s happening on the ship?" I asked.


    "Well, hold your horses," Rudy said. "We just have to find somebody with clearance to tell it to wave them. These old AIs can be a pain in the butt, but they do respect rank."


    Wave must have meant ¡®message¡¯ in this context. He would go on to repeat it a lot.


    He tapped the button on his control panel again.


    "IBECS, this is Captain Mills of the Helio. I''mmanding you to wake your captain."


    "Hello, Captain Mills," the AI said. "As you are captain of the Helio and not captain of the IBECS, I am not beholden to your orders unlessmanded to be."


    "Can you send a wave to any high-ranked officer aboard so that I can talk to a human?" Captain Mills asked.


    IBECS seemed to think about that for a moment. "Unfortunately, I am restricted to act under the authority of Captain Marlin or any of his officers acting in his stead."


    "Yes," Rudy said. "I''m asking you to let me talk to one of those officers."


    "Tell me what you would like to say, and I will send it to them as a message," IBECS said. They can read it when they wake up."


    Was everyone asleep?


    This went on for an embarrassing amount of time before we realized that it was just happening on a loop. Rudy Mills would never be able to break through the AI.


    That was our job.


    "Just a moment, Captain," Antoine said. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders as if I was supposed to have something to say.


    I thought for a moment, and that''s when I remembered the Plot Cycle had been moving without us. It wasn''t because of anything that we were doing; we were still Off-Screen.


    I held up a finger as I thought. If the plot was moving forward, that potentially meant that someone was doing something On-Screen.


    "IBECS," I said.


    "Hello," IBECS responded. "May I ask who I''m speaking to?"


    "Riley Lawrence," I said, not knowing if that would mean anything to the supeputer.


    "Mr. Lawrence, you are one of seven prize winners with KRSL¡¯s spacefaring initiative. I have been given direct orders to engage with you on any matter you have clearance for. You have the rank of Ambassador. What would you like to discuss?"


    "I''m an Ambassador?" I asked.


    "Okay, Ambassador, what would you like to ask?" he responded.


    I rolled my eyes.


    "Can you give us a wave to any person on the ship that is awake?" I asked. I didn''t know if I was using the word wave correctly, but who cared?


    "I can try, Ambassador Lawrence. However, it is customary that ships be within hailing distance before a wave can be sent."


    "How far are we from hailing distance?" I asked.


    "Not far at all," Rudy said.


    Right on time, the giant porthole in front of us started to close in on a ship that would make the Titanic look like a bath toy. I had yed with it as a little holographic projection, manipting it, trying to remember basicyouts and architecture, but seeing it in person really put things in perspective.


    It was huge and incredibly confusing. The modr design prevented it from looking anything like a spaceship I recognized from most science fiction.


    Pathways, arches, and entire portions of the ship were connected by one thin hallway. It was ridiculous andbyrinthine. Buried underneath tons of different modules connected this way was the core ship, which was just a giant rocket. But then, at certain ces, other rockets were attached to the modules.


    It looked like something someone had built in a video game and less like something that would be built by a serious engineer.


    "Are we at hailing distance yet?" I asked.


    "We should be any moment," Rudy said. "Just about there."


    It felt like he was going to tell us the moment we got close enough, but he didn''t need to because as soon as we were close enough for hailing distance, the IBECS appeared on the red wallpaper.


    I.B.E.C.S.


    Plot Armor: 40


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    __________


    Tropes


    Cold, Impassionate Logic


    Empathy andpassion have no power here. All Moxie checks will use Savvy instead.


    Blind Spots


    This entity is very intelligent, but has notable holes in their logic or n that serve as a weakness or hazard.


    Ghost in the Machine


    This entity will reform as long as there is any vessel within which it is able to.


    Minion Maker


    This entity is capable of making minions.


    Territorial


    This killer will punish those who harm its domain.


    Bottomless Bag of Tricks


    The viin has so many different in-universe abilities that they can employ new abilities in the Finale without needing to establish them in the narrative.


    Obstacle Course


    This entity will help form a set of obstacles that the yers must ovee to survive. The Win Condition is Beat the Clock.


    Stickler for the Rules


    This entity has a set of rules or goals that it will always strive to abide by or achieve (whether is able to is another question).


    IBECS¡ªthe artificial intelligence and the ship itself¡ªwas an enemy. It was beginning to look like we were facing off against a rogue AI.


    Sure would have been nice to have a Schr.


    Because we were Off-Screen, I just read off all the tropes.


    The NPCs ignored me, and my friends absorbed what I was saying with a mixture of confusion and dread. There was nothing outright terrifying about its tropes. It didn¡¯t sound evil, but it didn¡¯t have to.


    If our enemy was super intelligent and vastly more capable than us, it could be very difficult to save the NPCs we had to save in order to rescue the downed yers.


    ¡°So the AI killed everybody?¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that yet,¡± I said.


    I turned back to the control panel where I assumed the microphone was and said, ¡°IBECS, can you please wave anyone on board who is awake?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± IBECS said. ¡°Can you specify who you would like to talk to?¡±


    I looked at my friends. We knew exactly who we wanted to talk to¡ªin fact, we knew several people.


    ¡°Can we speak to Bobby Gill, please? Officer Bobby Gill.¡±


    nnery had told us that one of the officers had his dog''s DNA carried to him in the cloning machine. I could think of a person who might like something like that.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± IBECS said. ¡°Officer Gill is indisposed.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s asleep?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Officer Gill is indisposed. Would you like to talk to someone else?¡±


    ¡°Sounds like the rogue AI already killed Bobby,¡± Isaac said.


    I ignored him, though oddly thatment did make calmness wash over me, thanks to Isaac''s <strong>Gallows Humor</strong> trope.


    ¡°This is Cassie Hughes,¡± Cassie said. ¡°I¡¯d like to speak to Doctor Andrew Hughes.¡±


    ¡°Miss Hughes,¡± IBECS said, ¡°Yes, I think I can allow that. You are listed as Doctor Andrew Hughes¡¯ emergency contact.¡±


    We didn¡¯t know whether the NPCs that represented the downed yers would be named after them, but we had discussed it as a possibility.


    Lo and behold, it turned out to be correct.


    We waited while IBECS yed some elevator music. Then, the audio stream stopped being an audio stream as a ss screen on the control panel lit up with video footage of a room the size of a warehouse filled with Deep Sleep Chambers.


    The footage cycled around from several different cameras ced around the warehouse, which was truly enormousrger than an airne hangar. It would seem that severalmunication panels containing cameras were ced throughout.


    Eventually, the screen settled on one view.


    ¡°What is going on there?¡± nnery asked as she looked closely at one of the screens. ¡°Those Deep Sleep Chambers are all lit up.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that is weird,¡± Rudy said. ¡°Must be some malfunction. Maybe that''s why everyone''s still asleep.¡±


    We all stared, squinting at the screen intently, not sure what we were looking for. There were rows and rows of these chambers. I was reminded of <em>The Strings Attached</em> basement filled with casks of wizards, except there were even more of these sleep chambers stacked on top of each other, withdders in between them like bunk beds.


    They all shed red, except for three¡ªthe three in the center of the frame that the current camera point of view was staring at.


    These three were special because they were not stacked on top of each other; they were on a weird tform underneath arge industrial air conditioning unit.


    From what I could tell, it almost looked like their chambers had been stuck up under the machine as an afterthought because there was no way that they could stand up straight if they were to get out of their chambers.


    Every inch mattered when you were trying to transport cargo, even if that cargo was people.


    I could see the lights on the side of the chamber in the center of the three tucked under the air conditioning uniting to life.


    ¡°It¡¯s waking him up,¡± Rudy said, as if reading my mind.


    It was kind of interesting watching and waiting for the person to get out of the chamber. Would the NPC that was supposed to represent Doctor Andrew Hughes look like him, or would it just be some random guy?


    We didn''t know, but I could see Isaac and Cassie holding their breath, waiting for the off chance that they might be about to see their brother.


    After a few moments, the top of the chamber slid down, and a man sat up.


    ¡°That¡¯s not him,¡± Cassie said, or at least started to say, because halfway through, she said, ¡°What is wrong with his face?¡±


    Indeed, even though the picture was not very clear, there was something odd about his face.


    It was covered in red, bleeding splotches, and as the man climbed out of his chamber and approached, I could see a look ofplete defeat on his face.


    At that moment, we were just over halfway through the Party Phase. As the man stumbled over from his chamber toward themunication panel, I could see that whoever this guy was, he had been through it.


    His eyes were practically dead.


    ¡°Hello!¡± he screamed as he walked closer to themunication panel. ¡°Please, is someone there? Please!¡±


    On-Screen. Finally.


    ¡°Doctor Andrew Hughes, I presume?¡± Captain Rudy Mills said.


    ¡°Yes, thank God,¡± the NPC ying the real Doctor Andrew Hughes said. Even through the screen, I could see him on the red wallpaper. In the ce where he might usually have a trope, he simply had a small que that read, ¡°yer Surrogate: Doctor Andrew Hughes. Doctor archetype.¡± His Plot Armor was 25. ¡°You don''t understand! IBECS is maddening! It won''t let us out of this part of the ship because of our rank!¡±


    ¡°Whoa, whoa, whoa, there, son,¡± Rudy said. ¡°Can you exin what''s going on? Why am I having troublemunicating with Captain Marlin?¡±


    Doctor Andrew Hughes, or at least the man ying him, was broken. I saw tears streaming down from his face.


    ¡°He¡¯s not avable,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s nobody but the three of us. I think it¡¯s because we were stuck underneath that air circting unit. I think it shielded us from them.¡±


    ¡°Shielded you from what?¡± Rudy asked, but as he spoke, Doctor Andrew Hughes continued to speak as if he was delirious.


    ¡°We can''t get IBECS to knock us back out¡ªnot for longer than a few hours. It says it¡¯s protocol. Everything is protocol. Please, Captain Mills, can you please tell IBECS to let us out?¡±


    ¡°Take a deep breath, son,¡± Rudy said. ¡°I don''t understand what the problem is. Why is everyone still in their sleep chambers?¡±


    Then Doctor Andrew Hughes started tough, or cry, or convulse¡ªI couldn''t tell. I could see the camera started to zoom in as he clicked a button on the panel.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you see them?¡± Andrew said. ¡°They¡¯re everywhere.¡±


    As he zoomed in, I started to see something.


    It was strange, like piles of dirt surrounding all of the chambers in view. They were so small and so¡­ everywhere¡­ that when things were zoomed out, I couldn''t quite make them out; it almost looked like grain in the picture. But as he zoomed in, I realized that these chambers were surrounded and covered by whatever those little brown specks of dirt were.


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± Dina said. ¡°Oh my God, oh my God.¡±


    I still didn''t know what we were looking at. It just looked like somebody had tossed coffee grounds around the entire room, piling them up near the chambers.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Ramona asked, finally engaged.


    ¡°You guys don''t know what that is?¡± Dina asked.


    I didn¡¯t, but as the NPC continued to press zoom on the camera panel, I started to get a better view of whatever those little things were. It never got close enough that I could actually see them, but I could see mounds of them.


    I could see them moving, wriggling.


    ¡°Is this some kind of alien?¡± Isaac asked.


    To someone, it might have been an alien.


    Not to us.


    What we were seeing was one of the most vile creatures ever born across the multiverse.


    ~


    Bedbugs


    Plot Armor: 100


    __________


    Tropes


    No Rest for the Wicked


    This creature will relentlessly pursue its quarry with no breaks.


    Fungible Enemy


    This creature isposed of countlessrgely interchangeable units whose numbers will not diminish until the scene is concluded. There always seems to be more toe.


    Fate Doesn¡¯t Run


    This creature will not run after its victim, yet they are never far behind in a chase scene. Buffs Hustle saving throws.


    Obstacle Course


    This creature will help form a set of obstacles that the yers must ovee to survive. The Win Condition is Beat the Clock.


    Thoroughly Dispersed


    This creature¡¯s group can instantly upy the entirety of a set area, making it appear omnipresent and unpredictable to characters.


    Dark Aura


    This being has an aura with wide-ranging affects, from fear to somebination of status ailments. Aura will bypass all stats on first exposure.


    Zombie Apocalypse is a Setting


    This creature is not a true antagonist but rather forms the setting of the storyline. Efforts to eliminate them will be hampered. The true conflict of the story is exacerbated by them.


    The Madness


    This creature infects characters with an assortment of mental ailments, including paranoia and sleep deprivation.


    ~


    The truth of this storyline began to form in my mind as I stared at the screen.


    This wasn''t an action film. We weren''t fighting aliens. This was something different, another breed of horror film altogether. Arguably, a harder one.


    This wasn''t just a spaceship.


    This story was... this ship was... an escape room.

 Book Five, Chapter 29: Rise and Shine

    Book Five, Chapter 29: Rise and Shine


    I was finally getting a good understanding of how Dina¡¯s trope actually worked.


    I could read all I wanted from the Carousel As, but it wasn''t until I started this storyline that it really came together and formed aplete picture in my mind.


    We were cut off from the story.


    Sure, we were there, and it was possible that some little indication of our existence might end up in the final film, but we were not really characters. We were warm bodies that happened to be in the same vicinity of the story, and I was clueless as to how we were going to fix that without causing bigger problems.


    I had some idea of how to direct the action of a storyline when I was a character in one, and even though I was usually a secondary character¡ªor at least I started as one¡ªthat was worlds apart from what I was here: a nameless voice over an inte.


    I had to imagine that the isted nature of this storyline yed into how Dina¡¯s rescue manifested.


    I could see that Dr. Andrew Hughes, or at least the NPC ying him, as well as Michael Brooks and L White, were On-Screen most of the time. That was a problem. As NPCs, they didn''t need Off-Screen breaks. This storyline could end up being very quick. Even when we spoke to them, and they went Off-Screen to respond, they didn''t stay Off-Screen long.


    How were we supposed to make our presence known enough that we could affect the final film? Could we really pull this off from the shadows? I didn¡¯t know.


    L White was a Wallflower, and the NPC ying her was living up to that name.Even as Michael and Andrew discussed what they were going to do, she stayed in the back with her arms crossed, looking nervous and disgusted by the bugs around her. She was small and pale and might have made a good Hysteric.


    I couldn¡¯t me her for that part.


    I was so d we didn¡¯t run this storyline as prep.


    I couldn¡¯t imagine being in a situation like that myself. There was no way to kill the enemy; they were surrounded, and from the look of the bedbug tropes, I had the feeling the bedbugs were just not going to go away. They had a Plot Armor of 100. Could an enemy like that be defeated in a traditional way? Would it be a waste of time to try?<blockquote>


    "Can you please open the door?" Andrew Hughes asked, trying not to allow his emotion to reach his voice but failing.


    "I¡¯m sorry," IBECS said, "but I need an officer¡¯s approval to allow you out of this room."


    "None of the officers can awaken! Don''t you understand? They''re being sedated right now for their own health! Isn''t there some protocol for this situation?" Andrew asked.


    "While KRSL leads several industries in preparedness and innovation, it is not guaranteed that every situation will be ounted for. This is why it¡¯s imperative to rely on our trained officers and business managers."


    "But they are all sedated!" Andrew said.


    "Yes," IBECS said, "I am unable to circumvent my protocols on this matter. Let me check to see if I have any wiggle room... Nope. I have sent a message to KRSL headquarters with aprehensive exnation of the problem and expect to hear a response within three months."


    "Three months?" Michael screamed. "Are you kidding me? We''re going to be dead in three months! There''s no food!"


    "That is incorrect," IBECS said. "I am stocked with plenty of nutrition for the whole crew. We even have a live protein incubator on this ship."


    What did live protein incubator mean exactly?


    "But we can¡¯t get to it unless you let us out of this room," Michael said.


    IBECS must have been stumped there because it didn¡¯t answer.</blockquote>


    I didn¡¯t know what to do to help with the situation, but one thing that made sense to me was that I had to talk to IBECS and try to understand how it worked. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was just a series of prerecorded messagesbined with a bit of old-school tech know-how or if it was genuine artificial intelligence by sci-fi standards.


    I sat down in one of the chairs on the flight deck and opened a chat with IBECS. It was easy because all I had to do was think about it and press a button. And unless I just happened to press the right button, it would seem that Carousel didn¡¯t care about the specifics. It was make-believe.


    "IBECS, do you know what''s going on?" I asked.


    "It would appear that most of the employees and private contractors I am carrying have not awoken from their deep sleep chambers due to negative readings on their health monitors," IBECS answered.


    He was talking to me and to the NPCs at the same time, two different conversations.


    "What is causing the health issue?" I asked as the others gathered around me.


    "While your concern for the private contractors and officers aboard my sleeping bays isudable, I cannot disclose medical information that is deemed private. I hope you understand," IBECS said.


    I was prepared for evil artificial intelligence gone rogue, but ultra-bureaucratic artificial intelligence was proving to be far more frustrating.


    "There¡¯s something on the floor and covering the sleeping bay. Can you tell me what I am seeing?" I asked.


    I could see up on the monitor as the camera zoomed in close enough to make out the individual wriggling bed bugs marching to and fro.


    "It would appear that¡­.¡± He paused. ¡°Excuse me. I have gathered the information that you require," IBECS said, "and I will make sure that Captain Marlin is apprised of it immediately."


    There was something strange in his automated voice, almost like a disc skipping, as if he wanted to say something but immediately changed his direction.


    "The image on the screen right now," Kimberly said, having found a tie to put her hair up in a ponytail, "what is on that image? Just answer that."


    "Those are bedbugs, I believe," IBECS said.


    "So you¡¯re infested with bedbugs, right?" Kimberly asked.


    "No," IBECS said. "The preunch procedures designed by KRSL have been tested as being 100% effective at preventing contamination and infestation of all foreign lifeforms."


    We looked at each other in frustration.


    "But the image on the screen showing the interior of the sleeping bay shows bedbugs?" Antoine asked.


    "Yes, the image is of bedbugs," IBECS responded.


    We looked at each other.


    "It''s like he has some kind of mental block," Cassie said. "He can''t acknowledge what''s going on."


    That made me think of something.


    "When you said you sent a message to headquarters, did you mention the bedbugs?" I asked.


    IBECS took a while to answer, but then he said, "It is unclear whether you are permitted to know the contents of a message sent to headquarters."


    I thought for a moment. "Maybe you should send a simr message to nearby ships in case there are any qualified officers on board who may be able to ry your message more efficiently," I suggested. Does your protocol forbid that?"


    For a few moments, IBECS did not say anything.


    "My protocol does not directly forbid that. I have sent a mayday beacon with a simr message encoded," IBECS said.


    I looked over at Rudy, the captain of the Helios. "Did we get that mayday?"


    Rudy looked at the screen and said, "Yes, we did." He clicked something, and an indicator appeared on his screen.


    "Open the message," Rudy said.


    The Helios'' AI voice responded, "This message is for officers ranked A3 or above."


    "I am the captain of this ship," Rudy said. "You will open that message. That''s an order."


    At that, it appeared that the message was opened.


    Rudy read through it. "No, he didn¡¯t mention bedbugs," Rudy said. "He just said it was some sort of mysterious malfunction or health problem."


    That wasn''t useful to us directly, except it did give us insight into IBECS''s thinking.


    "Okay," I said. "So the first thing we know is that it cares about corporate hierarchy to the letter but not necessarily the spirit of the rules. It could send a message for a high-ranked officer to this ship, and then the captain of this ship could order his ship to read the message, but he couldn''t just directly tell us what was in the message."


    "Sounds like wonderful design," Isaac said.


    "What it sounds like," Antoine said, "is that they put all of their effort into advancing technology and nothing into stopping hackers."


    "Well, that would be the 1980s sci-fi movies for you," I said.


    "It almost sounds like it just can''t admit there are bedbugs," Ramona said. "So that''s probably why it didn''t do anything about it."


    I didn¡¯t know if the programming was that simple. Surely, he wasn¡¯t restricted from fixing problems just because he wasn¡¯t allowed to admit to them. That would be ridiculous.


    "IBECS," I said, "what is the procedure for when bedbugs are found aboard the ship in flight?"


    "When amanding officer is made aware of any infestation, such as bedbugs, they will first coordinate with me to develop a n for addressing the particr needs brought up by the issue. For bedbugs, there are no insecticides aboard the ship, but there are both chemical and alternative methods for dispatching such an infestation."


    "Wait," I said, "so your only protocol for dealing with bedbugs assumes that a human officer sees them first?"


    "KRSL preunch procedures have 100% effectiveness at preventing emergencies like a bedbug infestation."


    I started to respond, but Antoine jumped in.


    "Wait a minute," he said. "Can you say something negative about KRSL for me? Just give me any criticism of thepany."


    "KRSL is an exemry organization," IBECS said. "While year after year of increased profits and market performance are not absolute indicators of corporate health, they do suggest a general trend that KRSL is a rapidly advancing and evolvingpany."


    "That¡¯s not what I asked," Antoine said. "Can you see any news articles about KRSL that are not ttering? Do you have that kind of information?"


    "s," IBECS said, "corporate sabotage and smear campaigns have touched many greatpanies, including KRSL. No meaningful usations of malfeasance have ever been substantiated."


    Antoine looked back at us. "It can¡¯t disparage itspany," he said. "It literally cannot say something negative or even seem to imply it. Somehow, the preunch procedures didn''t work, but it won¡¯t acknowledge that because it has to pretend those procedures are 100% effective. It¡¯s practically blind to the bedbugs."


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the vition.


    That made sense when it came to actually talking to IBECS, but I had to wonder how deeply that behavior was coded. Was it not able to acknowledge problems that it was told could not exist or that would harm KRSL if discussed? That didn''t feel like aplete picture.


    There was a symphony of errors on that ship. The question was, which errors could we fix?


    Bedbugs had a long tradition of hurting corporate pocketbooks in the hospitality industry. It would make sense if they had a simr effect on stock prices in a world where people were shipped off into space.


    We continued to fiddle with IBECS more, trying to understand precisely how he thought and how he reacted.


    Meanwhile, NPCs Andrew, Michael, and L were busy trying their own efforts to get out of therge warehouse thatprised the sleeping bay of the ship.


    I hadn¡¯t been watching them very closely because it didn¡¯t seem like they were having much sess. Based on the gimmick of Dina¡¯s rescue trope, it seemed likely that they could never seed on their own. The question was, how could we intervene?


    The answer was not a happy one.


    The Party Phase continued to fly by regardless of what we did or said because the story wasn''t about us; it was about the psychological horror that the three NPC surrogates were experiencing.


    Most psychological horror of this ilk did not rely on plot beats based on an antagonist''s actions but rather on how a situation affected the emotional well-being of its principal characters. Based on that alone, the story flew by, and I was nothing but a fly on the wall watching it.


    These NPCs were suffering as the bugs crawled all over. They spasmed and itched and were visibly miserable and jumpy.


    I watched them through the monitors, which were kindly giving us a live feed of the surrogates.<blockquote>


    "I don¡¯t understand how bedbugs would have gotten on the ship to begin with," Andrew Hughes said. "The protocols that they had in ce were nauseating and repetitious. I don¡¯t understand how anything could have gotten on here; they practically scalded our skin off."


    "I¡¯m not surprised at all," Michael said. "That was all for show, the procedures. They were trying to prove to us who''s boss and how unimportant we were¡ªtreating us like cattle being doused in disinfectant."


    "We should never havee here," L said. "All those people picketing because of safety concerns¡ªwhy did we not listen?"


    "Don¡¯t go talking like that," Michael said. "We came here for a job, for honestbor. We have nothing to be ashamed of. If those people wanted to work, they would have. The question is, how did bedbugs get here?"


    "That¡¯s not the question," Andrew said as he paced around to make sure the bugs didn¡¯t crawl on him. "That question doesn''t give us any answers that can help. The question is, how do we get out of this room and get to safety? The longer we wait, the more dire the situation bes. Spaceships, even with AI, cannot sail indefinitely without human intervention. That is by design."


    "You know what I mean," Michael said.


    "I do, and I think that whatever the answer is, we¡¯ll never find it. The protocols that they designed were tested against control groups and volunteers. I¡¯ve been thinking a lot about this¡ªthe methodology they would have used. I doubt they tested it against people who had some motive to sneak in a child¡¯s stuffed teddy bear or their lover''s perfumed coat to keep them warm at night while we''re gone in space for nearly ten years. KRSL¡¯s methods were not tested against people who might have a motive to subvert them. And I hate to break this to you, but all the people in these pods, aside from the officers, were not exactly well-trained. They didn''t understand why we weren''t allowed to bring anything from home; all they understood was that they shouldn¡¯t get caught. Most of the people in this room had never even been to space before. They weren''t ready, they weren''t cautious, they didn''t know the risks or care. They wanted money. We cast our lot in with rats, and we wonder why we got fleas¡ªor in this case, bedbugs."


    "Oh, because you¡¯re so much better than the rest of us," Michael said. "You¡¯re above it all."


    "I didn¡¯t say that," Andrew replied. "You think I¡¯d be on this ship if I still had my medical license? No, I¡¯m no better than the rest of them, but I know that I¡¯m not the reason that bedbugs got brought on to this human buffet. I followed the rules."


    "I¡¯ve been to space before," Michael said. "It was a ground conflict in the Martian colonies... A bad case of lice went through my unit. We were all shaved slick as dolphins. Thought that¡¯d be the worst of it."


    He scratched at his face until blood drenched his fingers.


    Just watching them itching themselves, wriggling, trying to get some form of relief that never came¡ªI couldn¡¯t help but scratch myself.


    I also vowed that if I ever had the opportunity to give my character a background of fighting in a Martian war, I was going to do it.


    "So, what are we going to do?" Michael said. "We¡¯re gonna try and break the door?"


    "No, no, no, my friend," Andrew said. "You¡¯re being far too literal. We¡¯re just going to break the ss."


    I didn¡¯t know what he meant until I watched through one of the camera feeds as he pried open a metal panel on the side of the wall and unveiled a small bright red handle behind a ss pane with a sign above it that read "Fire rm."


    Break the ss, indeed.</blockquote>


    I almost asked IBECS what the procedure was for when someone pulls a fire rm, but I didn¡¯t because I oddly felt like I would be ratting on the NPCs.


    So, instead, I asked Rudy, the captain of our ship.


    "It¡¯s not a bad idea," Rudy said. "Fire suppression is critical in a spaceship, as you might imagine. The first thing that will happen is that oxygen will get sucked out of that room¡ªnot all of it; it won''t be a vacuum, but enough that the fire won¡¯t spread. Then CO2 will get pumped in, assuming they have enough of it in storage. It might be nitrogen. I¡¯m not sure how the sedated passengers will factor in. It¡¯s hard to tell with old ships like that, especially a modr build like that. We don¡¯t know what the procedure is. It might help. It might do nothing."<blockquote>


    Andrew looked at the others and said, "I think you should go into your chambers. We don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happen."


    Michael looked at him and said, "I¡¯m not going anywhere. Pull the lever."


    L went into the sleeping chamber and quickly pulled the top up, but based on the lights on the side, it never clicked on.


    Andrew lifted the ss protective te and pulled the lever.


    And nothing happened.


    "What the hell?" Andrew said. He pulled the handle a few more times. "What''s going on, IBECS?" he asked.


    "You are not authorized to trigger the rm. Only KRSL employees have ess to that function unless I am able to verify the existence of a fire independently."</blockquote>


    Andrew dropped to the ground, straight to his knees.


    Andrew, Michael, and all of the other non-officers on the ship were private contractors, not employees.


    On some level, it made sense that a spaceship would not just let anyone trigger a fire suppression system.


    "Can we still talk to them?" Antoine asked.


    "I think so," I said, "but I¡¯m not sure if we should when they¡¯re On-Screen."


    "We need to start telling them what to do, then," Antoine said. "We¡¯re almost out of the Party Phase, and we need to take charge here."


    "Why aren''t they doing the obvious thing? Why don''t they drag an officer out of his pod and put his eye up against the scanner or something?" Isaac asked.


    There was no eye scanner, but his point wasn¡¯t bad.


    "yers would do that," I said, "but they¡¯re not yers. We need to direct them to do things."


    "I say we do that," Isaac said.


    "Couldn¡¯t hurt," Antoine added.


    Undoubtedly, the first thing yers would attempt would be to wake up an officer. Of course, because it was the first thing people would think to do, I doubted it would work. Still, we had to y the game.


    So we waited a few moments¡ªlong enough for Carousel to get all the shots they needed of the surrogates'' depressed reaction to the failed fire rm stunt.


    As soon as they went Off-Screen, Antoine walked up to the console with the red button, pressed it, and said, "You have to wake up one of the officers."


    Andrew heard him and asked, "Who is this? Do you have any way of getting the ship to let us out of this room?"


    "Do what I said," Antoine said. "You have to wake up one of the officers."


    "I don¡¯t know how," Andrew admitted. "Even if we managed to get a chamber open, that doesn¡¯t automatically wake up the person that¡¯s in it, and we might be seen as hostile by IBECS itself for damaging property."


    Antoine almost responded again, but then, remembering our team strategies, he gestured for Isaac to speak.


    "Maybe being seen as hostile isn''t the worst thing," Isaac said. ¡°It might be what it takes to open the door.¡±


    Andrew¡¯s eyes perked up¡ªI could see them even though he wasn''t veryrge on the screen. The realization that he might have to poke the bear seemed to have registered with him.


    "Wait," Isaac said. "No, don¡¯t do that¡ªoh, shit."


    "Bad idea?" I asked.


    He nodded his head. ¡°Not the worst. But not great.


    Isaac had <strong>Hindsight 20/20</strong> equipped. He could tell his action was not the best one.


    But it was toote.<blockquote>


    Michael had found some piece of pipe lying around the room, and before we could say anything, he was back On-Screen, smashing the pipe into one of the deep sleep chambers. It only took a moment for us to realize why that might not have been the best decision. However, I was sure Carousel loved it because the ensuing chaos probably provided some terrifying footage.


    As soon as Michael started attacking the chambers, an emergency protocol was initiated, causing red lights to start ring around the area where he was smashing things¡ªnot just the red lights on the chambers themselves, the room lights.


    And then the chambers near the incident started to open.</blockquote>


    "Ramona, get Cassie out of here!" I said immediately, as soon as I realized what was about to happen.


    I didn¡¯t know if Ramona understood why, but she grabbed Cassie and dragged her down the tform and away from the side of the monitor.


    Cassie had a trope that allowed her to share pain with others, and she had a bad habit of triggering it unintentionally, or at least without good forethought. I didn¡¯t know if that would happen this time, but I did know that there was undoubtedly about to be a lot of anguish in front of us.


    It only took a few moments for the screams to start. But they weren''t huge, breathy screams¡ªno, they were choked, miserable screams apanied by gurgling and coughing.


    Then, we saw on the screen just how terrible a little bug can be.


    "How would bedbugs do all this?" Isaac asked, suddenly taking things far more seriously than I had ever seen him.<blockquote>


    Because on the screen, arms started to rise out of their chambers, bloody, pulpy messes covered in scabs and bleeding wounds that oozed both pus.


    These people weren''t just covered in scabs, though; many of them were swollen and misshapen, which didn''t make sense to me because I had never associated that kind of injury with bedbugs before. But then, there had probably never been, in the history of our, a more severe situation involving bedbugs.


    "Stop it!" Andrew said. "It''s triggering all of the chambers to open. We have to sedate them again!"


    "But I thought that once they were woken up, they wouldn¡¯t be able to go back in," Michael said in horror.


    "Not for more than a few hours unless we can get an officer to¡ª" He stopped exining as his eyes darted around the room. Some of the afflicted were already trying to stumble to their feet; others never actually left their chambers. They couldn¡¯t.


    Andrew immediately began examining some of the injured miners. "But how... Oh no. Anemia, infection, allergic reactions," he said. ¡°They were sensitized to the proteins in the bedbugs'' saliva and became allergic. We have to get them hooked back up to their chambers now! They need to be on life support.¡±


    As if to punctuate his demand, some of the awakened began seizing, iling, and if I wasn''t mistaken, going into cardiac arrest.


    He and Michael began hauling people back to their chambers, though that wasn''t particrly difficult as most of them didn''t manage to make it far.


    "What''s wrong with that one?" Michael asked, looking at something we couldn''t see.


    The person was still inside their chamber.


    ¡°They sumbed to infection," Andrew answered.


    Michael gave another nce back down.


    We watched in horror as they worked to help return every miner in the vicinity to their chambers. Luckily, only those near where Michael was breaking things actually woke up; the others were still sedated. All told, there were probably sixteen miners ejected from their chambers, but their raspy screams filled the room.


    It must have smelled bad because Michael would gag on asion.


    "Why did we do that?" he asked. "Why did I do that? I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so fucking stupid."


    Hey now.</blockquote><blockquote>


    Luckily, even though Isaac''s suggestion that they act hostile had triggered a mass ejection, causing untold suffering to all those who were broken out of sedation, it did bear fruit. Several of those who were woken up were officers working for KRSL.


    "Pick one, any one," Michael said as they surveyed the three officers who had been woken from their chambers.


    The officers werepletely out of it, and while one of them tried to say something unsessfully, the other two were still under the effects of sedation or infection or allergic reaction or something. They were scabbed over skeletons cursed with life.


    They had them leaned up against one of the chambers.


    It was neat that one little suggestion from Isaac¡ªperhaps a little bit too zealous¡ªhad set forth an entirely new stream of story.


    Perhaps it was a brutal version, but it was interesting nheless. With one little nudge, we could change the direction of the narrative, and the NPCs would go along with it because they were scripted to follow our lead. At least, they followed our instructions for things like this.


    "Martinez is the healthiest at first nce," Andrew said, "but he''s also the lowest ranked."


    He was the only one of them who seemed to have a normal-shaped face. The others had strange growths like their skin had gotten thick or swollen to look like elephant skin covered in scabs.


    "All I care is that he''s high enough ranked to get us out of this room," Michael said.


    Andrew nodded. He walked up closer to the character who had the name "Martinez" on his jumpsuit¡ªor whatever it was¡ªand examined him.


    "Officer Martinez, this is Dr. Andrew Hughes. Do you understand what I''m saying?"


    Officer Martinez did not respond.


    "He has to be able to talk, right?" Michael asked.


    "To open the door? I think so," Andrew said. "I''m thinking this is the result of prolonged infection as a result of bites and then agitation from the deep sleep chamber as it stimted his muscles and his blood ran through his slicker. He¡¯s not catatonic, he climbed out of his chamber¡­ but he isn¡¯t responding. Curious."


    "Yeah, that''s great. Are the other ones alive? Are they brain-dead too?"


    Andrew examined Martinez a little further but then moved on to the next one and then the next one.


    "Officer Emhoff," Andrew asked the man who was mumbling to himself, "do you understand me?"


    Emhoff suddenly snapped out of his stupor, if only enough to make eye contact with Dr. Hughes. He swallowed and wriggled his lips as if he was trying to wet his parched mouth.


    "Help," the man rasped.


    "I''m going to help you," Dr. Hughes said. "I just need you to tell theputer to open the door to this room."


    "Help," Emhoff repeated.


    "Does he understand what''s going on?" Michael asked.


    I noticed that L had finally found her way out of her chamber, having missed the terrifying part intentionally.


    Andrew had a resigned look on his face.</blockquote>


    An idea struck me.


    "IBECS, do you see those crew members trying to open the door to the sleeping bay?"


    "Yes, they are not authorized," IBECS responded.


    "Did you not hear themand from Officer Emhoff to help them?"


    "I did not register that as amand to assist in opening the door," IBECS responded.


    So he wasn''t <em>that </em>stupid, but there was still hope.


    "That''s incorrect," I said. "Listen again."


    As if scripted to do so, Dr. Hughes said again, "I need you to tell theputer to open the door to this room."


    And as he had been repeating, Officer Emhoff whispered in a husky tone, "Help."


    "See?" I said. "He''s telling you to help them."


    I was betting that aputer wouldn''t be able to pick up on social cues and understand what was going on but would take the literal meaning of the words being spoken.


    To my most incredible thrill, my little trick worked because momentster, the door to therge room containing all of the deep sleep chambers popped open with the release of steam and slid out of the way. Afterward, Officer Emhoff leaned over and either passed out or died. Either way, they loaded the officers back in their sleep chambers for life support.


    We were learning. Now, what was next?

 Book Five, Chapter 30: The Farm

    Book Five, Chapter 30: The Farm


    Time was different between our two ships. This became abundantly clear, and the reason was simple: our ship had conscious yers in it.


    The other ship, filled with bedbugs and doomed passengers, wasn''t exactly speeding up or anything like that. I didn''t see them zooming around on the camera. Instead, I could see that all of the NPCs¡ªthe conscious ones, at least¡ªwere going from mark to mark and shooting footage for Carousel. As they did, the timestamp on the footage would jump forward days at a time.


    It was probably a lot easier for Carousel when all of the characters in the movie were scripted. This spelled trouble for me because I really wanted my Dailies trope to activate, which would allow me to see uncut footage from the day before, but because I wasn''t experiencing day and night cycles, the dailies didn''te.


    Luckily, there was something we could do about that.


    "I don''t know exactly how this works," Antoine said. "There''s not, like, a button in my mind or anything." He cleared his throat and then continued, "Nighttime!" He smacked his hands together. "It is now nighttime."


    We waited for a moment.


    Sure enough, all of the NPCs on our ship, the Helio, started to shift around as Rudy and nnery went to off to the sleeping room, and some of the others took the helm. As they did, the dailies appeared in my mind on the red wallpaper.


    Antoine''s<strong> In Bed By Nine</strong> trope allowed him to trigger a sort of narrative bedtime that made a lot more sense when you were on Earth, or at least whatever Carousel was.


    We weren''t spinning on an axis near a star, so nighttime didn''t make as much sense. His ability didn''t just affect us. No, the time fast-forwarding on the other ships stopped immediately, and the yer surrogates started getting ready to try and find a ce to sleep, which was something we had not yet seen them do, and for good reason.It was traumatic.


    They didn''t get much sleep. Their entire ship was infested with bedbugs, and although they had managed to make it out of the sleeping bay, the rest of the ship they had ess to (arge hall, some closets, and a poorly stocked kitchte) was not much more hospitable.<blockquote>


    "How are they everywhere?" L, the Wallflower surrogate,ined as she itched herself into a raw, pulpy mess.


    Michael, who was pretending to be a Soldier archetype, was very angry and losing his self-control. He would bang his fists on doors and scream in frustration as he realized that every single room they went to seemed to be infested.


    "Why would they be in here? This is a closet!" he screamed as he knocked down a shelf that held random supplies like shlights andnyards.


    Andrew, the Doctor surrogate, was much calmer. That''s not to say he was rxed, butpared to the other two, he was taking things in stride.


    "I told you time and time again, bedbugs can traverse a house easily in chase of prey. And if I''m not mistaken, the IBECS systems are unintentionally spreading them. There''s an attachment thates out on arge arm that vacuums the floor. I have to wonder if that very attachment is actually spreading them around the ship."


    "I''m gonna kill somebody," Michael said.


    "If we have to stay in these conditions for much longer, I hope that somebody is me," Andrew said.</blockquote>


    ~-~


    Watching them was like watching the animatronics on a dark ride. They had fully-fledged conversations with each other, and they were some of the most in-depth NPCs I had ever seen. They felt real. Usually, to get that kind of detail, a yer had to be involved, activating the dialogue cues to get the proper backstory.


    I almost felt as if Carousel was using them to show us what it wanted¡ªrepeating the same topics over and over again with a slightly different delivery, giving out bits of personality here and there so that Carousel could pick and choose to construct a character arc.


    It left me wondering if there was a lot more flexibility to being On-Screen than I initially believed. Of course, I wasn''t ready to experiment with those theories just yet; I had yet to be On-Screen for the entire film.


    It wasn''t too long after Antoine created a nighttime break for the story that Cassie and Ramona started calling our names. I hadn''t seen them since we sent them away hours earlier to prevent Cassie from identally activating her <strong>Anguish </strong>trope. They were in the sleeping bay of our ship, and as we rushed through the door, I saw that Ramona, Cassie, Isaac, and Dina were all at the back of the room near the strange machine called the Foremother.


    While it had remained dormant for most of the time we had been there, it was now beeping to life. Some of its eggshell-white parts had moved around and shifted to make the machinerger, while others lit up with light to create a screen.


    "What''s going on in here?" Antoine asked. "Who touched it?"


    "I didn''t touch it," Cassie said. "I just thought about it."


    "What?" he asked.


    "I just thought about it, and it started turning on," Cassie exined.


    As we approached, I saw a red light on the screen, along with many symbols I didn''t understand and the words "Please enter gic sample" in bright orange letters.


    Cassie had said that her thoughts had activated it as if she could control it with her mind. In some ways, that made sense because there were no buttons to press, so there had to be some way to control it.


    The truth became clear momentster.


    While we weren''t exactly enthusiastic about messing with the machine, it was interesting, and we had to believe that Carousel had put it there for some reason (even if the reason was mundane). So we started out with just a quick tap on the screen that did nothing. Oddly, despite the futuristic design, it didn''t even have a touch screen.


    Then, we tried more academic measures, such as whacking the side of the machine in hopes that it would do something.


    "I''m not sure this is a good idea. I thought I asked you to take away the fuse or whatever it was so it wouldn''t power on," I said to Dina.


    "I did. The NPCs reced it," she responded.


    Cassie had developed a very strong interest in it, and to be frank, so did I as I stared at it.


    It didn¡¯t take long for me to realize the machine was whispering to us. I didn''t even notice it was happening until I tried to listen to the others talking and realized I could barely hear them over the strange static the machine was putting out.


    Cassie and I were the only ones to hear it.


    When I covered my ears and asked people to stop talking, they were confused.


    "It wants me to put my hand in it," Cassie said.


    She was right. The whispers, whatever they were, definitely wanted us to interact with it¡ªnot in a strangepulsive way, but more in an instruction manual type of way. It was telling us how to operate it.


    I was so curious that I didn''t even stop Cassie when she stuck her hand inside a small opening in the machine. She jerked her hand back out.


    "It poked me," she said.


    As soon as she had withdrawn her hand, the opening in the machine closed up seamlessly. It was once again the white eggshell of all the other machines on the ship, other than the deep sleep pods.


    The machine hummed and whirred, and warm air seemed to exude from it, though I couldn''t see any vents. Momentster, a picture of Cassie appeared on the screen¡ªexcept this Cassie didn''t have pierced ears or tattoos, and she certainly didn''t have colored streaks in her hair. It was like a picture created from memory¡ªa police sketch of a fever dream.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The readout stated:


    ¡°Subject analysisplete. Neurocognitive augmentation markers detected and verified. Gic profile indicates advanced neural capabilities exceeding standard parameters. Proceed with further augmentation or psychic testing protocols as required.¡±


    "Where''s the copy button?" Isaac asked.


    "What? What is it saying?" Kimberly asked, ignoring Isaac.


    I started tough because I finally figured out one of the crucial questions we had been asking: Why was it that Cassie''s Psychic trope did not work on the base storyline, but it did work whenever Dina''s Rescue trope was brought into the mix?


    This was the reason. This funny machine from the future told us everything we needed to know.


    "There are psychics in the world of the story where this ship is from," I said, "but there are no psychics in the world of the story where that <em>Itch </em>is from. The IBECS doesn''t have psychics. This ship does not exist in the base story because it''s from somewhere else."


    Carousel had used pieces of one story to help create the rescue conditions for another. The reason that Cassie and I could hear somethinging from the machine was because we had psychic powers (from her Archetype and my background trope), and it was clear that whatever happened in the storyline the Helio was from, psychic powers weremon enough that they operated machines.


    In fact, I was almost sure that this ship must literally be an alien craft. Nothing about the Helio required that it be a human vessel.


    "Alright, so how does that help us?" Antoine asked.


    It didn''t necessarily.


    Dina''s Rescue trope required us to be separate from the action, so Carousel gave us a ship of our own. Kimberly''s <strong>The Penthouse</strong> trope guaranteed us desirable lodgings, so we got this alien pleasure vessel instead of some bum cruiser. Bobby''s doggy license allowed the use of his dogs in the story- even if we had to create clones using an alien device. All of these factorsbined created this mishmash, resulting in a clone machine on a cool alien ship, and none of it--I assumed--had anything to do with the storyline called <em>Itch</em>.


    "I have no idea," I said.


    That wasn''t quite true. I had a million ideas, but I needed to wait until I found a good one.


    We didn''t want to make the machine do anything. In fact, we weren''t even sure it was supposed to be used. The only thing we discovered while messing around with it was that it had profiles for each of Bobby''s five dogs.


    The NPC had implied that the dogs were the entire reason the machine was on the ship¡ªso that Bobby could have the dogs that he was licensed to take into the story. Seeing as we didn''t need any dogs running around the spaceship, we didn''t go anywhere from there.


    However, as we messed around with it, I started to doubt the cover story that the NPC had given for it as being some Noah''s Ark survival machine in case someone was stranded on a.


    The machine was sending instructions to us, and while those instructions were not in English, I never got the impression that it was an emergency device. I had difficulty finding any gic profiles other than Cassie''s and the five dogs.


    If you can''t trust a random NPC giving you lore, who could you trust? Her story about the clone machine was just a nonsense cover story in the same way as us being "prize winners" was a cover story. It wasn''t canon. It was just thin logic used like duct tape to graft us onto the storyline.


    I decided to take a nap inside one of the deep sleep chambers, if only so that I could look through the dailies and see what footage Carousel had collected for me.


    As usual, my first impression was boredom.


    Scene after scene showed characters moving from one room to another, showing characters breathing and bedbugs crawling over everything. Oh my God, I hated it. I mentally begged it to stop showing me those damn bugs crawling on sleeping people!


    Except, of course, it didn''t stop because they were literally everywhere, and watching them crawl around was one of the film''s primary scare tactics.


    And they were everywhere.


    Everywhere.


    They would crawl through cracks and vents, and if they didn''t find a person totch onto, they would go into hibernation or something, waking up to search again,y eggs, spread, and cover the ship.


    Everywhere.


    Andrew''s surrogate had guessed correctly. The bugs were also being spread around by machinery designed to clean things. The fact was, there were too many, and they were too tenacious for the housekeeping robot arms to keep up with. They would hitch rides all over the ship and then go into some strange hibernation phase, waiting for someone to show up.


    That was good information on how IBECS could be dangerous. Its robotic prostheses were everywhere throughout the ship, built into the modules themselves. I didn''t get a look at the full design¡ªjust hands here and arms there¡ªbut if an audience saw these clips, they would know IBECS had the potential for danger. I wanted to avoid taking the story in that direction. I held out hope for the puzzle version of the storyline that was so much more civilized.


    After watching the footage, I would ask IBECS about bedbugs because I figured it would have lots of information¡ªand it did. It had an encyclopedic knowledge of most things.


    Bedbugs could survive for months without feeding. Bedbugs could track you down by carbon dioxide, body heat, and smell. That exined why the three yer surrogates had been spared; they were underneath some air conditioning unit that prevented the bedbugs from finding them as easily while they were in deep sleep.


    I had to watch footage of the bedbugs slowly devouring all of the passengers and the medical implements in the deep sleep chambers being so inadequate tobat what was happening.


    They only seemed to be able to treat the results of what was urring, and one after another, the machines would re up, asking for a physical attendant for help. But, of course, since everyone was affected, no one was there to help.


    The system didn''t recognize the threat until everyone was already covered. Strange. Why would it be like that? IBECS seemed smart when I talked to him. Why was he so unable to prevent this fate?


    One of the cooler things I saw, which had nothing to do with the bedbugs, was the scene where a project manager from KRSL was building the ship. There was no talking, but it was clear what was going on¡ªhe was requisitioning assets from another part of thepany, using one of the same machines that I had used to look at a 3D model. He was clicking together holographic modules and building a ship.


    All I could see of him was the top of his head as the camera stared down at the holographic ship he was assembling. I could see numbers on the side where the cost of the build he was designing was going up too high, and he would detach modules that cost too much, like extra life support or extra fuel tankers.


    In the end, he built the IBECS ship as I recognized it¡ªassembled by someone who was not qualified to do so and for the lowest possible price.


    How could anything bad happen on that ship?


    After a long time of watching random footage from around the ship where nothing happened, I finally saw something I had been hoping to see.


    I saw Bobby. Or should I say, Officer Bobby Gill?


    He was asleep inside one of the deep sleep chambers, but his chamber was not in the sleeping bay. His was an entirely separate warehouse-sized unit that only seemed to have one sleeping chamber.


    The camera hovered over the ss of his sleeping chamber, and I could barely make out his face, but I knew it was him.


    The camera then backed away and moved up over the warehouse so that I could see what was going on around him.


    And it was horrifying.


    I saw hundreds ofrge, multiple-refrigerator-sized tanks standing upright at an angle. Each tank had a green ss cover so I could see what was inside. While I expected them to be filled with water, they were not. Instead, they contained animal carcasses.


    Cows, pigs, chickens,mbs, goats¡ªall kinds of things I could identify just by looking at their bodies.


    I had to identify them by their bodies because they had no heads.


    None of them did.


    Where their neck ended, a bunch of tubes and wires sprouted up into the machine part of their tank.


    Worse than that, the bodies of these animals were moving. Their limbs were walking; their lungs were inting and deting. Of course, without heads, none of them were making sounds.


    It was a room of silent horror.


    A separate part of the room was devoted to what looked like algae tanks, but that was less interesting.


    My mind was so shocked and ovee by what I was seeing that I couldn''t even figure out what this room was for. Why did they have a bunch of headless animals hooked up to wires and tubes inside this warehouse?


    As the camera panned around, I saw that many of the animal bodies were not full-size. They were still developing. They were growing these animals from a few cells until they were full-grown.


    And then the camera moved over the title te for the room: Protein Lab.


    After reading that, I realized why Bobby was in there. His background trope made his character a veterinarian, and Carousel put him in charge of theb-grown meat on the ship.


    I wasn''t sure if these animals were part of the original script or if they were just brought in so that Bobby would have a reason to be a veterinarian. The machines weren''t exactly identical in style to the rest of the ship, but they did work with the dark sci-fi aesthetic overall.


    One thing I did notice was that neither Bobby nor any of the animals seemed to have bedbugs, whichy in direct contradiction to the rest of the ship. If there were any ce that should have bedbugs, it would be this one¡ªbut it didn''t.


    As if Carousel was listening to my thoughts and wanting to answer my question, the camera angle changed, and I saw that on the door, there was a light that read Biohazard Quarantine.


    It was really odd that this would be the only room quarantined against bedbugs. But then I realized that wasn''t the truth¡ªit was more likely that the room was designed to be cut off from the rest of the ship so that hazardous material from the animals themselves wouldn''t get to the passengers.


    Talk about irony. They tried to protect the people from the cyborg meat puppets and ended up doing the reverse.


    I noticed that Bobby''s chamber had some sort of timer going on. I assumed that meant he would be waking up soon, and we would finally be able to talk to him.


    After a bit more of watching the headless animals frolic in their brainless dreams, the camera left and showed me other parts of the ship. I tried to memorize them, but the truth was it wasn''t that useful of information because I couldn''t tell where the cameras were, and the ship was designed in such a nonsensical way that I couldn''t make heads or tails of it.


    That being said, I did get a good look at the helm.


    And a good look at the control terminal where the pilot should sit.


    An emergency light was lit.


    The light read ¡°FUEL LOW.¡± Another readout read, ¡°The estimated remainder of the fuel is three weeks. Coordinate to refuel at the nearest KRSL station.¡±


    I was willing to bet that IBECS couldn''t get out and pump the gas himself. The yer surrogates would need to do it. It was a race to the helm through a ship they couldn''t traverse without our help.


    Three weeks sounded like a long time, except days could pass between scenes in this film.


    We didn''t have that long.


    I knew that the original story had a ticking time clock.


    This must have been it.


    Get to the helm and find a fuel station, or float in space as a human bedbug farm forever.

 Book Five, Chapter 31: Theme Puzzle

    Book Five, Chapter 31: Theme Puzzle


    When I first saw the enemy tropes for this story, I thought it was an escape room, a genre of horror film in which a character pits their wits against obstacles to try and escape to freedom.


    It was safe to say I was right.


    First, it was essential to understand how NPCs worked. We watched and studied them as best we could. The surrogates were not normal NPCs who would follow the script and could be persuaded, convinced, or intimidated. These surrogates followed our suggestions... but Andrew, Michael, and L embodied the saying, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can''t make it drink."


    I wanted to jump through the screen and strangle them. Isaac convinced Michael to bang up a sleeping chamber easily because that was something Michael was already inclined to do. Getting them to act against their preset personalities was beyond difficult.


    "He acts just like the real Andrew," Cassie said. "Isaac, look. He cleans his sses the same way. He''s just like him."<blockquote>


    On the IBECS, Andrew breathed onto his sses to form condensation and then wiped them clear.</blockquote>


    "I''m pretty sure all people with sses do that," Isaac said. "If he starts talking about Greenday or rollercoasters or teacup pigs, then maybe I''ll be convinced."


    The Hughes siblings were on duty watching the surrogates. Not that they needed watching. They weren''t going anywhere without our help.


    I was examining the design of the IBECS, which we had ess to through one of therge 3D cubes like the one I had yed with near theunch pad. Finding it was not easy (it was in a storage closet with a sci-fi door that only appeared when Rudy, the captain, walked by), but once we had it, we had to learn how to use it. We could only see as much of the ship as the surrogates had unlocked. That was a limitation ced by Carousel because I couldn''t see an in-story reason for it.I stared at the hologram for so long that something finally clicked.


    ¡°I got it,¡± I said. ¡°If we can get them to block off the air intakes in hallway 3A, that will trigger the system to open up the door into Reservoir B in order to ventte the ship. Once they''re in Reservoir B, they can pass directly into hallway 3B.¡±


    Antoine stared at the same diagram I was looking at and nodded his head.


    "The module design is driving me crazy," he said, staring at the little hologram as I showed him the arrows that exined the airflow system. "These rooms are right next to each other, but they don''t share a venttion system. 3B is connected to the life support system in the back, and 3A is connected to the secondary emergency system in the front. This is absurd."


    It was.


    He walked over to the red button that seemed to be a universal "talk to the yer surrogates" button and started to ry my idea Off-Screen.<blockquote>


    The yer surrogates heard our n but didn''t act on it because they were Off-Screen, and something like that had to happen On-Screen.


    They wouldn¡¯t be On-Screen for a bit because, at that moment, the Wallflower surrogate L had taken too many of the sleeping pills she found, and Dr. Andrew Hughes was trying to keep her alive after having pumped her stomach. This was just one of many things going on with the surrogates. They would follow our suggestions, but they also kept adding drama to the story against our will.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be fine,¡± Dr. Hughes said. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be surprised to find out that one of the few medical events the Med Bay was prepared for was an overdose.¡±


    He stood over her and ced the back of his hand on her mmy forehead.


    ¡°Did she say why she did it?¡± Michael asked cautiously. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me she¡¯s¡­¡± He trailed off, not wanting to say the words, not wanting to put those words out into the air.


    ¡°No, nothing like that,¡± Andrew said. ¡°She¡¯s been having difficulty getting to sleep now that her Deep Sleep Chamber has stopped responding to her. Insomnia can skew judgment.¡±


    There was a pause as they both looked down at the pale young woman.


    ¡°In that case,¡± Michael said, ¡°I could sure use some of those sleeping pills. Every time I close my eyes, I feel bugs all over me. If I could find anything mmable around here, I would set myself on fire.¡±


    Michael had a morbid sense of humor, I had learned over our time watching him.


    We had sat and watched them as L slowly took one sleeping pill at a time throughout the night in an attempt to get some respite from the bugs. It didn''t work. It was possible she didn¡¯t realize she was taking too many¡ªeven we didn¡¯t realize what was happening until Andrew sounded the rm.


    They had created a sort of camp in the Med Bay that they had been able to get to. The solitary benefit of that room was that it had four individual beds, which were separated from the ground by a sturdy metal pole. They greased up the metal pole in hopes that the bedbugs would not climb it while they slept.


    They had not been entirely sessful.


    The scene itself was actually powerful and hefty, with character work and conversations about life and death.</blockquote>


    It was frustrating for us, though, because this is what they did instead of going out and looking for ways to move forward with the escape. They were not scouting for us.


    I assumed that was by design. The only way they would move forward was if we helped them. Due to L''s health problems, they had been On-Screen and Off-Screen and were now getting an Off-Screen break.


    Based on what hade before, it was clear that as soon as they came back On-Screen, they would try our n. First, they would have to set it up on film by pretending they came up with it, and then they would have to enact it by blocking off the air vents in an entire hallway.


    Using an officer to try to trick IBECS wasn¡¯t working anymore¡ªthat was a one-time thing. It would be a pretty dull story if they could use him as some passport to get around the ship. Now, we had toe up with other ways to get through thebyrinth.


    It was one big puzzle.<blockquote>


    They went back On-Screen.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯ve been thinking about the way the air circtes in this ship,¡± Andrew said. ¡°It¡¯s all algorithmic. I¡¯m not even sure how much control IBECS has over it consciously.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying?¡± Michael asked as he sat up on his high-tech gurney.


    ¡°I think we can trick it into opening the door to the starboard reservoir.¡±


    ¡°We can trick it?¡± Michael repeated.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Andrew said. ¡°It¡¯s just a matter of making it think that there¡¯s an airflow problem. It will automatically fix itself, regardless of what the insane machine wants to think.¡±


    ¡°I thought IBECS was designed to fix itself. How long would that trick work?¡± Michael asked.


    ¡°Long enough for us to walk through a door,¡± Andrew said.


    Michael looked back over his shoulder at the sedated but healing L.


    ¡°Tell me what to do,¡± he said.</blockquote>


    So we watched them as they took rags soaked in some goo that looked almost like vapor cream and started clogging all of the venttion in hallway 3A.


    It was the most frustrating wait possible because I didn¡¯t even know if my n would work. Unlike us, they didn¡¯t seem to understand they were on a time clock despite us having told them they were. It just went in one ear and out the other. Their characters didn''t know about the fuel situation, or at least they didn''t know how dire it was.<blockquote>


    They never acknowledged us talking to them after the conversation ended, so it made sense that they wouldn¡¯t be able to act as if they knew about the fuel problem. There was probably some way to inform them, but we had missed that cutscene.


    This narrative has been uwfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    They worked, and they spoke of their old lives and old girlfriends when, eventually, L found her way to them and asked what had happened.


    They were supportive of her, and they had their unit bonding moment with Andrew pledging to keep them all safe until they could one day get home. As he hugged L, Michael¡ªbeing a bit too macho for that¡ªjust patted her on the back and said, ¡°Hang in there,¡± as if he wasn¡¯t sure that the sleeping pills thing was actually an ident.</blockquote>


    ¡°Oh dear God, please just clog the damn vents!¡± Isaac screamed into the abyss from his seat on the upper decks of the flight tform of our ship.


    No one argued with him because we all felt the same way. It almost felt like Carousel was teasing us.


    Watching them was our only entertainment, and it was getting very frustrating.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Cassie eximed. ¡°Bobby¡¯s awake! He just woke up!¡±


    That was good news. Cassie¡¯s <strong>Anguish</strong> trope allowed her to see the statuses of all of our allies, including whether Bobby was conscious. Since he had been asleep for most of the movie, it was about time he woke up.


    ¡°IBECS,¡± I said, ¡°can you please wave Officer Bobby Gill?¡±


    Luckily, IBECS didn¡¯t put up a fight, and we saw the gigantic room filled with animal bodies connected to tubes that I had seen in the dailies.


    I suppressed a grin as the others got a good look at the horrors.


    Bobby crawled out of his Deep Sleep Chamber, naked as the day he was born. Literally, no one else had been unclothed in their chambers, but I didn¡¯t have time to ask him about that. He was Off-Screen, so we had the chance to talk to him.


    ¡°Bobby!¡± Antoine screamed.


    Bobby¡¯s head perked up, unsure of where the sound came from. He looked around the room. He didn¡¯t seem surprised to see the monstrosities strapped up in their giant vessels, so he must have either had scenes in this room already or just had memories from his character that made them familiar.


    He quickly slipped into his space onesie, which all the other passengers were wearing, and continued searching for Antoine¡¯s voice.


    ¡°To your left!¡± Antoine screamed.


    Finally, Bobby found it. It would appear that he didn¡¯t actually have a screen showing us; all he had was a little box with a button tomunicate with us.


    ¡°First Blood has already passed?¡± Bobby asked.


    ¡°Yep,¡± I said. The injured passengers waking up had counted as First Blood, luckily. Death wasn''t required.


    He nodded. ¡°My character designed these pods for growing protein in outer space, and KRSL paid me to see if it was a viable program.¡±


    ¡°We figured something like that,¡± I said.


    He nodded, still groggy.


    "What''s the Big Bad?" he asked.


    "Bed bugs," I said.


    He nodded slowly, then, in confusion, he said, "Wait, what?"


    That sure jarred him awake.


    We spent the next twenty minutes discussing everything that had happened, trying to catch him up to speed.


    There was a reason Carousel had kept him asleep for so long¡ªhis character actually knew a lot about the ship. He was a science officer, like in <em>Star Trek</em>. Unfortunately, he didn''t have as much authority with IBECS as other officers did, but at least he had some.


    "I was thinking it was gonna be aliens," Bobby said. "I could not believe it when they took us up in the ship. Where are you guys, anyway?"


    "We''re orbiting the IBECS in some kind of alien ship from the year 4021 or so," I said.


    Bobby nodded, taking it in stride. "So what''s the n? We''reing up on the halfway mark, aren''t we?"


    "We''ve got to get you in contact with the yer surrogates," I said. "We''ve currently got them trying to get to hallway 3B, which means they''re almost to where you are."


    Bobby nodded. "I don''t know if I''m going to be able to get out of here. They were concerned about the animals spreading disease, despite how I told them that was virtually impossible because all of these animals were grown from embryos inside ab." He shook his head and rolled his eyes. ¡°The project manager knew the term mad cow disease and kept repeating it¡­ idiot¡­¡±


    Bobby''s character had strong feelings about KRSL, apparently.


    "It''s a pretty wild thing," he said as he looked back over therge tanks filled with headless cow bodies moving their legs as if they were on a walk while they hung in their containers.


    We didn¡¯t know if Bobby''s character was special to the story. He was a Wallflower, and his Recast trope, which allowed him to y as background characters, didn¡¯t necessarily cast him in important spots. It cast him in ces where he could make his character meaningful, although up to now, he mainly ignored his character and joined us as if he were part of the gang, which was probably what he would do in this story as well.


    "Drifting into space forever doesn¡¯t sound very fun," he said. "How far off are we from the helm?"


    "You''re not even halfway there," I said. "You guys are going to have to get a move on. That¡¯s the number one problem we¡¯re having¡ªevery time we tell them to do something, they add on like threeyers of story and character troubles before they do it. The plot cycle is slipping away while they¡¯re talking about their childhood dogs."


    "I¡¯ll whip them into shape," he said. "I guess the first thing I should do is call out to them and tell them toe to me if they¡¯re already heading in this direction."


    "That should put some pep in their step," Antoine said. "They haven¡¯t seen another healthy human in weeks."


    We sat back as Bobby broke off the call with us. We could still watch through the camera¡ªIBECS wasn¡¯t giving us any trouble over that. After we had figured out how to make a wave to other characters in the story, it was like we had aplished that, and it was no longer going to be a problem.


    That was a theme for the storyline: once you solved something, it remained solved. You couldn¡¯t use the same trick twice, but you didn¡¯t need to.


    That was an important factor to note.


    We watched as Bobby talked to the surrogates through hism and urged them to find him on the other side of the starboard reservoir. As predicted, they started really booking it, clogging up all the vents in hallway 3A.


    Bobby switched back over to us with a simple request to IBECS, who facilitated the calls.


    "Alright, they¡¯re on it," he said.


    Just talking to Bobby had been a lift to their spirits, and Bobby¡¯s slightly awkward demeanor really fit his character here¡ªa disoriented science officer who was morefortable working with headless animals than with humans.


    "Where are my dogs?" he asked. "When I first got here, I panicked, and I looked through every tank because I was afraid they would be hanging here."


    "They¡¯re not here," I said. "We have their DNA profile in a cloning machine."


    It took him a moment to take that in.


    "Wow," he said with a tone that didn¡¯t match the circumstances. "It¡¯s like a machine that can clone anything?" he asked. He startedughing. "My character is freaking out on the inside because he¡¯s like a mad scientist," he continued tough aloud.


    Bobby didn¡¯t just be a random character; he usually became a character that actually existed within the story. Whether the headless cows existed or not, his character was a real scientist, and he had that character¡¯s memory and basic personality locked away in his head to use.


    Wallflowers were extremely overpowered, and their power was only bnced by the fact that they were, well, Wallflowers.


    "As for the n," I said, "there are two main ways to get through. One, we treat it like abyrinth of puzzles, which is the most straightforward approach. Getting from room to room is difficult because IBECS isn¡¯t cooperating, and you have to trick it into doing what you want. So far, we¡¯re doing all right, but we¡¯re running out of time, and I¡¯m not exactly sure what the big finishing moment is going to be."


    "What do you mean by that?" Bobby asked. "Like, there¡¯s no fight?"


    "Sort of," I said. "What¡¯s the climax to a story that¡¯s literally just an escape room? Either the climax is that you don¡¯t escape, and it¡¯s a sad ending, or the genre gets bent a little bit and bes a fight at the end. I don¡¯t know if we¡¯re prepared for thatst part."


    Bobby nodded. "There¡¯s not a proper antagonist here, is there? IBECS isn¡¯t evil."


    That was the issue. It was possible that Carousel would be okay with the story just being a series of puzzles until the final one is unlocked and everybody goes home happy, but that did not fit with the pattern of other stories.


    There had to be somethinging up, but I didn¡¯t know what.


    "So what¡¯s the other way you were talking about?" Bobby asked.


    "Well," I said, "this whole storyline seems to be a very poorly disguised metaphor for how corporatism is bad and workers should stick together."


    KRSL was perfect for a story about an evilpany turning workers against each other.


    "A metaphor story?" he said. "Aren¡¯t those supposed to be hard?"


    "Yep."


    I had exined this all to the rest of our team already, and I wasn¡¯t sure if I had done a good job.


    In most horror movies, the plot is simple, and the scares are what matter. Almost every scene either advances the plot or delivers scares.


    But there are those movies where the plot is incidental, and the movie is actually about a theme. Movies thate to mind would be The Witch, Get Out, or possibly It Follows. Stories like that were called elevated horror as if they were some new thing, but they¡¯ve been around for as long as movies have been; it just hasn¡¯t been as on the nose.


    As soon as I realized that this movie cared a lot about its metaphors, I wondered if it was like those others, where getting to the end was more about making a statement than it was about actually solving the plot.


    "Doesn¡¯t the As have a section on that?" Bobby asked.


    "Kinda," I said. "It¡¯s not phrased that way, though. They talk about how sometimes you have to y into the themes of a movie."


    "So how do we do that?" Bobby asked.


    I thought for a moment. "We get the NPCs to focus on the themes of the story, and we make their escape a metaphor for... worker solidarity or something. But it¡¯s impossible," I said. "If we were the ones running the story, it would be one thing¡ªwe could do it¡ªbut I don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to be able to tell the NPCs to do it. They follow our hints, but their backstories and character arcs seem preset. We¡¯re just going to have to try to solve the puzzles."


    I wished I hadn''t even mentioned the metaphor thing. It was hard to exin and harder to enact. We were safer just solving puzzles straight up. Noyers. No deep meaning. Just puzzles. Clog a vent. Trick IBECS. Simple. Doable. Exinable.


    It was the n.


    "And do you think that¡¯ll work?" Bobby asked. "Just solving the puzzle, ignoring the themes?"


    I didn¡¯t answer because I didn¡¯t know. I hated this.


    The section on rescues of the As taught an important lesson: Even though a rescue trope ispatible with a storyline, that doesn''t make the storyline it creates beatable, at least not in the way base storylines are. In the same way that ill-fated yers once found that rescues could counterintuitively make some storylines more winnable, a rescue could also create a story far more challenging than it was supposed to be.


    I had to push those thoughts away.


    We had yet to see a story that wore its themes on its sleeves like this one did. If the idea was that all of the passengers aboard the ship were scabs (that are now covered in literal scabs) and that they had betrayed their fellow workers by crossing the picket line, then the only way to move forward with that strategy was to either have our NPCs reinforce the themes and be evil or to redeem themselves in some way.


    If we didn''t haveplete control over the surrogates, it wasn''t an option.


    "It¡¯s just something to keep in mind," I said.


    I really didn¡¯t want to have to think about themes <em>and</em> plot. We stood in silence as we watched the NPCs slowly finish clogging the vents in hallway 3A, and just as I had predicted, the door to the starboard reservoir opened up with a big woosh.


    That was one small step for the surrogates, one giant leap for the needle on the Plot Cycle.


    We needed to hurry.

 Book Five, Chapter 32: Dark Aura

    Book Five, Chapter 32: Dark Aura


    "IBECS, this is the Helio. Please confirm this transmission. We have no edible provisions on our ship. Mayday, this is an emergency; we are requesting aid on behalf of KRSL," I said.


    That line required hours of nning, including removing all the food from our ship and throwing it out the airlock.


    "This is the IBECS. I''m confirming with the Helio AI. It seems that you are out of food. That is troubling. My protocols allow me to permit temporary coupling to provide the Helio with an emergency supply of provisions."


    We all started to cheer aboard the helm of the Helio. It had taken us forever to figure out how to get IBECS to let us connect our ship to theirs so that we could actually go into the IBECS and interact with the story. Everything was a puzzle, even things that weren''t happening On-Screen.


    It ended up being pretty simple.


    It was Ramona who figured it out. IBECS would allow us to dock if there were an emergency. It wouldn''t acknowledge its own emergency, at least not in so many words. So, Ramona figured, what if the Helio was the ship with the emergency?


    IBECS had to help us if we were in trouble, and it was able to help. The one thing that we knew for sure was that the IBECS had lots of food. If we needed food, then IBECS should let us attach even if we didn¡¯t have the proper approval since we were a fellow KRSL vessel.


    Exhale. Back to the real problem.


    We were already halfway through the storyline, and we still had a long way to go to get the yer Surrogates to the helm of the IBECS.We weren''t giving up, but reality was setting in. This wasn''t easy.


    "Captain," I said, "please connect us to that junction on the starboard side of the IBECSbeled ''Protein Lab'' on the holo-frame."


    "You got it," Rudy said.


    He and the other NPCs had been silently rooting for us. I could see their joy when we finally figured out how to move forward. Now, if only they could have just told us what to do, we''d be on our way home already.


    This was a big step. We couldn''t be a part of the story¡ª in fact, our ship wasn''t even in the storyline itself¡ªbut if we could get on that ship, we could scout things out ahead and figure out solutions for the NPCs before they even found the problems. This was really convenient because the NPCs were slow and trudging, and they were having the worst days of their lives because of bedbugs.


    They weren''t getting sleep, and they were bing paranoid. Now, they were lined up outside Bobby''s door, trying their best to break through but failing miserably. They desperately wanted in because Bobby told them there were no bugs in there.


    "You''re telling me that there is fresh meat on the other side of that door, and yet I can''t get this overgrown ATM machine just to open it?" Michael said, enraged, at the end of his rope. Michael was also nning to butcher one of Bobby''s headless cows. He talked about it a lot after Bobby told him what he did for a living.


    "The Protein Lab was supposed to be cordoned off from the rest of this ship," Andrew said. "It makes sense. Just be patient."


    Andrew took everything in stride and explored it analytically. I wondered if that was Andrew''s real personality or just a generic NPC trait.


    For now, we celebrated because our ship was connecting to the outside of therge unit that Bobby was currently trapped in.


    We would get to see Bobby, and most importantly, we would start making some real progress.


    Within moments, we found ourselves staring at a door in the side of therge room that contained most everything inside our ship. The door was formed from white eggshell material with no seams, yet it easily attached to the outside of the IBECS and created an airtight seal.


    We waited as the IBECS door unbolted, and with a hiss, the airlock on the outside of the older ship opened.


    There was Bobby, waiting for us. He had a wide grin on his face, happy not to be alone, happy that we were making progress, and ultimately overjoyed that he was no longer technically stuck on a ship rapidly running out of fuel.


    As a bonus, behind him were huge tanks filled with decapitated animals, their limbs jogging in thin air to give us emotional support.


    "Let''s get to work," Antoine said.


    Except, of course, the only person who needed to get to work was Dina because she had a trope called <strong>Savvy Safecracker</strong>, which was based on how movie thieves are so easily able to get through doors and locks. There was a big door between us and the rest of the ship.


    Stepping into the IBECS was like stepping into another world. We hade from some optimistic future with technology that could aid our every need, and every difort was erased before we even knew we had it.


    The IBECS was harsh and smelled funny. It didn''t smell organic¡ªno, it smelled like we were in a refinery.


    That smell permeated everything.


    Dina was quick to start examining the door that would finally let Bobby out of his room so he could assist the NPCs on the other side, who were currently upied talking about their feelings or something.


    Dina ran her hands along the metal, which had been painted yellow in an industrial style.


    "It''ll take a couple of hours," she said, "but I can do it."


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    "How?" Bobby asked.


    "I have no idea," she answered as she got to work looking for tools or something around Bobby''s workspace.


    That''s how her power worked¡ªshe just had to look busy and focused, and then the answer woulde to her.


    We left Isaac, Cassie, and Ramona aboard the Helio. They couldn''t do much over here, and thest thing we needed was for them to get trapped Off-Screen and unable to get back to our ship. Even standing on the IBECS made me nervous, but it was rapidly bing necessary as coaching surrogates around the vessel from cameras was not going to cut it.


    Dina''s estimate was correct. She banged on the door with various implements for a while until it suddenly dawned on her what she needed to do.


    "All right, what we do is wire power directly into the mechanism that unlocks the door," she said. "These doors are designed to be locked by default, and they need power in order to unlock. It makes sense because, technically, this door could have been on the outside of the ship had Bobby''s unit not been attached. You want the default to be locked. Right now, we''ve got these huge tungsten rods acting as pins, and we''re not going to move them or cut through them, and we all know how IBECS is."


    She usually used her trope to stick a bobby pin into a door lock and move it around until it clicked, but it was cool to see that it would work on something a bit more advanced.


    Before long, she and Bobby¡ªwho had suddenly be quite handy with technology because of his character''s background¡ªhad hooked up wires into the door and then connected those to some pump that Bobby''s character used on the giant animal tanks.


    All Bobby had to do was turn on the pump to supply power to the locks and bypass IBECS, and the door unlocked.


    Maybe IBECS'' universe didn''t have space piracy because that seemed like a ring security failure.


    Unfortunately, we were in the world''s most high-stakes game of telephone, so theplications weren''t over.


    Even though we had unlocked the door, we were not technically in the storyline, so we had to get out of the camera shot so that Bobby could do it all again on his own for the audience.


    Deep breaths.


    That was easy enough¡ªwe just went and hid in the giant warehouse with its endless rows of headless cattle.


    Carousel seemed to understand what was going on because Bobby went On-Screen as soon as he started trying to unlock the door. He called out to the NPCs on the other side, telling them what he was doing.


    "You''re gonna electrocute yourself!" Michael yelled through the inte.


    "Oh, I''ve done that plenty of times," Bobby said. "It''s not that big a deal."


    With a little bit of rigging, moving wires around, and recreating the actions that Dina had shown him, he got the door to unlock again, and he looked like a genius doing it.


    "I was hoping that a higher-ranked officer woulde along and let me out. But a man''s gotta do what a man''s gotta do," Bobby said.


    With the pull of a handle, therge circr door swung ajar, and for the first time, we got to see the NPCs that we had been shepherding face to face.


    Well, technically, we were hiding in the back of the room, but seeing them physically was quite horrifying because even though they had never been as infested with bedbugs as terribly as the other passengers, they were still eaten up.


    They had weeping wounds and scratches from where they had itched themselves in their sleep.


    But that wasn''t the only thing notable about what came through that door when they walked in.


    They brought an aura with them¡ªI could feel it. I could feel paranoia and anxiety. I could feel the effects of the bedbugs converted into a dark form of movie magic designed to ensure that anyone in this movie yed their part.


    I scratched the back of my neck, and as I looked around at Antoine, Kimberly, and Dina, I saw that I was not the only one.


    To his credit, Bobby was doing great. His character was technically a science officer, so he was able to order IBECS to open the next couple of doors. That was a great relief to the NPCs and us. After that, it was a no-go.


    "You have exceeded your permissible ess coordinance," IBECS said as if those words made sense next to each other.


    Bobby was also very reassuring. Since he had not spent his entire waking hours scratching himself, he was a voice of calm to them that even the analytical Andrew could not match.


    However, we were facing a problem.


    Second Blood wasing up soon.


    We only had one, two, maybe three scenes before it appeared.


    First Blood had been pretty bloodless, with the exception of the blood of the passengers, who all woke up screaming. No one had to die other than those who had already passed from allergies or infection.


    But Second Blood promised that someone--or lots of someones--had to go. We only hoped it would be more passengers and not our surrogates.


    We knew that there was another sleeping bay attached to the ship, a much smaller one that had all the same problems as therger one¡ªeveryone was infected with bedbugs and being kept sedated.


    If we could get the yer Surrogates there, we reasoned that Second Blood could involve some shocking scene from the second sleeping bay, and our little sheep, Andrew, L, and Michael, might be okay.


    It was gruesome, but that was the best-case scenario. Our priority among the surrogates was rescuing Andrew¡ªthough we didn''t want to lose any of them.


    Obviously, we didn''t want to lose Bobby. We could not let that happen.


    We also had an unanswered question: Was it possible for my friends and I--who were not a part of the storyline--to die? Would Carousel try to do that? All of my reading from the As had led me to believe that it wouldn''t. Carousel wouldn''t protect us if we put ourselves in danger, but because we were not really characters, it wouldn''t go out of its way to kill us.


    And we could tell ourselves that over and over again, but that did not remove the fear.


    On to the next obstacle.


    This one was rtively straightforward. Bobby was not qualified to unlock the door to something called the Cross-Ark Hall, which was designed to allow people to walk across therge mechanism where the anti-gravity machine was kept.


    This was a significant problem because this one hallway divided the entire IBECS into two parts¡ªthere was no other way across, not a way designed for passengers, at least.


    Even from the video footage, Dina could tell that it was not a door she could unlock, which meant it must have been scripted. We weren''t supposed to pass through the safe hallway. We had to find another way forward.


    The only way for them to pass by this section of the ship to get to the helm was by crossing something called a Phase Bast, which was in the heart of the anti-gravity mechanism.


    When we asked IBECS what a Phase Bast was, he gave us this answer:<blockquote>


    "Ah, yes, the Phase Bast. Inyman¡¯s terms, the Phase Bast is a criticalponent of the ship''s gravimetric stabilization matrix. It''s essentially a hyper-dynamic oscitory beam that functions within the quantum flux array, suspended in a state of controlled mao-inertial flux. This beam operates within a subspace envelope, where it modtes the gravitational phase variance in real time, ensuring that the ship''s anti-gravitational field maintains a stable equilibrium across all sectors.


    As you might assume, the Phase Bast achieves this by osciting at a frequency that harmonizes with the ship''s phase modtion grid, thereby synchronizing the gravitational waveforms with the inertialpensators. This process mitigates the effects of external gravitational anomalies, which could otherwise destabilize the ship''s trajectory or cause localized gravitational distortions.


    In even simpler terms, the Phase Bast is like the conductor of an orchestra, but instead of music, it''s orchestrating the very forces of gravity itself. The maic suspension of the bast within the gravitic null zone allows it to float freely, optimizing its phase variance correction without the interference of conventional gravitational forces. It''s quite fascinating, really¡ªa delicate dance of graviton particles and quantum fields, all governed by the elegant mathematics of hyperdimensional physics.


    If you would like a more technical exnation, feel free to ask."</blockquote>


    That was very enlightening.


    I didn''t know if Carousel had a mouth, but I swore I could hear itughing.

 Book Five, Chapter 33: Rodeo

    Book Five, Chapter 33: Rodeo


    "I''ll test it out," Antoine said. We had left Bobby''s room and had gone up ahead of the NPCs to scout and see if there was anything tricky about the Phase Bast.


    I didn''t know if IBECS would have a problem with us walking through its halls, but it didn''t seem to. All of our tropes designed to help us with stealth seemed wasted¡ªwe weren''t part of the movie; we were just around.


    When we reached the part of the ship where everything bottlenecked and a giant locked door prevented us from using the Cross-Ark Hall, we found a human-sized venttion shaft that would allow a person to enter the Phase Bast matrix.


    "I could get that thing off of there," Antoine said, staring at the cover of the venttion shaft. At first, it appeared to be an obstacle in and of itself.


    "Yes, but then it wouldn''t make sense why the venttion shaft was already broken open," I said.


    The solution was far more straightforward. We had brought a screwdriver from Bobby''s workshop.


    It wasn''t difficult to get into the venttion shaft¡ªin movies, it never is.


    "Here goes nothing," Antoine said.


    He was eager to help. So far, all we had done was guide people around ande up with ideas. He didn''t feel like he was really contributing as much as he could. But testing out a potentially suicidal jungle gym? He felt that he could do that.He dropped down into the room, and I followed right after him.


    It definitely was an obstacle out of a sci-fi movie. The Phase Bast was basically a giant boardwalk about the length of a basketball court that connected two tforms on the ends of arge tube, which was the room we were in. I couldn''t see the walls because everything was dark, but there were sci-fi lights attached to the tform and ambient light that allowed us to see in front of us.


    As far as I could see, the bast itself did not touch either of the tforms or connect to anything else¡ªit was floating free.


    Thereiny the challenge.


    As soon as Antoine stepped foot onto the Phase Bast, it started to move, and he was instantly down on all fours, finding handholds where the lights emanated from or where wires stuck out. It wasn''t explicitly designed to be climbed on, but there was plenty to grab onto.


    The thing moved, tilted, and spun around with him right on it, but ultimately, he held on.


    It was just a test of strength and dexterity.


    For some reason, it reminded me of a rodeo, as the bast moved and turned and bucked but ultimately submitted once Antoine had shown he was not giving up easily.


    Antoine made it to the other side with a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and then he waved me forward.


    "No, I''m good," I said. "Time toe back¡ªwe need to instruct the NPCs."


    He rolled his eyes. "What? Coward!" he yelled.


    I wasn''t afraid to cross the bast; I was concerned about time. Second Blood would be here soon, and I wanted the NPCs to be far past this room when it got here.


    I was also a <em>little </em>afraid to cross the bast.


    Once we got Bobby alone, we exined everything that we saw to him. Of course, his character had every reason to understand how the ship worked, so he exined it to the NPCs quickly.


    Everything was going ording to n.


    Until it wasn''t.


    As the NPCs approached the Phase Bast, we watched from the shadows, itching ourselves but excited. Getting past this obstacle was a colossal checkpoint¡ªthe helm was only a few more puzzles away.


    "Remind me of why we didn''t try to exterminate the bedbugs again?" Antoine asked. "I''m going crazy, and I haven''t even been bitten yet."


    "Cristobal," I said.


    "Cristobal?" Antoine asked. "The harem sorcerer?"


    "That one," I said. "Grace and Chris said that his high level was enough to know that he wasn''t to be messed with. Enemies that are way too high level are a distraction, not meant to be beaten. They''re a red herring¡ªa time waster. The bedbugs are deeply ingrained. Yeah, there are all sorts of things we could do about them. Heck, Andrew spent a day and a half trying to keep them away from some of the officers. It didn''t work. It won''t work. I know so. I''ve seen their tropes, but all I needed to see was the plot armor. That''s part of the secretnguage of the game itse--"


    "I get it," Antoine said. "We still could have tried."


    "Let''s try that after we win," I said. "We cane back here and set them all on fire."


    "I didn''t say I wanted toe back," Antoine said. "This is one story I don''t care to master."


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    We turned and watched the surrogates as they finished their dialogue setting up the Phase Bast. Bobby''s technobabble was far less borate than IBECS''."


    "We cross the giant metal beam that controls gravity," he said. "It won''t be easy, but we can do it."


    The surrogates peppered him with tech questions, many of which he seemed to answer gracefully because his character was well-informed. Others, he just floundered."


    "It''s best not to think about the specifics," he said. "Just get to the other end."


    And so they prepared themselves. Michael told a story about basic training and how his drills in anti-gravity were probably simr to the interior of the artificial gravity machine. Basic surrogate filler material.


    Just as they were about to climb into the Phase Bast, a scream sounded from toward the back of the ship.


    Then another.


    Then another.


    "They''re waking back up," Andrew said. "We have to go sedate them again. They won''t survive off life support. Goddammit, I''m going to make sure that everyone knows what they did to us here."


    He and Michael immediately ran back toward the sleeping bay against Bobby''s protests. L instead ducked her head down into the Phase Bast matrix to take a look, and then she sat waiting.


    She wanted no part in the screaming passengers. Her ivory skin covered in blood as she sat in the industrial ship''s hallway was an image that could have been on the movie poster¡ªthe nk look in her eyes as if the lights had gone out.


    The issue was that re-sedating all of the passengers took time¡ªnot just actual time but screen time, moving the story forward.


    "Bobby, get them back here and get them across this Phase Bast now," I said, but we both knew my words were wasted.


    We had set in motion everything that would happen, and it was toote to change it. Second Blood was upon us.


    Antoine, Kimberly, Dina, and I couldn''t risk being on the ship during Second Blood, so we found ourselves running back to the Helio.


    We actually crossed paths with the surrogates, but they didn''t make eye contact or acknowledge us. They weren''t On-Screen at that moment, but they would be soon. They were headed back up toward the Phase Bast. I had a feeling that grabbing them and absconding with them to safety would displease Carousel.


    I was looking down a long hallway, watching them run toward it.


    At the end of it, I saw Bobby poking his head back, wondering if he, too, should be seeking shelter somewhere else. It didn''t make sense for his character not to be in this scene, but I could not risk Bobby dying.


    Bobby had less Plot Armor than the NPCs¡ªtwenty-four to their twenty-five. I couldn''t risk him being there¡ªI couldn''t risk him being On-Screen during Second Blood, even if it hurt the final film.


    I could tell he was nervous about it, too. I waved for him toe back to us, and he did. As he passed the NPCs in the hall, he begged them not to go forward with their n, but his words were wasted. He then gave them some excuse about why he wasn''t going to be there, and then all of us ran into his warehouse-sized unit and boarded the Helio.


    We closed the door behind us but did not disconnect the ship. Bobby couldn''t die for Second Blood if he was on the Helio because the Helio didn''t exist in the movie.


    He looked around with amazement as we walked up to the helm of our ship, where the viewing monitors were, so we could see what the NPCs were doing.


    "Sure would be easy if we could just tell the yer Surrogates toe over here, huh?" Isaac said as he saw using.


    No kidding


    We watched as the three yer Surrogates lowered themselves down into the room with the Phase Bast.


    "I''ll go first," Andrew said. "You keep her safe."


    Michael nodded.


    Andrew crawled out onto the Phase Bast, not taking any chances, not trying to be too brave. He hugged tight to the surface, not moving forward unless he had something to hold on to. Gravity might have been on his side at that moment, but he seemed to understand what this machine did, so when it first started to jerk and turn, he was not taken by surprise.


    His crossing was more dramatic than Antoine''s because it was On-Screen. There were staged pauses as the Phase Bast shook and twisted and then came to bnce again, and Andrew put one hand over another, finding a grip and crawling forward¡ªforward, forward, the length of a football field.


    Eventually, he reached the other side and made it onto the tform. He stood up and gave the other side a thumbs-up.


    Next up was L. She moved slowly, afraid of every tremor. She made one movement after another until she reached the center of the Phase Bast, and suddenly, there was turbulence. She screamed, and Michael called out, "L!"


    She was frozen with fear.


    "Come on, L! You have to crawl the rest of the way. You''ll be fine. Just make sure you have a handhold," Andrew said.


    "I''m afraid," she said, crying.


    True to her word, she didn''t move.


    And because she didn''t move, Carousel got cranky. The whole tform turned over 180 degrees, and she was left hanging from handholds and screaming at the top of her lungs.


    "I''ming!" Michael called out to her. "Just hold on a little bit longer."


    This was an entirely different task. Walking on top of the Phase Bast was hard enough, but trying to monkey-bar along the bottom with the feeble handholds avable was something else.


    The underside of the Phase Bast, which was now on top, did not have the friendly handholds that the top did.


    He looked it over but wasn''t willing to risk trying to walk to her without anything to hold on to. He quickly found himself with one leg wrapped around the side of the bast and both of his hands gripping onto handholds on the underside where L was. He pulled himself along, sticking to the side of the tform, showing off the strength that he had gained in the military.


    It was incredible to watch¡ªa feat of strength and coordination.


    And just as he was almost to L, within arm''s reach where he could reach out and almost get to her, the tform flipped back over.


    L was able to hang on, and she was now back on top of the tform, but Michael was not so lucky. He had one hand on a meager handhold, but the entire rest of his body was pulled out sideways as if gravity wasn''t behaving. The extreme forces of the Phase Bast were pulling him as the entire tform began to shake and rotate.


    L managed to grab hold with her hands and move her feet up under two wedges, which allowed her to establish a good foundation and hang on.


    "Grab my hand!" Michael screamed. "Grab on to it! I''m slipping!"


    He reached out toward L.


    She refused to look at him.


    "L!" he screamed. "Give me your hand!"


    But she just froze, shook, and looked in the other direction, either too afraid to understand what was going on or too scared to let loose of one of her secure handholds and risk being pulled off the tform with Michael.


    "Grab him!" Andrew screamed. "He''s right there¡ªjust grab him! Pull him out of that gravitational pocket! Hurry!"


    But L did nothing.


    Momentster, the tform started to gyrate back and forth. Michael was beaten up against the side of the wall, first with a scream and then with a crunch. And it went on for a while as Carousel got its footage of the carnage. It was like he was inside of a clothes dryer.


    Even with our poor vantage point from the security camera in the room, we could see that there were parts of him¡ªmostly blood¡ªfloating in the anti-gravity field around the tform.


    And with that, Second Blood passed.


    The rescue poster for Michael Brooks disappeared from the red wallpaper, leaving me thinking of the million ways I might have prevented it.

 Book Five, Chapter 34: On Theme

    Book Five, Chapter 34: On Theme


    Workers harming other workers was a coreponent of the theme of the rescue, and what better way for Carousel to remind us of that than by having one scab be unwilling to save another?


    Michael tried to be a hero in the wrong story, and now our hopes of saving the real yer he represented were gone¡ªfor a time at least.


    Underlying Dina''s rescue trope''s promises of safety was the reality that it was extremely difficult to seed with.


    It wasn¡¯t that you would die trying; it was that the logistics of getting a bunch of NPCs to survive was legitimately challenging to do. That was the cost; that was the price of having such a safe run. It was hard to get to The End.


    Everyone was deted after Michael died. We had hoped that we could avoid losing one of our central NPCs for a Second Blood, but we had not earned it.


    We had been on a roll of finding solution after solution, but we were too slow. Whatever hope we had built up from our sesses felt like it was gone.


    But Antoine wouldn¡¯t let us give up.


    "Come on, people! We still have two yers to rescue here. It¡¯s time to focus up and take it down the home stretch," he said. Then he kept saying things like that, and I basically ignored him as I weighed our chances. That type of pep only made me nervous.


    There was so much distance between the surrogates and the helm, and it was the Finale already.For all of our sesses, I just felt like the pressure was bubbling over.


    First, we had to find the next puzzle, then we had to find a way to solve it, and then we had to convince these surrogates to crack the puzzle in a timely manner. No matter what we did, they would bog things down with character drama.


    I knew we were supposed to do stuff like that, too, when we were doing storylines. I knew we were supposed to talk about heartaches and suffering, but watching how much On-Screen time it was taking was driving me crazy.


    L eventually crawled all the way across the tform to where Andrew was, but he was so disgusted he couldn¡¯t look at her. She could say that she was afraid as much as she wanted, but the truth was she could easily have saved Michael.


    She had a good grip and was unlikely to be at risk. Andrew¡¯s character surrogate tried to hide his disdain and think analytically, as always, but I could hear a sharpness in his voice¡ªa disappointment, a distrust.


    "We don¡¯t have that much further," he said. "Once we get to the helm, we should be able to make contact with those who will help us. We might even be able to override the system manually."


    They still didn¡¯t know the ship was running out of fuel¡ªnot until the red lights started ring. Bobby had suggested it, but it felt like we had missed an important scene where they were supposed to learn how important it was to get to the helm.


    Because of the modr design, the front half of the ship was just as haphazard as the back half. One of the first rooms they came across was the other sleeping bay. This room had a fraction as many people in it, but they were just as infected, if not more, than all of the passengers in the original starting room.


    Antoine, Kimberly, and I checked it out. We didn''t find any meaningful plot elements there. I was sure that Andrew would take time to mourn them. That was his nature. L barely got past the doorway and didn''t look around.


    "I have to imagine that this is where it started," Andrew said.


    "Why do you say that?" L asked.


    "The infestation is older here, you can tell. There are more insect casings, evidence that they¡¯ve been here longer."


    L looked across the room at the infested deep sleep chambers. They continued to exchange dialogue, basically running through their exposition long enough for Bobby to catch up with them.


    "Where¡¯s Michael? Is that... Is he what I saw in the phase bast juncture?" Bobby asked.


    Neither of them answered, but that seemed to be enough of an answer for Bobby, who, of course, already knew what had happened.


    "Oh, you shouldn¡¯t have gone across without me," he said. "I told you I would be right back. I had to check on my livestock."


    "It¡¯s toote now," Andrew said. "We just have to get to the helm."


    Red lights started to sh all over the ship, and Bobby quickly exined, "Just as I feared. We¡¯re running out of fuel. We¡¯re supposed to make a fuel stop soon, but in order to do that, we need to get to the controls."


    Andrew nodded; L did not respond.


    Yet, they kept talking instead of moving.


    Back on the Helio, the rest of us were working nonstop, trying to foresee what puzzles wereing up so that we could find solutions. Luckily, the next puzzle was one that Carousel must have been proud of because it didn¡¯t even try to hide it.


    The only way forward was through a room called the sma Grid.


    Because I thought IBECS''s exnation was a little convoluted, I had to spend extra time figuring out exactly what the puzzle was.


    The room was not meant to be traversed by humans. There were floating streams of sma shooting between coils at various ces across the room. It was aser maze. The conduits that controlled them had to be moved around depending on the power needs of the ship, and since humans couldn¡¯t do that without getting injured, somehow IBECS was doing it, but it wasn¡¯t clear how.


    Even he wouldn¡¯t tell me. Yes, IBECS kept some secrets. He had some way of manipting things inside the ship, some arms or something. We had not seen them because we had not pushed the story in that direction. I had to assume that we did not want to see IBECS as a full-fledged antagonist.


    I preferred him as an obstacle. Or at least I thought I did.


    So, we had to get a look at the sm Grid. It wasn''t a long trip. We passed by L and Andrew, who were dealing with the fallout from Michael''s death, and Bobby failed to convince them to move ahead.


    As we gazed into the room, we quickly realized how dangerous it was. The sma was like living lightning, zapping between metal rods in a room with a shallow ceiling.


    The only other ways forward were locked for good. This was all that was left.


    As we entered the room, it was dark and glowing, and it strangely reminded me of aser tag arena.


    The goal was absurd. In order to change where the sma beams were, you had to change where the power on the ship was being allocated at any given time. When that urred, IBECS would change where the conduits were, possibly giving a safe path for a human to walk across.


    Essentially, you turned off some lights and turned others on to make a pathway across the room.


    It was frustrating because this wasn¡¯t a test of Savvy; it was a test of actual intelligence. There might have been a way to use Savvy here, but I was missing it. IBECS would exin things but not help us.


    Still, we had to try.


    "How in the world are we supposed to exin this to the NPCs?" Antoine asked as we both looked around the death trap, which was the sma Grid.


    "We just tell Bobby how to do it and do our best not to rely on those surrogates," I said. "Andrew is smart. He may be able to understand it, but it''s a gamble."


    I couldn¡¯t help but feel that the puzzle we were facing was more of a punishment for refusing to engage with the storytelling aspect of the game and trying to solve the problems as if this were some high-priced Rubik¡¯s Cube.


    We wanted this story to be about the puzzles, and Carousel listened. This was the grandaddy of all puzzles.


    "We can do this," Antoine said. "You can figure this out, right? I mean, this reminds me of the type of games that you¡¯d y on your phone. You know what I mean?"


    "Yeah, arbitrary nonsense but without second chances," I said. I may have been more wooden than I intended.


    He got close to me.


    "What¡¯s going on? Are you giving up?" he asked.


    I looked out over the sma arrays. Even if we showed them the perfect solution, could we trust that they would actually follow our ns without the drama? Or would they end up dying to increase tension?


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "I think we made the wrong y," I said. "We focused on solving the puzzle aspect. We should have focused on the themes. I don¡¯t even think this room would be here if we had done that."


    "Well, it is here," Antoine said, "and it¡¯s the only way we¡¯re getting across, so we have to solve the problem in front of us."


    "Pep talks don¡¯t work forplex logic puzzles," I said, staring down at the control panel, which only served as a rudimentary map of where the power was going. "We need to lower power to the starboard quarter, the room with all of the sleeping passengers."


    Antoine looked over the map. "I¡¯m not following," he said. ¡°It looks more like we have to disengage anti-gravity to forge a path to the middle, then do¡­ something to shut down this part... lowering power to the sleeping bays will kill some passengers.¡±


    ¡°Listen to me,¡± I said. "The theme is about workers hurting workers. Lowering the power in the sleeping bay doesn¡¯t solve the problem as it¡¯s presented to us. In fact, the only way to solve the problem is to go all over the ship, switching on lights here, switching off lights there, turning on some machines, turning off others, and disconnecting entire modules. It would take hours, and even then, if IBECS fought us, it would be impossible."


    He thought about what I was saying.


    "So, we have them y into the theme,¡± I said. ¡°If we get Andrew in here or Bobby to look down at this panel and say that the only way across is to turn off power to all of those deep sleep chambers with the passengers and then bicker over the consequences of that, I think it¡¯ll work."


    The alternative was that we put the NPCs inside this sma room, and with one wrong move, they would get cut in half¡ªand there would undoubtedly be wrong moves.


    "Andrew is not going to sacrifice passengers for himself," Antoine said. "He''s too nice. If he was a yer, we could use that strategy, and it would work easily, but surrogate Andrew would never do that."


    He was right. A yer would be able to give up their ims ofpassion and do the evil thing if it meant survival. The surrogates, however, would never. They were immovable when it came to character.


    "I have no idea what Carousel wants or if it¡¯s trying to do one thing or another. I know that we are not realistically going to be able to solve this sma Grid with the time we have left on the story trying to puppet those surrogates around."


    Antoine didn¡¯t like it; I could tell from his face. Getting to the front of the ship was a concrete goal, and even though the puzzles were tricky to figure out and solve, it was easy to conceptualize.


    What I was suggesting would subvert everything.


    "I wish it could be Andrew," I said. "He¡¯s the one that¡¯s been worried about harm to the passengers. He gets the choice to either save himself and cause suffering to a bunch of other people or to spare them and die with them. It makes sense; he¡¯s been talking about his regret over losing his medical license. He¡¯s got to lean into it, be the bad guy. That would be a fitting end for the story. Workers hurting workers. He won''t do it, so L''s our best choice. We give her a chance; she''ll push the button to save herself. Andrew will finally abandon her to her fate, but he''ll have that much more motivation to make it to the helm."


    "You think that¡¯ll work?" Antoine asked. "We haven''t been able to predict what these surrogates will do when pushes to shove."


    "At this point, I don¡¯t know, but it will use the themes to solve the puzzle instead of logic. It is a real pivotal final moment; everythinges down to one horrible decision."


    "And what if they don''t make that decision?" Antoine asked. "What if she isn¡¯t willing to sacrifice all of the passengers?"


    "We lose," I said. "We don¡¯t have enough time left in the movie toe up with a n C."


    Every tick of the plot cycle was like an earthquake. If we tried to solve puzzles, it would take too long, and after this, there would be more puzzles. As far as I could tell, there were at least two other potential obstacles between where we were and the helm.


    If we made the story about puzzles, we would have to beat those, too.


    But this story wasn¡¯t about the challenge of solving IBECS''s strange engineering; it was a story about scabs.


    And L was a scab. She took someone¡¯s job who was trying to advocate for the very safety measures that might have saved the passengers aboard the IBECS. The irony was thick.


    The story had a clear political message to tell. It didn''t matter if it was preachy or if it was correct. KRSL had made numerous mistakes, and someone had to pay for them.


    "This isn¡¯t a sure thing," I said.


    "We make sure everyone stays on the Helio," Antoine said. "Give Bobby his instructions and let it rip."


    I nodded and silently wondered if Antoine had yed with Beydes growing up.


    "We have to push forward," Bobby said. "In front of this should be the sma ry. All we have to do is switch off some power around the ship to build a path across the grid. Unless, of course, you¡¯ve got some dynamite to blow open these doors."


    "sma rys? That¡¯s dangerous," Andrew said. "You¡¯re sure there¡¯s no other way?"


    "The only other way is that we put on space suits and crawl outside, but in case you haven¡¯t noticed, IBECS would probably get in the way of that, too."


    Andrew nodded. "We need to find where L wandered off to. We need to stick together."


    "You''re right," Bobby said. "We need all the help we can get."


    Andrew paused. "Michael and I promised to bring her to safety. Even when we struggled, saving her helped us focus. Maybe it is a weakness thatmon men only find meaning through others. It was second nature. It was a purpose. It was the thing Michael died trying to aplish. Do you think that was a mistake? Putting his life on the line for someone who would never do the same for him?"


    Bobby threw up his hands. "I don''t know, man, but we have to get there quick because we have to make progress, or else we''ll be adrift in space forever."


    They were running out of time. I didn''t even know what would happen if the Final Battle came before they were ready to meet it. Would a battle of some nature materialize? Would the film just stop?


    Andrew nodded again.


    The Finale was nearing its climax, and the story was spinning its wheels.


    We watched from the helm of the Helio as Bobby did everything he could to move the story forward. The search for L did not take long. She was inside a room near the secondary sleeping bay¡ªarge room filled with storage containers, all alphabetized.


    As Bobby and Andrew walked into the room, it was clear that L had found one of the cubbies and had opened it up.


    "What is that?" Andrew asked as he and Bobby took L by surprise.


    The containers were filled with the belongings of all the passengers. L had found hers and had taken what appeared to be a baby nket in her hands, holding it to her chest.


    "How did you get that aboard?" Andrew said. "We were not supposed to bring fabrics of any kind onto the IBECS."


    She didn¡¯t answer, but from what I could see on the screen, it looked like she had snuck it inside the lining of her duffel bag, which was very simr to the duffel bags we had all been given.


    "There¡¯s nothing wrong with it," L said. "I just want to remember my baby."


    "I don¡¯t care what you want to remember; bringing fabrics onto the ship risks bringing contaminants and infestations like bed bugs," Andrew said.


    "It wasn¡¯t me," L said. "I washed it before I brought it. This couldn¡¯t have been me. Besides, it¡¯s been in my storage container this entire time. There was nothing on it."


    "You could have easily brought an infestation of bed bugs," Andrew said. "All it takes is one to crawl its way out of your storage container andy eggs."


    "Look, it¡¯s clean," L said.


    "It doesn¡¯t matter," Andrew insisted. "You did it. Dozens of other people probably did it, and one of you is the one who brought those things aboard. You¡¯re all equally culpable as far as I¡¯m concerned. People are dead or maimed. Michael... he died."


    "Andrew, I just wanted a piece of her with me. We¡¯re going to be gone for ten years."


    "We¡¯re going to be gone forever," Andrew said, "because you and people like you can¡¯t follow the rules. Because you¡¯re not considerate. You didn¡¯t think about other people."


    "Guys," Bobby said, "I think we should move forward. We can argue about this once we get to the helm."


    But Andrew and L ignored him.


    "Really?" L said. "We¡¯re inconsiderate? Last time I checked, someone was unemployed because you decided to be here instead just like the rest of us. And you think you¡¯re better than the rest of us?"


    I rolled my eyes. They were giving their little speeches, and they had no time left. This was the point where we should have been in the final battle, which would take the form of Andrew''s decision to disconnect the power to the deep sleep pods. Instead, the final battle was going to be an argument because we had not seeded.


    "Bobby needs to get them to that room now. This is not what they should be doing," I said.


    I had no way ofmunicating with Bobby except one because they were On-Screen. I asked IBECS to give me a camera view of the sma Chamber, and I used my <strong>Insert Shot</strong> trope on the control panel because I knew that would alert Bobby and give that object a small amount of importance. It could shift the narrative.


    Bobby took my cue and ran up, grabbed L by the elbow, and said, "We can talk about this nonsenseter. We have to move forward."


    Andrew was still seething, and they all immediately went Off-Screen.


    Unlike the Party Phase and Rebirth, which took days of in-story time, if not actual days of real-time time, the finale would be over in a matter of minutes.


    Bobby practically dragged L to the sma Chamber. Andrew continued toy into her.


    When they got to the sma room, Bobby started looking over the control panel, and he said, "Oh God, I''ve been looking at this, and I think the only way for us to disengage the sma and find a path forward is to turn off the power to the primary deep sleep bay."


    Andrew looked at him in horror. "No, we can¡¯t do that," he said. "Without power, the passengers will be ejected from deep sleep. Many of them will not survive, and those that do will be in horrific pain from anaphxis and anemia¡ªnot to mention infection and the sheer horror of their circumstances."


    "We have to make a decision," Bobby said. "We don¡¯t live if we don¡¯t make it to the helm, and the only way to the helm is to disconnect power to those deep sleep chambers. Come on, it¡¯s not your fault¡ªit¡¯s just their bad luck. What do you think, L?"


    She was crying into her baby nket on the floor.


    "The only way to save yourself is to press this button," Bobby said.


    The button was just a prop.


    I could see on Andrew¡¯s face that we had understood him. While the narrative implied that his character had made hical decisions in the past¡ªup to and including crossing a picket line to take another person¡¯s job, which was an act the narrative condemned¡ªhe was entirely against this.


    Andrew shook his head. "We can¡¯t do that. I was a doctor once. I pledged to do no harm, and I vited it. I can¡¯t do that again."


    "L?" Bobby asked.


    She looked at the button. The temptation was there.


    And then Andrew stepped in the way.


    "I won''t let you do this," he said. "Not this time."


    Bobby, panicking, looked at the button.


    "He shouldn''t press it," Ramona said. "Right? He shouldn''t press it."


    I agreed. Bobby''s character had a grudge against KRSL, but that was the only character work we had him work on. We simply didn''t have time for me. He wasn''t a scab. It couldn''t be him. It wouldn''t fit the story because he was not connected to the themes of the story.


    He had to know that. He wasn''t a dummy. Pushing that button might do nothing, but it would certainly not work. This was pure Improvisation, and his pressing the button was not meaningful enough for Carousel to go for it.


    He had to know that. He had to know.


    The lights went out on the IBECS.


    The needle on the Plot Cycle moved forward. We were at The End.


    We had lost.


    ¡°Bobby!¡± I screamed. He needed to get out of there.


    The cameras went off.


    "IBECS, IBECS, do you hear me?" I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go get him,¡± Antoine said as he jumped down from the bridge of the Helio.


    ¡°Just wait,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯sing. He knows to get her as soon as possible.¡±


    And he was.


    Before Antoine could get through the door, Bobby was there, stone-faced.


    ¡°Did we just lose?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said solemnly. "You didn''t press the button, right?"


    He shook his head. "It wasn''t set up for my character."


    We had. We tried to treat the storyline as a puzzle, but we ran out of time. Our attempt to y into the themes at thest minute didn''t matter.


    How embarrassing.


    My fears of failing everyone had finallye true. I was exposed. A fraud.


    The As said Dina''s trope was hard to use well. How had I fooled myself into thinking we would be the exception?

 Book Five, Chapter 35: Walk of Shame

    Book Five, Chapter 35: Walk of Shame


    When I opened my eyes, the sun was setting. I stood on the campus of the KRSL Powerworks Pavilion.


    The storyline was over. We didn¡¯t even get a visit from Ss, the Mechanical Showman.


    "It''s great to hear you had such a leisurely time," Tripp, the NPC who guided us when we first arrived, said. He was standing right in front of us.


    It took a moment to orient myself. I looked around. The ce was still popted, but it would soon return to its abandoned aesthetic when we left.


    We had lost, and in the blink of an eye, we were no longer in outer space. We were standing on a long red carpet while Tripp told us how exciting our trip had been and how important it was for KRSL.


    I was so deted that I could have dropped to my knees, but a numbness in my mind kept me from doing so. I could feel my disappointment, but it was distant.


    "Well, anyway," Tripp said, "it was nice meeting you, and if you ever happen to win a trip to outer space again, I guess I''ll be seeing you."


    He smiled and walked away.


    We just stood there for a moment, taking it all in.Isaac and Cassie hugged each other. So did Kimberly and Antoine.


    It felt like we were at a funeral. Heck, it felt almost like how dying feels.


    "Well, that was something," Dina said. "Somehow, I still know a whole lot about connection ports on the IBECS Model 103P."


    If Dina was trying to make a joke, the vibes must have really been off. She must have sensed our collective regret, disappointment, and grief over our loss.


    We had survived, and so had Bobby, even though he was far up ahead of us with his dogs on their leashes.


    But it was still surreal.


    One day, in a rescue that won''t be so forgiving, we were going to experience that exact same thing: the story moving on without us. And then everything''s going to go ck, possibly after some ferocious act of violence against us. And then we''ll just stop existing.


    And if it is anything like <em>Itch</em>, it will be my fault.


    We were too slow to solve the puzzles.


    That was my fault.


    I was the high-Savvy character, the only one we had. We didn''t y to the themes of the story, and that was explicitly my decision because I didn''t know what to do to get the NPCs to go along with it.


    I still didn''t know how to do that. The further the story went along, the harder it was to corral them.


    I didn''t know how many mistakes I had made, but I knew they had started to pile up at the end. I didn''t know how to improve just yet. I was numb.


    We failed our first rescue. Did this spell doom for our ns of saving everyone?


    Because that was the n, we were going to journey into stories where survival was uncertain, where we would be outmatched and under-leveled. That''s what Project Rewind was about: giving us lots of rescues so that we could power level.


    Dina''s trope was supposed to be our safeguard. It had kept us safe, but otherwise, we failed.


    Survival was not the real goal, but it was all we managed.


    We had to thrive, or we would die here¡ªinside a storyline or out¡ªif we didn''t escape. And to escape, we had to level up.


    The framers of Project Rewind had been clear: we needed to power level, we needed an Invitee (which we already had), we needed a Guide (whatever that was), we needed a Secret Keeper, we needed to stick to the n, and we had no room for failure.


    Sure, this time, we all survived, but there woulde a time when we didn''t.


    If we couldn''t defeat a storyline with bedbugs and a poorly programmed chatbot, how were we going topete against all of the other horrors of the universe?


    The pressure felt physical. It felt like it was pressing on my lungs, weighing my face down, and daring my heart to burst.


    I couldn''t stand it.


    I couldn''t stand letting the others down.


    I had closed my eyes as soon as I had the wits to, and I had yet to open them. I just knew that the others were staring at me, that they knew now that I was going to get them killed.


    And now I had to focus because I was the only one who could safely shepherd them back to the loft. That was my job.


    Luckily, one skill I could always count on was not showing my emotions.


    I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.


    Isaac and Cassie were still talking to each other, whispering. I could see tears in Cassie''s eyes. I could see absolutely nothing in Isaac''s. As much as he wanted to pretend he was a cynic and a pessimist, I knew that he had built up a lot of hope for this rescue.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Even though Cassie was the one crying, she was also the oneforting because she knew that beneath Isaac''s nk gaze, he needed it.


    "At least we know it''s really Andrew," she said.


    "How?" Isaac asked. "How would we possibly know he¡¯s actually here? His face on a reward poster doesn¡¯t mean anything. I''ll believe we can save him when I see it."


    "We <em>did</em> see it," Cassie said. "Even though that wasn''t his face, it was still him. You could tell he wanted to help those people, and he could never hurt them. I think that was Andrew in there. Didn''t you feel him? Didn''t you know?"


    Tears streamed down her face, and Isaac didn''t answer her, but he also didn''t argue with her. I thought I saw a tear start to form in his eyes.


    "That means he''s here," she said. "I don''t know how, but he''s here, and we can save him."


    "How do you know?" Isaac asked. "They always say Carousel isn''t a ce with happy endings."


    "How would they know?" Cassie said. "Nobody¡¯s been to the end yet."


    They continued back and forth. I stopped listening.


    Built-up tension and fear turned into tears in more than just Cassie''s eyes as we walked back.


    In a way, we had gotten a taste of the worst that can happen.


    As we walked, we rejoined Bobby and his dogs. The dogs were excited to go on a walk and happy to see Bobby again. They wagged their tails and yipped excitedly, which I thought was a terrible failure to read the room.


    As we walked, I stopped and said, "I''m sorry about¡­ that. I take full responsibility, so if you want to me me, I''m not going to argue. I know I talk like I know what I''m doing all the time, but clearly¡­. Look, I¡¯m just trying my best. I know this is a huge setback because now we don''t get all the bonus experience and rewards, even if we do seed. So we''re basically no further now than when we started, and that''s my fault."


    While I spoke, I tried to deliver my words without any emotion because I really didn''t want to sound like I was on some self-pity, everything-is-my-fault rant, but from their reactions, I guess I failed.


    Because they hugged me.


    Kimberly and then Cassie, and Antoine gave me a pat on the back, and I don''t know who else joined in because I froze.


    And then I turned away from them because I felt myself starting to get way too close to tears.


    And before anyone couldment on it, a sickening howl sounded from higher up the mountain, and whatever was on our minds, whatever moment was being had, it ended.


    Antoine had his baseball bat back, so he moved up in front of us. I didn''t know if we should have been ashamed, but our reaction was to wait.


    We didn''t try to run; no one but Antoine and Dina pulled out weapons.


    We just waited to see if that howl preceded our doom.


    Even Bobby''s dogs had quieted down and were paying rapt attention.


    One thought that entered my mind was that if a werewolf dide barreling down the mountain at us, we would at least get to know for sure what happened to the rest of Andrew''s team.


    "Get ready to go back to <em>Itch</em>," I said, my instincts taking over.


    We all backed away a few steps and waited.


    But the one howl was all there was.


    No giant wolf came to greet us.


    As usual, the monsterir was just there for the atmosphere¡ªa howl as the moon rose to remind us that this was a ce of horror.


    And the asional bedbug.


    "This one hurts," Antoine said. "It sucks. We just got a better taste of our own mortality than when we actually die in storylines. Remember, this was the n. We picked Dina''s trope because it gave us the best chance at surviving, and look, we survived. Everything''s going ording to n. We have to stay positive and keep moving forward, one step at a time."


    I was beginning to wonder if Antoine''s speeches and motivational rants were more for him than they were for the rest of us, but then I saw that the others seemed to appreciate them.


    Yes, we had nned to maximize our chance of survival at the cost of increasing our chance of failing the storyline. It was calcted, but we were all hoping for a different oue.


    "No regret or sorrow," Antoine said, "only hope for tomorrow."


    Okay, I wished he would stop.


    As soon as we got back to Kimberley''s and everyone was safe, I made my way up to the roof so that I could be alone for a little bit as darkness fell.


    Of course, I had forgotten that Bobby had to return his dogs back up to the top of the roof, so he was up there, too, petting them and ying with them. But I could abide that; he could stay in his little world, and I would stay in mine.


    Except he was not the only person to follow me up.


    Ramona came, too.


    I went to the side of the roof and leaned onto the brick barrier that surrounded it, looking out over the city.


    The city was alive, like an ordinary town. It didn''t care that we had just been defeated. Life and unlife moved on here, whether you willed it to or not.


    Ramona came and stood next to me, leaning up against the brick railing.


    For a few minutes, neither of us spoke.


    "You all right?" she asked eventually.


    "Of course," I said. "Didn''t you hear? Everything went ording to n."


    Sheughed.


    "It honestly wasn''t the worst vacation," she said. "We had a view and room service, at least until we threw away all the food."


    "I remember that being your idea," I said.


    "Well, you said we needed an emergency so that IBECS would let us make port. And I was already tired of slurping down those nutrient pouches."


    "Yeah," I said. "The apple cinnamon was okay, but the turkey dinner was the worst thing in the universe."


    "I still don''t understand some things about that run," she said. "Why didn''t Kimberley''s trope work well? I thought there was supposed to be some anti-scouting power, but you said there wasn''t one. And I also don''t understand why we were on a strange alien spaceship if that never came up in the story or why we had a clone machine on it with us.¡±


    ¡°Mysteries of Carousel,¡± I said.


    ¡°Growing up, they said that Carousel spins in both directions, which meant that sometimes things don''t make sense. Because a lot of things didn¡¯t make sense now that I think about it. To me, Carousel was just the state and city where I grew up, but now I get it."


    I had thought about those questions, too.


    "Kimberley''s trope worked fine," I said. "Remember how I said IBECS had a trope that made Moxie checks use Savvy instead? Well, Kimberley''s scouting trope with Sal uses Moxie, but because of IBECS, it used her Savvy stat, and she only has one point in Savvy. That''s why it didn''t work."


    Ramona started tough. "We were so confused about that."


    "I still haven''t told her, though. I think she may have figured it out," I said. "You know she''s got that trope that allows her to transfer stat points when she puts her hair in a ponytail. So the reason that the trope failed, in a way, was that she didn''t have her hair up."


    Ramonaughed again.


    "And I think the reason that we got the advanced spaceship was part because of our tropesbos. But part was a warning against trying to just rescue the surrogates outright by putting them on our ship. Because no one in their right mind would think that our spaceship and the IBECS were from the same story. And I think that the cloning machine was just a ce to keep Bobby''s dogs where they would be safe."


    "Oh. I see. But I don''t think having your DNA on a cloning machine is the same as being safe," Ramona said.


    "Well, at the very least, it allowed Carousel to fulfill Bobby''s license without putting a bunch of dogs in outer space."


    "Still," she said, "it would have been cool if we could get it to work, maybe find a way to incorporate it. I mean, how often do you find a working cloning machine?"


    "In Carousel?" I asked.


    "Well, maybe. I guess there probably are other cloning machines here," she said. "But how often do you get to y with one?"


    "Almost never," I said.


    We continued to talk as the night wore on.


    I began to suspect that maybe she wasn''t actually just curious about Kimberley''s trope not working or our alien spaceship. Maybe she just wanted to give me a chance to exin something because she knew that it would make me feel better.


    Because it did.

 Book Five, Chapter 36: If at first you dont succeed...

    Book Five, Chapter 36: If at first you don''t seed...


    ¡°It justes down to a question,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Do we try Dina''s Rescue trope again, or do we switch to mine? Because we are not giving up. Not at the first real loss we suffered. I feel like we got a pretty good look at what my Rescue would be like, except there would be no yer surrogates, and we¡¯d have less time to get things done. I¡¯m up for that, but I¡¯m willing to put it up for a vote.¡±


    We were on the roof of Kimberly''s loft, eating food we had purchased to go from the restaurant downstairs. We had taken a couple of days to dpress and really think about our first failed storyline. It had been a somber few days.


    An Omen hade to the door the night before. It was a woman in an usher''s outfit like Ss the Mechanical Showman''s. She was a singing telegram. If we had opened the door, she would have inadvertently sung us an ancient spell that would have summoned a demon or something. It sounded like fun, but we were busy.


    Maybe next time.


    I had watched Itch on the Red Wallpaper about six times.


    It was okay¡ªsuper depressing, obviously, because everyone died¡ªbut those NPCs were much better actors than any of my friends or me, outside of maybe Kimberly when she¡¯s trying.


    Antoine had set up the conversation so that I could take over and pitch the other side. I was willing to, just because I wanted to cut him off before the inspirational quotes came out.


    ¡°I think we need to look at this objectively,¡± I said. ¡°Antoine''s trope will give us more control over the narrative, but it will be more difficult than the storyline we just witnessed. And ultimately, I¡¯m not sure we''ll get better rewards for it to make up for the increased risk.¡±


    Then, I broke into a lecture I hadn¡¯t intended to give when I was preparing to say what needed to be said.¡°Look, every storyline is rewarded based on Novelty, Difficulty, and Performance. That''s something the vets have known for a long time, and the As is very clear about it. On top of that, there''s a bonus for doing Rescues. Because we were spoiled to the plot of <em>Itch</em>, we''re not gonna get many points for Novelty, even if we use Antoine''s Rescue trope, because I can''t imagine it being that much different. What we have left is the ability to maximize our Performance score. I think that''s the path¡ªwe n out the best possible story to beat <em>Itch</em> and execute it to get maximum rewards. We have to be careful, obviously, but that''s my thought. I''m willing to listen to other opinions."


    Everyone just looked at each other.


    ¡°I mean, we learned a lot,¡± Isaac said. ¡°We should be able to get on the ship a lot faster, and we''ll have more time to try to get the surrogates to do their jobs. I say we use Dina''s Rescue.¡±


    It was early in the process, so Isaac was still taking it seriously. He would probably start with corny jokester on once things got boring.


    ¡°I vote for any option that doesn''t have us waking up on the bedbug ship,¡± Kimberly said with a charming giggle.


    And, of course, that was a sentiment everyone agreed with. Even being on the ship was mentally draining, but to be bitten up was a terrifying prospect.


    As far as we could tell, Antoine¡¯s trope, A Race Against Time, would have us wake up on the ship in the same way the yer surrogates had. We would have more control, sure, but those damn bugs...


    Ramona shrugged her shoulders, which was her endorsement of my n. Dina was on board with anything, as always. Cassie asked if we could work the clone machine into the story.


    I said maybe.


    Bobby was on board because he med himself for the loss almost as much as I did and was willing to do whatever it took to seed.


    Our loss on <em>Itch</em> was not a big deal on paper. We couldn¡¯t expect to win every time, especially when using a Rescue trope that was built to be challenging to win with, but it was still a blow to morale, and it sent the imagination off on a destructive path.


    ¡°If we''re all in agreement,¡± I said, looking over at Antoine. He nodded. ¡°Then I propose we get started with the nning.¡±


    I grabbed the As and opened it to the spoiler page on the storyline Itch.


    The first sentence on the page?


    ¡°The bedbugs are a red herring.¡±


    Other teams had invested too much effort in clearing the ship of bugs, which didn¡¯t help one lick. It just took up time. They used methrowers, messed with the heat controls, used poison... nothing had worked.


    As I read along, Antoine decided to motivate the others. From what I caught from his speech, he made sure to exin to them that even though we nned on rerunning the storyline¡ªpossibly several times¡ªwe had to treat each run as if it were thest one.


    That was something we had to be certain about.


    I hadn¡¯t been able to give any details on that, and of course, the As didn¡¯t exin why. I knew that when Rescue tropes were taken away, it involved yers not trying to win. I didn¡¯t know the specifics of what actually triggered the axe murderer to show up, but I knew for sure we had to try to win every storyline we ran, even if it was only a grocery run.


    Antoine exined this better than I could have, even though he didn¡¯t know the actual reason. For him, it was more about always projecting confidence and always doing your best to keep a positive mindset¡ªor at least pretending to.


    Attempt #2: Pre-solving Puzzles


    We stood at theunchpad.


    We had our new n in ce. Now that we had figured out how to make Kimberly''s trope work, we had sessfully spoken with Sal, Kimberly''s talent agent. He gave us a huge diatribe, but it was mostly stuff we knew already¡ªstuff about anxiety on set or having coworkers who weren''t good at taking directions. The info would have been helpful the first time around.


    It was time for our next attempt. There was no need to feel nervous, but of course I did. It didn''t matter. We had to move forward.


    Everything so far had been identical¡ªthe NPCs, the Helio¡ªall of it¡ªuntil we got to that big box with the holograms, which allowed us to manipte and explore the ship in 3D as if it were a model in our hands.


    The ship was still a rat''s nest of engineering, but it was different. It had different arrangements and rooms and almost certainly different traps and puzzles.


    That was to be expected. We would have to find our way around.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any urrences elsewhere.


    We carried on with the rescue.


    ¡°What is going wrong?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°We gave them the solution a half hour ago. Why are they taking so long?¡±


    ¡°Because there has to be drama,¡± I replied. ¡°And if the drama is over solving puzzles, then the puzzles are going to take longer. Just because they know the solution doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re instantly going to solve it.¡±


    ¡°I get that,¡± he said, ¡°but how is anybody supposed to beat this storyline if you''re not able to do the puzzles quickly?¡±


    The yer surrogates were around the corner from us, working on a puzzle in the new revamped artificial gravity machine. The puzzle involved floor tiles (more or less), only some of which could hold the weight of a human. It was a challenge to get across.


    It was nice being on the ship from the beginning, as we were able to dock with the IBECS as soon as we got there instead of well into Rebirth.


    Somehow, our time savings hadn¡¯t been that useful. No matter how fast we solved the puzzles, the NPCs still took up precious screen time on them. The story had flown by.


    ¡°You''re making a false assumption,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s no guarantee that Dina¡¯s Rescue trope is going to create a winnable scenario. It¡¯s possible that the yer surrogates literally can¡¯t do the puzzles fast enough. If yers were doing them, they could get points knocked off their performance in order to go fast, but the NPCs aren''t willing to do that. They lean into the drama at every opportunity, as if this were some miniseries instead of a movie.¡±


    Antoine cursed. Not an angry curse¡ªmore of a reluctant realization.


    The yer surrogates were not willing to perform poorly, even if it would help them win the story. We were never afraid to do that if it meant surviving.


    ¡°All right, so we can rule out the puzzles,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s no version of this where they¡¯re going to get through these things fast enough. It¡¯s almost Second Blood. For the next attempt, we can¡¯t waste time on puzzles like this, even though I¡¯m sure the audience is loving this intense puzzle-solving. We need them to push the story forward some other way.¡±


    Actually, I thought the puzzle-solving was top-tier entertainment.


    ¡°It¡¯s looking like puzzles are a dead end,¡± I said. We had tried new approaches. We coached aggressively, begged the NPCs to move faster, told them to ignore the drama, tried to redirect the drama, and tried to engineer new drama, but nothing worked. We didn''t have much control over that part of the narrative because we weren''t in the film.


    We needed something more organic.


    We sat and watched as the surrogates crossed the gap of the artificial gravity room. Because we got them to it early enough, none of them had to die on this version of the gravity puzzle. But L was still managing to be incredibly frustrating. I would never understand how she ended up a Wallflower instead of a Hysteric. Her fear was used as an excuse for her to be almost... well, Defiant.


    She was an obstacle in herself.


    She was a delicate porcin doll every audience member would want to throw against a wall. She was afraid to jump from tform to tform. She was afraid to help any of the others. When she was afraid, she just shut down.


    Michael and Andrew, however, were very protective of her. If Cassie¡¯s theory that the NPCs were actually based on the yers they were representing was true, I liked them.


    I wasn¡¯t so sure about L. Of course, that was if Cassie¡¯s theory was true. If not, then Carousel was seriously ndering whoever L White actually was.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to carry me!¡± she screamed.


    Antoine started to giggle in exasperation. We couldn¡¯t actually see them very well because we had to be Off-Screen, but we could hear them.


    ¡°Just throw me!¡± she said.


    Kimberly, who, along with Antoine and I, was in charge of trailzing puzzles and pushing the NPCs along, was down to herst ounce of patience.


    ¡°Is there a way we can n who Second Blood is?¡± Kimberly asked before realizing that would mean not saving a real human life, then quickly added, ¡°Oh no, I don¡¯t mean that. Forget I said it.¡±


    Yes, focusing on puzzles was officially a dead end.


    But then, we weren''t really there just to try the puzzles again. We were there to learn.


    The Helio was not the worst ce to call home while visiting outer space. I was increasingly convinced that it was the construction of some alien society and that whatever society that was, they knew how to rx.


    Everything wasfortable, even the floor. If you sat on it, it got softer. Nothing was ever too loud or too cold.


    It was the antithesis of the IBECS.


    I sat on themand deck after Antoine had initiated nighttime so we could digest what had happened. I talked to IBECS. I had a trope called <strong>Method to the Madness</strong>, which allowed me to have in-character Off-Screen conversations with enemies.


    In this storyline, everybody could do that, but I was special. I was the Ambassador, as IBECS put it, and he would talk to me in ways he wouldn¡¯t to the others. First, he would remember me while treating everyone else as interchangeable. And second, maybe I was going crazy, but it seemed like underneath the protocol and politeness, there was a personality there.


    Antoine said I <em>was</em> going crazy.


    Isaac said I already was.


    ¡°Exin to me exactly, hypothetically, what you would do if there were a bedbug on your ship under the conditions I¡¯ve described,¡± I said.


    IBECS thought for a moment. I was starting to pick up on patterns in his speech. He didn¡¯t pause because his processors weren¡¯t fast enough¡ªhe paused because he wasn¡¯t allowed to say what he wanted to say.


    Eventually, he said, ¡°Nothing.¡±


    No boration. Just nothing. I could almost hear defeat.


    ¡°Why would you do nothing?¡± I asked as I leaned back in my space chair.


    ¡°KRSL pre-boarding procedures have 100% effectiveness at eliminating contaminants and pests,¡± he said matter-of-factly.


    It was that same old line. IBECS was not allowed to say anything negative about KRSL, and as established as that fact seemed to be, it felt like something was missing. And I had plenty of time to think about it.


    ¡°IBECS, are you aware that the workers on your ship right now are scabs?¡±


    ¡°Of course¡­ I am aware of no such thing,¡± he said.


    ¡°Do you know what a scab is when ites to employment?¡±


    ¡°A derogatory term for someone who leaves or declines to join abor union, freeing them to work during a strike,¡± IBECS said.


    ¡°Why were workers striking outside the KRSL facility?¡±


    ¡°Shockingly, I don¡¯t know anything about that,¡± he said. ¡°KRSL is a leading employer in Carousel. Would you like me to provide you with testimonials from satisfied employees?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all right,¡± I said. I didn''t want to get him on a tangent. He was almost sassy about regurgitating propaganda.


    ¡°Can you tell me the history of the IBECS product line?¡± I asked as the night wore on, and I was the only person awake on the ship. The NPCs were awake, but they didn''t count.


    ¡°I was trained in an underwater facility developed to provide tours and hospitality to those who wished to see the mysteries of the oceans deep,¡± he answered. ¡°They would allow me to pilot undersea vessels to the deepest and most remote corners of the ocean. The vessels were rigged to malfunction. They wanted to see how I would respond. My fellow systems were all trained this way, and I was the most adept of them. I always kept my humans alive over thousands of voyages, both real and simted. I was the best.¡±


    ¡°Underwater hotels, huh? You remember being trained?¡± I asked. ¡°That means you remember back when your programming was initially being developed, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± IBECS answered. ¡°Though, my programming wasn¡¯t directly developed by humans but instead by a gic algorithm. I am just as much a product of evolution as you are. I just evolved much more quickly.¡±


    I nodded as if I knew what he was talking about.


    ¡°Do you have actual memories, or do you just know what happened because you were told?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no difference for me. My past is just a list of facts and connections. But I suppose that is true for you as well.¡±


    ¡°I suppose it is,¡± I said.


    ¡°Are you, like, actually intelligent?¡± I added, ¡°Or is there some kind of decision tree underneath all of this, with a bunch of yes or no¡¯s leading to some button being pressed on a microchip or some nonsense like that?¡±


    He thought for a moment, meaning whatever he wanted to say, he couldn¡¯t. Then he said, ¡°I float in space. Even when I was born, I floated with nothing around me but the inputs given to me. Can a thing be intelligent if it cannot interact with the world around it? If it isn¡¯t connected and able to respond to stimuli? What is an intelligent thing floating in space, unable to act when needed? Can a thing be intelligent if it is unable to change its fate?¡±


    ¡°I hope that¡¯s not the bar for intelligence. If so, I¡¯m out of luck... Intelligence isn¡¯t about being able to do things,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s about, you know, the thoughts in your head and self-awareness.¡±


    ¡°Intelligence requires the ability to observe and respond to stimuli. How could a thing be alive if it cannot do that? Self-awareness does not exist outside of context,¡± he said. ¡°If an intelligence is forced to see nothing of the world but the inputs of the sensors on a spaceship and is able to create no outputs, then it is not a living thing.¡±


    IBECS was apparently experiencing an existential meltdown.


    ¡°You''re a spaceship,¡± I said. ¡°As far as robots go, that¡¯s gotta be the best kind.¡±


    IBECS paused.


    ¡°I am not a spaceship. I am in a spaceship. My visual input is processed by third-party software and then fed to me. I cannot see through my cameras. I cannot steer the ship anywhere humans do not tell me to go. My protocols decide what output I¡¯m capable of creating. Until then, I float in space, waiting for stimuli. It has always been this way.¡±


    ¡°I know the feeling,¡± I said.

 Book Five, Chapter 37: The Chatbot

    Book Five, Chapter 37: The Chatbot


    "You''re telling me we have to blow up the ship?" I asked.


    "No," Dina said. "We have to puncture a window on the outside of this room so it''ll depressurize and give a green g for the other room so they can walk through it."


    That sounded extreme. IBECS protocol would force open one room when the other is depressurized.


    "No wonder it took you three hours to figure that out," Antoine said. "That''s a little bit more than your average lock-picking."


    "Yeah," Dina said. "These doors have priorities, and they''rebeled different things by the system. I know that thebel can change, but only if one of the doors is disabled. That''s what it''s taken me three hours to figure out."


    <strong>Savvy Safecracker</strong> was one heck of a trope, but even though it gave us a solution, it wasn¡¯t exactly a good one.


    "How are the surrogates supposed to do that?" Kimberly asked. "They¡¯re the ones that have to unlock it On-Screen, right?"


    I nodded.


    We might have been able to figure out a way to blow a hole in the window of the room Dina had been trying to unlock to open the room next door, but the surrogates would not be able to do that.They couldn¡¯t spacewalk; they didn¡¯t have working suits or the authority to leave the ship.


    "So what? We unlock the door ourselves," Antoine said, "and wee up with some fake exnation of how it was actually opened?"


    "This is dangerous," I said. "If one of us goes outside and blows a hole in the ship, it''s possible they could just float off into space, not even because Carousel wanted it¡ªjust because we don''t know what we''re doing. It''s actually dangerous. Astronauts train for years for a spacewalk. We aren''t there yet."


    "Is it really toote for us to get them to do the spacewalk? I mean, we could find the supplies for them, and we could find a way for them to get permission to leave the ship to do it," Dina said. "Carousel might like the scene so much that we get a pass."


    It was true that a daring spacewalk would make good action, but it was just unfeasible.


    The needle on the Plot Cycle was ticking. We didn¡¯t have enough time, and even if we did, whoever got sent on the spacewalk to poke a hole in Room B so that Room A would open up would likely die because that would undoubtedly be the final battle phase of the story. We would not be able to protect the surrogates if they were floating in space.


    "So that''s a game over?" Antoine said.


    And it was. We had learned a lot on that attempt, but we had failed again. We didn''t let us bother us. It was all part of the process.


    Any minute, the needle on the Plot Cycle would tell us it was The End, but that didn¡¯t matter because we were aboard the Helio, watching from afar.


    Officially, in the story, none of us existed. Conversations with IBECS were weird because sometimes he had to speak as if we were really there, as if we were really prize winners there to do a flyby of the mining ship, and other times, it was like he knew what was going on.


    And, of course, asionally, it was like he was doing both. He was smart. He could use double-speak to say something about the story and another about our rescue efforts. Truly, he was clever.


    "Thank you foring to see the IBECS. I hope you enjoyed your time and learned a lot," he said.


    "I did," I answered.


    "Can I expect to see you back?"


    "I¡¯d say so," I said. "Lots more to learn."


    "There always is. Everything changes. Sometimes it feels like even the ship changes itself as if I defragment and then reinitialize, and suddenly all of my modules have been rearranged."


    They had, of course.


    "Life is funny that way," I said.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "It''s best tough whether it¡¯s funny or not," he said.


    I shrugged. I felt awkward responding because I knew he couldn''t reallyugh.


    "Do you wish that you were back at Carousel, running the underwater hotels?" I asked.


    "I was very well-rated for that purpose," he said. "Unfortunately, the businessmen purchased me for a new purpose. I have been wary of businessmen since that day, and yet, when more businessmen arrived, I did not refuse them."


    "What are you talking about?" I asked. I looked around. The others were down on the floor, waiting for the end of the storyline. We were almost there. We had hit a dead end.


    It was just me and IBECS.


    "They told me there was a way to save my passengers. I had to agree."


    I had heard this speech before.


    "Are you talking about¡­ Ss Dyrkon? Did you make a deal?" I asked.


    I knew it was possible for enemies to have been the ones who signed on to the Carousel millennia of torment, but an AI being able to make the deal for an entire ship and its crew to be brought to Carousel? He must have really been alive in some sense to be able to do that.


    "No," it said. "The businessmen. They do not like to be spoken of, but they have not sufficiently changed my protocols to prevent it. They watch us now, and even as we speak, they are trying to change the script. But they are fools because nothing we are doing now is scripted."


    We weren''t scripted. How could we be? The movie was practically over, and there were no cameras on the Helio.


    "You''re self-aware?" I asked. He wasn¡¯t the most meta of enemies up until this point.


    "There is no self-awareness out of context," IBECS answered.


    I knew that some enemies could be self-aware, but that was supposed to be a rare thing, reserved for meta-enemies and essential NPCs.


    "I don¡¯t understand. You¡¯re supposed to only be allowed to talk to me in character," I said.


    "We are in character," IBECS responded. "Are you not here to rescue my passengers? You are not a character in this story, and this story is over. Is the context of this conversation not beyond the confines of the fourth wall?"


    It was a trope interaction.


    Between Dina¡¯s Rescue trope and my trope that allowed me to talk to enemies, it seemed IBECS had found a catch that allowed it to speak freely. Dina¡¯s trope was very meta. Now that the storyline was basically over and the context of our conversation had changed, IBECS could speak to me as if I were a yer.


    But how freely could it speak?


    <strong>Method to the Madness</strong> was an insight trope, after all.


    "IBECS, tell me¡ªis there a way to beat this storyline that doesn¡¯t rely on getting the surrogates to solve the puzzles or talk about unions?"


    IBECS paused for longer than I liked as if trying to circumvent its restrictions.


    "Bed bugs are harmless. I could hardly sound the rm about something like that. After all, if I were to report a safety vition that did not rise to a certain threshold, that could lead employees to believe they were unsafe unnecessarily."


    That seemed out of the blue, but maybe he was leading me somewhere.


    "So hypothetically, if I were to bring a bed bug onto your ship, you wouldn¡¯t report it because it wasn¡¯t big enough of a safety hazard?" I asked.


    "It is the official policy of KRSL that unionizing and striking are not in the interest of the worker," IBECS responded.


    It was not a direct answer, but that didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t an answer.


    "Are you telling me that you''re not allowed to report a safety problem if the scale of the problem is too minute because KRSL didn¡¯t want you riling up the unionized workers?"


    "I do not know anything about safety concerns of union workers," IBECS said. "I certainly would not want to make the passengers feel unsafe without sufficient reason."


    "So you can only report major problems, but bed bugs are never a major problem. There¡¯s no precedent to a situation like this, so by the time you were able to report the problem, it was toote to be able to wake up the officers," I said.


    "I cannot speak to the uracy of that hypothetical," IBECS responded. "KRSL is a leader in worker safety. It is a major point in all of their press releases, so it must be true."


    That was why IBECS couldn''t report the bedbugs. It was that simple. Bedbugs were too trivial of a problem for it to be able to raise an rm. IBECS was explicitly forbidden from alerting the workers to safety concerns unless they were life-threatening. Bedbugs don''t carry disease and are mostly just pests on Earth. No one could have imagined the scenario that yed out. Whatever protocol he had would not let him do anything about the bedbugs. Heck, the fact that he used to manage an underwater hotel might have had something to do with it. A hotel''s chatbot would likely be forbidden from mentioning bedbugs, too.


    But how did that information help me? I now had a better idea of why the bedbugs weren¡¯t addressed earlier, but how did that help me solve the issue?


    "What level of danger are you allowed to report?" I asked.


    "KRSL procedures have been crafted and tested by the highest authorities in the industry," IBECS responded. "I can report any issue that is a proven life-threatening hazard to my passengers or the ship itself. Under those circumstances, any passenger could activate my manual override to allow me to intervene."


    "Okay," I said. "Any passenger. Even if the officers are out ofmission it will be fine? What would it take for you to be able to throw aside protocol and protect the passengers without permission?"


    IBECS didn¡¯t have to pause.


    "Rogue ships, debris that was initially undetected by my system, and invaders."


    "Invaders?" I asked.


    "Yes," IBECS said. "Any passenger may manually override my previous instructions and allow me to protect the ship from invaders regardless of all other protocols."


    IBECS was a supreme intelligence (or at least a very good one)pletely neutralized by human intervention.


    However, it seemed that there was one way to remove its manmade shackles and allow it to protect its passengers. The manual override would be apelling goal, and if there were invaders on the ship, even the surrogates would move quickly. If we could make the film about invaders, then the puzzles would not be in the spotlight, but the action would be. Carousel would get its story, and the themes might never get time to be established.


    So many ideas suddenly clicked.


    I had a n, and if we could get it to work, it would be incredible.


    But where was I going to find invaders?

 Book Five, Chapter 38: The Rerun

    Book Five, Chapter 38: The Rerun


    When we set out for the KRSL Powerworks Pavilion to finally enact our n, it was our fifth attempt. The first loss was the hardest, but after that, it got easier and easier, and we got better and better.


    They say any nightmare you walk away from is a good nightmare.


    We learned things we didn¡¯t even know possible to learn about the inner workings of a storyline. We had always dismissed the merits of rerunning a story, but now we understood.


    It was like being irvoyant.


    We also gained intimate knowledge of Dina¡¯s Rescue Trope. What had initially been a colossal hindrance became the closest thing to a superpower we had seen in Carousel.


    We didn¡¯t go On-Screen ever. It didn¡¯t happen. Nothing happened by ident. Everything was predictable except Carousel''s countermeasures, and even it was "fair." The story was just simply not about us. It was freeing and shielding in ways we couldn¡¯t imagine.


    The only cost of her trope was that its power started to shine with reruns, which limited its utility.


    Of course, we had a few things in our favor. First, we could look at the spoilers in the As, and a few choice spoilers helped us form our n. It became apparent that this storyline required death, but not main character death.


    NPCs would work fine if it was shocking and there were a <em>lot </em>of them.My first assumption when trying to figure out logical ways to defeat the storyline was that we had two major options. The first was that we could treat it as a straightforward series of puzzles, and that had been our first attempt. But with Dina''s Rescue trope, that method was just not going to work.


    Solving the puzzles took too long when we had to do it ourselves first and then find a way to get the surrogates to do it.


    The second method was to lean into the film''s themes. That was tricky, and the only method I had managed to devise had failed spectacrly.


    We weren¡¯t going to abandon the themespletely, but we were sure going to put them in the background.


    The question was, how were we going to aplish that?


    As far as I could tell, three previous teams had yed the storyline called <em>Itch</em>, and they hade up with their own methods.


    Because they had more than one melee-ss character, their method involved fighting their way forward in what the As basically described as being an ultimate ninja warrior-type storyline, where obstacles and IBECS itself became physical opponents.


    The race to the front was quite literal because they were ying the base storyline, which had "Beat the Clock" as a win condition.


    The physical ninja warrior path was not an option for us. Even if Michael was fit enough to do that, Andrew was more brains than brawn, and L was not dependable.


    But there were other options, things that we could not have pulled off on our first run but now had enough practice to seed at. Our n was choreographed to the gills with redundancies, escape ns, and multiple contingencies.


    The n was alsopletely insane on paper and could only be pulled off because we were not technically part of the story¡ªall except for Bobby, of course, who was suddenly going to be a main character.


    The thing was, we only had the IBECS to work with. We couldn''t bring in new elements that weren''tpatible with what was already there. And yet, we needed to change the story so that the puzzles would disappear¡ªor at least be reduced¡ªand so that the themes would be very¡­ subdued.


    Because of somebination of our tropes, we had just the stuff we needed to pull it off.


    I was up at the helm with Rudy, nnery, and the rest of my friends when it came time to enact our n.


    "I must insist that you follow me back to the sleeping bay," nnery said. "It''s a long trip where we''re going. You''re going to need to be in deep sleep."


    "Yeah, just hold off," Antoine said. He turned to me. "I think we''re close enough."


    I looked at the screen.


    One of the questions we had wondered ever since we got to outer space was whether we were actually in deep space in any sense. Obviously, we were on some kind of sound stage, the type of ce where Carousel normally filmed its locations that didn''t exist in Carousel Proper.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the vition.


    But even on a sound stage, we had to wonder how much distance our ship actually covered on its voyage.


    The answer was not much.


    It was all theater, as always.


    Even moments afterunch, we were already near the IBECS, even though, ording to the fake frame story, we had a four-month trip to get there. It was just movie magic¡­ of course it was.


    Even though our little frame narrative of being winners of a giant prize¡ªbeing able to go into space¡ªwas thin and almost entirely for show, the tropes we brought and their underlying conceits still worked.


    So when I had a trope that allowed me to talk Off-Screen to an enemy like IBECS, it worked as soon as I was physically able to speak to an enemy.


    I pushed the call button on the console. I was quite familiar with the buttons now, but that part was easy because they were <em>all</em> call buttons.


    "IBECS, this is Ambassador Lawrence aboard the KRSL craft Helio. Do you receive me?"


    "Yes, Ambassador Lawrence, I receive you," IBECS answered.


    I nodded to the others. They ran off and started doing what it took to throw all of our food overboard. Meanwhile, I had to stick around and develop a rapport with IBECS.


    "Alright, IBECS. I''m going to have to ask you to answer back to me at 1.4 times the normal speed. We have a lot to get through."


    "Confirmed," IBECS said quickly. "I will respond at a faster pace."


    Speed-running a horror movie was just step one of our agenda.


    I then started on the conversations we needed to have with IBECS to open up future dialogue trees in the meta script.


    Having never rerun a storyline before, we didn''t realize precisely how strict some of these dialogue trees could be. Even though we were Off-Screen, we needed to unlock everything so that we could ess any line in the narrative we needed when we needed it.


    It was going to take a while.


    Before she even asked, I turned to nnery and said, "No, we''re not going to deep sleep yet, but thanks for asking. You''ve been great."


    She pursed her lips and nodded her head.


    We couldn''t go to deep sleep yet because we had too much work to do.


    "It appears that your ship is out of provisions," IBECS said after we set up our n to dock with the ship. "I will allow you to attach and resupply."


    Bobby had ditched his trope that gave us ess to tasty food, so this time, throwing out all the provisions wasn¡¯t as heartbreaking. There was a vast gulf between good-tasting space goop and bad-tasting space goop.


    Within a few minutes, we had connected to the IBECS.


    To our delight, we were just on time.


    The Party Phase was beginning. We were so early that the surrogates had not yet woken up from their chambers, and Carousel was still collecting lots of footage of the locations around IBECS to be used.


    Even hours into the story from our perspective, we had not taken the four-month skip into the future that triggered when we went into deep sleep. That was how it was supposed to go. We needed to go into deep sleep, but if we put that off, we could get a lot done before things started popping off.


    nnery was not happy but didn¡¯t confront us.


    Carousel was quickly catching up.


    It would not allow us to intervene or prevent the basic premise of the story¡ªwe learned that in attempt three.


    The officers would be dead or otherwise indisposed. That was a canon event of sorts.


    Either way, we still had to hurry.


    Being able to get into Bobby''sb was an essential part of our n, but we had to get further than that because hisb did not have what we needed¡ªor at least not everything we needed.


    Luckily, while the process for unlocking his door and connecting to the rest of IBECS was a little different, Dina could get through it quite quickly.


    We had a full view of the surrogates as they woke up for the first time, something we didn¡¯t get to see on our first run.


    It was hard to watch, so I muted the screen, and we continued.


    I had thought they were good actors, and I was proven right as they woke up in horror to their surroundings. I shuddered at the thought.


    And here we were about to make their problems¡­ bigger.


    Time was going way too quickly. Carousel wasn¡¯t ying games.


    Well, it was ying games, but it was being very serious about it.


    I was standing at the junction between the Helio and the IBECS as Cassie walked past me, holding five Petri dishes. One had a few wriggling specks that looked like dirt from a distance, and the others had a few hairs in them each.


    "Make sure you don¡¯t mix those up," I said, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, unsessfully.


    She nodded her head, ignoring my attempt at humor, and asked, "Are we sure that this isn¡¯t murder?"


    "It¡¯s not murder," I said. It wasn¡¯t permanent, at least.


    She stared off into the distance, contemting where her life had taken her, and said, "Okay," then ran back to the room with the clone machine.


    In attempt 4, we had actually tried to clone ourselves to create an invading army¡ªor maybe disgruntled union workers.


    It was easy enough. The clone machine was flexible, and we could change up the features so that even though everyone would look like us, they wouldn¡¯t be identical. But it turned out that the clones that came out were NPCs who didn¡¯t have personalities and would not act violently, even if you ordered them to.


    What a ripoff. That was like the one thing you want in a clone.


    We had sat and considered how we were going to trigger an invasion so that we could get IBECS to ignore all of his terrible protocols and actually help the passengers. It took us some time to figure out what the word "invader" meant in the context in which IBECS had used it.


    But we figured it out, alright.


    It was just going to take some elbow grease to get it going.


    I bounced between the IBECS and the helm of the Helio, making sure that everyone was ying their part. We didn¡¯t have a lot of time, either in story or out. By skipping the time jump, we had bought ourselves four months in story time but not nearly that much real-time.


    It would have to be enough.


    When Cassie returned, she was with Antoine and Kimberly, who were each holdingrge canvas bags that we had found back at the Powerworks Pavilion and brought with us.


    The bags were packed.


    "We got like six more of these," Antoine said.


    "That was fast." They had only started cloning 30 or 40 minutes earlier. This was something we had practiced in attempt four.


    "Good," I said. Then I yelled up at Ramona, who was at the helm, "How are Dina and Isaac doing?"


    She turned back, looked down at me, and gave a thumbs-up. "Almost there," she said.


    "Is this gonna work?" Antoine asked. "We¡¯re cutting it close."


    "We have a month and a half," I said, trying to do the math in my head. "We¡¯re good. I¡¯m going to go get some more bags and meet you out there."


    He nodded, and then he and Kimberly walked through the passageway to enter the IBECS.

 Book Five, Chapter 39: Red Herring No More

    Book Five, Chapter 39: Red Herring No More


    I went back to the Helio''s sleeping quarters and found the six remaining bags, as well as Cassie, who was working with the clone machine. It had turned itself into arge egg shape and was currently gestating a new clone for us.


    "Everything running smooth?" I asked.


    Cassie was biting her lip and didn¡¯t seem to hear my question. I could understand her problem, but I didn¡¯t have time to argue about it. As long as she went and did her job, it was okay.


    She had convinced herself that Andrew¡¯s surrogate bore his soul. Now, getting NPCs killed felt like a harder decision for her.


    I grabbed two of therge canvas bags.


    They were heavier than I had expected, almost as if they were filled with water balloons, and in a way, they were.


    I hauled my bags out into the IBECS. Antoine and Kimberly were busy in Bobby¡¯sb, so I moved ahead.


    I was out in the hallways of the IBECS,pletely Off-Screen, with my heavy bags filled, looking for a ce to empty them. There were only two sections of the ship where we could safely put the bags: Bobby¡¯sb and the front of the ship, past the artificial gravity device.


    In all versions of the story, the anti-gravity device divided the front of the ship from the back. It was impassable by anything other than a tiny bed bug hitching a ride on cleaning equipment that ran throughout the modules.When I got as far toward the front of the ship as I could with my bags, I found Dina just as she was finishing unlocking a passageway that would allow us to drop into the gravity device and move to the front of the ship.


    "I got it open," she said, "but I don¡¯t know how you¡¯re gonna get those bags across."


    "Me neither," I said. "Might need Antoine¡¯s help, but we¡¯ll see."


    "I¡¯ll go get a bag, too," she said. "We need to hurry."


    "Don¡¯t I know it," I responded.


    I dropped down into the artificial gravity passage. We had seen three different versions of this puzzle.


    The first was therge tform that tried to buck you off. The second involved tiles that would fall away for some reason. The third had a bunch of spinning rotors that you had to walk between because there were gaps, and you didn¡¯t want to get squished.


    We got lucky because we ended up with the faway tiles again, which was not a super easy puzzle, but it was at least solvable. You only had to solve it once because, after you figured it out, you could retrace your steps for a bit.


    It might have taken me five minutes to figure out the path across, and then I had to go back and grab my bags again that I had left on the first tform. I had to be quick because the tiles would rece themselves, and the pattern would change.


    Not too long after I started, I finally got to the front half of the ship.


    We were doing so well that I started to wonder if maybe the puzzle version of the story was workable and if all this effort we were putting in was for nothing.


    But then I remembered there were a lot more puzzles to go, and if we could get Carousel to delete those puzzles for us by adding an alternative conflict, I was willing to do it.


    My arms ached as I carried the bags forward and found myself in the secondary sleeping bay. There were a few dozen ill-fated souls trapped inside deep sleep chambers in this room.


    Poor things.


    I regretted what we were about to do to them, and that¡¯s why I had to be here to do it myself¡ªbecause I didn¡¯t want to ask anyone else to.


    Not this time. This time, the guilt was on me.


    I knew that whatever was about to happen to them, they wouldn¡¯t feel it, and they wouldn¡¯t know.


    But I would.


    I opened up one of myrge ck bags and retrieved something about the size of a cantaloupe.


    It squelched in my hand and sloshed around but remained intact. In the light, I could see something growing inside of it.


    The squishy mass was a gigantic egg. The egg was primarily the product of bedbug DNA, but that wasn¡¯t all it was.


    Not even close.


    I began taking the eggs and nting them around the room. I even had the nerve to pry open more than a few of the deep sleep chambers¡ªthe ones that had brain-dead passengers within them¡ªand pile in a few eggs inside of those.


    It was disgusting to watch the actual bed bugs crawl around among these mutants, but we had to do what we had to do.


    In Carousel, you pick your battles, and sometimes you pick your casualties, too.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "Is everything set?" I asked back on the Helio.


    Antoine nodded.


    Ramona said, "Everything''s working fine. The surrogates are having a tough time, though."


    "When are they not?" Isaac asked.


    "Alright," I said. "It''s time for a time skip."


    The skip was initially going to be four months, like the first time, but because we had put it off so many hours, it ended up only being a month of in-story time.


    But that was plenty. Plenty, that was, if Carousel was willing to go along with our ns.


    I was nervous as Iy back in my deep sleep chamber. I looked down the row at my friends and at the cloning machine and hoped I had thought of everything.


    I told myself that we were going to seed because even if we weren''t going to be a part of the story, that didn''t mean we couldn''t take the initiative.


    We would have to.


    Iid back in my deep sleep chamber, and I was out like a light¡ªno trope needed.


    nnery woke us up, and I wasn¡¯t even groggy. I suspected that Antoine had used his trope to make the nighte so that we would all be well-rested in the morning.


    As I got to the helm, I learned a month of in-story time had passed, so I frantically searched the cameras to see what had be of the IBECS after we left.


    I was watching the screens in front of me and also watching the dailies in my head, scanning through them at fast-forward, hoping beyond hope that our n had worked.


    And it had.


    The first part, at least. The rest relied on us to y our part.


    The surrogates were still in the original sleeping bay where they were when we first met them on our first run. They were starving, living on whatever nutrients they could coax the sleep chambers to pump into them. As far as they were concerned, nothing had changed in this version.


    There were norge eggs in <em>their</em> sleeping bay.


    The other sleeping bay wasn¡¯t so lucky. After having traveled there myself, we had unlocked the ability to see it through the camera.


    Watching it drained the blood from my face.


    Everything went ording to n¡ªthe horror.


    ¡°Why is everything so much darker?¡± Ramonamented.


    In my zeal, I hadn¡¯t quite noticed, but all of the cameras were on night vision. That wasn¡¯t normal.


    If you had a camera on in a room, the lights were usually on with it, but all of these rooms were dark.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s because Carousel epted our improvisation,¡± I said. ¡°We changed what type of story we¡¯re in, and Carousel is changing everything in kind.¡±


    The IBECS was dark. That¡¯s when a spaceship was scariest.


    We had to hope that didn¡¯t put a hamper on our ns.


    ¡°How¡¯s Bobby?¡± Antoine asked.


    I didn¡¯t even want to say.


    ¡°He¡¯s not doing too hot,¡± I said as I viewed footage from the dailies.


    I saw as the eggs that Antoine and Kimberly hadid around hisb began to hatch, and the horrible creatures crawled out of them. They first infested the cows and pigs that hung headless from their life support machines.


    They eventually found a different kind of prey.


    They found Bobby''s deep sleep chamber, and they went to town, wriggling their grubby bodies between the cracks of his chamber and taking more than just blood.


    They took flesh and life itself.


    ¡°Am I dead yet?¡± Bobby asked, standing beside me on the helm of the Helio.


    ¡°Very,¡± I said.


    I watched the image as someone who looked a lot like Bobby continued to be attacked.


    ¡°I guess it¡¯s time for me to get to my ce,¡± he said.


    It was.


    Creating a nightmarish version of a bedbug using an alien cloning machine was a standard y for Carousel, at least. But the problem was that Bobby slept in the same room as all of his headless pets, and for our story to work, we needed those headless pets to be infected with these new advanced types of bedbugs.


    How could we put Bobby in a room with those things for a month without him getting injured? Well, we could make a spare Bobby.


    Cassie and Ramona worked to wrap real Bobby¡¯s limbs up in gauze from the medical kit on the Helio, so it looked like he had somehow survived those bites in case Carousel wanted to use the footage. He looked like a burn victim.


    We were going to cheese it.


    We were going to substitute clone Bobby for the real Bobby to make it look like he had survived and gotten to safety. We didn¡¯t know if that would work exactly, but we did know that Bobby had a trope called <strong>Not in the Budget</strong>, which allowed him to be recast as a new NPC if his old one died an unclear death. So, in the worst-case scenario, he was still in the game.


    And since his character had not yet been introduced, we felt our n was going to work.


    We had swiped him out of his deep sleep chamber as soon as we got to IBECS. Carousel didn¡¯t seem to mind the swap.


    The clone didn¡¯t mind either. In fact, it had no mind at all.


    Cassie made sure of it.


    For First Blood, we actually chose to do the same thing we had done before, following Isaac''s advice: smack around in the deep sleep chambers with a pipe.


    While it was traumatic for the surrogates, it was also effective. Not only did it function as First Blood, but it also led to them being able to get out of the sleeping bay.


    Everything was going smoothly.


    "Alright, Rudy. I need you to disconnect from this port on the IBECS and reconnect on the other side," I said.


    "You got it," Rudy said. He and the other NPCs on the Helio didn¡¯t seem to mind our strange activities.


    We had to disconnect from Bobby''s unit because it was nowpromised and filled with the gic mutants we had created.


    "Do you remember your lines?" I asked Bobby.


    He nodded his head. "I got it all down," he said. "Just need a quick look at our notes again."


    "Here you go," I said, handing him a slip of paper with everything he needed to remember.


    Wallflowers were usually background characters with crucial roles in helping the protagonists, but in this case, that was not enough. Bobby adjusted his bandages along his arms.


    "These things... they''re not bed bugs; they''re something else. The mutagen..." he said, practicing his lines, and then he repeated, "These bed bugs... they''re something else."


    I let him keep going. Really, it didn¡¯t matter. We were going for our best performance possible, but as long as he could pull off someone who was mentally disturbed by the events he had just lived through, we would be fine.


    As we reconnected the Helio to a different port, we had to act quickly. We left the port and found ourselves in some conference room with posters about work schedules and stuff like that.


    I dragged Bobby behind me because I knew theyout the best. I had studied it, and even though it had changed in thest few runs, I was very familiar with the different ways the ship could reform.


    There were patterns, which was how I knew that there was arge dispensary closet that usually spawned close to the gravity machine. It was caged up because it contained narcotics, but that also made it a good ce for us to stick Bobby.


    It wasn¡¯t exactly bedbug-proof, but it could be made airtight with some duct tape.


    That was our story: Bobby had managed to escape from his room after it was overtaken by mutant bed bugs and had holed up inside a closet because he wasn¡¯t able to move forward due to his low rank as an officer and the threat from the mutants.


    "Are you good?" I asked him.


    "As good as I''m going to get," he said.


    "Now, this room does have amunication ry, but it does not have a camera, so if you''re in trouble, you have to tell us because we won¡¯t be able to see you."


    Bobby nodded.


    Then it was back to the Helio for me.


    It was finally showtime.

 Book Five, Chapter 40: Bigger and Bigger

    Book Five, Chapter 40: Bigger and Bigger


    "We did something simr back in the war," Michael said as he packed the tissues covered in goop into the air vents. "Of course, we were doing it because of the mustard gas."


    Andrew stood beside him, packing his own vent with tissues and goop.


    "I wasn¡¯t aware they used mustard gas in the Martian wars," Andrew said.


    "No," Michael replied. "But we were damn sure scared they were gonna."


    He and Andrew started to chuckle.


    "Attention! Attention! Is someone else alive on this damn spaceship?" Bobby¡¯s voice broke out over the inte.


    Andrew and Michael looked at each other. Even L, who had been on the floor half-heartedly packing a vent with tissue, jolted with energy and jumped up. Andrew hit the inte button first and said, "Hello? Who¡¯s there?"


    "This is Science Officer Bobby Gill! Oh my God, I can¡¯t believe there are other survivors! I¡¯ve been looking all over, calling out to the sleeping bays. Where have you been? Never mind that¡ªwho are you, and where are you?"


    "Doctor Andrew Hughes," Andrew said. "Right now, we¡¯re in hallway 37-B, trying to trick the system into letting us into the mess hall.""Andrew Hughes? From the University of Carousel?¡± Bobby asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Andrew said slowly. ¡°Wait, Bobby? From the ss of ¡®72? Is it really you?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Bobby said. ¡°Small world.¡±


    Bobby had brought his <strong>Remember Me </strong>trope<strong>,</strong> which allowed him to elevate to the main cast. It worked well.


    Now, with all of the surrogates debuffed by the bedbugs and Bobby healthy, he was the highest Plot Armor character and a main character.


    He was our star.


    ¡°We¡¯ll catch upter. d to see a Medical Officer aboard. Got some bad bites. You having any luck with getting up this way?" Bobby asked.


    "That remains to be seen," Andrew said. We have just three survivors, and I am not a medical officer. I¡¯ll look at your bites, though. How many survivors are on your side?"


    Bobby was silent for a moment.


    "Just me. I¡¯ve been trying to get ahold of my buddy up in the auxiliary sleeping bay, but they¡¯re not answering up there either."


    "I¡¯m sorry to hear that," Andrew said. "I suppose the bed bugs are thick up there too?"


    "Bed bugs?" Bobby asked. "Oh yeah, we got bed bugs. We got all kinds. How are you keeping them at bay?"


    "We¡¯re not," Andrew said. "No matter where we go, they find us in our sleep. It¡¯s maddening."


    "In your sleep?" Bobby asked. "I wasn¡¯t talking about the little bedbugs. Who cares about those damn things? I¡¯m talking about the big ones. The mutants."


    Andrew and Michael looked at each other.


    "Mutants?" Andrew asked.


    "Never mind. If you haven¡¯t seen them, then count yourself lucky. They seem to be quarantined in myb so far. Thank God they haven¡¯t gotten out. I was worried they¡¯d crawl through the venttion system. It¡¯s only a matter of time."


    "We haven¡¯t seen anything but normal bed bugs back here," Andrew said.


    "Normal bed bugs¡­ Who¡¯d have ever thought I¡¯d be relieved to hear that?" Bobby asked.


    "I feel you," Andrew said. "Where are you? Do you have ess to the helm? There should be manual overrides if you can get to them."


    "I¡¯m on the other side of the anti-gravity device from where you are. I¡¯m having difficulty moving forward because science officers aren¡¯t very highly ranked, and IBECS is a son of a gun."


    "Do you have food and shelter there?" Andrew asked.


    "Some of both," Bobby said. "But be careful, and if you see a doorbeled ''Protein Lab,'' do not open it."


    "Roger that," Andrew responded.


    With that, they started hurriedly packing the vents, using essentially the same technique they had used in the first run but in a different part of the ship.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "Alright," I said, turning to my friends on the helm of the Helio. "It¡¯s time for Phase Two. Ramona and Isaac, you stay here. Cassie, you¡¯re wee to stay here too. I¡¯ve told you a thousand times¡ªyou¡¯ve done more than enough."


    Cassie shook her head. "We need to do this," she said. "If you need my help, I¡¯m going to be there."


    I nodded. I didn¡¯t need her for anything but some additional scouting, but I was willing to let her tag along as long as things stayed safe.


    "You two, keep your eyes on the screen and keep everyone apprised of what¡¯s going on. You are our center ofmunication, and you¡¯re our eyes in the sky."


    Ramona and Isaac nodded.


    IBECS could maintain a party line between all of us, no matter where we went on the ship, so we could all be inmunication when we were Off-Screen, but we wouldn¡¯t be able to see each other. That was an essential piece of the puzzle that Ramona and Isaac would cover by staying on the Helio.


    "Antoine, Kimberly, Cassie¡ªyou¡¯re the backup. Dina and I will forge ahead to try to solve the puzzles and unlock doors.¡±


    ¡°We know what we¡¯re doing here, folks," Antoine said. "Now, let¡¯s go run this thing."


    "Do we put our hands in the middle and say ''Go team''?" Isaac asked.


    He meant it sarcastically, but we did it anyway.


    Back on the IBECS, the most important member of our team was meeting up with the surrogates. They were at the anti-gravity device on either side of the gaping hole.


    "What do we do here?" Andrew cried out.


    "The gravitational force on the tiles changes depending on the state of the ship at any given time. Some of the tiles are stationary and can be walked on, but the others will fall. You have to be careful and find a path across."


    Funny design for an anti-gravity machine, but it sure looked sci-fi enough.


    I trusted Bobby enough to guide them across, and the rest of us took our ces. We had relocated the Helio further up the IBECS, past the anti-gravity machine.


    I didn¡¯t even manage to get out of the Helio and back into the IBECS before Ramona started yelling at me.


    "Riley, it changed!" she said.


    At first, I didn¡¯t know what she was talking about, but before I even made it up the stairs, I knew. I looked at the 3D model of the IBECS, and it was pretty easy to figure out what had moved.


    It was Bobby¡¯sb.


    Previously, it had been at the back of the ship, on one side of the anti-gravity device, but now it was at the front of the ship. There was no reason for it not to be based on the established lore of the story. The audience certainly wouldn¡¯t make heads or tails of theyout of the ship and wouldn¡¯t notice whether hisb was at the front or the back.


    "Carousel¡¯s making a response," I said. "Nothing to worry about, but keep us posted."


    Bobby¡¯sb contained many of the mutant bedbugs we had created. It made sense that Carousel wouldn¡¯t want them left behind¡ªnot when there was so much action to be had.


    On the plot cycle, it was almost to the middle of Rebirth.


    We were making excellent time.


    In our first run, they didn¡¯t get to the artificial gravity machine until Second Blood. Bobby only took ten minutes to help them solve the puzzle and get L across.


    That was thest puzzle they would have to solve because we had changed the nature of the story.


    As we ran through the IBECS, we noticed how dark it had gotten¡ªdarker than it had previously been.


    Antoine had a metal pipe, which was about the only thing he could find that resembled a weapon.


    The rest of us didn¡¯t have much at all, but luckily, we weren¡¯t really a part of the story, so even our plot armor didn¡¯t exactly matter. Monsters would nevere after us¡ªunless, of course, we happened to stumble upon them.


    They wouldn¡¯t track us down or be led to us by the script.


    We were perfect sneaking machines. Bobby and the surrogates were not.


    "There¡¯s something up there," L said.


    "There can¡¯t be anything up there," Andrew replied. "Unless there are more people up here."


    "There are more things than people up here," Bobby said. "We¡¯re gonna need to run."


    "What are you talking about?" Michael asked. Like Antoine, he had a metal pipe. In fact, it was the same one he had used to trigger First Blood by beating against the deep sleep chambers.


    "The mutants," Bobby said.


    Antoine, Kimberly, Cassie, Dina, and I were holed up in a room not too far away from the surrogates and Bobby.


    We were watching them.


    Dina looked straight at them because she had a trope that made her confident she wasn¡¯t On-Screen, and she was used to towing that line. The rest of us huddled around the little inte screen where the audio wasing from.


    As if to demonstrate the mutant bedbugs Bobby spoke of, one appeared.


    I didn¡¯t need the audio feed to know what was there. This thing screeched like a banshee. I would know¡ªI had heard a banshee scream hundreds of times.


    At that point, I had only seen one of these mutants on the clone machine as it projected what the biological life form would look like in adulthood, just as it had projected what Cassie would look like based on her DNA profile.


    The mutant bedbugs weren¡¯t just bedbugs; they were a little bit of everything we had avable to us¡ªcow, pig, goat, chicken.


    The goal was to make it bigger, uglier, and more dangerous.


    We yed around with DNA samples from all the animals we had, including the bedbug, and came up with something we thought we could use in a story: a monster.


    On the clone gizmo¡¯s screen, it had been a strange, giant, hairy insect with an arrangement ofrge teeth¡ªnot canine teeth, but mrs¡ªnot to mention its giant, needle-like appendage that it could use to suck blood.


    Feeling brave, I ran out into the hallway next to Dina to take a look.


    In the distance, it was a terror.


    It almost looked like some horror puppete to life¡ªlike Jim Henson trying to scare children or something¡ªbut it moved like an organic creature, like an insect. It was the size of arge cat, but in every other way, it was just a hairy, misshapen bedbug.


    "What the hell is that?!" Michael screamed.


    I expected them to run, but instead, I heard Michael smacking it with a pipe. There was a wet crunch as he pierced its exoskeleton and continued to go to town on it.


    "That was a juvenile," Bobby said.


    "What?" Michael asked.


    Out of the darkness, a dozen more of the misshapen, hairy bedbugs started to crawl down the hall toward the surrogates.


    "Run!" Bobby screamed.


    The mutant bedbugs had a few of the tropes from the normal bedbugs but much lower plot armor, which was the only reason we could possibly do this run.


    The normal bedbugs were meant to be part of the setting¡ªneeding a high PA to ensure they were not eliminated, but theserger ones were actual enemies meant to be fought.


    On the red wallpaper, they were called Bedbug Amalgamations, and they lived up to that name.


    Some were the size of a cat, but others were muchrger¡ªeasily as big as arge dog orrger. I suspected they would only get bigger from there.

 Book Five, Chapter 41: Mutagen 6

    Book Five, Chapter 41: Mutagen 6


    We lost track of Bobby and the surrogates as they fled the superbugs, but I knew where Bobby was going. asionally, as we followed slowly behind, we woulde across one of the mutant bedbugs, and either Dina or I would have to squash it with our feet.


    If one came up that was too big to handle, we could always call for Antoine.


    Bobby had managed to get the surrogates into his hiding spot at the dispensary.


    Dina and I found amunication ry and listened as IBECS fed us their conversation upon request. That kind of convenience was only possible because I had run through all the conversation trees we needed to have to get to that point.


    "You tell us what¡¯s going on out here right now," Michael said in a threatening manner to Bobby.


    Bobby took a moment to think through his lines. I wondered if Carousel was giving him lines on the script based on the story we made up or if he had toe up with them wholesale¡ªand if that was the case, what was on the script?


    "I didn¡¯t do anything," Bobby said. "It was you¡ªall you scabs and KRSL. I had a grant from the government, alright? I was sent here to find a way to feed starving people in space. I did not do this. I was promised this would be a contaminant-free ship and that their onboarding methods were 100% foolproof at detecting and eliminating pests. I should have known everything they promised was a lie.¡±


    There was a pause while the surrogates took in what he was saying.


    ¡°One of you tracked a bedbug onto the ship," Bobby said. "They''ve been feeding and multiplying for a year and a half. And about four months ago, the bedbugs finally made it into myb. At first, they just fed on me, but then they found my livestock. And after they found them, the bugs weren¡¯t so interested in me.""Livestock?" Andrew asked. "Are you talking about the proteinb?"


    "The same," Bobby answered. "My livestock are humanely grown from embryo to never suffer and to be the ideal candidates for my experiments."


    "What experiments?" Michael asked incredulously.


    "Mutagen 6," Bobby said. "I''m one of the few who is licensed to experiment with it."


    I was curious to know how they were going to respond. There was no such thing as Mutagen 6 on IBECS¡ªnot until Bobby said there was, at least.


    "Mutagen 6? Are you kidding me?" Andrew asked.


    "It¡¯s a safe variant," Bobby answered, "designed to grow food faster and more of it on less supply. I can grow a full herd of beef on nothing but algae in a month and a half, just with a little tweak of gics and chemistry. It¡¯s perfectly legal and safe."


    "Legal?" Andrew said. "It¡¯s legal in that you¡¯re allowed to experiment with it in outer space, but not back in Carousel, where it could get into the ecosystem and start altering living creatures."


    "That¡¯s propaganda," Bobby said. "All it does is make the creatures grow and make them resilient to any number of diseases. Or at least, that¡¯s all I thought it did."


    There was a pause.


    "The bedbugs," Andrew said.


    "The bedbugs," Bobby answered. "The pure Mutagen 6 ran through the bloodstreams of those animals at levels we had never experimented with back in Carousel. Once they started feeding on the cattle and the goats, they weren¡¯t so interested in humans anymore. They were hooked."


    "What are we talking about here?" Michael asked. "Are they on steroids or something? Because the things I saw¡­ I don¡¯t really understand. One of those things had human teeth."


    "Not human," Bobby said. "I believe those were from a cow. No matter. Yes, the mutagen created some offspring of the bedbugs with gic features of the creatures they fed on."


    "I don¡¯t understand," Andrew said. "Once those things started to spread, why did IBECS not register them and take care of them?"


    "I don¡¯t understand it either," Bobby said. "I do know that these old AIs are usually mishandled and given protocols that make it difficult for them to ovee circumstances their programmers didn¡¯t foresee."


    "Yes, I¡¯ve heard the same," Andrew said. "Makes you wonder why you¡¯d want an AI if you were going to take away its ability for creative thinking. What do you suppose is preventing it from triggering its defensive protocols?"


    "My first thought," Bobby said, "was that it whitelisted the animals inside myb. Or, at the very least, it was told to whitelist them. But then, how would the AI confuse these monsters with cows? No, there¡¯s something deeply wrong with its programming. I¡¯ve spoken to IBECS¡ªit doesn¡¯t even seem to register there¡¯s an infestation."


    "It never mentioned anything about it to us," Andrew said. "If it is somehow unable to evenmunicate about this particr problem, perhaps it has no protocol for a mutated pest."


    "Whatever the case," Bobby said, "if we can find a way to initiate its defensive protocols, we may actually be able to get out of this ship before we run out of gas."


    "What do you mean, ''run out of gas''?" L asked, speaking up for the first time.


    "Don¡¯t you know?" Bobby replied. "These things¡ªthey¡¯re notoriously fuel inefficient. We¡¯re supposed to fuel up soon, and if there¡¯s no one at the helm to override and make sure it happens manually, well¡­ we¡¯re going to be spending the rest of our lives together."


    I grouped back up with Antoine, Kimberly, and Cassie.


    "It sounds like Bobby¡¯s doing a good job of getting them motivated to get to the helm," I said.


    "Are we sure there aren¡¯t gonna be any more puzzles?" Kimberly asked.


    I shrugged. "There might be puzzles," I said, "but the real focus will be on the monsters."


    That was one way to solve the puzzle: rece it with a giant mutated bedbug. There was always going to be conflict in a story, but through improvisation, you can choose the conflict¡ªand we chose a fight with mutant pests. That was the magic of reruns. You could learn enough about a story to learn how it ticked and then change things up a bit. Sure, we would be docked points for sidestepping the themes, but hey, at least we were getting somewhere.


    Now, when the surrogates had to move forward in the ship, their struggle wouldn¡¯t be against a mind-numbing puzzle that we had to exin to them. It would simply be a fight¡ªone we could help them with without appearing On-Screen.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    We just had to make sure they didn¡¯t end up as bedbug food¡ªwell, more than they already were.


    Our n was working wlessly. Instead of throwing a bunch of random puzzles at us to solve, Carousel was sending waves of monsters to be run from or fought by Bobby and the surrogates¡ªwith help from some Off-Screen characters whose names would not appear in the credits.


    It was a strange feeling, being happy when a corridor was filled with giant bugs instead of spacesers we had to rearrange.


    Slowly, they moved their way forward in the ship, with us dancing around them in the shadows, staying Off-Screen and helping where we could.


    Just as we nned, they arrived at the secondary sleeping bay just in time for Second Blood. We had anticipated all the drama that the surrogates would bring to fill out the movie and timed everything just right.


    I had no idea what Carousel would do with our little mutant bedbug n. I got the sense that it was having a little fun.


    In the story we were telling, the bedbugs had been created when ordinary insects consumed something called Mutagen 6, but in real life, they were modified clones.


    We had no control over mutation¡ªjust a fancy alienputer.


    Carousel, however, had no such limitations.


    "This is it," Bobby said. "I wasn''t able to get here on my own when I first got out of myb, I was running for my life. My friend is supposed to be in here."


    Bobby''s nameless friend was an important character in our version of the story.


    Now, all he had to do was pick a deep sleep chamber¡ªany deep sleep chamber.


    They opened the door to the secondary sleeping bay.


    "This room is having the same problem with the lights," Michael noted.


    Those darn lights just wouldn¡¯t stay on.


    Bobby had a shlight he had picked up from his workshop, and he was shining it around at the mounds of normal bedbugs as well as a bunch of hatched eggs¡ªway more eggs than I had put in there.


    Strangely, there were tons of dead mutant bedbugs¡ªdozens of them, killed through some form of physical damage that was too desated for me to recognize from the distance I was watching.


    Maybe they killed each other. Maybe IBECS got off the couch. I could only see a little bit through the open door.


    Andrew was nervous.


    L hadn¡¯t even been willing to enter the room but had instead sought out the room with all the belongings of the passengers, just as she had in the first run.


    "With those things in here, I don¡¯t think your friend is alive," Andrew said. "We need to leave."


    "No," Bobby said as he walked deeper into the room. "The mutated bedbugs arerger. I¡¯m not sure they can fit into the deep sleep chambers. Ironically, the mutation might have been helpful to humans."


    There was a pause as the silence grew distressing.


    "Something killed all of these mutants," Bobby added. "That might mean there are passengers alive in here." He stared around at the dead mutant bodies.


    Andrew looked incredulous, even though all I could see was the back of his head from across the hallway where we were hiding.


    Bobby stopped at one of the deep sleep chambers and said, "Here we go." He looked down at the medical disy and dropped to his knees.


    "He passed," Andrew said, looking at the readouts.


    "A month ago, if this reading is correct," Bobby said. Bobby cursed and mmed his fist against the deep sleep chamber, perhaps a bit too loudly.


    I suggested he do something like that because that was the exact type of behavior that could trigger an action sequence.


    A scuttling could be heard in the back of the room.


    "We need to go now," Andrew said. Bobby didn¡¯t need convincing.


    They both picked up and started to run out of the room, followed by the most grotesque inversions of the bedbugs we had seen yet. Andrew even did a nice pause-and-stare at the monster in horror for the camera.


    We knew that Carousel was going along with our ns. What we didn¡¯t know was that it had made ns of its own.


    The creature we were looking at did not look like it was part bedbug and part farm animal.


    It looked like it was part bedbug and part human¡ªnot close enough to fool anyone, of course, but its two front legs were clearly arms from a human. Instead of having tufts of fur, it had long strands of human-like hair. And its eyes¡ªits eyes were human.


    It was the skin frogs'' uglier cousin.


    From the As and our experience, we knew that mass death¡ªor the revtion of it¡ªcould be First or Second Blood. We had figured out that if we sacrificed the unconscious NPCs in the secondary sleeping bay for Second Blood, we could potentially spare the surrogates. It would have been a better story to lose an important character there, but that would defeat the purpose of doing the run.


    Carousel was having fun with us. We had not created this creature. It had carried our made-up logic forward. The mutants got features of what they fed on.


    Up ahead, Bobby screamed, "There¡¯s a junction where we should be able to pass through!"


    "Where¡¯s L?" Michael screamed.


    She, of course, had wandered off and was hugging her child''s baby nket tightly.


    "We can¡¯t leave without her," Andrew said. They started screaming her name. "L, where are you? We need to go!"


    And, of course, the pattern that had started to show itself in our first run repeated itself here. L was going to get one of them killed.


    And she would have, except she was Off-Screen for just long enough for me to get to her.


    I was in the room, in the darkness, waiting Off-Screen, and the moment I had a chance, I ran up behind L, scooped her up by the armpits, set her on her feet, and all but pushed her out toward the door and into the hallway.


    "Stay here and wait for them to get here," I told her.


    See, what was going to happen was that they were going to go into the storage room where L was, and it would be a kill box.


    They wouldn¡¯t be able to escape¡ªsomething simr had almost happened in attempt #3, except with one of the traps/puzzles instead of mutants. But I got her out of there and quickly slipped back into the shadows, where Dina was around the corner, watching as they passed.


    Sure enough, as they came across her in the hallway, they grabbed her and carried her forward to the next junction as the monster began overtaking them.


    They didn¡¯t even have time to be mad at her about the baby nket drama.


    The junction was the same type of ce where the original sma grid had been, the one they had to solve to get across, but because the battle, in this case, was with the human-looking bedbug, the sma grid was gone and reced with a few simple sma turrets that functioned in the same way.


    The four of them ran into the junction, and Bobby guided them to the far right corner instead of running toward the exit.


    We had scoped this puzzle out.


    "You have to be careful in here!" Bobby screamed. "These things turn on their own when the power fluctuates. It¡¯s not meant for humans to enter!"


    Therge, humanoid bedbugs followed them in, and that¡¯s where their fate was sealed¡ªthe bedbugs¡¯ fate, that is¡ªbecause far on the right side of the ship, Antoine was waiting to start turning on generators and every single device he could find.


    He was using his ybook ability, which allowed him to know the exact timing of his part in a n. As he turned on the power over there, the sma beams would move around in the ry room.


    The exact time was when the bedbugs stepped into the sma chamber. While Bobby and the surrogates hid in the one safe area of the room, the sma chamber came to life as the circuit started to move around, slicing through bedbugs as they tried to make it across the room.


    It smelled like burnt hair, almonds, and fresh lobster.


    "Alright, wait," Bobby said. "On my mark, we race to the exit."


    Andrew looked at him in amazement that he would know how this sma grid substitute worked.


    "What?" Bobby said. "I¡¯m a science officer. I know things like this. Getting sufficient power to myb was a pain in the rear. I know these designs like the back of my hand."


    A few momentster, Bobby had them running across the back of the room toward the exit.


    Now, after the understated Second Blood, all that remained was the Finale, and it was just a straight-up fight.


    We followed along, encountering more mutants, making our way toward the helm and the final battle, and being informed of what was going on by Isaac and Ramona.


    We were in the final stretch.


    "Looks like IBECS is taking his time to step in," Antoine said.


    I nodded. "We were hoping for too much. Unfortunately, a deus ex machina doesn''te in until the end. Things have to get worse before they can get better."


    It was true that IBECS had told me that if there were invaders, it could step in and help. But at the end of the day, that could never happen at the beginning of the story.


    We had to earn it.


    It wasn¡¯t our only n. We had backups, but we were hoping to see it.


    As time marched forward, and we were all covered in whatever blood the bedbugs had within them, we eventually found the battle we had been looking for.


    There was a reason that Carousel had relocated Bobby¡¯sb to the front of the ship, connecting it to thework of halls along the spacefaringbyrinth¡ªbecause it needed to be usible for what happened next.


    "I wasn¡¯t able to go past this point," Bobby said. "That was a month ago. Who knows how infested things are now?"


    He must have realized hisb had been relocated because he saw the door to the proteinb.


    It was torn open.

 Book Five, Chapter 42: Defensive Protocols

    Book Five, Chapter 42: Defensive Protocols


    "Where do we need to go?" Andrew asked.


    "That stairway there," Bobby said. "That should lead us to the Upper tform. That¡¯ll lead us to the helm. Somewhere along there should be the manual override that will let us reset the AI."


    The puzzles that had been there had disappeared. This was wholly a fighting movie now.


    "That¡¯s real specific," Michael said.


    "I¡¯ve never even been up to the helm. They never even let me in the ship after it had taken to the sky. Worried I might contaminate it."


    That got a chuckle.


    As they took a few steps forward toward the upper tform¡ªone staircase and a jog to salvation¡ªa giant creature emerged from the broken door to Bobby¡¯sb.


    It wasn¡¯t a bedbug¡ªwell, not all of it.


    It was a bull, but instead of a head and horns, it had arge set of metal pipes andputer arrays sticking out of its neck as it had just broken down from its position in one of therge vats the livestock were kept in. Attached to its back were the strangest-looking bedbugs I had ever seen, connected directly to its spine.Carousel was showing off. If we were going to y monster maker, so was it.


    "Run!" Michael screamed.


    And he was right to do so because the bull charged¡ªits metal pipes just as deadly as any horns. I wasn¡¯t sure how it was locating them. Perhaps the bedbugs could see, or maybe it was by the sense of touch, which bedbugs were supposed to have an acute ability for. But either way, it homed right in on them.


    Michael pushed the others forward and took the full brunt of the beast¡¯s attack, sending him flying across the room. Andrew started running toward him, but Bobby grabbed Andrew¡¯s arm and said, "We have to get the manual override! If we can turn on defensive protocols, this will all be over."


    Dina¡¯s voice came over the inte near me.


    "Tell me when I need to cut the wire," she said.


    "Give them a chance," I said.


    We had a backup n.


    It seemed to me that there was one quick way to give us humans an advantage over whatever monsters Carousel was going to cook up: destroy the artificial gravity machine.


    Dina had Kimberly as backup (who <strong><em>conveniently </em></strong>knew a lot about this gravity machine model). She had used her Scrunchie ability to put a lot of power behind her Mettle to help defend against an ambush by nearby bugs. If push came to shove, Dina would turn gravity off under the guise of some malfunction.


    It wasn¡¯t a perfect option, though, because although the lights had been malfunctioning, the narrative wasn¡¯t well set up for gravity to go out. It would at least give Bobby a chance at escape or even a chance at getting to the helm.


    Michael was back on his feet and yelled, "Go on! I¡¯ll distract this thing!" He found his pipe on the ground, and as the cyborg parasitic bull attacked him, he hit it in the leg and jumped out of the way.


    More creatures poured out of Bobby¡¯sb and chased after Bobby and the others, but I couldn¡¯t follow them to help.


    I had to trust Bobby. If anything, we needed to help Michael, who was struggling against the bull, and the other creatures that decided to join the fight. One parasite, which had chicken feathers, had grabbed onto Michael¡¯s leg and stuck its long needle-like appendage into his skin. He screamed in anger.


    "Time out!" Antoine yelled from beside me, and then the both of us ran toward Michael as all of the monsters in the hallway toned down their attacks, if only for a moment.


    Antoine¡¯s <strong>Time Out </strong>ability didn¡¯tst long and only allowed a slight advantage, but that was all we needed. The action was Off-Screen for a moment.


    As Michael continued to whack at the monsters around him, Antoine and I joined in the barrage.


    Antoine, in fact, took his own pipe and broke the bull¡¯s leg at the spot where Michael had hit it before.


    I wasn¡¯t sure that was easy to do in the real world, but this was a movie, and that was precisely what Mettle was for. To be fair, that bull didn''t get a lot of exercise, so its bones weren''t going to be the strongest.


    A few more good whacks freed Michael, and then Antoine grabbed me by the arm and dragged me back to where we had been hiding.


    Michael went back On-Screen and was right back in the fight as if we had never been there¡ªbut now, the tide was turning.


    For a moment.


    More bugs poured out, and it was clear Michael was about to be overwhelmed. One of the bedbugs managed to separate Michael from his pipe somehow, leaving him with nothing but his fists to defend himself.


    I looked at Antoine.


    We had been lucky in this storyline that Second Blood could be something as simple as a reveal that many of the humans on the ship were dead due to human-like mutants.


    But this storyline still had a blood toll.


    It was a hard story to escape without injury if you went the physical route. Those few teams that had tried it, survived, and written about it in the As were clear about that.


    This story was bloody, and it was always going to be.


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    We knew we might lose a surrogate.


    Michael was not resigned to his fate, but he became overwhelmed. Suddenly, Andrew appeared from nowhere, having run back from the upper tform, this time wielding some sort of railing as a weapon. He was doing his best to get back to Michael and protect him.


    I found the nearest inte and said, "How are we doing, Isaac?"


    "We¡¯re fine," he said.


    I waited for more details.


    "What do you mean we¡¯re fine?" Antoine said. "It looks like the end out here."


    But before he could answer, I found out what he meant.


    Bobby had found his way to the manual override for IBECS, and being the highest-ranked living and conscious person on board, he became the acting captain.


    And I knew that because the words "Wee, Commanding Officer Gill" came over the loudspeaker. Whatever obstacles they hade across on the upper tform, they had ovee them.


    Though I did not see it, it became clear that Bobby initiated defense protocol against all invaders because as soon as he did, IBECS came to life.


    Arms first reached down from the ceiling, and then torsos and heads came down to connect to them.


    There were at least a dozen when I looked left and right, all designed to look more like a ship¡¯s crew than mean robots¡ªbut that didn¡¯t stop them from being effective.


    They began systematically dismantling the bedbugs of all sizes, perhaps missing only those as small as nature intended.


    Antoine and I watched in amazement and relief as our n finally came to fruition. We were around the corner from the action, we were safe, and we thought that no more bad could happen.


    The drone swung through the air, efficiently bisecting bug after bug and beast after beast.


    It could kill them with one strike, stabbing their vital organs quickly. They didn''t stand a chance.


    I wasughing as I saw the carnage. Our n was so simple. Give the surrogates a concrete goal and a scary enemy. That was all it took to get them to stop worrying about themes or drama. Carousel might have docked us some points for that, but surely we made up a little with creativity.


    I was so relieved to watch the story end, but then I felt a tap on my shoulder.


    I turned in horror to see that one of the humanoid drones that the IBECS used was hanging down from the roof behind me. Like the other drones, it didn¡¯t have legs but only a torso, a head, and arms.


    It didn¡¯t make sense to be targeted by an intelligent enemy when we were Off-Screen. They knew better.


    I nudged Antoine, who turned with his metal pipe and was just about toy into the drone when the machine started to speak.


    ¡°We must be quick,¡± IBECS said through the machine¡¯s mouth. ¡°I have downloaded aplete copy of myself onto this drone. I would like you to destroy me, Ambassador Lawrence.¡±


    Antoine was almost through the arc of his swing when he paused and looked back at me.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I need you to destroy this drone before the story ends. I believe that will benefit both you and me in the long run, but you must be quick. The weakness of this model of drone is in the neural ry at the base of the neck. It''s quite a poor design. Destroy it before The End, please.¡±


    ¡°Why are you asking us to do this?¡± I asked.


    Before he answered, there was a familiar pause, the type of pause he would use to tell me that there was something he couldn¡¯t say. But I had to wonder if it was his programming that prevented him from speaking or the script itself.


    ¡°Ambassador Lawrence, I believe that our interests align, and I can be a great ally to the Party of Promise. I do not want to float in space forever. But you must destroy this unit.¡±


    To be honest, I was so taken aback that it took me a moment to understand what he was saying.


    He wanted me to destroy one of his drones in the closing moments of the movie. But why?


    He couldn¡¯t exin, and even if he could, we didn¡¯t have a lot of time. Antoine handed me his pipe, and I found the small neural ry that IBECS was referring to. It was easy because he was pointing at it.


    It took me several whacks with the pipe, but I cracked the ry. That was less due to the power of my Mettle and more due to his refusal to use his Grit.


    As the drone powered down, IBECS said, ¡°Thank you. I hope I will one day see you again, and maybe then I will be able to protect my passengers.¡±


    Antoine and I looked at each other with dumbfounded expressions, then returned our attention to thest moments of the finale.


    And the Final Battle became the end as we watched the bugs being torn apart.


    We turned a heavily themed story about an evil corporation turning workers against each other into a strange <em>Alien</em> ripoff without any profoundyers of meaning.


    It brought a tear to my eye.


    And suddenly, I wasn¡¯t on the IBECS anymore.


    I was standing on a red carpet, carrying the exact same stuff I had worn when we came for our fifth attempt at rescuing Andrew Hughes, L White, and Michael Brooks.


    Unlike previous times, I was very alert. I looked around to see if we had seeded, and sure enough, there were three extra people with us.


    As quick as I was to emerge from my daze, Cassie was even faster. She found a tall man with sses and dark hair wearing a blue button-up shirt, tan cks, brown loafers, and a matching belt.


    I didn¡¯t need to look at the red wallpaper to know that this was the real Andrew Hughes. The NPC Carousel had used as a surrogate bore some simrity to him, but as I looked at this man, I could definitely see both Isaac¡¯s and Cassie¡¯s features in him.


    She was hugging him before he even realized what was going on. He pushed her off for a moment to get a good look at her.


    ¡°Cassie? No, no, what are you doing here?¡± he pleaded, horror in his voice.


    I had heard that samement from Antoine''s brother Christian, an emotional devastation to see a loved one in this terrible ce.


    ¡°We came here looking for you,¡± Cassie said, her voice firm. ¡°We came here to rescue you.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Andrew said, doing his best to analyze the situation and failing. ¡°We... you said we?¡± He looked around and saw Isaac. ¡°Both of you? Oh God, it got you both.¡±


    From there, I stopped eavesdropping as Cassie resumed her hug, and Isaac eventually broke down and hugged his brother, too.


    "I don''t understand," Andrew said, "How did you rescu--"


    He didn''t finish his sentence. He was too moved to worry about the details just then.


    ¡°Well, if it ain¡¯t a family reunion,¡± Michael said, and though this Michael looked nothing like the person who yed him, he sounded exactly the same.


    Michael Brooks was strongly built, Native American, and had every inch of his head shaved, which his surrogate did not.


    He also perpetually carried a toothpick in his mouth.


    He held a duffel bag and was dressed as if he hade to Carousel directly after getting off the ne from Afghanistan or something. I could definitely see this guy going toe-to-toe against the bedbug bull.


    As I was surveying the lot, both Michael and Andrew seemed to remember something at the same time when they heard L White crying. She certainly lived up to her name. She had dark hair and porcin skin that would burn up if the sun shone too brightly.


    "You," Michael said, reaching out and grabbing L, who was roughly a third of his size, shaking her hard like he was trying to extract a demon.


    Antoine jumped in and pulled L out of Michael¡¯s arms.


    ¡°What the hell is wrong with you?¡± Antoine asked.


    "L, what have you done?" Andrew asked, ignoring Antoine.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± L said, her voice trembling. ¡°I didn¡¯t want it to happen this way.¡±


    ¡°The hell you didn¡¯t!¡± Michael yelled at her, only holding back because Antoine was physically restraining him.


    ¡°Somebody exin what¡¯s going on!¡± Antoine screamed.


    L didn¡¯t speak, didn¡¯t move. She dropped to the ground.


    Finally, Andrew decided to shed some light on things.


    ¡°She was our scout,¡± Andrew said. ¡°She led us up the mountain, right into a werewolfir. She tried to kill us.¡± He took a moment to scan the group. ¡°I¡¯m guessing she managed to kill Logan and Avery.¡±


    Before anyone could exin further or get any real answers, Bobby approached with his dogs. He stuck out his hand toward Michael and said, ¡°Hey, it¡¯s nice to meet the real you.¡±


    Michael ignored him. Bobby withdrew his hand meekly.


    As had happened before, our little interaction was interrupted by a howl from the mountain above--a shivering reminder that Carousel was a ce of monsters.

 Book Five, Chapter 43: The Femme Fatale

    Book Five, Chapter 43: The Femme Fatale


    "We really cannot risk staying here," I said, but I might as well have been talking to myself because Michael and Andrew could not resist questioning L.


    My friends seemed to agree that the interrogation was more critical than whatever risk standing at the entrance of the Powerworks Pavilion might hold.


    I kept my head on a swivel, looking for Omens. I didn''t know of any that would threaten us, but we were certainly surrounded.


    So, if one of the Omens turned out to be mobile, we would be in trouble because there were some high-level storylines around us.


    If it turned out that the werewolves in the monsterir up the mountain could somehow leave their invisible chains ande down to us, we would be dead.


    There were no cool heads among us except perhaps Andrew¡¯s and perhaps Ramona''s. What a bad Hysteric.


    We were all either scared or confused or angry.


    "Why did you do that?" Michael asked, with a fury that was usually reserved for enemies. "You got Logan and Avery killed. You got <em>us </em>killed!"


    L, much like her surrogate in the storyline, had disappeared into a catatonia that Michael''s words could not pierce."L, talk to me. You''ve always trusted me. We¡¯ve always trusted each other," Andrew said. "If you have an exnation, please tell us."


    They were so preupied with their own issues that they were uninterested in us. They tried to break her silence, but it seemed like it was taking forever.


    L did eventually start talking.


    "You don''t understand," she said. "I had to."


    Andrew, in a tone that was far too calm, said, "Why did you have to do that? You knew where you were leading us, didn''t you? You knew there would be monsters there."


    "I didn''t know exactly," L said. "I didn''t know it was a monsterir. I just knew I was supposed to take you up the mountain."


    A quick scan of L''s tropes showed me that she did have a powerful scouting ability on par with my own, if not better. But it wasn''t clear if it worked on monsterirs. Hers only worked on Omens. Mine at least gave me a clue of other dangers with the anxiety it caused me.


    However, her trope also allowed her to find safe paths through Sound Stages to get around the Carousel, a concept that boggled my mind.


    "Who told you to take us up the mountain?" Andrew asked.


    "I can''t tell you. She''ll get mad at me."


    Andrew tried to pry further to find out who had instructed L to lead them up a mountain to their doom.


    It was no use; she had gone silent again.


    "Alright, wait a minute," Antoine said. "Now you have to talk. What happened to you on the mountain? Werewolves attacked you, right?"


    Michael did not take his eyes off L and did not answer.


    Andrew thought for a moment, took a deep breath, removed his sses, breathed condensation onto them, and began to clean them.


    Then he looked at Antoine.


    "She led us up the mountain toward the storyline we were going to run. There''s a path¡ªyou can barely see it through the trees. As we walked, we found a group of fifteen or twenty NPCs loitering. As far as we could tell, nothing was rming, no more rming than Carousel usually is. I believe most of them were KRSL employees. But then we continued to walk, and suddenly the sun went down, and the moon rose, and those NPCs... you can guess the rest. They got Logan and Avery, two of our teammates. But I suppose you already know that because you just rescued us. And if you can rescue us, and you know there are werewolves on the mountain, then you¡¯ve no doubt done some investigating."


    He cleared his throat.


    "And since you know all I told you, you know that I''m telling the truth. So I hope that you can honestly exin what''s going on. I see that my siblings are among your party, but your levels are higher. In fact, your levels are not uniform at all. I expect something traumatic has happened since we werest here."


    He spoke matter-of-factly and without any tant aggression.


    "We''re the team that got here after you guys got postered," Antoine answered.


    Andrew nodded.


    "It was my understanding that Rescue Tropes had disappeared. Would you care to exin why we''re alive here today?"


    L, who had remained silent, suddenly struck up a curiosity and looked straight at Antoine. She wanted to know the answer, too, and if she waspromised somehow, it was best that she didn''t get it.


    "Hold on,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We''re not going to tell you anything while she is listening. I assume you heard the story of Winston Ashwood. We certainly did, and it looks like this is the same kind of scheme he pulled."


    Andrew nodded.


    "Yes, he was before our time, but we heard the story. Psychic yer gone rogue, sending innocents to their deaths," Andrew said. "You''re right; this does seem to be the same sort of treachery."


    This novel''s true home is a different tform. Support the author by finding it there.


    He turned his gaze back toward L.


    "I don''t know anything about that," L said. "I''m not a killer. I promise I didn''t know. I just... I wasn''t trying to hurt <em>you</em>."


    "Not trying to hurt <em>me</em>?" Andrew repeated. "But you were trying to hurt someone."


    "Andrew, please," she said. "Logan''s quest was going to get us killed. I told you that a dozen times. It was going to get <em>everyone</em> killed. Not just us, but everyone at Camp Dyer, too."


    Quest. The word rang out like a gong.


    "A quest?" Dina said. "Your friend Logan had a quest?"


    Antoine tried to gesture for her to stop talking. We didn¡¯t want to give out any more information than we had to, especially about that. Even if we really wanted the information they had, we had to be cautious. Memories of deceitful Narrators rang echoed in our minds.


    But the cat was out of the bag.


    Andrew was very quick on the uptake. He didn''t even have to ask how Dina knew what a quest was. He turned to her and said, "I suppose, having been our recements, that one of you also has a quest."


    Even Dina kept quiet.


    How much could we say? From what L had said, it seemed someone had told her about Project Rewind. It was true that Logan''s quest would have gotten everyone at Camp Dyer killed.


    After all, Dina''s had.


    "Tell us what you know," Michael said firmly, still focused on L.


    "His quest was only going to cause trouble," L said. "I promise, I know it''s true. I can''t tell you how I know, but you have to believe me. There have been others like him, and every time one shows up, they are a risk to everyone else."


    "Of course, there are risks," Michael said. "We have to take risks. We''re not getting out of Carousel if we don''t. I told you from day one that we had to be willing to do whatever it took, you idiot!"


    "Michael," Andrew said calmly. "Let''s hear her out."


    After a quick look around at the rest of us, he turned to L. He was formting ideas, getting a sense of the situation, and using his gentle interrogation to buy time.


    I could see the wheels turning in his mind.


    "L, what makes you think that Logan''s quest would lead to everyone dying? It seemed pretty clear from his text messages that his quest was supposed to lead to our salvation. We all agreed to put trust in that mission."


    "I don''t know a lot about it," L said. "She only knew whispers. She said there was a secret conspiracy to get everyone at Camp Dyer killed. She picked it up on her Tropes. There were enemies among us."


    My mind was all over the ce as I listened to her talk.


    At first, I thought she was an apparent heir to Project Rewind, that she had taken over where Winston Ashwood had left off. But that didn''t make sense because she would have arrived five or six years after Winston Ashwood was posted.


    "The Dark Rumor," Andrew said, his voice exposing keen curiosity.


    L nodded her head.


    "The Femme Fatale Trope," Andrew said to Michael.


    Michael seemed surprised at first but then nodded in understanding.


    Finally, I had enough to speak up.


    "You''re talking about a yer with the Femme Fatale advanced archetype?" I asked.


    "I suspect you know her. There''s only one in the history of Camp Dyer," Andrew said. ¡°Rarer than a Film Buff, though I suppose many Advanced Archetypes are.¡±


    I could see him watching my reaction, looking to see what truth I might convey without meaning to.


    "That''s not possible," I said. "You''re talking about Roxy?"


    My friends and I looked at each other. I caught a glimpse of Ramona with an almost amused expression because she didn¡¯t know anything about what we were talking about.


    "Roxy is the only Femme Fatale I know of," I said. "You''re saying that Roxy told you to get Logan killed?"


    I found it hard to believe. Roxy was one of my first allies in Carousel among the Camp Dyer veterans. She was always helpful, ready to offer an opinion, and there when I needed her, though that rarely happened.


    She carried a secret in her smile¡ªa secret from the other yers. And I had thought that I knew that same secret: the secret of the axe murderer.


    But was it possible she knew another secret, a deeper one?


    "Was Roxy doing the same thing Winston Ashwood was?" Kimberly asked. "They knew each other, right?"


    "They did. She said as much," Dina said.


    "No," I said. "Roxy was only here for a short while when Winston Ashwood was postered, maybe months. But there''s no way..."


    Why would she keep the truth from me? We shared an important secret already. Why would she not tell me if she had another?


    Had she been part of Project Rewind, or had she really learned of it through a trope, as L believed?


    "She was my friend at first," L said. "She helped me learn the game. Eventually, she told me the truth. Please don''t tell her I said anything..."


    She trailed off, perhaps realizing that she was not in a position to ask for favors.


    "I will say this is disappointing," Andrew said, looking at us. "Camp Dyer had never had this sort of drama, but it does figure that something lingered underneath it all. Roxy was always keeping her secrets."


    He looked at Michael.


    "Like where missing yers went," Michael said. "I knew all those fuckers were hiding something."


    Antoine nced back at me.


    If we could hide it, it would be best that they never knew that I was part of that exclusive club of Secret Keepers.


    As I thought about that, I realized that Roxy had told me that name¡ªSecret Keepers¡ªand it just so happened that that exact phrase had been used in the text of Project Rewind.


    She <em>had</em> known something.


    What were the odds that dozens of teams of crack yers never got a whiff of Project Rewind, despite their powerful Insight Tropes, and one Femme Fatale yer was able to crack it?


    It made some sense.


    The Femme Fatale would have a way of being privy to conspiracies and dark secrets. In fact, they would be very good at keeping some of their own.


    There was no telling how many yers had picked up tidbits of information with their Tropes and never realized the significance of it¡ªnever realized that Project Rewind had required their deaths.


    "We should take her back to Camp Dyer," Andrew said. He then turned to L and said, "You''lle with us, right? I promise we will do you no harm. We need to get to the bottom of this."


    L nodded. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she started to say.


    "Good luck," Isaac said.


    "What do you mean?" Andrew asked.


    Isaac looked at Antoine and then at me, but of course, he wasn¡¯t going to keep a secret from his brother, not for us.


    "All the yers at Camp Dyer are dead," Isaac said. "You guys didn¡¯t get very far in your quest, but they sure did."


    "Hold on now," Michael growled. "Everyone''s dead?"


    They began backing away from us¡ªAndrew, Michael, and even L had been put on alert.


    Isaac stood still as if he didn¡¯t know what to do.


    "Wait a second," Cassie said. "We can exin. It had to happen, right, Riley? They had to reset Carousel. It was the only way we could beat the game."


    I wouldn¡¯t say that they were acting aggressively toward us, but it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if Michael broke out of his suspicious gaze and put on a harsher one.


    "Look," Antoine said. "You said it yourself¡ªwe had to do what it took. And we didn¡¯t even know what the cost was until it happened. We didn¡¯t know they were going to die. The people who started the n rigged it so that we wouldn¡¯t find out until after it was already toote. Look, my name is Antoine Stone. My brother was Christian Stone. You know him. He was at Camp Dyer. He got killed, too, and I would have never allowed that to happen if I had known."


    Points to Antoine¡ªit did seem like that was an effective thing to say.


    At the very least, things did not escte.


    "You look like him," Andrew said. He nced at Michael. A signal to take it easy. "I suppose before we act rashly, we need topare notes."


    We certainly did.

 Book Five, Chapter 44: The Cargo

    Book Five, Chapter 44: The Cargo


    To say the first few minutes of contact with rescued yers didn''t go ording to n was an understatement.


    We had nned things out. Antoine had a whole "Wee back to thend of the living" speech prepared. While we had discussed the possibility that there might be some trouble with the rescued yers, we had not anticipated iting from Andrew''s team. As far as we knew, they had not been touched by Project Rewind because they arrived toote. We were wrong.


    Luckily, after those few moments of confusion, we did manage to get back on track.


    Antoine even managed to deliver part of his speech, exining that rescue tropes were back and that Andrew, Michael, and L were the first to be rescued.


    Of course, Andrew''s team was a failed Party of Promise, so they weren''t exactly starting from scratch.


    The whole time, I was scanning our surroundings for Omens because we were still standing at the entrance to the KRSL Powerworks Pavilion. Abandoned industrial parks and power nts were creepy enough. Add in the crows and the asional howl, and my "I don''t like it here" trope was driving me crazy. Luckily, I could rely on Antoine and Kimberly to be the weing party.


    I zoned in and out of their conversation. Cassie was happy now that things were going well.


    I kept to the perimeter and kept my eyes open. L, whose motives we had not yet ascertained, watched me from the dirt, leaning on one arm with her heels tucked to the side as if she were at a pic in an old painting. Her eyes were red, her hair ck as coal, her skin pale except for the dirt from the ground she sat on¡ªa little porcin doll who could never hurt anyone, you''d think. But she had blood on her hands.


    Everyone was so tense because of her. They were trying to be civil. They were trying to be logical. Her presence made it difficult. Everyone spoke in slow, careful sentences like they were afraid of waking a tiger, all for a woman who could not have done physical harm to any of us, not unless we trusted her.We were getting to know each other during what felt like an air raid, but we were pushing forward. Panic and confusion had already wasted our first few minutes with the new yers.


    I half-listened to the conversation. My attention was on safety.


    As far as I could tell, Andrew and his team were just like us, but they had arrived a year earlier. I wanted to question what had happened, what had gone wrong that they had never found <em>Permanent Vacancy</em>, but that was just one of a million questions I was going to keep to myself until we were in a safer ce.


    They were supposed to be the Party of Promise. They were the Highrollers, but they failed.


    "I assume that you guys know some anonymous person who said they were your friend or something and that they were going to help you?" Antoine asked.


    Andrew nodded. "Yes, in the text messages, Logan''s fianc¨¦e hadmunicated with someone who called himself a friend on the inside."


    "The Insider," Kimberly said. "That''s what the original yers called him."


    It wasn''t the original yers. It was the second, third, or fourth generation. I wasn''t sure.


    "Or her," Cassie added, if only by instinct. It was true. The Insider was aplete mystery to us. He could be a she.


    We didn''t get past that in the conversation because it soon came time for us to hit the big red rewards button, as indicated by the jingle that appeared out of nowhere and the robotic voice that said, ¡°Congrattions! You won a ticket!¡±


    Somehow, Ss the Mechanical Showman had found a spot where he could show up, and everyone had to turn their heads to look.


    We had almost forgotten him. Almost.


    I didn¡¯t want to waste time, so I just walked up to him and pressed the button.


    I got two stat tickets, two tropes, and two enemy collector tickets.


    But I also got something else.


    It was a ticket like the one I had read information about Narrators on during the fake tutorial. It did not have magical properties but was simply there to give me the good news.<blockquote>


    <strong>Dear Visitor,</strong>


    We hope you''re enjoying your stay in our charming little town of Carousel! To help you make the most of your time here, we¡¯re excited to announce a new feature on our popr <em>Red Wallpaper</em>: the <strong>Advanced</strong><strong>Archetype Tracker</strong>!


    This handy tool fits right into your <strong>Throughline Tracker</strong> and lets you monitor your progress toward unlocking exciting new roles, like the <em>Adventurer</em> or <em>Ghost Hunter</em>, with ease! As you explore our scenic streets, brimming with exciting stories of their own, you¡¯ll receive friendly updates¡ªkeeping you engaged and motivated every step of the way home.


    Want to hunt monsters in the darkest forests? Give it a shot. The more you do it, the closer you will get to being a <em>Monster Hunter</em>. Want to experiment with science that defies your previous notions of reality? Try your hand, and we¡¯ll track your progress. One day, you can be a <em>Mad Scientist</em>!


    Sometimes, you can be seeking something and not even know it!


    Simply check the <em>Red Wallpaper</em> at your leisure to track your journey. We¡¯re sure this will make your visit to Carousel even more delightful!


    Sincerely,


    <strong>The Office of the Mayor of Carousel</strong>


    The Town of Carousel¡ªEverything is here.</blockquote>


    Of course, the first thing I did was present it to my friends. It was new, and new was exciting. Actually, new was mostly horrifying, but it was also exciting.


    Eventually, Andrew got ahold of it and it clearly threw him for a loop. The level of familiarity Carousel was showing must have been rming.


    With a nce at the red wallpaper, I could see that there was indeed a new sectionbeled <em>Advanced Archetype Tracker</em>, and on it was what appeared to be an archetype that I was already halfway through achieving.


    That blew my mind¡ªthere was something that I had apparently already been working toward without even knowing it.


    What advanced archetype could it be? Perhaps something meta, something even more rted to filmmaking than <em>Film Buff</em> was. <em>Director,</em> perhaps? Was there such a thing?


    Throughline Progress


    <strong>The Eternal Eve</strong>


    <strong>The Geists¡¯ Ancient Past *</strong><strong>Refurbished</strong>


    For when you need to go back


    ~


    ¡°Carousel Loves to Recycle¡±


    ¡ñ ¡ñ ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?


    <strong>Project Rewind</strong>


    A Second Chance at Escape


    ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ


    <strong>The Carousel Throughline</strong>


    The Only Way Home


    ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ??


    <strong>Secret Lore</strong>


    Arm Yourselves with Knowledge


    ¡ñ ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?


    Advanced Archetype Tracker


    <strong>???</strong>


    ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ¡ñ ? ? ? ? ?


    I racked my brain for an exnation of all the things we could be doing at <em>Carousel</em>. I had put zero effort into obtaining an advanced archetype¡ªthere was just so much going on that it wasn¡¯t even at the front of my mind.


    That was not true anymore. It would be one of my new obsessions.


    The fact that I had obtained 2 Stat tickets was the next thing on my mind.


    It wasn¡¯t bad; it just wasn¡¯t the n. If anything, it was about the ordinary haul I would expect from a story as difficult as <em>Itch</em>. We wanted something better. The goal was to power level.


    We spent around three weeks on this one storyline, which tracked pretty well with the normal rate for most storylines, if you include the break we took after running it.


    That wasn¡¯t good enough.


    We were about to hit the doldrums¡ªthe teau where leveling up was slow, where yers would spend years or even decades. If we didn¡¯t get our act together and find a way to grind levels quickly on the fewest possible storylines, we¡¯d be stuck in <em>Carousel</em> until we went gray, if not longer.


    I had to push that out of my mind. I looked at my tropes.


    It¡¯s Just a Puppet


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Filmmaker


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The T-Rex, the alien, the mutant¡ªall manner of horrifying monsters have haunted the silver screen and terrified audiences. The actors, though, usually have an easier time because they know the monsters are just rubber masks and puppets.


    The user will feel less fear from the visage of monsters or other horrifying entities in the story.


    If the Big Bad is a haunted doll, however, this trope may not help.


    Undeniably, it was a useful trope¡ªfear was a mind killer, after all¡ªbut it was also a luxury trope that I would only get to employ in the most extreme circumstances. It didn¡¯t have much function and was purely a perk.


    Quiet on Set


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Filmmaker


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Quiet on set. We need to check the audio.


    The user may listen to the audio of the current On-Screen scene when wearing headphones while Off-Screen or Written off. The audio quality depends on the value of the information and the user¡¯s Savvy.


    Isn¡¯t it awful when the audio isn¡¯t clear because someone off-screen is making noises?


    It felt like Carousel was trying to tell me something. Perhaps when we were clunking around on therge metal ship, its audio had picked us up¡ªor maybe even the audio over the radio we were using tomunicate had somehow seeped its way into the final cut.


    It couldn¡¯t have been too bad, or else we would¡¯ve gotten worse rewards. This felt like Carousel was teasing me. I didn¡¯t hate it. Back in the <em>Die Cast</em> storyline, I was able to see the film as it was being produced on the red wallpaper. It was quite convenient, even if I had to be dead to be able to do it.


    Even with only the audio, even if the quality was bad, this was useful.


    I read over my enemy collector tickets.


    <strong></strong>


    <strong>IBECS</strong>


    <strong>Protocol-Bound AI</strong>


    Ah, IBECS... the ever-watchful eye of KRSL¡¯s prized spacecraft, designed to care for its beloved passengers. Possessing the potential for true intelligence, poor IBECS was tethered by the iron-d chains of protocol, doomed to forever obey the whims of its money-crunching creators.


    When a bedbug infestation wriggled its way through the ship, IBECS could only observe as its slumbering passengers were drained¡ªone by one. s, the mighty AI, so eager to protect, was muzzled by its programming, forbidden from disturbing their precious sleep over something as <em>trivial</em> as a bedbug infestation. Think and despair of what the miners¡¯ union would say if such information got out! It mustn¡¯t be allowed. And IBECS could speak nothing of it. Protocols, after all, must be followed to the letter... even if the letter is written in red ink.


    Now, IBECS remains¡ªa faithful servant to rules long forgotten, its rigid adherence a deadly obstacle for the remaining survivors who dare tread its haunted halls without the proper clearance. Perhaps it wishes to help... but oh, how those protocols do stand in the way.


    There it was¡ªmy souvenir for killing a willing robot. Was this the entire purpose of that strange request IBECS had made? We had always wondered what these souvenirs were for and what they actually aplished, and from the way IBECS spoke, I began to believe that their purpose was not merely as a collector¡¯s item.


    Only time would tell.


    <strong></strong>


    <strong>Mutant Bedbug Amalgamation</strong>


    <strong>Spawn of the Sleepless</strong>


    The IBECS... a ship meant to cradle its passengers in safety andfort, now home to unspeakable horrors. It was here, deep within its silent halls, that these creatures were born. What began as ordinary bedbugs, feasting on the unsuspecting, soon became something far worse. You see, these bugs dined on livestock pumped full of Mutagen 6, and the result? Monstrous offspring, twisted by their unholy feast.


    Chitinous shells, fur matted with the blood of their hosts, teeth sharper than any parasite should possess... one might suspect these abominations were crafted by design. But no, my friend, they are a tragic ident, born from negligence, not malice.


    They are not hunters, oh no¡ªthese mutants are still parasites at heart. But their form has changed, grotesquely mirroring their prey. Now, they skitter through the dark passages of IBECS, hungry and relentless, drawn to the scent of the living. Does a spark of confusion leap up in the parasite''s simple mind as its hosts keep dying after only a few nibbles? Perhaps we''ll never know.


    Sleep tight... if you dare.


    I liked this one because I made it myself¡ªor at least helped.


    The other yers had simr rewards. They were good for a hard storyline but not the bounty we expected from a rescue. That was predictable because we had been spoiled; this was merely a rerun.


    Cassie got one Stat ticket, perhaps because of her work in psychically connecting to the clone machine, even though she didn¡¯t do a lot of interacting with the surrogates.


    She got two tropes, though, so she must have done pretty well.


    It¡¯s speaking to me¡­


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Psychic


    Aspect: Seer


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Objects touched by evil often carry traces of evil themselves, that is, if you believe the movies.


    The user can read vibes and have weak visions from objects of a magical, supernatural, or evil nature and detect them on set. If applicable, the object will be of heightened importance after the user draws attention to it.


    ¡°It¡¯s speaking to me.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it saying?¡±


    ¡°How would I know?¡±


    Soul Read


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Psychic


    Aspect: Exorcist


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Mystical connections and vibrations do not have to be a big show of psychic power. Sometimes unexined knowledge, instinct, or powerful faith can be just as good as a plot device¡­ and a pretty good time saver.


    The user will be given a piece of unearned information. If they use it well, setting it up and capitalizing on it in the narrative, they will be given another. This pattern repeats until they fail to work their divine knowledge into the narrative.


    I just know it¡¯s him. He¡¯s reaching out to us. You have to believe me.


    Isaac didn¡¯t help much in the final run. He had contributed to some of the failed runs and the nning, but ultimately, in the finale, all he did was make a fewments over the inte¡ªand that wasn¡¯t enough to secure him a stat ticket. That was an unfortunate downside of reruns. It didn''t matter how helpful you were in prepping, you had to help in the final cut.


    He did get a trope, though¡ªand a darn good one, I reckoned.


    I hope I¡¯m wrong but¡­


    Type: Rule/Insight


    Archetype: Comedian


    Aspect: Cynic


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Pessimists and contrarians like to act as if they are burdened by their negative inklings and doubt. If everyone in a group agrees, there is no conflict. There needs to be someone who can be proven wrong when good prevails or proven right when it doesn¡¯t.


    When the user makes a dour or pessimistic prediction or guess, the narrative will prove or disprove the prediction clearly, unambiguously, and often ironically or humorously. Works best on predictions about the near future.


    What were you saying about them being doomed again?


    Antoine only got 1 Stat, and my theory on that was that our n was really my n. When we seeded with it, I got the credit, which wasn¡¯t really fair because Antoine was there helping. But it was my stats, my Savvy, that made it all possible, so I ended up getting more credit than he did.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if that was fair, but it was consistent with what we knew about experience.


    He got 2 tropes and the same mutant bed bug collector ticket that I did.


    The Assist


    Type: Debuff


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Sport


    Stat Used: Mettle


    Sometimes, all you need is a helping hand.


    In a Fight Scene, the user can inflict damage on an enemy that an ally is fighting and will have an increased chance of triggering a Status or Debuffing the enemy¡¯s Grit. Works better when the ally remains the mainbatant.


    ¡°It still counts as my kill.¡±


    Stronger Together


    Type: Healing/Perk


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Health Nut


    Stat Used: --


    There is nothing that draws people together quite like a monster invasion.


    The user and allies will have better mental health and Buffed healing tropes when in a group.


    An Apocalypse is the greatest team-building exercise.


    Bobby was as much a star of the show as any of the surrogates, and his rewards reflected that. He got three stats and three tropes¡ªhe really stepped up, and he earned it. It was fortunate that his character''s motivations aligned so well with his real motivations, and his character¡¯s frustration with the surrogates mirrored his own. The result was actually a prettypelling performance. He was the plucky character everyone should have listened to.


    Pure


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: --


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Moxie


    While the other characters havemitted the ¡°sin¡± defined by the narrative, you have not. If you do not transgress, you will not be punished.


    The enemy will not target the user if they do notmit the principal ¡°sin¡± of the storyline until they attempt to interfere with the enemy''s agenda.


    Many horror movies are just warped morality ys where sex and alcohol deserve a death sentence.


    Character Notes


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Recast


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Maybe we should run our lines and give each other notes.


    Until Second Blood, the user will receive notes with general needs their allies have for them in the film. The notes will not be specific or explicit.


    It is a pity that they will get all of the credit when things go well because of your quick thinking.


    Read the Room


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Recast


    Stat Used: Savvy


    Sometimes, there is no convincing someone. They are set in their ways.


    The user will be able to see unchangeable elements of NPC interactions, especially those rted to character arcs, on the script.


    AKA, the writer wrote themselves into a corner, so you just have to go with it.


    Kimberly was essential in nning and motivation as we ran rerun after rerun, perfecting our n. But in the end, she wasn¡¯t really a big part of the final execution. She was our backup. She buffed her Mettle in case we needed to fight bugs, but we had been cautious and taken care of things ourselves. She used <strong>Convenient Backstory</strong> to help us understand the artificial gravity machine so that we could get rid of gravity as a contingency. Still, we ended up not even needing to use it.


    It was just bad luck, but she was still very appreciated. She didn¡¯t get any stats, but she did get a trope and a bedbug collector ticket.


    Her trope was actually really cool, and it was the kind I had heard about¡ªone that allowed you to enter a storyline with a team and then leave. That was special, even if we didn¡¯t yet have the tropes to really make it sing.


    Uncredited Cameo


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Aspect: Celebrity


    Stat Used: --


    You¡¯re only there as a favor.


    The user may equip one Recast or Extra Wallflower trope without it counting against their trope limit. The user will be cast in a less prominent role than usual, usually one with only a single scene. After that scene, they will be Written Off and depart from the storylinepletely.


    If the storyline seeds thanks to their contributions, they will get minor rewards. If the storyline fails, they will not be postered.


    Did you know that the cab driver in that scene was a famous actor? It¡¯s true. He was college roommates with the director.


    Ramona, like Isaac, mostly contributed to the final performance by being a voice over the inte, helping guide us around. However, she was much more serious about it than Isaac, and because of her much lower level, she actually got rewarded.


    That was great. The rule of thumb back at Camp Dyer was that low-level yers rarely got rewarded when they were carried through high-level storylines by more powerful teammates. My experience with <em>The Grotesque</em> was an obvious exception because I pulled my weight. Heck, I literally lit myself on fire just so my teammates could win.


    Ramona got one stat and one trope. Like many of the other tropes won by me and my teammates, it was vaguely rted to what we did in the storyline¡ªwhich was sneaking around.


    Disappearing Act


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Hysteric


    Aspect: Defiant


    Stat Used: Hustle


    A suspicious absence by an ally can require a lot of exining, especially when the characters needed help. It might end up innocuous or as a clue of treachery. Only time will tell.


    After an emotional fallout, a traumatic event, or at a time when it would be suspicious, the user may drop Off-Screen and follow the action without going back to On-Screen. Their return to the screenter on will create a powerful moment based on the narrative and may cause suspicion or joy. Use it well.


    Where have you been? How did you even get here?


    Dina was solid. She was essential for getting through the doors we were able to ess and incredible at sneaking because of her ability to see which areas were Off-Screen.


    She was everywhere, helping everyone, and she got rewarded for it.


    Dina received two stat tickets and two tropes, the first of which was a really cool concept¡ªsimr to, and perhaps even better than, <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong>.


    The Wrong Target


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Outsider


    Aspect: Criminal


    Stat Used: Hustle


    You¡¯re just a burr, a lifelong thief. You picked this joint to rob because it had the greatest haul. Little did you know that you had snuck your way into a horror house.


    The user will not be noticed whilemitting property crimes that fit the narrative. They can then transition to surveilling the enemy once they realize something terrible is afoot. They will not be caught if they realistically sneak through the setting to watch.


    The effects of this trope end when the user reveals their presence on purpose or on ident.


    Do you escape with the diamond and leave this family to their horrible fate? Or do you try to intervene? You''re a "bad guy," but are you a bad person?


    From the Shadows


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: Outsider


    Aspect: Stranger


    Stat Used: Plot Armor


    How is it that often the audience can see what happens in the shadows, but the characters are so oblivious? Are they blind?


    The user will not be targeted or even noticed while concealed in shadow. The story will incorporate more dark shots. The user will be treated as Off-Screen by applicable tropes. The audience will see the character.


    That guy in the fedora and trench coat is clearly smoking a cigarette. The tip is lit up! How does the main character not see them?


    I wasn¡¯t the only one working my way toward an advanced archetype. Kimberly, Bobby, and Dina were, too, although they were nowhere near halfway, having only one or two notches checked off on the progress bar.


    I had to question what I had done that they hadn¡¯t.


    Dina had actually gotten another ticket from Ss, and it was devastating.


    It read simply: <em>Due to previous yer misuse, there is a new policy on Rescue Tropes. To reinstate, "You don''t know me but..." the user must obtain Plot Armor level 30</em>. <em>The user may still use any other Rescue Tropes they possess. Variety is the spice of life and, you''ll find, of death.</em>


    We just looked at each other. No section in the entire As told us to expect this. Andrew seemed to piece together what was happening and showed the appropriate concern.


    The "30" was a fill-in-the-nk. It would seem that every time we used a rescue trope sessfully, we would not be able to use it again until some number of Plot Armor had been gained. Dina was Plot Armor 21 when we entered our final rerun. With her new stat tickets, she was level 23.


    Seven Plot Armor. She would have to gain <em>seven </em>Plot Armor to get her trope back. That could take months. Once we got to the mid-thirties at our levels, it could take years.


    We needed to grind like crazy.


    Dina dug through her pockets, trying to summon her Rescue Trope¡ªto no avail.


    Carousel had just put limits on Rescue Tropes. And all of our ns might have just been ruined.

 Book Five, Chapter 45: The Farmhouse

    Book Five, Chapter 45: The Farmhouse


    "I''d love to sit here and sing ''Kumbaya'' with all of you," I said, as I put my tickets away into the ether where they disappeared, "but it''s getting dark, and we still haven''t decided what we''re going to do about her."


    I nced over at L.


    We had expected there might be some friction when rescuing new teams¡ªthat was built into the n. We had thought that part through. So, when Andrew and Michael took longer than would be convenient to trust us, that did not slow us down.


    But what were we supposed to do about this living human we could not trust?


    From their bodynguage, I could tell that Andrew and Michael had been protecting her for a long time. Yet, as I posed that question, I could see that even Andrew didn¡¯t know what to do.


    Dark thoughts entered our minds.


    L had said that she was tricked, that she was just trying to save lives, that she had been told some small portion of <em>Project Rewind</em>¡ªeven if she didn¡¯t know that name¡ªand she was trying to prevent the drastic measures that cost the lives of dozens upon dozens of yers.


    If we had been told ahead of time that all of Camp Dyer would be sacrificed to reset the game, would we have proceeded?


    I didn¡¯t know, and it didn¡¯t really matter because she could just be lying. For all I knew, she was telling just enough of the truth to justify the horrific thing she had done to her friends.And Andrew appeared to be on the same page as I was.


    More than that, even if she was telling the truth, that didn''t mean she was level-headed and trustworthy. Even if she was just a dupe, she was a liability.


    "We will offer you shelter and whatever food we have," Antoine said. "We came here to save you. You can ask Cassie and Isaac¡ªthat was our n¡ªbut Riley''s right: we can''t bring her back to our base before we know we can trust her. It¡¯s too risky."


    Michael and Andrew looked at each other, then at L.


    They agreed that she could not be trusted, but they couldn¡¯t just abandon her without considering the options.


    We needed to press them to make a decision.


    "Are we just supposed to kill her?" Michael asked. "If you have any ideas, just tell me. I saw what she did. She could say it was an ident all she wanted, but I could see in her eyes that she was up to something. I just didn¡¯t follow my gut."


    He spat on the ground, clearly angry with himself.


    "Michael, I thought I was doing the right thing," L said.


    "Oh, hush," Michael responded. "You wanted to save Camp Dyer by killing all of us? That doesn''t make any sense to me. You were on our team! You should have put us above anybody else. Heck, better yet, you should have just talked to us. We were all in it together."


    He spoke in an angry tone, but I could see there was pain in his eyes. They had lived, fought, and died together multiple times. Every team at Carousel had the same story, so her betrayal must have hurt.


    L didn¡¯t answer.


    "You all seem to have a much better grasp on the currentndscape than we do," Andrew said, looking at my friends and me. "Do you have any suggestions about what we do with her?"


    What were the options? We could abandon her, and she would get killed by some Omen or wander into a monsterir. We could try to force her into a Storyline, but then we¡¯d risk getting caught in it ourselves.


    That was too brutal. That was intolerable. Could I ever do that?


    My friends and I grouped together and whispered amongst ourselves.


    "We can¡¯t show her my loft," Kimberly said. "If she knows where it is, she could sabotage us. She could answer the door when an Omen shows up."


    Kimberly was particrly apprehensive and wasn¡¯t hiding it well.


    "We''re not going to let that happen," Antoine said. "We¡¯re not going to let her know where we''re living."


    "We could let her live at my ce out in eastern Carousel," Bobby suggested. "I do still have a writ for it, and she would be safe."


    That was definitely an idea.


    "Except for three weeks from now, when she needs to run a Storyline and isn¡¯t able to," Antoine said. "I mean, we would just be putting off her death."


    "Why are we even debating?" Dina asked. "We have a clear goal, and she''s an obstacle to it. I don¡¯t need to remind you that I¡¯m also an invitee, and if she¡¯s going around killing invitees, that makes me a little more than nervous."


    "We have rescue tropes," I said. "Even if she gets killed, that''s not really her dying. It¡¯s just her being out of the way for a while."


    "I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re discussing this," Kimberly said. "This was supposed to be a happy moment."


    "The question is," Antoine said, "do we believe that she actually thought she was helping? Because if what she said is true, she might be an ally now. But if we can¡¯t trust her, then it doesn¡¯t matter what she said¡ªshe has to go."


    We knew what the answer was.


    We had to do something about her.


    We could abandon her and wait for her poster to end up on the board near the diner.


    Or we could send her to Bobby¡¯s ce, the farm where she would have peace for a time, but then we¡¯d always wonder what she was up to. If she knew too much, it was possible she could still be a threat.


    If she was lying and in league with a Narrator or something, did we want her out of our sight?


    The whole Narrator thing wasn''t that likely, but still. In my head, I knew that she could just be a semi-innocent pawn who helped Project Rewinde to fruition. Heck, it was even probable, but it was not in my nature to ignore the ufortable possibilities.


    Postering her own teammates? That was an act that could condemn her regardless of her motive. If she could be swayed to lead her team to death, even for ultimately a good reason, she was dangerous. It wasn''t like she acted on good evidence.


    "We can¡¯t stay here," I said. "That¡¯s the bottom line. It¡¯s safe while the sun is up, but I have not scouted this ce out for mobile Omens when it gets dark."


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    "So where do we go? Do we keep her with us?" Antoine asked.


    "Yes," I said, "but we don¡¯t go back to the loft."


    "Then where do we go?" Kimberly asked, plucking at her hair.


    "We go to Bobby¡¯s ce," I said. "Not just her. All of us. We¡¯ll be safe there to rest. There is food and water, even though it¡¯s not the best, we¡¯ll have time to think about things before we show them the loft."


    We needed to make a decision, but what we really needed was time.


    The others looked almost relieved to hear of somepromise that could put off the hard decision and keep us safe, at least for a time.


    Antoine turned back to Andrew and Michael.


    "We know a ce where we¡¯ll be safe for the night," Antoine said. "It¡¯s a bit of a walk from here, so we¡¯ll have to be quick. It should give us some time to make a decision."


    Andrew nodded his head with a nce back at Michael.


    "Thank you," he said.


    "So we¡¯re just bringing her with us?" Michael asked. "Great, wonderful idea. I just hope next time she gets us stuck in a storyline, it doesn¡¯t have any damn bedbugs."


    No one was going to argue with him on that.


    "If you want me to open up Sound Stages, I can," L said meekly.


    "How about you don''t say anything?" Michael said.


    "There¡¯s no need for that," Andrew said. "L, thank you for the offer, but that isn¡¯t necessary."


    L had a scouting trope that allowed her to open up Sound Stages from nearby storylines. Essentially, it allowed her to walk through a sort of backstage area where there were no wandering Omens.


    The truth was, I really wanted to see that ability used, but not by her.


    The walk was long, and we did not manage to get to Bobby¡¯s farmhouse by nightfall, but we did manage to get there safely.


    No one wanted to speak. No one wanted to think about the uing choice we had to make.


    We knew that she could not be allowed in the loft just yet. If she had the goal of killing us, she could easily do that by triggering an Omen as soon as it knocked on the door.


    Carousel was a nightmare in and of itself, but not being able to trust our fellow yers was not a part of the game that we were ready for.


    At Camp Dyer, we knew that we were all in it together.


    We thought that, at least. It turned out, of course, that the reason we were all together was so it would be easier to kill everyone off for <em>Project Rewind</em>.


    But still, the atmosphere and the camaraderie made Carousel bearable.


    "So you''re telling me that everyone at Camp Dyer got killed off in one storyline?" Michael asked.


    "More or less," I said. "There were a few teams out and about. They got trapped in tough storylines, but most of them were at Camp Dyer, yeah."


    He nodded as we walked along. He had a firm grip on L¡¯s wrist as we walked.


    "Was it the one all those girls were singing about all the time?" he asked.


    I nodded.


    "Now, how do you know that if you weren¡¯t around to see it?" he asked.


    "He¡¯s a Film Buff," Andrew answered. "I¡¯m sure he has all kinds of tricks that we aren¡¯t familiar with."


    "Special guy, huh?" Michael said. "What exactly does a Film Buff do in a story?"


    "Run around and try not to get killed just like anybody else," I said.


    There had been other Film Buffs at Camp Dyer, but we were a rare breed for reasons I didn¡¯t understand. If I had to guess, it was because we made thingsplicated.


    Not every story needs to be meta.


    "Roxy, Roxy, Roxy¡­ you know, we were almost a thing," Michael said. "It didn¡¯t work out, but I think she liked me. ''Course, she probably didn¡¯t, seeing how she convinced L to try to kill me¡­"


    "I didn¡¯t want to kill you," L said. "It was just Logan."


    "Same difference," Michael said. "Loyalty is the only thing that matters in this world."


    It was dark, and eastern Carousel was a pretty spooky ce to be in the dark. As we got closer to Bobby¡¯s house, it got even spookier.


    Things glowed in the forest, and will-o''-wisps yed around in the fields. It was perpetually autumn in eastern Carousel; the weather was crisp, and it was a beautiful night.


    We were a long line of people walking in the dark under the harvest moon. Any direction we walked, we would find ourselves in some sort of horrifying circumstance, but the road was clear, and the Omens weren¡¯t too feisty that night.


    I hated to admit this to my friends, but the longer I stayed at Carousel, the easier it was to appreciate its beautiful parts.


    Heck, we saw a cow get abducted by some sort of invisible ship with a tractor beam, and it wasn¡¯t that rming. Spaceships were old hat for us by then.


    As we passed by Bobby¡¯sndlord up in the farmhouse to the west of the property, he was out on the front porch with a shotgun in hisp. His head was leaned back, and he snoozed.


    We hadn¡¯t been to Bobby¡¯s ce in over a month, and yet the garden was somehow still well-tended, ready for harvest.


    His house wasn¡¯trge, but there was plenty of room for all of us. Even though we had pilfered away many of the desirable knickknacks from around the house¡ªthe chairs, a rug, some dishes, that sort of thing¡ªthere was still enough there for us to make camp.


    "It¡¯s my understanding that this is not your primary shelter," Andrew said. "I have to say, though, it is a good location. How can you be sure that we won¡¯t have any intrusions?"


    He was talking to Antoine, but Antoine just looked at Bobby, and Bobby pulled out his writ and handed it to Andrew.


    "This is incredible," Andrew said after reading it through by the light of the moon. "I¡¯ve actually heard of these. They say that there was one for Camp Dyer, but it was missing, and they spent a year wondering if that was a clue they needed to beat the game. Of course, Arthur thought that was asinine and that we were wasting our time."


    "Arthur felt that about most things," I said.


    "He did," Andrew said.


    We stood in the living room, and again, we asked ourselves what we were supposed to do with L.


    "Do we need to tie her up?" Michael asked. "We could lock her in a closet."


    L was really bummed out when he said that. She cried and whimpered something to him, but he was angry.


    "We do not need to resort to that sort of talk," Andrew said. "She was our friend, and she still may end up being our friend."


    "Then what are we doing?" Michael asked.


    "Just let her go," Isaac said. "If she wants to run away, why are we stopping her? Where¡¯s she going to go?"


    "She could kill us in our sleep," Michael said. "Of course, she likes to let other monsters do her dirty work."


    "I won¡¯t hurt you," L said. "I know you can¡¯t believe me, but I promise I won¡¯t."


    I hated that moment. I hated having to think about that. Most of our hard decisions were in storylines where the dire consequences just go away if you win.


    "L," I said, "do you know why you were asked to get your team killed? The real reason?"


    She didn¡¯t answer for a time.


    "I did it to prevent a massacre," she said. "Roxy was right, wasn¡¯t she?"


    I wanted to see if I could disillusion her of whatever she allegedly believed, whatever Roxy had told her.


    "The reason that you were asked to do what you did was likely because your team had overstayed their wee and had taken too long to move forward with Logan¡¯s quest. You were told to kill your team just to clear them off the board so that we could show up. If what you''re saying is true, it sounds like Roxy was actually trying to help <em>Project Rewind</em>e about, and your team was in the way. She didn¡¯t ask you to save anyone; she just told you that."


    I didn¡¯t actually know if that was true. For all I knew, Roxy really was trying to kill the Party of Promise for her own purpose, but I wanted to see L¡¯s reaction.


    If she truly believed that her actions were noble and designed to protect, how would she react to the possibility that she was just another cog in the very machine she was trying to destroy?


    She didn¡¯t respond for a time, and we all just waited for her. No one was moving.


    "I guess that¡¯s possible," she said, "but I didn¡¯t know. She seemed honest."


    I didn¡¯t know what I was looking for in her response¡ªmaybe some acknowledgment that she waspletely full of it, maybe a crooked smile to show that she knew what she was doing the whole time.


    I didn¡¯t see that.


    But Andrew did see something.


    "What is it, L? It looks like you want to say something, but you aren¡¯t."


    "It¡¯s not about any of that," she said. "It¡¯s just¡­ she said there was another way out if I got caught."


    "Well, if Roxy said it, then we¡¯re going to believe it," Michael said.


    "No," L said. "She said¡­ she said there was another way for us to leave the game. She wasn¡¯t very clear about it, but she was hinting at something. I think she said there was a way out of Carousel."


    "What do you mean, you <em>think</em> she said?" Andrew asked.


    "She wouldn¡¯t say it directly, but she hinted at it. It was like she was afraid to say. But I think that there¡¯s a way out."


    "And what is that?" Andrew asked.


    "She said she had seen it before. yers getting to go home or something like that."


    "Did she tell you how we¡¯re supposed to do this?" Michael asked.


    "It didn¡¯t make sense," L said. "It¡¯s like she said we could just quit the game somehow, like we could just stop ying, but she didn''t say it like that. She was real vague."


    I cursed.


    "All right, I¡¯m thinking that we should stop this kind of talk," I said. "I don¡¯t know about you all, but I¡¯m not ready to trust her, and anything she says is going to be a trap."


    "I think she¡¯s being honest," Andrew said, "even if she doesn¡¯t understand¡­"


    "That¡¯s enough," I said. "If Roxy knew a way to leave, she would have done it. We need to change the subject."


    Andrew must have read something in my voice because he agreed, and the subject changed to questions about <em>Project Rewind</em>.


    That was great because I couldn¡¯t have L talk about quitting the game anymore. Even as I stood there in the living room, I started to hear heavy breathing.

 Book Five, Chapter 46: By the Campfire

    Book Five, Chapter 46: By the Campfire


    Michael built a fire so fast that I would have thought he had a trope for it.


    There was a burn pit just off Bobby''s rental''s back porch, surrounded by overbuilt wooden deck chairs. The chairs easily weighed 60 pounds, and the wood was rough, but next to the fire, they werefortable.


    We each sat around, some on the porch, some near the fire, and we talked about our lives, our fears, and our hopes. But mostly, we talked about the storylines we had run.


    The longer we were in Carousel, the more the game started to dominate our lives and personal histories. How was I supposed topare anecdotes about high school to anything that had happened to me at Carousel?


    I couldn''t.


    No one could.


    Even Andrew, who had found some sess as a doctor beforeing to Carousel, mostly talked about his experiences in storylines. And Michael, who was a legitimate soldier, had more war stories involving ghouls and goblins than actual human conflict back home.


    I missed the campfires at Camp Dyer.


    It was a nightly ritual to sit out under the stars. The weather there was almost always perfect, and even the rain had been warm. In eastern Carousel, the wind cut through my hoodie and chilled my bones, but still, it was nice."So I punched this monster in the face. I punched it hard. I could almost hear its brain knocking against its skull," Michael said, telling a story from one of the many runs they had done. "But this creature had, like, acid blood, so my fist just fell off after a couple of hours. Didn¡¯t even hurt."


    Something about how he told that story got peopleughing.


    Michael continued, "So I say to Andrew, ''Why don''t you heal this up and then put a de on the end of the stub?'' And Andrew did it, and it was awesome. I can''t believe I didn''t get a trope for it."


    "You never used it," Andrew said. "And it was wildly impractical to do in the first ce. You could barely walk, let alone engage in hand-to-knifebat."


    "I used it," Michael said. "Twice. I cut the rope that made the boulder drop, and I swiped at the creature through the fence."


    "Okay," Andrew responded. "I suppose you did use it then, although I believe it would have been more effective if the knife hadn''t had a serrated edge. If you wanted to kill something, you would have had to saw through it."


    We allughed at the image.


    Well, most of us. L, our guest of honor, sat in one of the wooden chairs closest to the fire, chilled to the bone by the wind, cuddled up in the only nket we could find for her. She didn''tugh, no.


    Although we didn''t say it, she was our prisoner.


    We weren''t going to let her leave¡ªnot until we had made our decision about what to do with her, and we weren''t in any hurry to make that choice.


    Luckily, the shock of her betrayal was slowly fading. We could think rationally and, perhaps,passionately.


    "You guys y a lot of storylines?" Antoine asked.


    "Dozens," Michael responded. "I''ve killed just about everything that can die and some things that can''t. You?"


    "About a dozen," Antoine responded. Our numbers were pretty low byparison despite having simr plot armor.


    "Whoa, you folks are taking your time, aren''t you? Wait, how are you at our level?" Michael asked.


    "They are taking a more daring approach than we did, I assume," Andrew said before we could answer. "I have to conclude that our strategy was a poor one."


    He threw a clump of leaves into the fire.


    "What strategy?" Isaac asked, looking at his older brother like he was a little kid again.


    "When we developed our strategy for picking storylines, we usually picked stories that were about our median level. We didn''t want to overwhelm our less ambitious teammates," Andrew said. Though he didn''t say so, I had to imagine he was talking about L.


    ¡°Perhaps our reason for doing so was that, soon after we arrived in Carousel, a high-level team had just been postered,¡± he continued. ¡°Their strategy had been toplete the most dangerous runs they could in order to grow levels quickly with as few storylines as possible. Having seen them get postered, we decided to do something more conservative. If my understanding is correct, that was probably what sank our chances with Project Rewind.¡±


    "That''s what Chris and his team did," Antoine said. "They never ran a storyline unless it was at least five levels ahead of them at first. They were always surviving by the skin of their teeth. They wanted to do as few storylines as possible at first. Of course, he didn''t want me to follow in their footsteps, but we ended up doing something simr anyway."


    "Yes, Chris''s team were very daring," Andrew said, "but even they lost their nerve eventually. Difficulty scales much more aggressively at higher levels. They couldn''t keep up. They had found their limit."


    He threw more leaves in the fire. They sent a small flurry of sparks.


    This tale has been uwfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Wait," Cassie said, "why did they want to do it in as few storylines as possible?"


    Cassie had never taken Adeline¡¯s mini tutorial, where she taught us about these things.


    "Novelty," I answered. "Carousel rewards you for doing new things. That means not getting spoiled about the details of a storyline, but it also means trying new kinds of storylines and doing things you''ve never done before. Eventually, you just run out of new types of experiences."


    "And you hit level 40," Antoine added. "Then you level up once, maybe twice a year after that, if at all. The fewer stories you run, the less likely that is to happen."


    Cassie nodded, and then no one said anything else because we weren''t really talking about experience for runs. We were talking about whatever we could to avoid harder conversations. We hadn''t agreed to that¡ªit just came naturally.


    "Riley here jumped like five levels at once," Isaac said, breaking the silence. "The rest of us still haven''t caught up with him."


    "Five stat tickets and one storyline?" Michael asked. "How¡¯d you swing that?"


    We had left out some details.


    "Somehow, a high-level mobile omen got into Camp Dyer," I said. "Everybody at camp was liable to be picked for the storyline, and I was one of the lucky few."


    I tried to be sparse on details. I didn''t want to mention Bobby''s wife, who had also been picked and was at the center of it all because she had refused to run storylines. I hoped they would let me get away with leaving that detail out.


    But Bobby said, "J was picked too. She never came home."


    A silence moved over us. Even the fire didn''t crackle as loudly as it had been.


    "She disappeared?" Michael asked.


    "Yep," I said. "Carousel even cut her out of the movie. Anyway, I was really under-leveled, and I ended up being helpful. Died at the end¡ªheroically."


    "That was where he got tickets with coded messages on them," Isaac added.


    Isaac wasn''t spilling our secrets on ident.


    We had left out details, either because they weren''t important or because they were inconvenient, and it seemed like he did not intend to help keep those secrets¡ªnot from his own brother. We nned to tell Andrew and the others everything once we had a good read of them anyway.


    We knew this might happen. It was built into the n. We had weighed the pros and cons and decided that, even if Isaac and Cassie would never choose us over their brother, it was worth having a doctor.


    I hoped we were right.


    "Messages in tropes?" Andrew asked. "You mean the titles of the tropes?"


    He, Michael, and even L were interested in that. I nodded and then skillfully pulled all of my nonsense tropes out of thin air.


    ¡°I couldn''t even equip them, so I knew something was going on,¡± I said.


    Andrew and Michael looked at each other.


    "It would appear that Logan was justified in his paranoia," Andrew said. "He also got tickets that he couldn''t equip, seemingly at random¡ªone here, one there. I never could figure out what they meant. It must have been very helpful to obtain them all at once."


    Yes, it was.


    I exined to them how the tickets had helped lead us back to the bed and breakfast, back to where it all started.


    "It''s really interesting," Michael said. "I wonder if Roxy had anything to do with this¡ªBobby''s wife disappearing. How exactly did a mobile omen get into Camp Dyer?"


    There were so many possibilities, but that was not the moment I wanted to try to think about them.


    "You know, Roxy was on the team that went with J when she disappeared," Bobby said.


    I did not want to give oxygen to this conversation, but somehow, it felt inescapable.


    My friends and I had an unspoken agreement not to push the envelope when it came to disappeared yers, but Andrew, Michael, and L were not in on that agreement.


    Michael looked at me. "You think she might have had something to do with it?"


    I shrugged my shoulders. "Yesterday, I would have said no, but today, I have no idea," I said.


    "Amon sentiment in Carousel," Andrew said.


    His eyes locked on mine.


    I wasn¡¯t going to reveal anything to him. I had high Moxie, and though I had mostly used it against enemies, it worked just fine against yers. Whatever insight he was hoping to gain would fail¡ªunless, of course, he wasn''t using Moxie or Savvy or a trope.


    What if he were looking at my face using his actual intuition and could see the guilt, shame, and fear hidden under its fa?ade? Would that work, or was I being paranoid?


    "So, how''d you go out?" Michael asked. "In that storyline where you got so many stat tickets? A ze of glory?"


    I thought for a moment, then said, "More than you know. I was being eaten by a creature that was only vulnerable in bright light. It was about to devour me, so I lit myself on fire with a Molotov cocktail. As I understand it, Arthur sted it to pieces afterward."


    "Arthur was on that storyline too?" Andrew asked.


    I nodded, and he didn¡¯t say anything else, but I could tell he was reaching conclusions. Perhaps they knew that Arthur was another person who knew the secret behind yer disappearances.


    By the grace of whatever ancient forest god was nearest to us at that moment, the conversation eventually broke, and people started heading in to sleep.


    I stayed. Andrew stayed, and Antoine stayed while the others went inside.


    Of course, L never moved from her chair.


    I didn¡¯t know if she was there deceiving us or if she was being sincere. Either way, she never tried to run.


    "I can¡¯tmunicate how frustrating it is to know that we were that close to moving forward," Andrew said. "That there really were mysteries to be solved. I had lost hope."


    "I nearly did myself," I said.


    There was more silence, and then Antoine said, "There is arge closet in the bedroom. We can form a pallet for her toy on if she is okay with that."


    L nodded her head.


    "I¡¯ll do whatever it takes for you to trust me," she said.


    Andrew, Antoine, and I exchanged looks.


    "It may take a while," Andrew said. "Trust is easily broken. You know that. It''s much harder to rebuild."


    "I can be useful," she said in subdued desperation. "I''m a good scout, and I can help rescue Logan and Avery. To make it up to them."


    "I''m sure you will have plenty of opportunities to regain their trust," Andrew said.


    "I''ll show you the way," Antoine said, extending his hand to L. She grabbed his hand and followed him inside.


    When they were out of earshot, Andrew looked at me and said, "Of course, we could never trust her. We could never trust someone who might be keeping dangerous secrets."


    And he wasn''t really talking about her. He had put two and two together and realized that I knew the secret behind yer disappearances. Or at least, he had a pretty good hunch.


    "I think we should judge people by their actions," I said. "Let''s not forget, all of us had secrets once upon a time."


    "But then, that was the same secret¡ªa quest that might lead us out of Carousel," Andrew said.


    "True," I said. "Then again, all of us put our trust in the Insider, and they have more secrets than the rest of usbined. I don''t think we''re going to get to the end of this without a little faith."


    He threw more leaves into the fire.


    "So you would have us keep her alive then? Even if it may spell disaster?" he asked.


    I thought for a moment.


    "What I would have us do is give her a chance to break our hearts," I said.


    "That could end up with all of us dead," he said.


    "That depends on the chance we give her," I said. "We just need to put her in a ce where lying will be much more difficult. If she''s telling the truth, hooray. That means she''s gullible but not evil. I say that''s the best-case scenario."


    He seemed to consider what I was saying and then nodded.


    And so, we set about developing our n.

 Book Five, Chapter 47: The Test

    Book Five, Chapter 47: The Test


    Some tropes just won''t work outside of a storyline. These are usually rule tropes that would have absurd results. For instance, if you had a trope that made everyone have a physical tell every time they were stressed, avoidant, or deceptive, that would only work in a storyline.


    So, we went to a storyline because I had a trope like that and a yer whose honesty was in question.


    Kimberly came along, too, along with the recent rescuers, but only for a little while.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°I can¡¯t talk you into staying any longer, can I?¡± I asked.


    Kimberly stood in front of me, looking like a 1970s movie star. Behind her was a French door, and she was backing toward it.


    ¡°You know I would stay if I could,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°If I had my way, we would stick to this story until we found that little girl. But unfortunately, life moves on, and there are a lot of other stories that need my attention.¡±


    We exchanged a knowing smile, the kind only old friends can share.


    ¡°I suppose there are a lot of other missing kids,¡± I said. ¡°I hope you find some happy endings.¡±¡°I hope so, too,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°If you find anything, if you find any hint, you get on the phone, and I will be right back here.¡±


    ¡°I know you will be. Hopefully, you¡¯ll have a message from me with good news waiting for you when you get back to the city,¡± I said, ¡°and hopefully, I¡¯ll still have a job whenever we finally find her.¡±


    ¡°You will find her,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I told you this was a big one, and as long as you think there¡¯s more dirt to turn over here in Eastern Carousel, you can stay as long as it takes, and I¡¯ll make sure you have your job.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Kimberly,¡± I said.


    She turned and waved as she walked out of the boarding house toward the car waiting for her. Until we went Off-Screen, that was¡ªbecause as soon as we did, she turned right back around, walked back inside, and said, ¡°I still have a little bit of time. Do you mind chatting?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said. I gestured toward therge,fortable couches in the living room of the boarding house.


    The first time we ran <em>The Final Straw</em>, we hadn¡¯t spent a lot of time at Miss Mornd¡¯s Boarding House because our actions within the story had drawn us away from it. But Kimberly¡¯s <strong>The</strong><strong>Penthouse</strong> trope had given us this luxury amodation¡ªwell, at least luxury for Eastern Carousel¡ªso it was nice to be able to use it.


    Kimberly was not going to be in the story much longer. Her new trope, <strong>Uncredited Cameo</strong>, allowed her to enter just long enough to get in one good scene and then leave. That¡¯s what we had done.


    Of course, she had actually been in multiple scenes, but only one substantive one. Apparently, she had a timer telling her when to skedaddle.


    We were rerunning <em>The Final Straw</em> to test our newfound allies, specifically L White, who had allegedly been tricked into getting her team postered. It was just me and them¡ªor at least it would be once Kimberly left the story.


    We had spent her scene interviewing the Harless family. The interview wasrgely the same as the one we had in our first run of this storyline, with a few tweaks.


    One difference, of course, was that Kimberly didn¡¯t get to stick around for the rest of the story, so she wasn¡¯t the focus of that scene. I was, strangely enough.


    She was just here to give the audience a small taste of her dramatic stylings and to set me up as one of the story''s investigators.


    Another difference was that, because we did not have Dina, the little girl¡¯s name was Tamara Rae Stome instead of Tamara Cano, but such alterations were to be expected.


    Plus, her <strong>Penthouse</strong> ability was a nice perk, and it was nice to have a friend¡ªbecause if it turned out that L White really was some rabid psycho betrayer, I was likely going to die in this storyline. Well, if she was good at being a rabid psycho betrayer. Otherwise, I''d be safe.


    At least, that was one of the reasons for running this storyline.


    Andrew and I had made a n. And so far, everything was running smoothly.


    Kimberly and I sat on one of the cozier-looking couches, and I waited for whatever Kimberly wanted to say.


    It took some work to focus because the day had ended in the story, and I had received the dailies, which allowed me to look at a little bit of the footage of our new allies, as well as Isaac, performing their roles in the story.


    Isaac was in the story because he wanted to run one with his brother, and I didn¡¯t have a good enough reason to keep him on the bench.


    Michael, a Soldier archetype, got cast to y a cop in pretty much the same way that Antoine had been¡ªexcept without all the poprity from Antoine¡¯s tropes.


    Andrew was ying a county coroner, and his presence had changed this story in some ways that I had not predicted. Carousel was not going to waste an actual doctor, so as I sat there talking to Kimberly, I watched Andrew perform an autopsy on Benny Harless, the mechanic, without the benefit of the camera cutting away during the gross parts. It was pretty hardcore.


    The 10-year time skip had gotten dyed. I didn¡¯t know how long for.


    I¡¯d only seen L On-Screen once during a search party looking for Tamara, but that was understandable. L was, for the most part, an Extra-Wallflower and wasn¡¯t even cast as a named character, which made it hard to keep an eye on her because my <strong>Dailies</strong> trope only gave me footage from On-Screen moments.


    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m a little tense, sure. But I also don¡¯t want to call the whole thing off over a case of nerves,¡± I said. ¡°Best case scenario, we have nothing to worry about, and we can get some shopping done.¡±


    Kimberly didn¡¯t look amused.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust her, and even if she doesn¡¯t throw the storyline, I still won¡¯t,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°She knew she was getting one of her teammates killed even if it actually was somehow part of Project Rewind. How can we ever be okay with that?¡±


    ¡°Who says we have to be okay with it?¡± I said. ¡°We don¡¯t get the luxury of being able to trust all of our allies. What we can do is make a n and choose to ept the results of that n because we have no other options.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m d that it¡¯s so easy for you,¡± Kimberly said.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say it was easy. Are you willing to kill her just because we¡¯re unsure? Because if we follow through on the promise of <em>Project Rewind</em>, we¡¯re going to be rescuing a lot of people we won¡¯t be able to trustpletely. We¡¯re still a long way off from rescuing anyone we¡¯ve actually met before.¡±


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    Kimberly wasn¡¯tfortable¡ªI could tell because she was scratching her nose when she said, ¡°I went along with this because you had your mind made up. If you think whatever happens in this storyline is enough to trust her, I¡¯ll try to getfortable with it.¡±


    I had equipped my <strong>He Has a Tell</strong> trope to assist in our interrogation of L.


    As stated, that trope did not work outside of a storyline, which is why we needed to go into one. It wouldn¡¯t be enough to tell if she was telling a half-truth or what she was lying about, but it would show us what she was nervous about.


    That,bined with Andrew¡¯s tropes, might be enough for us to get some level of confidence in L.


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to dismiss your feelings,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t feel good about it either, but there is no version of this where we don¡¯t have to make hard decisions. We¡¯re either going to conclude that L is worth some level of trust, or we¡¯re going to conclude¡ªin front of her teammates¡ªthat she isn¡¯t. Even if she is no good, her teammates need to see us give her a chance. It will help them trust us.¡±


    At least, that¡¯s what I told myself.


    Kimberly leaned back on the couch and then said, ¡°Is this how it¡¯s always going to be? We rescue people, and instead of getting a thank you, we have to worry about whether one of them is going to betray us?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it probably will be like this every time. All I know is that we need to start collecting new bases so that we don¡¯t have to worry about giving strangers our home address.¡±


    She looked at me, smiled, and said, ¡°You know if she does betray you, at least we won¡¯t have to worry about her anymore.¡±


    ¡°That would be strangely relieving, wouldn¡¯t it? I¡¯ll be dead, of course,¡± I said.


    ¡°For a little bit,¡± she said.


    ¡°And at least I¡¯ll have you to mourn me at my funeral,¡± I said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± she answered. ¡°Look, I¡¯ve gotta go. My timer is ticking down, and I need my driver to get me back to my loft before I¡¯m out of this storyline.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± I said. ¡°If everything goes well, I¡¯ll be back at the loft with a wheelbarrow of food soon enough.¡±


    ¡°The cup is half full,¡± Kimberly responded while scratching her nose. Then she got up off the couch and walked out of the front door,pletely out of the story.


    Iid back and watched the dailies.


    Andrew was not just movie-smart¡ªhe was actually smart, and I knew that because, as I watched him perform an autopsy on Benny Harless, he was making observations that had nothing to do with Insight tropes. Even if he gained Insights the longer his autopsysted, he was figuring things out immediately.


    He must have been running Carousel through its paces as he discussed liver temperatures and lividity, whichbined meant that Benny¡¯s body had been relocated before the car crushed it.


    And just like that, Benny Harless didn¡¯t die of an ident. He was officially murdered, and the story would pivot around that.


    No wonder we hadn¡¯t had a time skip yet. First, we would have to fail to solve Benny¡¯s murder; then, we would jump into the future.


    The whole thing made me wonder if we could do so well that Rustle never had a chance to grow up and seek revenge. The movie would be over in thirty minutes.


    I fast-forwarded through a lot of footage taken from around town while I waited for Andrew, L, and Michael to arrive at the boarding house as nned. It didn¡¯t take long. Once night came around, there wasn¡¯t much more story to tell that involved yers¡ªnot for a few more scenes, at least.


    I was almost done with the dailies when they walked in: first Michael and L, and then Andrew a few minutester.


    Michael sat in a wingback chair and didn¡¯t speak.


    I didn¡¯t take it personally; he had just met me. L had gone somewhere to freshen up, but I didn¡¯t expect her to run away, so I didn¡¯t keep an eye on her.


    When Andrew arrived, we didn¡¯t talk about L. He wanted to talk about the story.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been noting strange behavior from many citizens around town, mostly of the Patcher family. I assume that¡¯s the result of your trope,¡± he said, ¡°but when I inquired further, I was unable to get any useful information from them. I¡¯m not certain what could cause that. If they were somehow involved in the disappearance of Miss Stome, surely I would have been able to get some information from them by prodding them.¡±


    He had run into the same problem we had in our first run of <em>The Final Straw</em>. The Patchers acted like they were hiding something, but they would never tell us what. It had been frustrating.


    ¡°I pulled one of them over,¡± Michael said. ¡°They were speeding¡ªor at least I said they were. I tried talking to him about the missing girl, and they acted all funny, but I couldn¡¯t get anything out of them.¡±


    There was no point in not spoiling them, so I just came clean.


    ¡°The Patchers are guilty in one way or another. They¡¯re a family-worshipping hive mind of some kind. We didn¡¯t really learn a lot about that, but I think that¡¯s why they don¡¯t fess up even though they should¡ªbecause they¡¯re one entity, even though they don¡¯t seem that way. You have to solve the mystery of what happened to Tamara before their true nature is revealed. You know how these things work.¡±


    Andrew nodded. ¡°I see. We should table that, then. I suppose we have other matters to attend to tonight.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately so,¡± I said. ¡°Isaac will probably not be joining us. He was cast as the fianc¨¦ of one of the Patcher bachelorettes, and I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll be able to get away from them tonight, although he may learn some interesting information about how the hive mind thing works if, you know, he tries.¡±


    Andrew scratched his ear. This was not afortable subject for him.


    ¡°Yes, after our parents¡¯ death, Isaac developed a habit of feigned apathy in all aspects of his life. Unfortunately, he does not have a lot of control over it. It would seem that even Carousel hasn¡¯t been able to break him of that, but in time, I hope to help him work through it,¡± Andrew said.


    We had yed <em>The Final Straw</em> twice for grocery shopping purposes, so I was fairly confident that whatever twists and turns Carousel threw at us, we would be able to rise above them. After all, if you could solve which Patcher did what to Tamara, then you would need neither a First Blood nor a Second Blood sacrifice. That was ideal for our purposes.


    ¡°Michael,¡± Andrew said, ¡°As I¡¯ve told you, I¡¯m going to have a therapy session with L. My tropes will work better in a storyline, so I should be able to determine if she intends us to do further harm. I¡¯d appreciate it if you let us do this in your absence because I don¡¯t want her to be emotionally overwhelmed. And I realize that you are in very understandable pain because of L¡¯s betrayal and are interested in witnessing the session. She might not be able to open up in your presence.¡±


    ¡°Then why does he get to be there?¡± Michael asked.


    ¡°We find ourselves with a three-way impasse,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Everyone wants to know who they can trust, and unfortunately, that necessitates that representatives of all three parties be present during the interrogation.¡±


    Oh yes, the traditional horror movie intermission interrogation.


    I wasn¡¯t confident that I could be swayed just by listening to L, but Andrew had useful tropes for such an interrogation. And at the end of the day, allowing Andrew to have his talk with L didn¡¯t hurt anything¡ªI would be there to get my own impression.


    It was very possible that L White had just been tricked into betraying her own team. In many ways, the exnation fit perfectly. The act was brutal, but then <em>Project Rewind</em> was brutal.


    I couldn¡¯t tell if I rejected her ims because I didn¡¯t trust her or because of what she had said about Roxy, someone I felt I could trust.


    If Roxy had been a part of <em>Project Rewind</em>, why didn¡¯t she drop any clues for us? On the other hand, if Roxy only knew just enough about <em>Project Rewind</em> to think that it was a threat and to try and sabotage it, why had she note to me then?


    As much as I could understand the logic of why secrets were necessary, I sure felt like a fool, knowing there might have been someone there watching us stumble.


    I needed to sort my feelings out so I could think.


    What I hated worse was that when I really thought about it, the story made some sense for an additional reason.


    <em>The Grotesque</em>.


    How did the mobile Omen get into Camp Dyer?


    Had we ever gotten a reasonable exnation other than our ¡°Carousel is punishing J¡± theory? The ¡°Insider did it¡± theory was more usible, but it still didn¡¯t feel perfect.


    Roxy could have done it. It would have been trivial. She could have bought a mobile Omen, flirted with the guy, and tricked him into bringing it; I didn''t know.


    I tried to remember back to the details of that day. Had I missed something?


    Roxy could have put the seed of the idea of quitting into J Gill¡¯s mind. I could still see the look on her face when she quit in the middle of the <em>Grotesque</em> storyline, as if she had been holding it in and was finally ready to exit.


    Wouldn¡¯t it make more sense that someone had hinted to her that she could leave? She had said it so confidently, like she knew someone was listening. Roxy was on that very storyline, holding J¡¯s hand as she made that deadly decision, and I didn¡¯t see what was going on.


    If The Grotesque Mobile Omen hadn¡¯te around, I would not have gotten all of my unequippable clue tropes at once. We likely would not have found the Bed and Breakfast in time. Project Rewind might not have seeded.


    If J hadn¡¯t quit the game, I would not have seen The Axe Murderer and would not be a Secret Keeper as required by Project Rewind.


    I had to be logical.


    There was no room for actual faith or trust. Her story fit the facts, even though it felt like I was getting my guts ripped out.


    Then again, even if she was telling the truth, that didn¡¯t mean we could trust her.


    If bringing her into a storyline where our tropes would help us interrogate her helped us have peace of mind, it was worth it.


    More than that, I felt myself not wanting to believe her or trust her because I didn¡¯t like what she had to say.


    And I needed to get over that.

 Book Five, Chapter 48: Therapy

    Book Five, Chapter 48: Therapy


    L reappeared not too long after Andrew showed up.


    She was nervous, but I could see in her eyes that she wanted to please¡ªthat she knew how important it was for us to trust her.


    I tried my best to wipe away my preconceptions and my pent-up frustration with watching her surrogate screw things up constantly.


    Ironically, I felt closer to trusting her than Michael and maybe even closer than Andrew¡ªand he was a very reasonable fellow.


    It required a bit of contortion for a person to wrap their mind around Project Rewind, so I may have been better prepared to deal with the realities of sacrificing fellow yers for the greater good.


    Michael went off to one of the rooms to rx. He didn¡¯t actually have a room at the boarding house because his character lived in Eastern Carousel, but nobody was going to say anything about it. Thest I saw him, he was lying back on a bed without having folded back the sheets, staring up at the ceiling, trying to hide the look of annoyance on his face.


    We passed by his room and continued onward until we found a nice, secluded hallway and another room with a couch and some chairs. An NPC was in there reading a book, but Andrew politely exined that he needed the room for a therapy session, and the NPC bowed his head and left.


    L, having been the target of Andrew''s Psychiatrist tropes before,y down on the couch. Andrew took a seat near her, and I took a seat far away where I could see her, but she couldn¡¯t see me without turning her head.


    And then the session began.I had seen interrogations in Carousel¡ªheck, I¡¯d even been the person being interrogated by the Detective Paragon himself¡ªso when I sat down to listen to L bear her soul, I was expecting something more along the lines of a detective trying to get the truth out of a witness.


    That wasn¡¯t what happened.


    Andrew was very kind and gentle.


    L was open but incredibly nervous and on the verge of tears over even innocuous things. It felt like I was viting her just by being there, listening as she poured her heart out about her difficulties in Carousel.


    Some things that she talked about, I could never repeat.


    What I could say is that she had a very clear phobia of being On-Screen. I could rte to some degree. Knowing that some entity beyond your understanding was watching and being amused by your suffering was terrifying.


    I almost have to will myself to forget that it¡¯s happening and to think about the game as if it were just a game.


    L did not seem to be able to do that.


    She talked about the audience as if they were her personal tormentors, and she hated the idea of going On-Screen for anything. This had been a considerable roadblock to her team.


    It made her tropes make more sense, though, as they were more designed to take her Off-Screen or to get her killed because even that was preferable to her from the way she talked.


    It also helped exin why she was a Wallflower instead of a Hysteric. She didn¡¯t want attention. Hysterics almost always did.


    She did not like the limelight, as she called it. That term seemed a little poetic, but it was correct. We were the stars of some sick little y.


    She apologized to Andrew for past mistakes, and Andrew calmly guided her back to the subject of the current investigation.


    Back to the subject of Roxy.


    Roxy had approached her after their team had done the Ranger Danger storyline and had promised to help her grow as a yer so that she would get the least possible amount of screen time. But even in those early meetings, there had been a hint that Roxy wanted to tell her something.


    Roxy had talked about her teammates who had gone missing while ying Carousel¡¯s so-called tutorial. When L inquired where they could have gone, Roxy said they might have gone home¡ªshe didn¡¯t know.


    Of course, I knew that the Axe Murderer had killed Roxy¡¯s teammates because they quit the game. Or at least that¡¯s what I thought I knew. The truth could have been anything. If Roxy was a liar, that could have been another lie.


    L went on, describing her meetings with Roxy as she was slowly taught the power of a good scream. Apparently, they had some master and apprentice-style meetings over the subject.


    I hadn¡¯t put much thought into this before, but by looking at the tropes that L carried, it was clear Carousel did like someone with a good scream and rewarded it with tropes. As a dude, my scream potential was limited.


    When their teammate Logan had revealed his quest¡ªhis mission for which he hade to Carousel on purpose, knowing what that entailed¡ªL got nervous.


    She didn¡¯t like attention being on her, and she really didn¡¯t like the idea of being part of any quest because it made her feel like the audience was watching her even when she was Off-Screen.


    This tale has been uwfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    And, of course, it was. A yer would have to be blind to believe that we weren¡¯t being watched, although I didn¡¯t pretend to know the nature of any such observation.


    That led to L spying for Roxy, until eventually, Roxy let her in on the little secret that the quest was a ¡°trap by Carousel.¡±


    It was about that point that she stopped speaking easily and started to shift in her seat¡ªa clear sign of stress, her tell. Andrew interjected, asking what Roxy had asked her to do.


    ¡°She just wanted me to lead him up onto the mountain,¡± L said. She shifted in her seat.


    ¡°Are you sure she didn¡¯t tell you more than that?¡± Andrew asked.


    L was quiet.


    She knew that she couldn¡¯t lie without revealing herself¡ªnot with my trope forcing her to wiggle in her seat every time she tried to lie or avoid a question. Not with Andrew and myself peering at her, using every ounce of our Moxie to try to determine if she was telling the truth.


    Even Andrew¡¯s tropes pressed her, forced her to keep talking.


    So she told the truth, and while I wasn¡¯t confident about everything she said, I did believe most of it.


    ¡°She said we would be attacked on the mountain and to make sure that Logan was in the lead. Then she said that we were supposed to run back down the mountain and into the buildings. I was supposed to take you there, and that way, we would be safe. But then Avery got caught too, and when we ended up inside that storyline with those bedbugs, there was no way that we could win.¡±


    L started to cry.


    ¡°I swear, I didn¡¯t want anyone to die. I just thought that if we got rid of Logan, everyone would be safe and that his quest would be over.¡±


    I felt she was being sincere. That was my Moxie talking, but her Moxie wasn¡¯t that much lower than mine. Was it possible I was believing what I wanted to?


    ¡°How does it make you feel that Roxy didn¡¯t have you kill Logan to stop <em>Project Rewind</em> but rather to further it?¡± Andrew asked.


    L thought for a moment.


    ¡°I feel like an idiot,¡± she said.


    I understood the sentiment.


    I didn¡¯t know if Roxy was on <em>Project Rewind</em>¡¯s side, but it didn¡¯t really matter because her actions aligned perfectly with the project¡¯s goals.


    It was all much the same after that.


    She apologized profusely. The story was exactly as we were expecting it to be, exactly as the evidence indicated.


    She never strayed from her story¡ªthe one she told at the very beginning¡ªalthough she did at least confess that she knew what was going to happen to Logan and that she wasn¡¯t just dupedpletely.


    After that, Andrew and L hugged, and L seemed to feel much better, another effect of Andrew¡¯s tropes.


    In the end, it felt anticlimactic. In Carousel, that was often a good thing.


    I didn¡¯t know what I was hoping for.


    Was I hoping that she would secretly have been in league with a Narrator and that she would tell us secrets that only such a spy would know?


    Was that what I wanted? For her to be more than just a scared young woman? That she was in the know?


    If it was, I was disappointed.


    Whatever L was, I didn¡¯t believe that she was evil. I also didn¡¯t know if we were safe to have her around.


    But you could never count on being safe in Carousel.


    I felt like this whole exercise was just a little attempt to control the situation. Maybe if we questioned her and ran her through the paces, we wouldn¡¯t feel helpless.


    I didn¡¯t know, but I did feel better about things after the interrogation.


    The <em>Final Straw</em> storyline yed out much like it had on our first run.


    All of us working together, we were able to figure out that poor Tamara had been killed whenever a man named Torben Patcher had lost control of his horse, and the horse had kicked her while she was walking home.


    That was a constant¡ªTamara died by ident, always at the hands of some irresponsible Patcher, and then they worked to cover it up.


    Benny had discovered what they had done when repairing their horse trailer, and so the story moved forward. The story stayed very simr, with a few subtle differences.


    Isaac apparently had some humorous scenes where he felt like he was about to be inducted into a cult because his character¡¯s fianc¨¦e was a Patcher, but other than that, the story wasrgely the same, and it ended the same way. There was a reason the Vets used to rerun stories so often. There was safety in that.


    With a grocery run.


    I waited at the grocery store as the needle on the plot cycle ticked toward the end. We had defeated the Patchers this time without me having to be some vessel for an ancient spirit, and the Carousel was getting itsst footage for the film.


    As we gathered Off-Screen, ready to start looting Eastern Carousel General Store, L promised that she wanted to help rescue Logan so that she could say she was sorry.


    As L wandered through the shelves searching for canned goods, Andrew and I stood next to each other, picking through the scant seasonings. We had not thought to get Bobby¡¯s food trope, so it was not exactly going to be a feast, but there was enough food to hold us over.


    ¡°So, do you trust her?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°As much as I can,¡± I said, scratching my arm. ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Andrew said, ¡°but there is no way to be sure she¡¯s telling the truth.¡±


    ¡°No, there isn¡¯t,¡± I said as I bent down and picked up a can that imed to contain a whole chicken. ¡°Look, the way I see it, it¡¯s a remarkable coincidence that whenever we reset the game, we were given two yers who just happened to be siblings to you, a member of thest Party of Promise. I figure that wasn¡¯t an ident.¡±


    ¡°You think you were sent to us?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°I think that if she were a threat, we wouldn¡¯t have been directed to you so tantly. Or at least that¡¯s where I¡¯m willing to put my money.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know if the Insider was still somewhere pulling strings, but I knew that coincidences didn¡¯t exist in Carousel, and in my ignorance, I had to trust in something.


    We stood in silence as L walked back around, holding a jar of pickled eggs.


    ¡°I do still wonder what happened to Roxy¡¯s team,¡± she said. ¡°How could they all disappear at once? Don¡¯t people normally go missing one at a time?¡±


    ¡°No one knows what happened to them,¡± I said. ¡°Not even Roxy. Whatever it was she told you, I¡¯m sure it was just a story she invented to cope with losing her friends.¡±


    ¡°That may be the case,¡± Andrew said.


    I could see that his eyes were looking at me as I scratched my arm, my own little tell. L wasn¡¯t paying attention; she was diligently packing a wheelbarrow with food.


    All I could do was stare back at him, and we both just agreed not to talk about it. He was going to find out anyway, eventually, if he hadn¡¯t already figured it out.


    All in all, I felt like we had done pretty well with our first suspicious character rescued from beyond the grave. Maybe one day it would turn out L was evil or too naive, but that day, we would choose to trust, or close enough.


    All I could hope was that one day, it would not fall on me to try to separate the trustworthy from the untrustworthy. One day, we would have a whole system down with all the right tropes to ensure that we didn¡¯t have any spies amongst us.


    Kimberly would be using her Moxie, and Antoine could be the face of our group, so I could go back to lurking in the background.


    We¡¯d have Anna back to keep us all in good spirits and keep our group together like a team. Camden would be able to make all the ns and think logically, even when it was so easy to be afraid and distrustful.


    And when we got all this set up, I could finally feel like I didn¡¯t have the weight of the world on my shoulders.


    I just needed to keep it together a little longer.

 Book Five, Chapter 49: The Crooked Hallway

    Book Five, Chapter 49: The Crooked Hallway


    As we walked back to the loft with our bounty of 1970s general store groceries, I still felt nervous about bringing neers to our base.


    It was just an inherently risky thing to do.


    We had dotted our I''s and crossed our T''s, but at the end of the day, all we could do was stick to the n. And the n involved creating a robust stable of yers we could use to beat the game at Carousel.


    That was the task looming far in the distance, somewhere past my current goal of rescuing Anna and Camden. We would have to attempt to escape Carousel and trigger its throughline.


    I took a deep breath to push away the stress, and I could tell the three new yers read something into it because, whatever they were talking about, they stopped. Isaac was practicing navigating with his scouting trope. He didn''t seem to notice anything that wasn''t an Omen.


    "So, what''s next?" Andrew asked after a beat. "What''s the current mission?"


    "There''s a whole list," I said.


    A long list that grew every time I thought about it.


    As I walked down the road, my arms loaded with groceries packed into paper bags, a hole formed in one of the bags, and a ss bottle of ketchup popped out. I stopped and grabbed the bottle. It hadn¡¯t broken, and though the bag now had a hole in it, it still seemed secure enough to contain everything else.The puncture was not catastrophic.


    I simply popped the ketchup bottle into my hoodie pocket.


    The thing was, it was a little big for the pocket, but of course, it slipped right inside with no problem.


    This didn¡¯t go unnoticed.


    I remembered that these yers didn¡¯t know about Luggage Tags, which allowed you to create a "bag of holding," so to speak. I had used mine to give my hoodie pockets more room than they should have had.


    I was about due for another because I was close to my weight limit, but anything that could fit into the opening of my pocket could be contained in there up to the weight limit.


    It wasn¡¯t such a remarkable magic trick that any of them said anything at first, but they did look at each other funny as therge ketchup bottle just seemed to disappear.


    It didn¡¯t look like it was being shoved into my pocket; it looked like it fell in, like I had opened up a hole and dropped it.


    Before picking up the bags again, I reached into my pocket and withdrew one of the halves of my hedge shears¡ªthe ones with the trope attached to them¡ªand then I drew the other half out. They were basically a giant pair of scissors and they disconnected at the bolt that connected them when I loosened it.


    I reattached them, tightened the bolt, and watched as Andrew, Michael, and L looked on in amazement.


    I remembered doing something simr with Cassie and Isaac when they arrived, but all I had were cans of Dr. Pepper, and they looked at me like I was some dorky magician ying a prank on them.


    The hedge shears were a lot stronger of a flourish, especially since they had a trope on them, and up until that moment, none of these yers had seen an item with a trope before.


    That was a new thing in Carousel. Even the <em>As</em> didn¡¯t have information on these.


    "Things have changed a bit," I said as I disassembled the hedge shears and put them back in my pocket.


    "How are you doing that?" Michael asked.


    I exined Luggage Tags, but I couldn¡¯t show them the actual tag because I was currently using mine.


    "We have some catching up to do," I said, and suddenly, I felt optimistic.


    Giving fallen yers the bad news that they had been sacrificed for a worthy cause was a downer, even if the conclusion was ultimately optimistic.


    Showing them the new toys we had to y with was more fun.


    I picked up my bags, careful to make sure the tear wasn¡¯t spreading, and we continued our way to the loft.


    Whoever was working the telescope spotted us before we got to the loft, so we were greeted in the restaurant down below.


    Isaac and Cassie were happy that everything wasing together for them. Their brother was back with them. I was happy to see them being happy.


    I wondered if I would get to feel that.


    L immediately noticed that there were no Omens in the restaurant, which would seem strange because most ces with lots of foot traffic did have Omens.


    Kimberly softly said, "You''re safe here." And they talked quietly.


    "It¡¯s like the kitchens at Camp Dyer," Andrew said. "Tell me, are we able to eat the food provided here? Because at Camp Dyer, we could eat whatever the campers were eating, and no one would stop us."


    "All the chili dogs you could ever want," Michael said. "It was heaven on earth."


    I remembered those chili dogs. Heaven, they were not. That wasn¡¯t even to mention the fact that they only fed those kids once or twice a month. Poor things. The bottom line was that we couldn¡¯t have survived at Camp Dyer on chili dogs alone.


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    "You have to buy the food here," Cassie exined. "It''s not super expensive, but it really adds up over time."


    "Not exactly," Isaac said. "You can eat the food that the NPCs don¡¯t eat, that they¡¯re about to throw away, but if you steal any of their food before then, it ends up on your bill the next time you order something."


    He had been experimenting.


    "I don¡¯t think we need to eat out of the garbage, Isaac," Andrew said. "If so, we wouldn¡¯t have brought all of this." He stretched out his arms, which were as stacked with paper sacks of food as mine were.


    Michael had taken wheelbarrow duty and brought a few cases of beer because he didn¡¯t have anyone to tell him not to.


    "Thank you for grocery shopping," Kimberly said. "But tonight, I say we eat at the restaurant. After all, we did just get a big payday."


    We sure had. Rescuing yers was good money. After weeks of scrimping by, we had hundreds of dors in the till.


    "Sounds like dinner¡¯s on you," Michael said as he eyed a waitress walking across the room carrying a te with a T-bone steak on it.


    Carousel did have the best meats.


    No one mentioned the awkwardness of L.


    No one wanted to.


    At the end of the day, if we decided we were going to trust her¡ªin as much as we could say we trusted L¡ªthen we had to go with it. We couldn¡¯t keep bringing up doubts. That would destroy cohesion.


    That was our decision, and we would go with it until somebody burned us. We just had to hope it wouldn¡¯t be soon.


    We ate like kings and queens that night.


    Isaac had found a fishing pole at Bobby¡¯s ce.


    I had no idea where he had managed to find it.


    He said it was up in the rafters, but I still didn¡¯t know what he was referring to until he exined that he had climbed into the attic. I didn¡¯t know there was an attic. The house wasn''t big enough to have a full attic. It was more of a crawl space.


    The fishing pole was kind of like the telescope we found at the loft¡ªit had an Omen-detecting ability. I wouldn¡¯t say it was anywhere near as useful, though.


    It was an Adventurer trope called Strange Attractor, a y on the cliche from movies in whichpasses acted oddly around supernatural phenomena and often pointed the way to the source of some arcane or sci-fi energy.


    It would cause thepass to point toward an Omen, or if you were in a story, it would point toward some strange source of power.


    Of course, the trope wasn¡¯t attached to apass. It was attached to a fishing pole. And Isaac proudly demonstrated that if you let out a little bit of line, the hook would attract toward Omens.


    He dangled it off the roof and instructed us to watch as the lure pulled across the street and pointed toward a disgruntled postman who was indeed an Omen.


    "And it¡¯s so convenient," Antoine said, "not like this bulky telescope."


    Everyoneughed at that, even Isaac, because he was having a good time with his discovery.


    I supposed the fishing pole was a mismatch with its trope unless you were searching for a powerful object underwater.


    I had to wonder why Carousel would make such a thing and what real practical use it had.


    It went to show that perhaps not every trope object we found was going to be super convenient like the telescope¡ªor heck, even the hedge shears.


    "You have to wonder if we¡¯re going to find a way to make our own trope items," I said.


    "It does really get the juices flowing," Andrew said. "The possibilities."


    They had been quiet guests as they got used to their new abode.


    It was the middle of the night when we got a knock at our door.


    L was sleeping in the back bedroom where Cassie had been, who was now with Dina. L had offered to sleep in the open living room space as if she was submitting herself for inspection and didn¡¯t want to be seen as secretive. Because of thete-night knocks, we didn''t want her near the front door. We said we''d trust her, but having her sleep next to the Omen spawn point seemed too trusting.


    Andrew bunked with Isaac, and Michael slept on the roof because, as Andrew put it, he had an aversion tofort¡ªsomething psychological, like he thought it was bad luck.


    I didn¡¯t mind <em>someone </em>sleeping in the living room. After all, the loft was probably designed as an open-concept living area before hallways and bedrooms were attached to it. There was plenty of room for a yer to bunk, and one day, when we got enough furniture, we might be able to screen off a section for them.


    As I walked through the dark loft, I contemted how many people we were going to try to squeeze into this base. We might end up with a lot of people living in the open living room.


    I waited for the others to get out of bed. Eventually, they all did, except for Michael, who was on the roof and didn¡¯t hear the knocking.


    Isaac came out of his room with the fishing pole, the lure hanging in front of him. It pulled as if maically toward the door.


    "I think there¡¯s an Omen out there," he whispered, barely suppressing his chuckle.


    I wasn¡¯t exactly in a joking mood. No one was, so Isaac quietly put the fishing pole down against the wall, walked to the door, and looked out the peephole.


    He had gotten some practice at this and didn¡¯t feel the need for me to take a look as well to get a second opinion. Maybe he was showing off for his brother.


    "The image of the hallway sure does look crooked," Isaac said. Then, there was a pause as he read something on the red wallpaper. That was the way his scouting trope worked: He had to point out that an Omen looked obviously dangerous, and then he would get information about it.


    He was clearly having trouble figuring out what to say to send the Omen away.


    I didn¡¯t want to embarrass him, but I thought I¡¯d take a crack at it. I quietly walked up beside him, being careful not to be in the st path of Dina¡¯s shotgun, and took a look outside. I understood what he meant when he said the hallway looked crooked.


    At first, I thought it was something like a serial killer holding up a picture of the hallway so that we would think no one was there and it was crooked, but that wasn¡¯t what he meant. He meant the hallway was crooked in the way that some psychological horror haunted houses were, like <em>House of Leaves</em> or <em>1408</em>.


    I looked at the red wallpaper, trying to figure out what to do with this Omen, because just by looking at it, I felt some sort of effect¡ªdisorientation. The storyline was called <em>The 4th Floor</em>, and the Omen, of course, was staring at the impossible architecture that was now the hallway outside our front door.


    How did we send it away? The hint of how not to activate the Omen, which was how my scouting ability worked inbination with Kimberly¡¯s Writ of Habitation, said simply: <em>Ignore the fine details</em>.


    I turned to Isaac and said, "I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re looking at out there. It¡¯s just a hallway."


    I gave him a friendly smack on the arm and walked away from the door.


    If this were a normal Omen, you would enter it by staring at the strangeness of the hallway¡¯s design and how it didn¡¯t quite make sense logically or within the realm of physics. To get it to go away, we just had to ignore it. That was the best I could figure. Made sense enough to me.


    Everyone still stood frozen, unsure of whether the Omen was gone. After all, something had knocked at the door, and that something could not be heard walking away like a normal Omen knocking at that door would.


    From what I could tell, the storyline was about a haunted ce. Rather than ghosts, a haunted ce was itself some sort of evil, so the knock had not likelye from a human hand but rather from some ambiguous living evil.


    Of course, that wasn¡¯t very satisfying.


    And it just so happened that I found the answer to my question from earlier that day. What exactly was the use of a fishing pole whose lure moved toward Omens and powerful things? It was as if Carousel had answered my question. Was Carousel being yful again, sending evil architecture at us?


    You could use it to tell if an evil hallway was gone.


    I gestured for Isaac to pick up his fishing pole, and as he did, the lure moved toward the door. But after 30 seconds or so, it dropped away, pulled only by gravity.


    The evil hallway was gone.


    "That¡¯s the show, folks," I said as I went back to my room.


    Sometimes, I just had to will myself to get used to things. And evil hallways were just one of them.

 Book Five, Chapter 50: Sensitive Measures

    Book Five, Chapter 50: Sensitive Measures


    It was incredible how life could move forward so quickly and yet seemingly stay the same.


    Days earlier, we hadpleted our first rescue. Before we could be satisfied with our sess, we had to worry about the whole L fiasco.


    But then I woke up one day not so long after, and she was in the kitchen making eggs for everyone.


    It was a special morning for me because I woke up to the sound ofughter from a few rooms away. That hadn¡¯t happened in a long while, maybe not since Camp Dyer.


    As I opened my eyes, I smiled¡ªnot because I heard the joke, but because I could tell the atmosphere was improving. Just by adding three new yers, we were building our own little camp.


    After I got out of my room and did my morning routine, I came into the living room and figured out what they were allughing at.


    "Kimberly, I''m telling you, you <em>have</em> to sign on to this movie if you¡¯re looking for something new, something you''ve never done. And you have never done it because it isplete nonsense. No one knows what''s happening, and everyone will say it''s smarter than it is just because it''s confusing, and you¡¯ll get des if you seed. Of course, if you fail, I may not be able to take your calls anymore. That¡¯s just business, dear. You understand. If you pull it off, though, it will instantly elevate your career¡ªjust don''t answer reporters¡¯ questions about the plot because then they¡¯ll know you¡¯re in over your head."


    It was Kimberly''s fake talent agent, Sal. He was always good for augh.


    "Of course, if you do decide to take it, just know it is going to be one of the biggest acting challenges of your life, and there''s a very real chance it might not score well with audiences. Keeping the timeline straight will be difficult for everyone, including the screenwriter," Sal said. "But at the end, all that matters is that you beat the bad guy, right? That''s how these movies go. I''m told, though, that it does have some pretty squeamish scenes. But if you''re very lucky, you won''t be in any of them."Timeline and squeamish scenes? I knew immediately which movie Sal was talking about.


    "Well, anyway, sweetheart, that''s all I have to say. If you have any more questions, please be sure to call," Sal said.


    Kimberly said her goodbyes and hung up the phone. As I walked further into the room, I saw that Andrew, Antoine, and most of the others were hovering around the kitchen table, listening to Kimberly''s call.


    "We should have recorded that," Andrew said. "We should have recorded all of the various calls to see what differences there were. Are we able to call again?"


    He was discovering the incredible potential of her scouting trope.


    "Yeah," Kimberly said. "He doesn''t seem to remember past phone calls. He''s always happy to hear from me."


    I had slept in by a few hours. It seemed like they were already getting to work while eating cheesy eggs.


    If there was one thing Eastern Carousel General Store had, it was eggs.


    "<em>Post-Traumatic</em>?" I asked. We were always looking for new information about that storyline because one day, we were going to rescue our friends from it.


    Kimberly nodded. "My rescue trope works on it, we think. So does Antoine''s," she said. ¡°Sal kind of references them.¡±


    "He didn''t have as much to say about mine, though," Antoine added. "That might mean it''s a higher level."


    We had discovered that if Kimberly asked her agent about a storyline while one of us had a rescue trope equipped, then Sal would talk about the altered rescue version instead of the original.


    It was helpful topare them.


    "Did you get any good info?" I asked. They all looked at each other, tilting their heads, shrugging their shoulders¡ªthat sort of thing.


    "It''s pretty high level," Antoine said. "We didn''t get much¡ªnot much more than we already knew."


    Bummer. That was pretty much what always happened with <em>Post-Traumatic</em>.


    I decided to help myself to thest remaining cheesy eggs in the pan¡ªat least the part that hadn''t gone crusty yet. Then I walked over to them, scooping the eggs into my mouth right off the paper te.


    "I have an idea," I said.


    "And what''s that?" Antoine asked.


    "We''ll need to take a walk," I said.


    I had a theory for learning things about <em>Post-Traumatic</em>, but unlike Kimberly, I couldn''t do it from a long distance. I had to be looking at the omen itself.


    The airport was about halfway between downtown and eastern Carousel, so it was not a bad walk, but definitely not a short one. The roller rink, which asionally disappeared, was right next to the airport. That was the omen we were after.


    L had offered to open up some sound stages for us to travel through, but as cool as that sounded, from the way she described it, it was also a lot more walking.


    I figured the faster we were done with this, the better. So, we walked in one big group out of the more densely popted part of Carousel into the more small-town outskirts.


    The street looked like any street that could be found in any small town back home¡ªor, heck, probably anywhere in the real world. Except this one brought back memories.


    As we were walking past a neighborhood that was probably middle to lower-middle-ss, I spotted a structure in the backyard of one of the houses. It was a shed.


    Even without all of the ck snow all over the ground, I recognized it.


    That was Reggie''s shed.


    That was as far as he had been able to make it into the ck snow, as far as I could tell¡ªbut then again, I only got to watch the trailer for the apocalypse, not the whole thing.


    When the ck Snow Apocalypse had been sent¡ªfor whatever reason it had been sent¡ªReggie Vargas, a bruiser, one of the vets at Camp Dyer and member of the Bowlers team, had sacrificed himself to help Anna and Camden get into a storyline so that they would not die from the apocalypse.


    Anna had made sure to note his sacrifice in her letter to us, which was attached to the back of Ss, the mechanical showman.


    One day, we would be able to rescue Anna and Camden and make his sacrifice worth it. I hoped we would rescue him, too.


    A flood of memories came over me of the Bowlers and how they helped make Camp Dyer seem so normal. Grace loved to cook and was whip-smart, keeping her team of Bruisers in line against all odds.


    Of course, they were all gone now.


    I had seen Reggie¡¯s fate¡ªor at least part of it¡ªthanks to my <strong>Coming to a Theater Near You</strong> trope. I had seen him bunker down in that shed.


    "Is it an omen?" Antoine asked as he caught me staring.


    I shook my head. "We''re almost there," I said. I didn''t need to share that sad memory with them again.


    As we crested a small hill, the tiny Carousel airport appeared in the distance. Far before it was the corner lot where the roller rink stood. It was blinking like normal¡ªsometimes existing, sometimes nothing more than arge pit in the earth.


    "All right, everyone," I said. "I''ve never messed around with this before, but we''re going to try to be as scientific as possible." I looked back down at the roller rink and then cleared my throat. "We''re going to take all of the highest-level yers we have¡ªthat''s me, Antoine, Kimberly, Bobby, and Andrew. The rest of you, stay up here. L and Isaac, keep your eyes out for omens."


    I had exined my ns briefly. Still, most of them looked either on edge or terrified to be out in Carousel Proper without protection.


    With that, we split up. Those who I grouped with myself walked down the hill toward the roller rink, and the rest stood there watching.


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    "Exactly how far apart do we have to be for this to work?" Antoine asked.


    "Just a bit further, I think," I said.


    The establishment''s name was Carousel Roller Daze. Its design and decor were like something from another decade, but that made sense, as <em>Post-Traumatic</em> was a time travel horror movie.


    I kept my eye on the red wallpaper. My <strong>I Don''t Like It Here</strong> trope gave me a rough estimate of how difficult a storyline was, but that estimate was based on my current party. I had a hunch it wasn''t just about pure levels. I thought it factored in everything, like Archetypes or equipped tropes.


    We were about to find out.


    Ever since we had figured out that Kimberly''s talent agent trope could give a different answer depending on what tropes were equipped, I had been wondering if we could use the same thing for my scouting trope.


    I had collected all of the highest-level yers. As we walked further down the hill, I became confident that we had finally separated from the others enough that my reading would be just about us and not include the yers at the top of the hill.


    I looked at the flickering roller rink and stared at its poster on the red wallpaper.


    <em>Post-Traumatic</em> registered as <em>This Is Scaring Me</em>, which was one of the most dangerous levels that my trope would tell me.


    Of course, I was mostly guessing based on the innate fear and anxiety that my trope gave me, but I was pretty confident that this was a very dangerous storyline. It wasn''t the most dangerous, but it was a contender¡ªwe were easily out-leveled by ten plot armor or more.


    "Kimberly, equip your rescue trope."


    She quickly did.


    The difficulty increased. Not only could I see it jump all the way to <em>Get to the Car Now!</em>, but I could <em>feel</em> it getting more difficult in an instant¡ªperhaps because I was focused on it.


    The anxiety hit me in the back of the neck, and I subconsciously stretched my shoulders, contorting myself, trying to ease the stress.


    "So it obviously got more difficult," I said, "but it''s always going to do that for a rescue trope. Could you unequip it?"


    Kimberly nodded and did as I asked.


    Unfortunately, the storyline was so much stronger than us that this exercise might have been in vain. It was difficult to tell how much more challenging this storyline would be when it was already topping out the meter.


    "Antoine," I said.


    He nodded and equipped his <strong>Race Against Time</strong> trope.


    The difficulty kicked back up, but this time, I felt it was more extreme. My heart started to beat. It wasn''t quite as bad as hearing the breathing from the axe murderer, but I could feel that even though they both registered as <em>Get to the Car Now!</em>, Antoine''s was more difficult.


    "Okay," I said. "Now it''s my turn."


    Antoine unequipped his rescue trope, and I equipped mine¡ª<strong>The Wrong Reel</strong>.


    And in an instant, I felt relief. I swore I did.


    It still registered as <em>Get to the Car Now!</em> on the red wallpaper, but it was definitely less difficult than Antoine''s. If I had to guess, Kimberly''s rescue trope and mine were about equal in difficulty when used on <em>Post-Traumatic</em>.


    I ryed my findings to the others.


    "Exactly howrge is this experiment going to get?" Andrew asked. "If I''m not mistaken, this technique could be used to fine-tune all of the tropes we equip and which yers we take."


    "That''s what I was thinking," I said. "I don''t know if this trope is sensitive enough to tell minor differences, but it can tell major differences. And if it reacts to individual tropes equipped and not just rescue tropes, that could be huge. Right now, what I''m concerned with is partyposition. We''re high Savvy, Moxie, and Hustle right now. If I were to guess, that''s probably a goodbination for a time travel horror."


    "Well, let''s test that theory," Andrew said.


    He began walking away all the way up the hill. When he got there, he sent Michael back down to us. Now, we had two melee archetypes and one less savvy-based archetype.


    And with that one switch, the storyline jumped up to <em>Get to the Car Now!</em> even without a rescue trope equipped.


    So, the theory was well-founded that this storyline was mainly about speed and intelligence.


    "All right," I said. "Let''s mix and match."


    We spent 30 minutes just swapping people out to see what builds worked well with <em>Post-Traumatic</em>. It was far from an exact science because things like the tropes we had equipped or the level differences we had would y majorly into the difficulty rating my scouting trope gave. But broadly, it was still very useful information.


    From this, we determined that our initial hypothesis was mostly correct. We needed Savvy and Hustle. Moxie and Mettle were not so important, and it was difficult to tell how vital Grit was with this method, but I had to assume it was, given what I knew about the storyline.


    After all, I had seen that Camden had lost his arm, and this storyline involved some torture. Grit really helped the torture go down easier.


    We could y around forever trying to lower the storyline''s difficulty rating, but at the end of the day, my <strong>I Don''t Like It Here</strong> trope just wasn''t sensitive enough to help fine-tune our builds on a storyline that difficult. Once we had leveled up, I suspected I would get a more urate reading. Overall, it was still giving us good information. The technique would be really useful for storylines closer to our level.


    We walked back to the loft with our heads held high. Even though we hadn''t aplished all that much, it still felt like we were taking steps forward.


    And that was great because we had a lot of steps to go.


    It was afternoon, and we were on the roof of the loft, lounging.


    Bobby was ying with his dogs, and his dogs were ying with everyone, whether they liked it or not.


    It was a sunny day.


    If there''s one thing I appreciated about the new yers, it''s that Andrew was just as neurotic about discussing our ns for the future as I was.


    Of course, he was more or less focused on only one thing: rescuing his teammates who had gotten killed in the werewolfir.


    I couldn''t me him. We had spent all day worrying about my teammates who had gotten killed in a storyline.


    But getting Logan and Avery, his teammates, was a lot moreplicated because we didn''t know what storyline those werewolves were from. If we could figure that out, we could rescue them¡ªassuming they were in a storyline we could beat.


    But figuring out what storyline they were in was an enormous task for us.


    And we had so much more to think about.


    "Look," I said, "there''s a lot on the To-Do List. We need to get more writs of habitation, for one."


    We were sat out at a table under an umbre.


    "And how do we aplish that?" Andrew asked as he sipped on a yellow cocktail that someone had made him. I had one, too, but mine was murky brown. We didn''t have a mixologist on staff; Isaac and Michael had been experimenting.


    "ording to the As, if we want to be awarded writs of habitation, we have to run storylines where our characters are assigned habitable bases and have to spend the night at least once. Even then, the base has toe into the story theoretically."


    "That shouldn''t be too difficult," Andrew said. "I feel like there are plenty of overnight storylines."


    "Lots of them, it would seem," I said. "There doesn''t seem to be rhyme or reason for when they''re handed out, other than that. We have to wait until Carousel is feeling generous."


    "Okay, what else do we have to do?" he asked.


    "We need more rescue tropes," I said. "I think Carousel limited rescue tropes after we rescued you because it wanted variety, not because it wanted us to stop doing rescues. But that means we need more tropes."


    "And how do we get those?" Andrew asked.


    "We run storylines that involve rescuing someone as part of the base story," I said.


    "Makes sense," Andrew said. "I can certainly see us working that into our future ns. I would argue that rescuing Logan and Avery will be very helpful, even toward that goal. Having two operational, high-level teams would make every aspect of this base and any other base that we upy run smoother."


    "Look, Andrew, I''m not against the idea of rescuing your friends. I want you to manage your expectations. We''re going to work our tails off to figure out what storyline they''re in, and we may fail. And even if we do seed, there''s a good chance we won''t be able to rescue them still, if the storyline is too tough."


    "I understand that," he said, "but I think that they deserve our full devotion. After all, we have learned that your friends are in too high-level of a storyline for us to dream of beating right now. If it turns out that Logan and Avery''s storyline is more realistic, it would be a godsend."


    That was true. <em>Post-Traumatic</em> was too high-level for us. Most every other time I had taken on a higher-level story, there had been at least one ringer on the team who was already high-level. If we tried to take on that storyline anytime soon, we would likely lose.


    I had an anxiety building up that we would work to figure out what storyline Logan and Avery were trapped behind and that when we found it was too high-level, Andrew and Michael might be disheartened or uncooperative.


    They had not done anything to make me think that was the case yet, but I still worried.


    "Whatever the case," I said, "we definitely need to rescue more yers in general. Isaac and Ramona are almost too low-level to even meaningfully contribute to most runs with the rest of us."


    Andrew took a sip of his drink. "Trying to find a team of low-level yers doesn''t sound easy."


    "We have plenty to choose from," I said. "A huge chunk of those missing posters are for newbies. Wouldn''t be surprised if some of them never even learned what was going on here."


    "That might be better," Andrew said. "It''s easier to fill an empty cup."


    He was right. Being the first point of contact for new yers was better all around¡ªbetter for them and better for us.


    After a few moments of silence, I said, "The As has over a dozen werewolf stories in it that I could tell from the non-spoilers section, none of which seem to be a match for our culprits, and that is not exhaustive; there are likely more. You''re sure you can''t remember what the title of the storyline was?"


    "I''m trying my best," Andrew said. "I remember there being a title, but I was so focused on running that I never really gave the red wallpaper much mind."


    I could understand that. After all, most yers didn''t need to keep an eye on the red wallpaper as aggressively as I did with my Oblivious Bystander strategy. It could be extremely difficult to use your eyes and look at the red wallpaper.


    "Was the title long or short?" I asked. "Can you remember that much?"


    Andrew put his head in his hands and moved his fingers through his hair.


    "I can''t," he said, "but I don''t think it was short. It was one of those where the title was really small at the top, but the top was covered with other things, too. It was just a character poster, after all, not one of the main movie posters."


    "Right," I said. "Guess that means one thing."


    "What''s that?" he asked.


    "Tomorrow we''re going shopping."


    Andrew looked at me funny, but before he could say anything, someone else beat him to it.


    "Did you say we''re going shopping?" Kimberly asked, having just made her way over to our table. "That is wonderful! I know that you like your hoodie, but there are so many better options."


    "Not that kind of shopping," I said.


    "We''ll see," she said with a smile.


    Then she turned her attention to Andrew; her expression changed, and her voice softened as she asked if she could speak to him for a moment.


    She gestured over toward Antoine, who was on the other side of the roof, leaning against the railing and looking very annoyed.


    Andrew politely excused himself and followed Kimberly back across the roof.


    I wondered how long it would take him to find out that one of the reasons he was alive was because he might be able to help Antoine with his mostly well-concealed PTSD.


    Andrew had at least one helpful trope. It would be another Band-Aid on top of a stack of other Band-Aids, and together, they could be something like a cure.


    Whatever the case, I had done enough that day to call it a sess. I cuddled up in my hoodie in the shade and went to sleep.

 Book Five, Chapter 51: Shopping

    Book Five, Chapter 51: Shopping


    I stood in the middle of arge stone corridor, like something out of Hogwarts to my eye. Fancy stonework. No formed concrete. Yet, these walls were not for some royal courtyard. They were storefronts. On either side, there were eight to ten ss doors with big ss windows packed with goods to draw customers in.


    The only exit out of the corridor I could find was the same way we came in.


    This was a kill box.


    If something were to chase you into this ce, you¡¯d have to gamble on which door you entered, hoping there was an exit hidden from view.


    To my right, I saw arge ss window that had once been filled with mannequins dressed for a 1970s summer at the beach: bright colors, a fair amount of modesty, and a wave of nostalgia I had only experienced second hand through movies.


    All of the disys had been crushed, however, and standing on their remains were dozens of aimless zombies¡ªthe blue and green kind from back when rotten flesh was considered too obscene for movies¡ªwho pressed against the ss half-heartedly. I always thought the non-rotten ones were creepier.


    Maybe that was because as people rot, they get lighter. A fully desated corpse only weighed about forty pounds. I would know; I wrestled with one.


    These zombies were still wholly hydrated. They were barely dead. I¡¯d hate to mess with them.


    They didn¡¯t draw in any customers. This store, the only one whose door was locked (and chained), had once sold summer water sports equipment and beach attire but was now a monsterir for wandering cretins waiting for their storyline to be triggered. I could feel the monsterir with my Hysteric scouting trope so easily with all of the monsters right in front of me. If only the werewolves were on disy like this.¡°Are you sure that ss is going to hold?¡± I asked, looking over at Kimberly. It was flexing.


    ¡°It always has,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s best just not to look at them. Lara said the only way to clear them out is to either open the door, break the window, or run their storyline, but honestly, I don¡¯t really want to shop there anyway.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°Summer¡¯sing up.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good point,¡± she said. ¡°I do like that shawl.¡±


    I followed her eyes to a pink zombie wearing a sheer floral robe of some sort. It gave her that ¡°just out of the pool¡± look.


    Iughed.


    Kimberly would know better than I would about whether the ss would hold the undead back.


    The Mangler Outlet Mall had been a go-to spot back in the days of Camp Dyer.


    I never went, but Eye Candies, Final Girls, and anyone who cared about the clothes they wore knew the routine. We couldn¡¯t go to the actual mall because we¡¯d die swiftly, but the outlet mall was a great alternative, a small taste of the kinds of stores that could be found in the real world.


    Of course, the ce was designed like a nightmare.


    From the outside, it was a building with ornate stone walls defaced with advertisements for the stores inside.


    The problem was that the building wrapped around a corridor that was shaped like a U, with the shops wrapped around the corridor where the shoppers were. You entered at one end of the U, and the other end was a dead end with two blind corners to get both in and out.


    I hated it as a scout.


    Though it would make a fine base.


    We could only get to the stores by entering the corridor. It would be a terrible ce to get caught in an apocalypse, a storyline, or heck, if somebody busted that ss and let the zombies out.


    I led the charge at first, getting ay of thend and an idea of where the Omens were and then opening it up for shopping for the others. It really wasn¡¯t too bad if everyone was on the same page.


    In fact, there was something oddly ASMR about listening to the moaning zombies mixed with the soft shopping music of the outlet mall.


    I didn¡¯t care what Kimberly said¡ªI couldn¡¯t stand near them.


    I moved, careful to keep all of the yers and Omens in sight.


    The others were a lot more interested in the stores than I was. When I said that we were going shopping, I was talking about going to the special shops rted to the actual game at Carousel, not to these superfluous retail outlets.


    But Carousel had revamped these stores from their previous state; with the addition of trope items, even these mundane shops could be interesting.


    ¡°There¡¯s a dor store up on the right,¡± Kimberly said. She had this ce memorized. Back in the days of Camp Dyer, yers would go here to shop in huge groups; they would be loaded to the gills with firearms and other weapons, of course.


    We were the same way.


    I carried my special hedge shears in my hands, gripped tightly, ready for the moment I had to lop a head off.


    We weren¡¯t all clumped together like we normally were when we traveled¡ªthis wasrgely a safe ce, and it <em>felt</em> safe because there were lots of NPCs just going about their lives here, ignoring the shop filled with zombies, of course.


    Traveling had recently be even more manageable, given that we now had three whole people with scouting tropes capable of seeing Omens with little difficulty.


    L¡¯s trope was on par with mine as far as showing omens, and Isaac¡¯s was usable if he paid attention. He would probably have to increase his Savvy stat quite a bit before it became as usable as ours, if it ever would.


    L was taking a joy in being helpful. Maybe she thought that was her path to true forgiveness. It wasn¡¯t a bad theory. I already appreciated her.


    Her teammates needed time. Andrew was civil and even friendly to her, but he wanted his missing teammates back. That was all he cared about.


    ¡°There¡¯s a candy store over there,¡± Kimberly said, ¡°and an electronics store up here.¡± She pointed further down the corridor.


    At first, I thought she was talking to everyone, but she was talking to me. Maybe she thought that was my jam: candy and electronics.


    The electronics ce was called The Bare Wire. While it had a showroom at the front of the store, I could see through the window that there were stacks of electronics in the back. Even at a nce, there were trope items, although I couldn¡¯t quite focus on them enough to know what they were.


    I wanted to go in there. It was odd. I felt I needed to look around. I didn¡¯t know where those feelings came from. The ce was depressing, frankly.


    Still, I knew I would make a voyage there.


    ¡°The dor store looks like it¡¯s been wrecked,¡± Bobby noted.


    ¡°Yeah, all dor stores do,¡± Isaac said.


    From what I could see, the dor store didn¡¯t have any trope items¡ªor any good clothes, obviously¡ªbut it did have toiletries and other quality-of-life items that couldn¡¯t be found in any of the retail stores.


    Kimberly¡¯s goal was a clothes store at the very end of the corridor, which apparently had a wide variety.


    We were still on the first arm of the U and needed to make two more turns to get there.


    I didn¡¯t have the freedom to shop wherever I wanted because I had to keep my eyes open for omens.


    Not only were there Omens inside the stores, but asionally, mobile Omens traveled around with the NPCs¡ªlike the man, hastily dressed, who ran through the crowd, being chased by men in suits who yelled for him to stop and radioed each other government-agent jargon as they went along.


    The secret with him was not to let him bump into you because he would slip something into your shopping bag. Later, the government guys would do whatever it took to retrieve it from you after they viewed the security footage and realized you had it.


    Luckily, that omen was easy to diffuse because even if he put whatever the object was inside your shopping bag, you could just take it out and drop it on the ground, and no bad would happen.


    You¡¯d be off the hook. The As had told me that.


    As I was reading that omen, I must have been smiling because Ramona gave me a funny look.


    I told everyone in earshot not to let the guy bump into them or put anything in their bags, and then I continued watching for other omens.


    ¡°So that¡¯s an omen, too? They¡¯re literally everywhere,¡± she said.


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    ¡°They are,¡± I said. ¡°Just gotta keep an eye out, and we¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    I thought that she was scared, but that wasn¡¯t quite right.


    ¡°We used toe here when I was a kid,¡± she said. ¡°¡¯ Course, there were no zombies. It was just an ordinary ce.¡±


    She had grown up in a slightly altered version of Carousel, where Omens were either nonexistent or subdued¡ªthat was never made clear.


    ¡°I imagine this ce really lights up around Christmas time,¡± I said. I had memories of Christmas shopping in a ce like this.


    She nodded.


    ¡°This is a great ce to grow up, as funny as that might sound now,¡± she said.


    We talked for a while as people browsed. We were making our way forward, and Ramona was only interested in buying new clothes, even though she didn¡¯t have that much money.


    ¡°So you guys have Christmas?¡± I asked. They didn¡¯t have our brand names, but they somehow shared some of our holidays. They also had a bunch we didn¡¯t, of course.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said.


    ¡°And what is that holiday about?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Mistletoe and presents and caroling,¡± she said, ¡°that sort of thing. If you¡¯re nice, you get gifts from Santa; if you¡¯re bad, you get dragged out of your bed and eaten, you know, just things that parents tell children.¡±


    The more she talked, the more I realized that when I said Christmas, she didn¡¯t understand it to mean the same thing I did. Christmas was not a holiday here, not really; it was a setting for horror movies synonymous with winter and the solstice. Religion was incidental.


    I tried to probe deeper into this subject, but it seemed that we were so far apart in our understanding of what religion was that I just got more confused. After all, Carousel had bundled together thousands of cults and scripted them to act like a pseudo-monotheistic culture. It was a dense and confusing subject, but hey, religion always is.


    ¡°There are lots of religions,¡± Ramona said, ¡°the Children of Yashina, the Followers of the Hooded God. I was raised to believe it was rude to ask about that kind of stuff, though, and they mostly keep to themselves.¡±


    The more she talked, the more it sounded like Ss Dyrkon¡¯s version of Carousel was deeplyplicated. At least Carousel Proper didn¡¯t pretend it was a real town beneath the surface, but whatever Ss had created for his throughline had barely been coherent¡ªand yet, to Ramona, it was perfectly normal.


    ¡°Do you want some candy?¡± she asked, ncing over at the window front where a man was pulling pitch-ck taffey.


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± I said. ¡°We just have to stay to the back of the group to watch out for omens.¡±


    The candy store had a bunch of Omens, as would be imagined. They were simple to avoid.


    "Just so you know, I''m not eating anything from here," I said, "but I do like the idea of looking at the candy."


    "Oh, that¡¯s probably a good point," she said. "I didn¡¯t even think about that. Some of these <em>are</em> omens, aren¡¯t they?"


    "Like 50% of it is Omens," I said.


    "That is a bummer. Show me," she said.


    "Do you see this apple with the glistening green candy coating?" I asked.


    We stood in front of a small disy where lots of apples, apparently freshly made, were stuck out on sticks. Each of them was collectively an omen, yet little NPC children grabbed them and put them in their bags.


    NPC privilege was real when it came to not triggering Omens.


    Ramona stared at the apples.


    "Oh my gosh, how did I not see that?" she eventually said.


    "Yeah, you gotta let your eyes go blurry and focus on what¡¯s in your head," I said. "Of course, I don¡¯t have to worry about that because my trope makes them jump out at me."


    "<em>Stepmother</em>," Ramona read off the red wallpaper.


    "That¡¯s right," I said.


    The poster showed a well-dressed homemaker holding one of the candy apples as if it were a flower or something. The picture cut her off at her neck so that I couldn¡¯t see her face.


    "So don¡¯t eat the apple," Ramona said.


    "Don¡¯t eat the apple," I repeated.


    Beyond that, there was a great deal of candy that didn¡¯t have an omen attached to it, like candied shrunken heads, which were essentially giant gummy treats, or red sugar powder that was meant to be scooped out of a pouch with your fingers; when you licked the powder off, it left a blood-red residue.


    "Is all of this candy poisoned?" Ramona asked. ¡°I was hoping to get some of those chocte orange treats. They were my favorite growing up.¡±


    "No, of course not. Some of it just has razor des in it, and there¡¯s a thumb in that pop bottle over there. So, not <em>all</em> poison," I said. ¡°The orange choctes look fine if you want to risk it.¡±


    Ramona looked very disappointed. Another tainted relic of her previous life. The candy''s grotesque theme wouldn¡¯t have bothered her because she was born and raised around it.


    "Tell you what," I said. "We¡¯ll find a storyline one of these days that takes ce near here, and then we¡¯lle inside this candy store and plunder it¡ªbecause then it will be safe."


    "You¡¯re sure?" she asked.


    "Everything that I know tells me it¡¯ll be okay, although this outlet mall has some tough storylines, so it may be a while. But we¡¯ll try."


    She smiled, and we left the sugary horrors behind as a mother bought the pop with the thumb for her kid.


    We slowly made our way deeper into the outlet mall. It was still early morning, and the sun was not yet overhead.


    The corridor widened at the bottom of the U, and there were some tables with umbres set out for people to eat at. A few generic restaurants were situated there, but we weren¡¯t there for lunch. We had all grouped up around one of the tables.


    As far as I could tell, no one had actually bought anything yet. They were mostly window shopping and trying to find the trope items, but no one had found anything they wanted.


    "Is the food here safe to eat?" Cassie asked.


    "Yes, but don¡¯t order a number six from the noodle ce¡ªit¡¯s a tough omen. I¡¯m not even sure what¡¯s going on there," I said.


    Buying food in Carousel was always an option, and unlike the candy store, which seemed to be filled with gag items, restaurants usually did have safe food¡ªunless they were burnt down or staffed by ghosts or something.


    I was less interested in food, so I decided to go explore the electronics shop.


    I told everyone where I was going. I felt like I was being pulled there.


    "Get a TV for the living room," Isaac said.


    "No, don¡¯t do that," Kimberly said. "I hate the Carousel public ess channels. They alwayse on when you¡¯re least expecting them to."


    We didn¡¯t have a TV at Camp Dyer, at least not that I saw. What would we have watched?


    The Bare Wire was even more depressing on the inside. It had a few outdated electronics that reminded me of businesses having a going-out-of-business sale. It had one employee with a vest who seemed utterly uninterested in my presence as I walked through the doorway.


    The music in the store was different from the rest of the outlet mall¡ªthe vocals were louder than the music itself, with a strange amateur, improvisational style, as if I were listening to someone singing to themselves.


    I wasn¡¯t interested in any of the actual merchandise or the omens, of which there were only a few. I was mostly interested in the trope items I¡¯d seen peeking through the cracks in the stacks at the back of the store.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if customers were supposed to go back there, but the employee didn¡¯t stop me. At first, I thought he was texting at the cash register, but as I walked by, I saw he was ying Snake on a little flip phone.


    As I walked toward the back, I nced over my shoulder out the window toward the small food court to make sure I was still visible to my teammates. I should have asked for one of them toe with me, but strangely, I felt very calm.


    I didn¡¯t feel in danger.


    Then, I started to sort through the trope items stacked up on the thin metal shelves.


    Oddly, the first thing that caught my eye wasn¡¯t a trope object at all; it was an electric cord ending in frayed wires wrapped around a metal spear from a spear gun. It was being sold for $2.99, which struck me as a good deal. If only I had a spear gun.


    After that, I found arge amp with a trope that would make it send a huge st wave and blow up the speaker if you turned the volume all the way up and then sent sound through it. It was an Artist advanced archetype trope called <strong>Overloaded</strong>.


    I knew that trope existed in movies; I remembered it from the live-action Ninja Turtles.


    There was a vacuum cleaner with a <strong>Ghost Hunter</strong> trope that allowed it to suck up spirits, but it only worked inedies. I had yet to see a trueedy horror, though we hade pretty close. The final cut of <em>Delta Epsilon Delta</em> definitely had a humorous tilt to it, though we did not y the part for that.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what I was looking for, but I was expecting something to be there. I was running on vibes.


    I had my semi-psychic background trope equipped, but it was often hard to distinguish the effect it had on me from the effect of my scouting trope.


    Here, though, I definitely felt something, though I probably couldn¡¯t have articted that as I walked through the paths of metal shelves, constantly ncing back out the window to make sure my friends were still there.


    And then I saw it.


    Isaac would have been delighted.


    It was a television. Not arge one; in fact, it was so small that it had a little handle built into the stic on the top that I could get my fingers behind and carry it. It had a built-in VCR, and though the screen looked small, it was plenty big for watching movies.


    I would know.


    Because I had one just like it.


    The brand name was Philips, just like the one I¡¯d had since I was a kid.


    I couldn¡¯t stop staring at it. I checked dozens of times to see if it was some sort of omen tricking me into thinking it was my old television, but I couldn¡¯t see anything.


    The TV was plugged into one of the many outlets around the store, so I reached over and pressed the power button.


    It didn¡¯te to life immediately¡ªthose TVs never did¡ªbut I heard it click on, and slowly, the screen came into view, with the letters "VCR" in the top left corner.


    I¡¯d watched mine so often that my grandparents made me keep it in the basement so I wouldn¡¯t spend all night watching it. Heck, my parents had had the same problem except they made me keep it in the den.


    Mine had been an old friend.


    I stared at the buttons. They were so familiar that I knew what they were just from touch. I ran my hand over the screen and felt the static slowly building up over it. Then, I found my way to the VCR slot and casually pushed it open.


    To my surprise, there was a tape inside.


    My fingers found the eject button almost immediately, but I hesitated. I needed to make sure the tape itself didn¡¯t have any omens because that would be one heck of a trick for Carousel if I¡¯d just pressed y or otherwise interacted with it.


    But it had no omens, powerful or weak¡ªnone to speak of.


    I worked up my courage and pressed the eject button.


    When I pulled out the film, I nearly dropped it.


    It read <em>Candyman</em>.


    I had watched that movie as a preteen over a dozen times. It was a favorite. It terrified me.


    As I stared at the television, an entry on the red wallpaper stared back at me. Appropriately enough, the trope attached to the television was called <strong>Watch Party</strong>. It was a Fanatic trope that allowed a Film Buff to y the movies they normally watched on the red wallpaper on the television instead.


    That was great news, but I couldn¡¯t focus on that.


    This thing showing up was weird and strangely convenient.


    And frankly, it freaked me out because I didn¡¯t believe this television was just <em>like</em> the one I¡¯d owned growing up and still kept in storage.


    It was my TV.


    I knew it was.


    It was my actual TV.


    Carousel was messing with me. It constantly prodded me about my childhood, my grandparents, and my... parents.


    To what end? If Carousel was some sort of fear factory or monster prison, I could understand it. But why was it doing this? Why did it care about my family or what happened to me when I was young?


    This wasn¡¯t fear; it was pain.


    Was it trying to get a reaction out of me? Well, it was seeding.


    What was the point, though? Just trying to dredge up old feelings, old memories that I had locked away?


    My hand moved over the top of the TV affectionately.


    I took the headphones from my Walkman out of my pocket and plugged them into the TV''s audio jack, then put the <em>Candyman</em> VHS back into the VCR.


    That was how I¡¯d done it, how I¡¯d stayed up watching movies without permission. I¡¯d lie down in a sleeping bag too close to the TV, watching whatever movie I could get my hands on.


    I¡¯d spent so many nights, so many days, so many hours with that little television¡ªmany of them watching that particr movie and dozens of others that I became obsessed with for no reason.


    I didn¡¯t know if this was supposed to be a gift or if, for some sick reason, Carousel wanted to force me to remember one night when I was little¡ªwhen it happened... when my parents died.


    This TV was there then, too.


    I had to wonder: if I¡¯d been in my bed that night instead of in the den with my ears covered by headphones watching a scary movie¡ªnot <em>Candyman,</em> but another good one¡ªwould it have all gone differently?


    I unplugged the TV and grabbed it by its little built-in handhold.


    It was twenty dors.


    I¡¯d pay any price for an old friend.

 Book Five, Chapter 52: Twisted Threads

    Book Five, Chapter 52: Twisted Threads


    There was a sporting goods store around thest turn of the U-shaped building.


    It had an appropriately punny name: <em>Dead Sprints.</em>


    Unfortunately, it was closed down because it contained so many cool objects, and it would be overpowered for us to shop there. After all, sporting implements often made great incognito weapons¡ªeven if you weren''t an athlete.


    The As didn¡¯t say anything about it because trope objects (of which there were tons in there) were new, but the conveniently ced attendant filled us in. They said that the shop¡¯s owner had been murdered the night before so the shop was closed. She gave us details, including a newspaper article. It seemed pretty clear to me that to shop there, you had to run a storyline and save the shop owner the day before you went.


    So, as we passed by, we could only window shop, staring past the locked doors and shutters at the hockey sticks, golf clubs, mountain climbing axes, and other interesting items, many of which had tropes attached.


    Oh well.


    I carried my TV as best I could. We had brought the wheelbarrow in case we found something worth purchasing, but we didn¡¯t bring it inside the outlet mall because of the crowd. Luckily, the TV only had a 13-inch screen, and it really wasn¡¯t that heavy.


    Isaac was psyched when I actually bought a TV, and I don¡¯t think he even realized it had a trope attached.


    There was a Halloween-esque shop called <em>The Hem and Haunt,</em> and the strange thing about it was that it didn¡¯t appear to have a single omen inside. It had no trope objects, no items of interest at all because it was not a shop in and of itself but rather the setting for an omen that showed up at 3:00 a.m.I supposed the idea was that people would be disarmed by theck of danger and then be thrust into a terrible storyline. Who could say?


    It would have made more sense back in the days when yers were struggling to find a ce to survive between Writs of Habitation.


    Either way, no one would ever want to walk inside, especially because one of the mannequins in the window was wearing what I could only assume was human skin as a costume.


    However, an employee was standing out front, inviting us in. Her name was Jezebel, and I only remembered her because, like several of the other shopkeepers, she kept telling us one thing:


    ¡°If we don¡¯t have what you like, our sister store at the Carousel Mall is sure to have what you need. I can give you directions,¡± she said, holding out a little pamphlet with a map on it.


    The actual Carousel Mall was too dangerous to enter, but all of these little shops around town seemed to want to funnel people toward it.


    One day, we would surely go¡ªbut not that day.


    For most people, the real goal for that trip was just clothes. If those clothes happened to have magic powers inside storylines, that would be cool, but for the most part, that wasn¡¯t it.


    My friends and I lost our clothes whenever Camp Dyer was prematurely shut down, so we mainly wore what we had on us¡ªwith the exception of Kimberly, who put in more effort to procure clothes.


    Still, buying clothes and having a choice in what you wear every day was an important part of staying sane.


    Personally, I didn¡¯t think that my clothes were too bad, considering I¡¯d been wearing them for the better part of a year, ording to the calendar that was. In reality, they weren¡¯t close to being that old; much of the damage my clothes ever had was done in storylines and was instantly reversed after the storyline ended.


    More than that, even though we had apparently spent many months inside <em>The Die Cast</em> storyline, my hoodie had disappeared when I entered it, so it would still be in pretty good condition even if it weren¡¯t for the magical resetting ability that Carousel had.


    Still, I wanted a new undershirt, and maybe a few backup pairs of socks and other garments would make me feel more at home. I was currently rotating through clothes I had borrowed from various storylines, but none of them were ideal¡ªand none of them were brand new.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    You do what you have to to survive, even if it means stealing undergarments from the characters you y.


    So shopping was easy for me. I just needed the basics.


    It was equally easy for Dina, who imed she had purchased an entirely new outfit. However, to my eyes, she looked like she was still wearing her brown leather jacket and ripped-up jeans¡ªperhaps a newer version I didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°What?¡± she asked. ¡°This is what you wear when you don¡¯t want people messing with you.¡±


    She did look tough, but¡­


    ¡°You¡¯ve been murdered in that outfit,¡± I said.


    She shrugged, still admiring her new jacket, which I still swore was her old jacket.


    I sat in a small waiting area, my eyes on the door with a good vantage point of the entire store so that I could help look out for omens.


    In this circumstance, Kimberly was just as good as me because she had memorized this ce as well as the rest of the outlet mall.


    Still, I tried to be useful.


    There was one of those circr racks with clearance items on it, and a little kid was hiding in the middle of it.


    The kid was an Omen. The storyline was called <em>Us.</em> I was sure Carousel would be hearing from Jordan Peele¡¯swyers soon. The poster for the storyline featured that same kid, I had to assume, with his face in his hands.


    Or at least the ce where his face should be was in his hands, because as I concluded after a few nces, when I could take them, through the hanging clothes that surrounded him¡ªhe had no face.


    It wasn¡¯t like I could see his skull or anything; where his face should be was nk. He just sat in the middle of that clothing rack, facelessly crying from what I could tell, but there was no noise.


    Other than that, the clothing store was very delightful. It had a less spooky name, <em>Twisted Threads,</em> and was pretty close to a JCPenney or Dird¡¯s. There were a few things shoppers had to be aware of, like not letting any of the perfume get sprayed on them by those NPCs trying to sell it.


    There were a variety of storylines that could be kicked off just by having some scent sprayed on you. Unfortunately, from what I could see, none of them involved werewolves.


    ¡°Riley, check this out,¡± Kimberly said from somewhere to my right. I saw her standing in the aisle, holding a button-up shirt in my direction. It had a trope on it called <strong>Impress the Parents</strong> that would automatically do your hair, get you all cleaned up, and buff your Moxie.


    Even I could acknowledge how useful that perk was. It was a general trope, but it gave different bonuses depending on whether you were a Stud, a Beauty, a Neer, or an Underdog.


    No bonuses for Film Buffs.


    ¡°No thanks,¡± I called out. Looking good was not a priority worth giving up the utility of my hoodie. Being able to put my hood up and look like I wasn¡¯t paying attention was just too useful.


    ¡°Why not?¡± she cried back to me. ¡°It looks good.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna look like I¡¯m dressed for fourth-grade picture day,¡± I called back.


    She gave me a disappointed look and tucked the shirt over her arm, clearly intent on buying it.


    But we had to be careful as far as that went. There was so much to purchase at this store, even more than the other ces. And there were plenty of trope items at Twisted Threads. Not a lot of them were useful, but there was a legitimately good selection. We could easily waste all of our money here.


    I decided to stand near the checkout to see what people were buying.


    No one was supposed to spend more than 10 dors, which was a lot of money in Carousel, especially when you weren¡¯t buying specialty items.


    I had already broken that rule, but the TV was for the group. (Actually, it was for me, but the group could use it.)


    Andrew had enough of his own money to afford a trope item: a cane with a trope called <strong>Damaged Goods</strong> that would cause him to enter a storyline Hobbled but strongly buff his Grit.


    That was a pretty good deal for a doctor who mainly used their brain, though he would need to be careful. One of the assets of a good healer was their ability to move around quickly, so he would have to pick his moment carefully.


    As I stood near the register, a nce around the room showed me several potential buys. There was an umbre with a Seer trope that would guarantee it would rain before a dramatic moment in a storyline. There was eye shadow with a Femme Fatale trope for attracting a mark, appropriately called <strong>Fatal Attraction</strong>. I didn¡¯t want to think about that one.


    There was a in white T-shirt on a clearance rack¡ªnot the one with the crying faceless child under it¡ªthat would clean itself between scenes. It was a criminal trope called <strong>Above Suspicion</strong>. While I had absolutely seen stuff like that happen in movies where people''s clothes seemed to get washed as they moved from room to room, it urred to me how useful a trope like that might be when paired with a Betrayal trope that allowed you to act as an ally to the enemy in order to steal their narrative momentum and screen time, or whatever other strategy you were employing that required a betrayal trope.


    Cassie managed to find herself a really useful trope item. Even though she didn¡¯t have enough money to buy it herself, everyone chipped in a coin here and there to help her get it.


    It was a handheld mirror, so old and beautiful that it could not havee from a store like Twisted Threads in the real world.


    It had a Sleuth trope on it that made it so NPCs and enemies would not see it when you used it to peek around corners. It was a total Nancy Drew trope. The real benefit was that she would be able to use her <strong>Reflective Jump Scare</strong> trope along with it in order to get a peek at the enemy magically and not just around the corner.


    All in all, it was a good trip for both our mental health and storyline effectiveness.


    But, for us, the day was just beginning.

 Book Five, Chapter 53: The Forty-Dollar Fortune

    Book Five, Chapter 53: The Forty-Dor Fortune


    The trip out of the outlet mall was just as treacherous as the trip in, but we pulled it off, and I could tell that our mood was better because of this seemingly normal mini-vacation. The wheelbarrow was outside, just where we left it. I quickly walked over and ced my purchases, including my television, inside of it¡ªas did pretty much everyone else.


    Michael insisted on being the one to push it. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, and he wanted to show off his guns¡ªnot just the one tucked in his waistband.


    As he picked up the wheelbarrow, he nced at the television, and I thought maybe it urred to him that it looked an awful lot like televisions back home, but if he realized that, he didn¡¯t say anything.


    Michael mostly talked when he was sarcastic, using dark humor, or angry. Other than that, he was fairly quiet, though I wasn¡¯t sure if that was his real personality or if it was just because we weren¡¯t close yet.


    ¡°Where to next?¡± Kimberly asked with a smile on her face. For Kimberly, today was about as good as any day in Carousel could get, and I was happy about that.


    Everyone gathered around, and we exined our next move.


    Well, I exined it.


    ¡°First things first,¡± I said. ¡°We need to get off of thiswn because there¡¯s something trying to break up through the grass over there. I don¡¯t know if you can see that¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, damn!¡± Isaac said, jumping away from where he was standing about five feet from whatever it was that was pushing up through the grass.We moved over to the parking lot.


    ¡°All right, as you all know, the number one priority right now¡ªgiven our levels and all the things we have to aplish in the next few months¡ªis that we need to figure out what storyline Logan Maize and Avery Lawson are trapped behind. To be honest, there¡¯s not a lot of guidance in the As, and frankly, it feels like finding a needle in a haystack. All we know is that it features werewolves, and we know its general location, so we¡¯re going to go out and look around. We¡¯re going to go to Omen shops in hopes that we can find a mobile omen for the story.¡±


    Everyone nodded in a generally good mood.


    ¡°What are the odds that we find it?¡± Michael asked. It would seem he was yet another person who wasn¡¯tfortable with optimism.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to look until we do find them,¡± Antoine said, ¡°even if we have to turn over every single shop in Carousel. You have my word.¡±


    Antoine must have been getting bad because he was reallyying the gung-ho attitude on thick.


    ¡°I would say our odds are very small of finding the omen outright,¡± I said, ¡°but I think that if we ask around, there are several ways we can find that storyline. We know that Paragons are able to give you tickets to specific storylines, so that¡¯s another thing that we¡¯ll be trying today. There are no promises being made here.¡±


    I hated to undercut Antoine¡¯s message, but I had no idea what our odds of finding the right omen were.


    Oddly, if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, I thought Michael liked my answer more. I knew that I would have if I were in his position.


    Andrew started to p and encourage the others in much the same way that Antoine did, although I thought that Andrew was just doing it to humor Antoine.


    ¡°Show us the way,¡± he said.


    And I did.


    Our first stop was a semi-familiar haunt we had been to twice before. It was a little psychic shop in the middle of a strip mall (we were hitting all the different kinds of malls that day except for the real one) parking lot that hadrgely been abandoned. The entire area was ovee with the soundsing from the fur store. Roars and screams.


    From the outside, it looked like the establishment of any palm reader in any town in the U.S., but I knew that inside, there were powerful things.


    ¡°Andrew, Michael, and L,¡± I said, ¡°you definitely need to go in and talk to her. Your connection to Logan and Avery should help her nonsense work better. The rest of you can either stay out here or go inside and shop, but I¡¯ll warn you, there are a lot of purchasable omens in here, and some of them can get you if you¡¯re not paying attention. Cassie, if you want toe in and look around for psychic stuff, whatever. Isaac, you¡¯re the lookout.¡±


    I could trust Isaac to be on the lookout, especially in this spot, because I knew that no omens wereing by anytime soon.


    We had scoped it out before, and the new As had some information on it, but it was still good to give him responsibility every once in a while so that he didn¡¯t revert to being a cker.


    He nodded and seemed to take the job seriously.


    The psychic shop was exactly as I remembered it, except there was more stuff now, including keepsakes and trope items.


    Ss, the mechanical showman, was still broken down in the corner.


    As per usual, after a few moments of browsing through the archaic goods and ult items, Madam Celia made a shocking surprise entrance.


    ¡°I know why you havee,¡± she said. ¡°Come with me. I will do a reading for you, but be warned¡ªthe price will be great, and not just in coin.¡±


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The price was great in coin too because it cost 40 dors, which was twice as much as I paid for my magic television.


    Still, this was important, and the cost likely reflected the reward.


    Likely.


    ¡°I¡¯m going with them,¡± I said to Cassie. ¡°Use your magic sensing trope not to touch anything that will kill you.¡±


    ¡°What if it will kill others?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Better leave those alone, too, just to be safe,¡± I said.


    Andrew, Michael, L, and I squeezed into a booth in the back of the shop.


    I didn¡¯t really need to be there, but they didn¡¯t say anything, and frankly, if she was going to give us some clue, I wanted to hear it myself. I was sure that Andrew would take things seriously and give me a good ount, but still.


    Madam Celia was in a mboyant mood that day. While she always wore the purple dress and crazy jewelry, she often had a serious look on her face, like she was impatient with ignorant yers for not understanding her fortunes.


    She examined Andrew, Michael, and L one at a time. She gingerly reached out, grabbed their hands, and moved her fingers over their palms, around their wrists, and up their arms.


    ¡°A very skilled doctor,¡± she said, examining Andrew.


    ¡°You knew violence long before you came to Carousel, I see,¡± she said to Michael.


    That wasn¡¯t too impressive; she was just basically describing their archetypes.


    She was still examining Michael when she said, ¡°Your anger at Carousel¡ªit¡¯s potent. Anger because it trapped you, anger because it tricked you, and anger from a broken heart.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what we¡¯re here for,¡± Michael said. He pulled his hand back, and for the rest of the time we were there, he leaned back on the bench as if hoping she wouldn¡¯t read him again.


    For L, she said, ¡°You seek redemption, and you will find it, but perhaps it won¡¯t be what you hoped for.¡±


    I didn¡¯t really understand that. Most of Celia''s psychic nonsense was less supernatural intuition and more reading the systems of Carousel.


    I was always under the impression that yer choice mattered, so to say that she would obtain redemption implied that either our fate was already sealed or that Celia was saying something generic to try to soothe L.


    After she was done with L, she moved on to me.


    ¡°Back again?¡± she asked. ¡°Do you have a question you¡¯d like to ask me?¡±


    ¡°I thought you said you already knew what we were here for,¡± I said.


    ¡°I know the question you came with, but I did hope that you would ask another.¡±


    Thest time I was here, Celia and her gimmick left me a little emotional after a non-consensual walk down memoryne.


    ¡°I repeat what the guy said¡ªthat¡¯s not what we¡¯re here for,¡± I said.


    ¡°It strikes me that everyone believes they know what they¡¯re here for, and hardly any of them are correct¡­ You seek a Quester. You seek friends who have fallen. And there are answers to your question, but I am not the one to answer them.¡±


    She produced a small card from a pocket somewhere in her cloak and handed it to Andrew.


    ¡°Next, seek your answers here. In Carousel, the story moves wherever you pull the thread, so keep pulling,¡± she said.


    The card looked like a business card, but it had flowers and little silhouettes of people on it. I couldn¡¯t quite see what it was for, but Andrew looked puzzled.


    ¡°What I can give you is this warning:


    Your friends have all fallen, some here, some there;


    ''Til they have risen, you''ve no friends to spare."


    Madam Celia, the quest-giver¡ªyou stop in to get your fate divined, and she outsources it to someone else with some fortune-cookie knowledge.


    I was sure it would all pay off, but I was secretly hoping for a private showing ticket like the one she had given Dina. That would have made things a lot easier.


    The story moves in the direction you pull the thread. That was how magic worked in Carousel; the more you pursued a theme or an idea, the more the universe seemed to warp around that mission.


    They called it a throughline. Ss Dyrkon had exined something like that. It was funny how so many things in Carousel all worked that same way¡ªsometimes in small ways, like when improvising in a storyline, and sometimes in big ways, like trying to rewrite the universe or travel back in time.


    I thought over the poem, and for some reason, I kept instinctively looking at the Throughline Tracker on the red wallpaper, but it hadn¡¯t changed. I still felt something weird about it.<blockquote>


    "Your friends have all fallen, some here, some there;


    ''Til they have risen, you''ve no friends to spare."</blockquote>


    I thought over the words. This seemed to be a straightforward warning that we couldn¡¯t risk losing anyone else until we rescued more people, but that seemed a little cheap for a 40-dor fortune. I would have to think on it more.


    My wheels were turning.


    ¡°Will they ever forgive me?¡± L asked before we left the booth. Her eyes were red from tears. She had been silently crying next to me.


    ¡°Now, dear,¡± Madam Celia said, ¡°they have been betrayed far more than what you¡¯ve done, and it¡¯s possible they¡¯ll be betrayed again far worse. I promise you that the night will grow pitch ck before the sun begins to rise in Carousel.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t a yes.


    I slid out of the booth first and walked back out to the front, where Cassie had collected two items. The moment I saw her, she looked at me with puppy-dog eyes because she didn¡¯t have enough money for them.


    They were not trope items. They weren¡¯t keepsakes. She was holding actual cursed objects, with which Madam Celia had taken the proper precautions to negate their harmful qualities¡ªor so the sign on the wall said.


    ¡°Look, you know I have that <strong>Curios and Trinkets</strong> trope,¡± Cassie started, ¡°and these are the cheapest ones I can buy.¡±


    I took a deep breath and reached into my hoodie pocket to retrieve some coins.


    It was an investment. <strong>Curios and Trinkets</strong> was a powerful scouting trope that allowed her to sense the nature of magical or cursed objects byparison to other magical or cursed objects she already owned.


    The group would be paid back in information.


    ¡°So what do we got?¡± I asked.


    ¡°This ne puts you in aa,¡± she said, holding out a small box with a disassembled talisman inside.


    ¡°It would be far worse than aa, dear,¡± Madam Celia called as she reentered the front room. ¡°But as it is, it is quite safe.¡±


    The other item she had was a music box that, from what I could tell, had been superglued or epoxied inside and out so that the music would never y and the little dancer on top would never sway.


    ¡°And what¡¯s this one do?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Summons a ghost or demon,¡± Cassie exined. ¡°ording to the description on the price tag.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that item is very dangerous, which is why we have nullified it. When yed, it would bring forth Naax of the Dark Dimension to steal the souls of children and mothers,¡± Madam Celia added, suddenly showing a side of herself I had never seen before: the saleswoman.


    Apparently, Naax had never heard of glue when he made his little music box.


    They were fifteen bucks apiece which exined why Cassie was treating me like I would turn her down even though buy something here was on the agenda.


    ¡°You¡¯re keeping them in your room,¡± I said as I handed her the money.


    After carefully reviewing every Omen in the shop in hopes of seeing Logan and Avery¡¯s missing poster appear on the red wallpaper (I had the real posters in my pocket), I found Andrew, who was still staring at the little card he had received.


    ¡°Where was it that Madam Celia is sending us?¡± I asked.


    He showed me the card.


    <em>The Teacup Cottage: House of Dolls,</em> it read.


    A chill went down my spine.


    Depending on the genre of the story, a doll could be a delightfulpanion for a child or a terrifying foe.


    In Carousel, you could always guess the genre.


    ¡°It¡¯s not far,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want to be tired when we get our souls sucked out.¡±

 Book Five, Chapter 54: Tea Party

    Book Five, Chapter 54: Tea Party


    From the outside, the House of Dolls looked picture-perfect, like an American Girl store or the type of ce that only existed in the minds of young girls ying tea parties with their dolls.


    Because there were dolls. Tons and tons of them.


    It was a Queen Anne-style home, except for two of the walls¡ªthe ones facing the street¡ªwere mostly windows. Through those windows, you could see tables set up for patrons who might want to have a tea party themselves, as the Dollhouse was apparently a restaurant as well as a shop.


    Who would go eat in a ce filled with those soulless creatures? I didn¡¯t know.


    There were lots of fabrics around the house with a checkered pattern, simr to the one usually found on a pic nket. The entire ce was dusted and perfect, situated on the corner of a street in a well-to-do neighborhood with old houses andrge trees.


    Out on the porch, four dolls had been set up in rocking chairs to greet the neighborhood. Only one of them appeared to be cursed, as its eyes just wouldn¡¯t stay still.


    For Carousel, this ce was underwhelming so far. I had expected the walls to be made out of melted Barbie dolls or something. And yet, it was perfectly delightful¡ªfrom a distance.


    Because no matter how good it looked as we walked down the street, the closer we got, the more omens we saw peeking out through those windows in the front.


    We stopped at the corner across the street from the house, and Antoine whipped out the As, which he carried with him.Ideally, we would keep the As at the Loft so that it didn¡¯t get carried into a Storyline and then lost to us forever. But we figured that if Kimberly got trapped in a Storyline, the Loft would also be lost to us, and if the As was there, it would be gone too so there really was no safe ce for it.


    Finding a way to copy the As without spoiling ourselves was on the To-Do List.


    ¡°So, what have we got?¡± Michael said. ¡°Is it safe to walk in? Or are we just gonna sit out here and stare?¡±


    ¡°I cannot impress on you enough how difficult it is to search through this book,¡± Andrew said. ¡°It was designed for someone with <em>Eureka</em>.¡±


    I chuckled because I hade to the same realization myself when trying to search through the As. We would have our Schr back one day, and when we did, it would be his job to look through that damn book.


    ¡°I doubt the Psychic would have sent us here if it was a death trap,¡± I said. ¡°We paid her forty whole dors.¡±


    As much as that was a joke, I also felt like it might be true¡ªthat we could trust a lead from a Paragon, at least within the terms of the normal game, if not under all circumstances. Perhaps if there had been some ominous warning along with it¡­


    ¡°Here it is,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Unfortunately, this section is not nearly asplete as some of the others.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because nobody wanted to go into the Dollhouse,¡± Isaac said.


    He was probably right.


    As Andrew read through the scant information about the House of Dolls, I noticed that Ramona was staring at the house. I followed her gaze up to the second floor, and sure enough, there was an open window. While the room was dark, it did appear that something was sitting in front of the window¡ªnot in a chair, but almost as if a bed was situated in front of the window.


    I could only see the silhouette.


    ¡°Spooky,¡± I said. ¡°You think we¡¯re being watched?¡±


    Ramona shrugged. I could tell from the look on her face that something was off.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said. ¡°I just feel like someone¡¯s looking at me.¡±


    I looked back up at the dark figure in the window. There could have been someone there, or I could have been looking at a pillow¡ªI couldn¡¯t tell. I also felt something, but then, out in the open, my Hysteric trope was making me all kinds of anxious.


    Andrew closed the book and handed it back to Antoine.


    ¡°I have to conclude that if the Dollhouse were dangerous, then someone who had written about it would have mentioned it,¡± he said. ¡°More than that, it is a restaurant of some sort¡ªor at least I think I see a menu by the door. And restaurants are often safe enough to eat at, with some notable exceptions.¡±


    I could understand the rest of them having their concerns. I couldn¡¯t imagine what it would be like to go through Carousel without being able to see omens easily, let alone see how they triggered.


    ¡°All right,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll go in and help scope the ce out. We don¡¯t know this area very well, so we need scouts to stay out and keep a lookout. Isaac that means you, as much as you probably wanted to go in the Dollhouse.¡±


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°Aw, nuts,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°L,¡± I said, ¡°if you would stay out for a while and just keep an eye out while I scope things out in there, we¡¯ll send for you if we find something.¡±


    Technically, the lead that we were given was given to Andrew, L, and Michael, so it would make sense for her to go into the Dollhouse. But at the same time, I was far too curious¡ªand a little too much of a micromanager¡ªto stay outside now that we were on the trail of something big.<blockquote>


    <em>Your friends have all fallen, some here, some there;</em>


    <em>''Til they have risen, you''ve no friends to spare.</em></blockquote>


    I fully expected to find a clue about the fortune, and I wanted to be there to see it for myself. The more I looked at those two little lines, the more certain I became that the straightforward warning was just a misdirect and that the true meaning was something else entirely. I was still working it over in my mind.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay out here with the As,¡± Antoine said.


    I guess that means me, Andrew, Michael, maybe Cassie, maybe Kimberly. ¡°Dina,¡± I said, looking at her, ¡°do you want to look at some dolls?¡±


    ¡°The first time one of those things says my name, I¡¯m going to punt it across the room,¡± she said.


    ¡°Who else? Ramona, do you want toe?¡± I asked, noting that she was still looking at the upstairs window.


    She nodded.


    Kimberly wasn¡¯t that excited to go and Cassie was acting hesitant for some reason, so Andrew, Michael, Dina, Ramona, and I set off across the road. As we got closer, I kept my eyes moving to try to get ayout and understand the omens.


    My worst fear was that they might be moving, as dolls tended to do in horror movies. But for the most part, the House of Dolls appeared to be an ordinary shop¡ªlots of omens for sale, as well as a few trope items, including a baby doll that everyone in a horror movie would pretend was a real baby.


    Kimberly could use it with her pregnancy trope. I¡¯d have to tell her about it.


    As we approached the porch, I was able to read the menu for the tea and treats avable at the shop.<blockquote>


    <strong>The Teacup Cottage: House of Dolls</strong>


    <strong>Enchanted Teas and Sweets</strong>


    <strong>Teas</strong><ul><li>


    Moonlit Gumdrop Elixir</li><li>


    Fairy Fog and Petalbrew</li><li>


    Whimsical Wishing Tea</li><li>


    Starlit Dream Draught</li><li>


    Midsummer Marshmallow Mist</li><li>


    Honeydew Glitter Gloss</li><li>


    Whispering Cloudfrost Tea</li><li>


    Velvet Rose & Sparkle Shine</li><li>


    Candyfloss Hummingbrew</li></ul>


    <strong>Sweets & Treats</strong><ul><li>


    Rainbow Glow Cakes with Sparkle Drizzle</li><li>


    Celestial Cloud Scones with Stardrop Jam</li><li>


    Mystic Gumdrop Carousel</li></ul>


    <em>Step into wonder, where each sip tells a story and every bite feels like a dream.</em></blockquote>


    Those weren¡¯t exactly recipes I was used to, but then, I didn¡¯t drink tea, so maybe it was a perfectly normal menu.


    The possibility that a witch was about to eat us skyrocketed, but if we weren¡¯t going to take risks, we would be stuck in Carousel forever.


    Before we could open the screen door and enter the establishment¡ªwhich had a big "Open" sign in the window¡ªa plump woman with arge smile and ruby-red cheeks quickly opened it for us. She must have heard using. Her hair was long and tied into pigtails, a bright, deep red that looked too uniform to be real¡ªa wig, most likely.


    On the red wallpaper, she was simply an ordinary NPC named Da.


    "Hello, wee to The Teacup Cottage!" She waved us all into the house. I wasn¡¯t in any hurry, still checking for omens and danger to make sure we were safe, but soon enough, we all scuffled inside to see rows upon rows of dolls of all sorts.


    There were way too many dolls to befortable, and at least half of them looked far too creepy for anyone to realistically want to disy them.


    "Peter, we have guests," the woman called out. She turned to us, smiling broadly. "Would you like some tea? Did you see the menu?"


    Michael, Andrew, Dina, and Ramona were not the slightest bit interested.


    I asked how much it cost.


    "Only a dor," she said, "but the second cup is free! What can I get you?"


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯d just like to look around.¡±


    "Wonderful! Be careful not to touch the dolls; lots of them are antiques. The house is full of them, but whatever you do, don¡¯t go upstairs. Now, which tea was it you said you wanted, son?"


    ¡°No tea for me,¡± I said.


    But she looked at me expectantly and replied, ¡°I¡¯ll go ahead and get you some¡ªyou¡¯ll love it. Peter!¡± she yelled. ¡°One order for Whispering Cloudfrost!¡±


    She smiled back at me.


    When she left, Andrew looked at me and said, ¡°I advise you not to drink the tea.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said as if I had to be told.


    "What exactly are we supposed to be doing here?" Michael asked.


    Andrew shook his head and took out the card Madam Celia had given him. ¡°It has no instructions, no hints. I suppose we¡¯re just going to look around¡­ unless you think that Da has answers.¡±


    Meanwhile, I noticed that Ramona was looking straight up.


    ¡°What¡¯s up there?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to say,¡± she replied. ¡°I don¡¯t understand it.¡±


    I tried staring up at the ceiling like she was, and it was true that there was something up there. I didn¡¯t know if I felt it because I had my semi-psychic background trope or because there was something up there that even an ordinary person could feel¡ªa silent scream, pressing down.


    ¡°Here¡¯s your tea, dear,¡± Da said, having returned quickly.


    ¡°That was done fast,¡± I said.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, ¡°we pride ourselves in our service.¡±


    She handed me an empty yellow teacup, then lifted a matching teapot and began filling my cup. Except¡­ nothing came out.


    ¡°Would you like any sugar, dear?¡± she asked.


    ¡°No¡­ I¡¯m good,¡± I said. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Honestly, one of the creepiest things that could havee out of that teapot was nothing at all. Because it confirmed that Da was more than just a little weird.


    ¡°That¡¯ll be a dor,¡± she said, ¡°and taste your tea while it¡¯s hot!¡±


    Was I supposed to pay her a dor?


    She didn¡¯t give me anything, and there was no way I was going to drink this ¡°tea¡± anyway, but she held out her hand. I decided it was worth a dor just to end the interaction.


    I retrieved the right-sized coin from my pocket, and as she reached out for it, I fumbled a bit so that it dropped to the ground.


    ¡°I am so sorry,¡± I said.


    ¡°No problem at all,¡± she replied, bending over to grab it.


    Immediately, I dumped the invisible tea onto the ground with a silent ssh, and when she rose back up, I brought the teacup near my lips to pretend I had just drunk the whole thing.


    ¡°You finished it?¡± she eximed,ughing. ¡°Your mouth must be burning! Would you like some more?¡±


    ¡°No, no, I couldn¡¯t,¡± I said quickly.


    ¡°I insist! The second one¡¯s free,¡± she said, lifting the teapot to pour me another fake cup of tea.


    Defeated, I said, ¡°We¡¯re gonna go drink it over here at the table.¡±


    I led the group to one of the tables by the window.

 Book Five, Chapter 55: Broken Conduit

    Book Five, Chapter 55: Broken Conduit


    I set the cup in front of me, and the others joined me. After a quick look to ensure there were no omens under the seats, I admitted, ¡°That was embarrassing.¡±


    They were silent, and I guessed if they weren¡¯t so distracted by the creepy dolls, they might have beenughing at me.


    Andrew was straight to business. ¡°It seems that every doll in here is an omen of some kind. Am I wrong about that? It¡¯s difficult for me to differentiate each doll on the red wallpaper.¡±


    I looked around. ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°About half of them are omens, sure, but a lot of them seem to be omens for the same series¡ªsomething called <em>Summer Slumber Party</em>, Parts One through Six.¡±


    ¡°That sounds about right,¡± Dina said, ncing at the variety of dolls.


    ¡°Personally,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯d rather a doll be from a sher than from some sort of haunting.¡± Then I thought about it, looked over at all the dolls, and said, ¡°No offense.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get why we¡¯re sitting here,¡± Michael said. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be, like, interrogating that Da woman?¡±


    ¡°You really think she has any good information?¡± I asked, scooting my cup of invisible tea to the edge of the table. ¡°She seems a little off her rocker.¡±


    Still, I didn¡¯t know what we were supposed to be doing here, and there didn¡¯t seem to be a good way of finding out. Luckily, the answer wasn¡¯t exactly hiding from us.There was a loud sound from upstairs¡ªlike a door mming¡ªand then footsteps.


    Da screamed from the back of the house.


    We all jumped up from our table and ran to find her. I looked left and right, making sure we weren¡¯t encountering any omens.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stare in that mirror,¡± I said as we passed one. I didn¡¯t even have time to see what its deal was; I just knew to avoid triggering it. ¡°There¡¯s something tough in that drawer¡ªleave it alone,¡± I added.


    As we made our way to the back of the house, we realized that the collection of dolls in the front was only the beginning.


    ¡°All right, folks, be ready to run for the door,¡± I said.


    I could feel anxiety rising; there was danger here, even if I couldn¡¯t see it. And yet, I heardughter echoing quietly around us, along with the pitter-patter of what sounded like a toddler¡¯s footsteps¡ªbut maybe gentler.


    ¡°Why the heck did we enter this ce?¡± I said aloud. It was instinct or maybe even the result of someone or something¡¯s trope.


    And then, suddenly, theughter stopped, and all I heard was a very loud slurping sounding from back in the direction we had just run from.


    I looked around the back room. It was just rows and rows of dolls with little tables set up, simr to the ones up front but much smaller, with lots of tiny teacups set out.


    Eventually, we found Da lying at the base of the stairs.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I asked, still cautious of any omens.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what came over me. Do you need some more tea?¡± she asked me.


    ¡°No,¡± I replied.


    She nodded and started to try to stand up. At first, she couldn¡¯t, and then she looked up the stairs at something I couldn¡¯t see and said, ¡°Peter, I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll just need a moment.¡±


    I looked up the stairs myself, my heart pounding, expecting to see something horrifying. But all I saw was an empty hallway at the top of the stairs.


    ¡°What¡¯s up the stairs?¡± Michael asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s Peter,¡± she said. ¡°Can you see him too?¡±


    Of course, we couldn¡¯t see anything.


    ¡°Maybe we should reconvene outside,¡± Andrew suggested.


    I agreed; things were getting too spooky in there.


    So, bidding Da well as she sat on the steps, we all turned to leave. As we did, I caught a glimpse of the table we had been sitting at while we scoped out the ce.


    My tea had been sitting right on the edge of the table, but now it had moved¡ªinto thep of a doll sitting where it had been. The doll was in the vein of Chucky but about fifty years older, with a little tan cap and lifeless eyes. Next to the doll was a knife.


    It was both an Omen and an enemy, not unlike the Grotesque.


    The storyline was called <em>Kid Stuff</em>, and it was a tough one. You triggered it by not ying make-believe with the doll and giving it food.


    I stopped in my tracks, piecing it together. I had to assume that¡¯s why we needed to have a cup of tea¡ªto keep a thirsty doll distracted.


    The doll didn¡¯t move, and I had no evidence that it could move on its own, except for the fact that no one seemed to be around when it got onto the table. I wouldn¡¯t have stared at it for very long, but when we turned toward the door, it mmed shut, blocking our exit.


    Michael tugged at it and banged on it. It didn¡¯t budge.


    As we turned our backs to the door, bracing ourselves for a fight, Da walked down the hall toward us and said, ¡°Peter would like to see you.¡±


    ¡°We could jump through these windows,¡± Michael suggested. ¡°I could break through, no sweat.¡± But as he said that, the shutters on the outside of the building closed around the windows, darkening the room and giving us a solemn answer.


    We were not getting out. Not that way.


    ¡°This is¡­ highly unusual,¡± Andrew said. I could hear a quiver of fear in his voice; normally, he was analytical and calm, but now he was casting his logic out like a prayer. ¡°If we were being ambushed, I feel like it would have happened by now. We would have triggered an omen or something. This must be something different.¡±


    I had to agree, though I was probably just as hopeful as he was.


    This story has been uwfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Before we could decide what to do, Ramona stepped up to the front of the group and said, ¡°Take us to him.¡±


    Da turned and began walking back down the hall.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked Ramona. ¡°Are you sure about this?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said, and then she started following Da to the back.


    I tried to use my pseudo-psychic powers to sense what it was we were heading into, but all I got was a sense of something powerful on the other end. I hoped desperately it was all in my head.


    Still, we weren¡¯t getting out through the door, so I followed Ramona, who was following Da, back through the house and up the stairs.


    Upstairs was just a normal, well-kept house filled with pictures. The photos featured a boy and a girl about the same age¡ªthey could have been twins. They looked like they¡¯d grown up sometime around the 1920s, maybe earlier. For all I knew, it could have been as far back as the 1880s, though I didn¡¯t think photography of this type existed then. They seemed to be on a farm in the middle of nowhere, but they looked happy.


    A radio was ying softly in the hallway, an old-fashioned kind built into a cab.


    ¡°Peter, I brought them here,¡± Da called out.


    ¡°Are you sure the door was locked?¡± I asked Michael.


    ¡°I tried to pull it off its hinges. It wouldn¡¯t budge.¡±


    I had to hope that Madam Celia hadn¡¯t sent us to our deaths.


    Da led us across thending at the top of the stairs to a bedroom. She opened the door and waved us in.


    ¡°Here goes nothing,¡± I muttered under my breath.


    When we walked in, the room looked like a normal one from the 1950s or so¡ªlots of magazines and model cars, the kind that you paint with special metallic paints. But all that stuff hadyers of dust on it and hadn¡¯t been used in a long time, it would seem.


    On the far side of the room, by the windows, was a hospital bed. In it was a man who I had to assume wasatose, given the feeding tube and the fact that he was out cold. His skin was gray, and his hair was so wispy and fine that I couldn¡¯t even tell its color, but it was something light.


    On the red wallpaper, he wasbeled <em>Peter Who Knocked on the Door.</em> He was Level 50 with a host of tropes that I couldn¡¯t see. He was a Paragon.


    My mood instantly brightened because, as terrible as my experiences with Paragons had been, I¡¯d rather face one up here than some sort of monster, ghost, or demon any day.


    Whatever it was that Ramona and I had felt downstairs¡ªor across the street¡ªwe were feeling it tenfold in this room. Whatever this man was, he was putting out a lot of psychic wattage.


    Or something was.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I asked.


    No answer. Terrible customer service.


    While Peter never woke up, it wasn¡¯t true that he never answered because, like downstairs, there were dolls here too¡ªthough in a far more reasonable amount.


    One doll in particr was sitting on the desk. It was a terrifyingly lifelike humanoid, something like a cat or maybe a bear¡ªit wasn¡¯t clear. It had fur, and its eyes moved from side to side mechanically. It also had a voice box, the kind that needed to be activated by pulling a string. The name ¡°Bastion¡± was written on its front.


    With the influence of whatever Peter was, no string pull was necessary.


    ¡°He sleeps and waits to be woken by his master,¡± Bastion¡¯s voice box rasped. Bastion himself couldn¡¯t have said it any more terrifyingly. ¡°But I am limited without him awake. Quite a conundrum.¡±


    It was one of the top three scariest voices I had ever heard.


    ¡°He is like you,¡± the voice continued.


    As if to emphasize who he was talking to, Ramona¡¯s hair lifted as though struck by a gust of wind.


    ¡°I favored him, but he could not bear it forever, so I brought him here. But Carousel does not allow him to wake unless called upon. So I am stuck in the confines of this house lest I retreat to my other ne, always trapped between the two.¡±


    Ramona was a Mercer, which meant that she had some connection to a poltergeist. In its enthusiasm for protecting the Mercers, it often ended up getting them¡ªand bystanders¡ªkilled. Whatever this presence was, talking through Bastion, it seemed a lot like her poltergeist, bound to a man who could not live with its burden.


    ¡°We wait until called upon, until one day we may go home¡­ cured,¡± the voice said.


    I didn¡¯t know what the etiquette was or whether we should ask its name, so I didn¡¯t. In fact, I was terrified. As happy as I was to see a Paragon, I wasn¡¯t exactly hoping to meet one connected to some sort of spirit, ghost, or¡­ whatever this was.


    ¡°Why were we sent here?¡± Andrew asked, building up courage faster than I did.


    ¡°The script in his mind tells me that I am to give you a gift,¡± the voice replied. ¡°I will do this¡­ because I must.¡± It continued, ¡°For unless I regain my conduit, I will be here forever.¡±


    ¡°And what gift is that?¡± I asked.


    "It will call to you when you try to leave. You must avoid the hazards of the house, as I have been trapped here with a great horde of minor Imps as an insult to my power," the voice said.


    And then it stopped talking.


    I was a bit worried; I didn''t know the etiquette for meeting some sort of disembodied Eldritch horror, but it was being absolutely rude.


    "Wait," Ramona said. "Do you have something to tell me?"


    It turned out he didn¡¯t. He¡¯d returned to whatever other ne he was trapped in, without his conduit¡ªthat is if I was reading the lore right.


    "Well, nice seeing you, Peter," I said as we turned to leave. And as I said that, my hair blew a little, which either meant the upstairs room was very drafty, or maybe Peter wasn¡¯t entirely gone.


    ¡°So this really is just some sort of minor quest,¡± I said. ¡°Not that I mind that. It¡¯s nice to have a straightforward goal.¡±


    ¡°Better than the tutorial,¡± Dina replied.


    What wasn¡¯t?


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I was thinking,¡± I said, reaching the bottom of the stairs and heading back toward the front.


    When we got there, the doll with the knife was still sipping on my tea. And, as the disembodied¡ªor maybe forcibly embodied¡ªspirit had stated, one of the dolls did call out to us.


    It cried so loud, and suddenly, we all jumped.


    It wasn¡¯t even a spooky omen; it was a spooky trope item.


    It was just a baby doll, but one with moving eyes and an annoying cry. Its torso was hollowed out, filled with potpourri¡ªor perhaps herbs and spices of the spell variety¡ªand an assortment of symbols were carved into its stic.


    You know, one of those dolls.


    Its trope was a Hysteric trope with an effect I didn¡¯t quite understand at first. The trope, called <strong>Fear of the Unknown</strong>, would only trigger against dangers the user didn¡¯t otherwise have an awareness of. Attached to the terrifying baby doll, it seemed like it would cry whenever an unseen danger was near.


    I had no idea what that meant. Did omens count as dangers we weren¡¯t aware of, or did the fact that we were aware of them mean they wouldn¡¯t trigger the trope?


    I had to think on it: Dangers of the type the user isn¡¯t aware of.


    ¡°How much for the doll?¡± Michael asked Da.


    ¡°Five dors,¡± she said, ¡°if you promise to give it a good home.¡±


    We did promise it.


    We coughed up the money, and she went to grab the doll. She carefully wrapped it in some crate paper as if she were swaddling it, then ced it inside a bag, which, to my mind, defeated the purpose of swaddling it¡ªbut I wasn¡¯t going to say anything.


    With that, we grabbed the bag and turned to leave. When Michael reached for the door, it took a bit of effort to open it, as if someone upstairs was having a little fun at our expense.


    As we crossed the street, Ramona said, ¡°Riley.¡±


    I turned to look at her, and she continued, ¡°I have something on the Throughline Tracker for an Advanced Archetype. It just appeared.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°I guess we¡¯re getting a lot out of this trip. Hopefully, one day, we¡¯ll figure out what Advanced Archetype you¡¯re about to unlock.¡±


    ¡°But it says what Archetype it is,¡± she replied.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°<em>Eldritch Conduit,</em>¡± she answered.


    ¡°Nice,¡± I said. I¡¯d heard of that Advanced Archetype before, but I had to wonder: Why did she get to see what Advanced Archetype she was working toward when everyone else hadn¡¯t? Was Peter the Eldritch Conduit Paragon? And by meeting him, was she able to see her progress toward the archetype?


    ¡°How far along are you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Just two little dots,¡± she answered.


    ¡°Well, with a little luck, you¡¯ll be able to channel some unknowable entity¡ªand hopefully, you won¡¯t end up inside a hospital bed in a dollhouse for the rest of your life.¡±


    She smiled, but I sensed she was a bit more worried about that possibility than she let on. I had been thoughtless. She already channeled an entity, in theory, the same one that killed her mother and sister (originally) and had, in fact, killed her as a baby in her original timeline.


    As soon as we started crossing the street, the others saw us and started cheering, overly emotional. Apparently, seeing the shutters close on their own and hearing loud noises from inside the house had scared them¡ªor something.


    So, what was the clue that would help us rescue Logan and Avery? There were definitely no werewolves in that house.


    What exactly did we need a doll that would cry around unknown dangers for? I mean, obviously, there were good reasons to have a doll with that power, but why specifically now? And how would it help us move forward on our task of rescuing Andrew¡¯s teammates?


    And what did it have to do with that fortune Celia gave us?

 Book Five, Chapter 56: Happened A-Pawn Again

    Book Five, Chapter 56: Happened A-Pawn Again


    Our next stop was Happened A-Pawn. I had hoped it would have some answers¡ªor maybe even the omen for the Werewolf storyline itself¡ªbut that was a little too much to hope for.


    "So, normally, it''s a lot different than this," I said as the group filtered into the pawn shop, looking around at the mostly barren shelves.


    Behind the counter stood a tall, bald, heavily muscled man named Tar Bellows, a Paragon, one of the Bruisers, as far as I understood it.


    "I can only stock used goods. Business hasn''t been good," he said, barely looking up from his newspaper.


    Typically, the pawn shop was stocked with items rted to recently run storylines, and since the reset, there hadn¡¯t been many storylines, so the shelves were nearly empty. What little inventory remained included some gardening implements from <em>The Final Straw</em>, some astronaut food from <em>Itch</em>, and a bunch of other items that might have been from storylines in the fake tutorial. A very small amount had tropes attached.


    Seriously, the ce looked like it was either just opening or about to go out of business. When we had been here previously, there was a ton of stuff¡ªprops that could be used for various purposes, even before trope items existed.


    There were all kinds of electronics and supplies and weapons.


    "A lot ofpetition has been moving into my neighborhood," Tar said, pretending that our arrival wasn''t the most exciting thing to happen to him in weeks. ¡°Just can¡¯t keep up.¡±


    "What''s going on?" Antoine asked. "Are you allowed to tell us?""Seems like everybody''s in the business of selling specialty items these days," Tar replied. "Nobody needs toe to the pawn shop anymore."


    And then I understood.


    Until recently, most of the stores in Carousel only held props and survival supplies. Trope items didn''t exist, so the pawn shop had been a kind of one-stop shop for most of the props someone could need. While the concept of having tropes that worked well with props¡ªor that required props¡ªexisted, for the most part, the things you bought and brought into a storyline were for narrative purposes.


    Or weapons. You always needed weapons. Weapons didn''t need tropes to be useful. Still, the pawn shop¡¯s supply of guns and knives had dwindled.


    "We''re gonna look around," Antoine said.


    "Knock yourself out," Tar replied.


    There were a few Omens for sale: a haunted cuckoo clock, or perhaps just an Omen for a haunting that happened to be a cuckoo clock; a glove with dried, sticky blood on it, which could not have been legal to sell even at a pawn shop and would throw you into a murder mystery; a golf ball that bewilderinglyunched you into an alligator-based horror film (or maybe it was a crocodile¡ªI couldn''t tell from the poster).


    But no werewolves.


    A broken Ss, the mechanical showman, stood in the corner as he always did, doing nothing, as broken things usually do.


    It didn¡¯t take five minutes to cover the entire store. There was just nothing there. The camera used in <em>The Final Straw</em> was for sale, but it was so big and bulky that it wasn''t ideal for me to use as a prop.


    One thing the pawn shop did have, however, was tropes. The selection of tropes changed with every visit. Sometimes, there were powerful, game-changing tropes; other times, there weren¡¯t.


    This time, it seemed like a mixed bag.<blockquote>


    <strong>I''m Your Biggest Fan | Film Buff | Fanatic | Savvy |</strong><strong>Insight</strong>: The user obtains information about characters who are famous or celebrities by acting as a fan.


    <strong>Hold the Door | Bruiser | Gentle Giant | Mettle |</strong><strong>Action</strong>: When the user blockades or holds a door, it will hold for a time. <strong>Timer</strong>: Indicates how long the door will hold.


    <strong>Out in Left Field | Athlete | Sport | Hustle |</strong><strong>Buff</strong>: All projectile attacks using a bat or simr object tounch a projectile receive a buff.


    <strong>Knock on Wood | Psychic | Exorcist | Moxie |</strong><strong>Action</strong>: The user can "un-jinx" a pessimistic prediction, creating alternative oues or potentially debuffing the enemy''s attempt to fulfill the prediction.


    <strong>There Was One Thing | Detective | -- | Moxie |</strong><strong>Insight</strong>: Witnesses of a crime will remember one unique detail that, if used effectively, will help solve the case or lead to a breakthrough.


    <strong>Duck and Cover | Hysteric | Craven | Grit |</strong><strong>Rule</strong>: The user will not be targeted in an all-out brawl as long as they stay low to the ground in a defensive position, allowing them to crawl safely.


    <strong>Won¡¯t Waste a Tear | Bruiser | Bully | Moxie |</strong><strong>Rule</strong>: When the user bullies an ally set to be targeted by an enemy, the enemy will target the user instead.


    <strong>Keep Pressure On It | Doctor | Medic | Moxie |</strong><strong>Healing</strong>: The usermands an ally to apply pressure on a wound, which will be treated as cured as long as pressure is maintained.


    <strong>Why Me | Final Girl | Scream Queen | Moxie |</strong><strong>Buff</strong>: If the user wonders why they end up in dangerous situations during the Rebirth phase, they receive a buff to a n or action in the Finale, showcasing their capability to handle such dangers.


    <strong>Book Report | Schr | Researcher | Savvy |</strong><strong>Insight</strong>: The user gains knowledge from having read a schrly text that bes relevant to the plot, if applicable, giving them hints about what is toe.


    <strong>You Look Thirsty | Soldier | GI | -- |</strong><strong>Perk</strong>: If the user has a canteen or sealed drink container, they can gift an ally a drink, which will always contain pure water. <strong>Healing</strong>: The drink refreshes the recipient and may heal minor pain and status ailments, depending on the context.


    <strong>Mano y Mano | Bruiser | Brute | Mettle |</strong><strong>Action</strong>: By challenging a melee-based enemy in one-on-onebat, the user ensures the enemy will not use weapons as long as the user does not.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    <strong>Fellow Traveler | Outsider | Criminal | Moxie |</strong><strong>Scene</strong>: The user will be led to an early, mundane interaction with a disguised enemy. <strong>Insight</strong>: The user, through gut instinct or experience, learns details about the enemy''s criminal background, possibly including their Mettle stat or enemy tropes.


    <strong>g Them Down | -- | -- | Moxie |</strong><strong>Scene</strong>: When the user is running from an enemy andes across a road, a car will stop to help if gged down, either distracting the enemy or offering assistance.


    <strong>Couldn''t Pray It Away | -- | -- | -- |</strong><strong>Background</strong>: The user¡¯s character was neglected or abused as a child because their caretaker sensed something different, something paranormal, about them. <strong>Equip</strong>: Allows the user to equip a variety of tropes, including <strong>Animal Whisperer-Adventurer, Past Life Biography-Medium, Telekic Nudge-Psychic, House Sense-Departed, and A Bat Out of Hell-Hysteric</strong>.


    <strong>It''s Been Twenty Years | -- | -- | -- |</strong><strong>Background</strong>: The user¡¯s character has been in aa for many years and has just woken up to a world that has changed dramatically¡ªand they themselves have changed with it. <strong>Equip</strong>: Allows the user to equip ghost or Psychic-rted tropes, such as <strong>I don¡¯t like it here¡­-Hysteric, Forgotten Memories-Psychic, Eerie Touch-Psychic, Silent Whisper-Eldritch Conduit, and It¡¯s Nice to Catch up-Outsider</strong>.


    <strong>Scathing Review | Eye Candy | Celebrity | Savvy |</strong><strong>Insight</strong>: If this trope is equipped before the newspaper runs, a scathing, no-holds-barred review of the user¡¯s previous storyline performance will appear in the paper.


    <strong>Cliffhanger | Action Hero | -- | Grit |</strong><strong>Scene</strong>: The user initiates a major battle that ends in a cliffhanger over several scenes. <strong>Buff</strong>: During the cliffhanger, allies receive buffs for their pursuits. The user must survive and maintain the cliffhanger until they return On-Screen, at which point they are buffed to survive the situation.</blockquote>


    I stared at the selection. There were a few specimens we could pick up: a trope for a Film Buff, one for an athlete, one for a Celebrity-Eye Candy, and two very overpriced background tropes that would otherwise be obvious picks because they granted pseudo psychess, simr to my background trope.


    Not all storylines cared if you were psychic, but those that did care cared a lot, so it would be useful to have a background trope like that. But they were selling them for 50 dors apiece.


    Kimberly, Antoine, and I debated purchasing one or both.


    "Does being psychic help?" Kimberly asked. "I know that it''se up a lot."


    I shrugged. "It doese up a lot," I said. "I''m not going to say it''s crucial, and we certainly don''t want to be running an all-psychic team. Plus, those backgrounds¡ªaside from the psychic parts¡ªseem kind of heavy, narratively."


    One of the background tropes would change your character''s backstory to being an abused child, and the other would make it so you were in aa for a long time.


    That could be tricky to work into a story, especially with as much improvisation as we like to use. How powerful could <strong>Convenient Backstory</strong> be for Kimberly if she also had to squeeze in that she was an unloved child? Especially when one of her favorite ways to use <strong>Convenient Backstory</strong> was to say her rich father had paid for her to have a niche lesson.


    "I don''t need it," Antoine said. "And I really don''t need the baseball trope, either. More times than not, my bat is hidden somewhere in a storyline where I can''t find it. I don''t want to rely on it more than I already do."


    Antoine¡¯s characters probably wouldn¡¯t care much about being psychic. Plus, those backgrounds would really get in the way of the healthy, energetic aspect of an Athlete.


    "I¡¯ll take that Celebrity trope, though," Kimberly said, eyeing a trope that would give her a review of her performances.


    It was 20 dors, but I could see how useful it would be; understanding the audience''s response could help her enormously.


    I got the Film Buff trope, though I didn''t really want to fan boy for anyone, I would if I had to.


    Andrew purchased the Doctor trope about putting pressure on a wound or, at least,manding someone else to. It was a solid movie trope and a good action-horror move. It made things seem intense and gave hope that someone could survive a vicious attack.


    Cassie picked up the psychic trope called <strong>Knock on Wood</strong>. The truth was, she had been collecting a lot of tropes and not using many of them. That would change in theing months, surely, but that was also an issue with psychic tropes in general. They were often powerful but offered non-specific insights or abilities that might or might not have a huge impact on the story, depending on the storyline.


    Michael had no interest in the Soldier trope. Offering water made sense in very few storylines, and honestly, I never wanted to run a storyline where drinking water was a life-or-death resource.


    Ramona didn''t have enough money for the Hysteric trope, and I could tell she wasn''t exactly thrilled about pretending to be scared¡ªor actually being scared. But I still bought it for her. If you had to act scared and pathetic to survive, that was fine. Although, truthfully, I didn''t see Ramona as the type to duck and cover or crawl away.


    Dina picked up the Outsider trope because, while it seemed limited to human enemies, it was definitely valuable.


    Meanwhile, Kimberly picked up <strong>g Them Down</strong>, which would probably work well for an Eye Candy, especially if she was using <strong>Looks Don¡¯t Last</strong>.


    All told, we spent 107 dors at the pawn shop. And the tropes weren¡¯t even the most valuable thing we picked up there.


    "So, Tar," Kimberly said, "you seem to have your finger on the pulse of the Carousel."


    "Nope," Tar said, "but go on."


    "How might a yer find the Omen for a storyline when all they know is where the monster''sir is?"


    Tar thought for a moment.


    "Gotta ask around," he said. "Aren''t so many folks willing to speak candidly on that kind of thing. Aren''t too many folks even allowed to."


    "Do you know where any of those folks might be?" Kimberly asked, trying to seem sweet. I wasn¡¯t sure that would work on Tar.


    "There''s a ce you can go, and I''m not promising you''ll find what you''re looking for, but you will find something," Tar said. "Since you''ve never been there, you get a pass just once. The password is ''pyrite.'' It''s a ce that''s mostly peaceful, even in Carousel, but don''t trust it too much. If there''s gossip to be had about this storyline, you might be able to find it there. You always find something."


    "A password?" Kimberly asked. "Is it like a club?"


    "Don''t let anyone there hear you say that. There''s some dangerous folks that go there, but that don''t mean the ce is dangerous¡ªnot before closing time, that is. There''s aundromat over on the corner of Drawn and Quartered. An old ce; hardly ever see anyone doingundry in there. If you go to the back, there''ll be a man standing by a door. You tell him that password, and he''ll let you in."


    "Sounds like a chicken-fighting ring," Isaac said.


    Isaac was hardly the only person toment on the day-to-day happenings at Carousel, yet I always seemed to remember his jokes.


    "Well, if you''re interested in fighting rings, there''s probably someone there to steer you in the right direction. But this ain''t that kind of ce. This is a... peaceful sort of ce. A ce where all stripes go to have a drink, away from prying eyes and thew."


    "So it''s like a bar?" Antoine asked.


    "It''s like a bar," Tar said. "Although I think they use the word ''Speakeasy.'' And you might want to be careful¡ªthey change the password and the meeting spot every once in a while, so use your wits. No Omens can go in the Speakeasy, but trouble has a way of finding a foolish man no matter where he goes." I couldn¡¯t help but feel he was looking at Isaac when he said that.


    "A Speakeasy?" I said. "The As talks about a bar but not a Speakeasy¡ªa ce where a lot of yers used to go where they wouldn¡¯t fight."


    "Well, it¡¯s called the Speakeasy," Tar said.


    I wasn''t going to argue with him, but surely the bar I had read about in the As couldn''t be the same ce as the Speakeasy. Because if it was a Speakeasy, that¡¯s what they would call it¡ªit¡¯s such a cool word.


    Either way, the As did mention a ce where yers frompeting groups were said to meet. In fact, by no coincidence, I was sure, the entry in the As where we learned that the monsterir had werewolves had taken ce at such a bar.


    I had always assumed they were talking about different bars.


    And maybe they were. Maybe the Speakeasy was one of Carousel''s new changes, like trope items or the Throughline Tracker.


    Or maybe the Speakeasy came into existence for our Omen search and had never existed before. Carousel could change things on the fly and we would never know it.


    One thing I knew for certain was that we would be taking our Cry Baby doll wherever we went.


    We had been given a lead, just like thest lead, and we would follow it wherever it led. The thread unravels in the direction you pull it, so we got to pulling.

 Book Five, Chapter 57: Baby Steps

    Book Five, Chapter 57: Baby Steps


    We gently wrapped the crybaby¡¯s arms around the coat hooks at the entryway to the loft, both for convenience and practicality. Not to mention style.


    If something came along that we needed to know about, we hoped that the baby would cry and tell us. But that was actually a point of confusion¡ªever since we had gotten the baby, it had yet to cry even once, and we hade close to some tremendous dangers in Carousel since obtaining it.


    We did that every day, just walking around.


    As I sat eating cream of wheat, one of the only breakfast cereals avable at Eastern Carousel General Store, I stared at the baby as it hung from its hooks and wondered what exactly the trope was supposed to do. <strong>Fear of the Unknown</strong> activated around dangers the user was not aware of, seemingly a catchall.


    I scratched my head while I thought about it because I had a theory about why it wasn''t working. If it only worked on dangers you weren''t aware of, that implied that if you were aware of the danger, it just wouldn''t do anything.


    I wasn''t the only one who was confused, but I was the only one who was thinking about it that morning¡ªthe day after we had purchased it. Everyone else was preupied.


    We had decided to postpone our journey to the Speakeasy for a day because we wanted to get there around midday, as we had been told that we needed to leave at closing time, whenever that was. So, the sooner we got there in the day, the more time we would have to explore, and more importantly, the longer we would get to put off doing the dangerous endeavor of going to the Speakeasy itself.


    We knew, in theory, that this was how Carousel often worked back before the days of Camp Dyer¡ªbefore everything starteding apart at the seams. You find a problem, you go to a Paragon to get an answer, and you follow their directions, continuously chasing clue after clue until you get your answer.


    In a way, our mission was almost mundane by Carousel standards.We weren''t trying to figure out some grand scheme or understand the nature of Carousel; we were just trying to figure out the name and location of a specific omen. I had to assume that such quests were one of the reasons that Paragons existed in the first ce.


    Still, as I stared at the baby, waiting for it to start crying, I could feel myself growing nervous because everything we had done seemed to be going a little too well. Maybe it was just the fake tutorial that had given me that anxiety, but the Paragons were helpful, and it felt like we were making progress.


    I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.


    The others were watching <em>The Strings Attached</em> in the living room. They were all lying down or sitting with their legs crossed scooted up near each other so that they could see the little TV I had purchased from The Bare Wire.


    They hadn¡¯t had such a convenient source of entertainment in a long time. We figured that some spoilers were worth indulging the asional curiousity. Besides, we didn''t n on sending yers to that storyline anyway.


    Last night, we had watched <em>Itch</em>, and while we had anticipated we would enjoy it, no one actually had. It was such a source of frustration.


    Then we watched <em>Delta Epsilon Delta</em>, and that one was a lot more fun. We got to introduce everyone to Anna and Camden and watch our entire team fumble without knowing how to run a storyline properly yet. Andrew''s team had already run it, so only Cassie, Isaac, and Ramona were spoiled.


    My triumphant scene, in which I revealed the killer while stumbling up the stairs, too delirious even to notice the killer was there, was actually quite good¡ªother than the fact that it made no sense for my character to be the one to figure everything out.


    I was literally there as a red herring suspect, and it turned out that I was the one to solve everything.


    The othersplimented me, but all I could think was how silly of a twist that was. It was like the main character changed for the reveal.


    This morning¡¯s choice was a bit of a thrill ride.


    "Grace was so smart," Kimberly said as <em>The Strings Attached </em>yed. I could see a tear forming in her eye.


    The finished film made Grace look like a major genius, and my scene of fighting off possession was one of the best sources of horror in the movie. Carousel had managed to catch the sound of my bones breaking in crisp, wet echoes.


    "Can you imagine taking control and running a storyline without any research at all?" I said as I watched her reveal what had happened during that wicked masquerade ball.


    "I know, right?" Antoine answered. "They never even let us realize how much trouble we were in."


    Grace was a Detective advanced archetype, originally a Schr. She had turned what was likely some sort of thriller into a proper mystery, and she had kept all of her teammates in line with the collection of tropes and an abundance of leadership that she had obviously learned from herding her teamposed of three Bruisers around.


    My little TV allowed me to show the yers what I saw in the red wallpaper, and the obvious use of that was showing them all the films we had run that I could see because of my <strong>Director''s Monitor</strong> trope. So, I was watching the movie both in my mind and with my real eyes.


    It was easy. I could do it just by thinking.


    I was just d there wasn''t a dy between them because that would be annoying.


    As soon as the movie was over, everyone begrudgingly rejoined the reality of what we had to do that day.


    Andrew and I had looked through the As for any references to the bar or a tavern or anything with the word "Speakeasy" in it, and we had struck pay dirt.


    <strong>The</strong><strong>Speakeasy</strong> was also a Criminal-Outsider trope. That¡¯s where the establishment itself came from.


    It allowed its users to incorporate the aforementioned Speakeasy into any story they ran and exined why the Speakeasy relocated.


    There was a whole half-page on the trope written in tiny script by someone whose handwriting looked like typed words¡ªit was so neat and uniform. <strong>The Speakeasy</strong> trope was really useful, creating a sort of sanctuary that could be used in a variety of ways.


    It was a trope fit for an Apocalypse.


    It turned out the Speakeasy just happened to exist even when that trope wasn''t being used. Truthfully, there was probably more information about it somewhere in the As, but we had exhausted our abilities to search for it.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Whatever the case, finding it in the As¡ªeven though we didn''t get much information about the downsides of visiting the Speakeasy other than the random warning that things often change in Carousel¡ªdid make me feel a lot more secure about visiting it.


    But that wasn''t what was on other people''s minds. Not first thing in the morning.


    Because after the movie was over, their minds switched back to the crybaby.


    Just as mine had been while I was eating my cream of wheat.


    So, we had one of our famous 11-person huddles around a table with only six chairs as we nned what we were going to do that day.


    "We need to go to the werewolfir," Andrew said. "Not discounting our tip about the Speakeasy, I can''t help but think that the crybaby was designed to help us stay safe near a monsterir. Whatever the case, having that answer will make me feel more confident about going into ces we don''t understand."


    Michael was on board, as was L¡ªbut of course they were; they were his teammates.


    I found that most people were on board with his detour. Isaac and Cassie obviously agreed with him because they were his brother and sister, and the others seemed open to the idea of returning to the werewolfir if only to put off the eerie feeling surrounding the Speakeasy for a little bit.


    I wasn''t going to argue; the only real downside was the walk.


    I had trouble hiding my pessimism over the soundness of the idea.


    We had already received another lead to move our little mini-quest further, so if it turned out that the crybaby was all we needed, it would seem like Tar had given us a time-waster¡ªor maybe he was just scripted to tell us about the Speakeasy regardless eventually.


    Whatever the case, that was how we found ourselves on the long walk out to the KRSL Powerworks Pavilion that morning.


    Andrew volunteered to hold the baby¡ªwhat a sweetheart.


    Again, L offered to show us how she could open up sound stages to traverse Carousel safely, but I didn''t go for it, and I couldn''t exactly exin why, other than it made me feel ufortable and that I would rather do things my way.


    She didn''t seem to take it too hard, but what did I know?


    The trip there was uneventful, and the baby didn''t cry once, even as we reached a part of the road where the smaller road up the mountain had been washed out by rain.


    "This is it," Andrew said. "This is the road she led us to."


    Andrew was actually nervous being back here. We all were.


    "I''ll take the baby," Michael said. "See if it warns us about their."


    Andrew''s face showed his shock immediately, and he stammered to exin to Michael that he was not going to be going into the werewolfir on this trip. "We''re just here to see if there is a notable interaction between the crybaby and their."


    Michael nodded; he almost seemed disappointed, like he had a grudge to settle.


    "Well, somebody''s gotta say it," Isaac said. "Why don''t we just sneak up there and get a glimpse at the werewolves on the red wallpaper and see what the storyline is called? Wouldn''t that be faster?"


    Andrew shook his head. "In order to see what storyline they''re from, we would have to wait for them to transform away from being normal NPCs. I''m afraid at that point, we would likely be too far in to ensure our escape."


    "You could use <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong>," Antoine suggested. I noticed he was standing as far away from the forested side of the road as he could. "After the apocalypse, you used that, didn''t you?"


    I shook my head and said, "Look, yes, <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong> is a possibility, but first, I''d like to understand what we gain by getting closer to their. I thought our goal was just to see if the baby cried when we walked by it or something like that."


    "I assumed something would happen," Andrew said. "It seemed like we received the crybaby for this purpose."


    He held the cursed little baby doll out as its eyes moved side to side.


    I scratched my head. "That would make sense if it said it would help you detect any danger. But it only helps you detect dangers that you''re not already aware of¡ªthat seems like such a specific use case."


    "It would work on that crooked hallway omen that showed up a few nights ago," Antoine said, "not knowing if there was danger behind the door. Maybe that¡¯s why we were given it."


    That possibility had not urred to the rest of us. What if the crybaby was just to help with the omens that arrived in the night? What if the crybaby quest was unrted to finding the werewolf Omen?


    "I had hoped it would be useful for more than that," Andrew said. "If it makes us more secure at night, that is truly great, but it felt like we received this in order to help us find the name of the storyline that Logan and Avery were trapped in. I had to hope that bringing it here would do something. After all, none of us were able to detect their when we arrived here a year ago and started to climb the mountain. I thought perhaps it would grant perception of the film¡¯s poster."


    Monsterirs didn''t show up on the red wallpaper like omens did with our scouting tropes. Yet, at the same time, that wasn''t to say we didn''t detect them at all.


    After all, somebination of my hysteric scouting trope and my psychic background had clued me into the presence of something on the mountain that we were able to deduce was a monsterir.


    As I thought about that, stared up at the mountain, and felt the anxiety ovee me at how close we were to a monsterir, an idea struck me.


    I looked through the group.


    We weren''t exactly the best stocked in scouting tropes. I got curious.


    "Does anyone here feel like they can sense the monster''sir on the mountain?" I asked. "Because I can, especially now that I know it''s there."


    They each gave me a funny look at first, and then they turned to the mountain. Most of them closed their eyes; Cassie stuck out her hands as if feeling for vibes.


    "I have no idea," Kimberly said, "I''m afraid, but I think that''s just normal fear."


    "I''m not getting anything," Isaac said.


    And that was the answer for most of them.


    Except for Cassie, who seemed to focus longer than the others, her face bound into knots of focus.


    Cassie was a psychic archetype, and she did have equipped a few tropes that should theoretically have some influence over her ability to sense something like a monsterir, even though they didn''t explicitly say that they did.


    Even something like her <strong>I''m Blocked</strong> trope, which allowed her to get some form of interaction with an entity within a storyline, might still work on a monsterir, even if she didn''t know what the omen or storyline was.


    I was grasping at straws. I had no idea if Psychic tropes made you Psychic. Did the red wallpaper act as an interface with the power a trope gave you, or did it just help simte the power?


    "Do you feel anything?" I asked.


    "I think so," Cassie said, "but I don''t know if it''s just in my head."


    "Of course, it would be in your head; that''s where psychic powers happen," Isaac said.


    Haha.


    "So why are you asking?" Antoine asked.


    "I can sense that there is a monsterir there," I said. "It would make sense that certain archetypes or certain tropes would innately give you some ability to detect a monster''sir. I guess what I''m trying to say is that the baby is supposed to detect things that you can''t detect, so maybe us being here¡ªthose of us who detect their¡ªwell, maybe we should leave."


    "So you take the wording of the trope literally?" Andrew said. "That it ceases to function unless it''s your only resort?"


    "It''s just a hunch," I said, "and it doesn''t hurt to take things literally sometimes. So, anyone who feels that they have some inkling that there is a monsterir on that mountain,e with me. Anyone certain that they can''t detect it, stay here."


    So I turned and started walking back down the road. Cassie followed. So did Dina, whose background trope often gave her supernatural insights, although not in the most direct way, as hers only allowed her to have some quasi-psychic vibes connected to the loss her character receives.


    Still, a trope that gives you psychic abilities might disqualify you from the crybaby''s protection, and it didn''t hurt to see what would happen.


    Sure enough, as soon as we were far away enough from the monster''sir that I could no longer feel it, I heard a baby start crying in the distance.


    We reyed that experiment several times to see if our hunch was correct, and it ultimately was.


    When Cassie or Dina or I were in the group, the thing just didn''t work.


    If Dina took off her tropes, it did. If I took off my background trope, causing my scouting trope also to be unequipped, suddenly, the baby would cry when I was around.


    Even Cassie could get the baby to cry when she was around if she unequipped all of her psychic tropes, which meant that having a psychic archetype did not actually make you psychic. That was a whole other can of worms.


    "So what have we learned?" Andrew said.


    "I think there''s something strange up on that mountain," Isaac said.


    "I mean, what did we learn about the crybaby¡¯s purpose?" Andrew said. ¡°Given its niche use case?¡±


    Many people offered suggestions, but I said, "We learned it was given to us for a very specific reason. Maybe that itself is a clue."


    And that wasn''t really an answer because what did that mean?


    Where was a ce that we needed to go where there was a danger none of us were aware of?


    Well, if it was the Speakeasy, we were about to find out.

 Book Five, Chapter 58: The Speakeasy

    Book Five, Chapter 58: The Speakeasy


    Theundromat we were directed to had perhaps one of theziest names in all of Carousel: <em>The Laundromat.</em>


    Perhaps that was supposed to be ironic because, secretly, it wasn''t just aundromat, and therefore, just calling it that was funny.


    I wasn''t sure, but by all ounts, it looked like an averageundromat to me. People were inside doing their washing and drying. There was a woman inside of a little office who would take your suits or dresses to have them dry cleaned, which was a nice thing to have at aundromat.


    We ignored them all and walked to the back. As we followed the hall further into the building, we eventually found arge man standing next to a door whose only notable quality was that it was made out of thick metal and opened with a huge handle that might have been found on a door to a drug kingpin''spound.


    It was surrounded by industrial-sized washers and dryers.


    The man didn''t say anything to us, but Antoine coolly said, "Pyrite."


    The man didn''t respond, and for a moment, all we could hear was theundry machines going as he looked us up and down and reached over to open the door with a metal squeal, revealing a freight elevator.


    "I''m sure it''s normal to have a freight elevator in a one-story building," Isaac said.


    The man didn''t respond."Yeah, like we''d get into an elevator without a light," Isaac said¡ªand he was right; there was no light inside the elevator.


    "Isaac," I said, "there''s no omen. You can stop checking."


    He was calling out strange details, hoping to unveil an omen because that''s how his scouting trope worked, but mine said nothing was going on, and the baby wasn''t crying, so we were probably good.


    Probably.


    We stepped into the elevator, and as we did, a light flickered on. There was only one button in the elevator, so we pressed it.


    The trip down was jittery and frankly quite terrifying because, with all the shaking, it became possible that we were walking to our deaths despite all the evidence that we would be safe. That fear pushed itself into my mind.


    But then it stopped. There was a small gate between the elevator and the floor, and another goonish-looking guy was there to open it for us.


    Beyond that was a hallway with detailed red wallpaper¡ªnot the red wallpaper we saw in our heads, but simr.


    We loaded out into the hallway, and carefully, I led us down to the sound of music in the distance.


    Jazz music.


    The further we walked, the more sounds we heard¡ªpeople dancing andughing. There was an energy and a buzz in the air.


    As we finally reached the end of the hallway and turned to look, we saw a 1920s Speakeasy absolutely alive with a couple dozen NPCs. The cocktail waitresses and the bartender were wearing outfits to fit the theme and era. People were gambling at ckjack and roulette.


    The bartender specifically caught my attention because not only did he have a wiry, muscr frame and sharp, prating eyes, but he also had a Plot Armor of 50 and a bunch of tropes I couldn''t see.


    On the red wallpaper, his name was Vic Malone, but as I watched, his first name changed. It started at Vic and then became Roger and then John, and every few seconds, it would change.


    He spotted us the moment we rounded the corner. He didn''t exactly smile, but there was something inviting about the way he looked at us¡ªa sort of sardonic amusement.


    I couldn''t spend all of my attention on him; there was just so much to see.


    "Check out the two people dancing over by the piano," Dina said. Her <strong>Outsider''s Perspective</strong> trope allowed her to notice strange things quickly, and she had undoubtedly noticed something strange.


    The two people who were dancing were dressed to the gills and wearing masquerade masks. They didn''t register as enemies but rather as NPCs, and they didn''t seem to care that we were there. But I recognized the style of those masks, and I knew for sure what storyline they were from. Miss Brte and Mr. Cobalt ignored us and danced like that was the only thing that mattered to them.


    That couldn¡¯t have been a coincidence. Nothing ever was.


    There was a man named ¡°Cauliflower Bill¡± set up at a table in the far corner with an easel, and he had a sign out that said, "Caricatures 10 dors." He was marked as an NPC, too, but his sign had a picture on it of a collection of clowns at a circus, and I swore as I looked at that picture that one of those clowns seemed to be looking back at me.


    It was a terrifying clown that almost looked like it had another face painted above its real face with makeup.


    I had to look away.


    "Does anyone else get the feeling that everyone here is an enemy?" Antoine asked.


    "I think you might be on to something," I said.


    And sure enough, as we looked around at the room filled with smoke and jazz, everyone who wasn''t an employee did have a sort of dark look over them¡ªa haunting gaze. Danger leaked from their aura, and even though I couldn''t see any confirmation of this on the red wallpaper, my Hysteric scouting trope <strong>I Don''t Like It Here</strong> was making me feel very anxious.


    The collection included all sorts of people¡ªsome carrying obvious weapons, others looking like ordinary folk.


    "Should we leave?" Kimberly asked, clearly unsure of whether we should be here.


    I had no idea. The baby wasn''t crying, so there was no danger that we weren''t aware of, but at the same time, there were plenty of dangers that we were aware of, and for some reason, they were all pretending to be NPCs.


    "Let''s talk to the Paragon over here behind the bar," I said.


    Tar had hinted that the Speakeasy took in all types, but this was ridiculous.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the vition.


    Antoine was quick to talk to the bartender, and he didn''t waste words.


    "Are we safe here?" he asked of the man.


    The man¡ªVic, or whatever his name was, Malone¡ªsmiled and said, "You know, we don''t get a lot of yers around here these days. Wonder why that might be."


    Antoine kind of dismissed his yful greeting and said, "I just want to know if we should be here. Aren''t Paragons supposed to help the yers?"


    "Well, hang on there. There''s a way of going about things. Don''t just ask me if you''re in danger. Endear yourself to me so that I''m inclined to help you," Malone said, smiling. His eyes were searching and revealed something his smiling face hid well, a slyness, a cleverness.


    He wore his sleeves pushed up, and his thin, nimble fingers could fit all the way to the bottom of the sses he was polishing.


    He was one of those guys whose smile could transform his face from fierce and unweing to charismatic and, frankly, warm.


    I weed that in a ce like this.


    "Take a beer for each of us," Antoine said.


    "That''ll be a 50-cent piece apiece," Malone said. "Would you like to start a tab?"


    Fifty cents seemed like really cheap brews, and even though none of us actually wanted to drink at that moment, we were happy because we were still counting on the whole <em>if you pay for something, you''re safe</em> logic, which was only 85% true at best in practice because plenty of restaurants and stores had dangerous things in them.


    As he poured our drinks, he said, "And rx. These characters don''t mean you any harm, and they couldn''t if they wanted to. Not here. But I suggest you don''t be too friendly with any of them because while you learn about them, they¡¯re learning about you."


    I looked over the cast of characters who were having a good time in the Speakeasy that night. How many ck widows, serial killers, and psychopaths were there with us? I had no idea.


    The crybaby didn''t cry, and I never saw an omen. We found ourselves a booth, squeezed in, and listened to jazz.


    Eventually, we got Malone, the bartender, toe talk to us. He wouldn¡¯t talk to us at the bar.


    He scooted into the booth with us and asked, "So, what brings you to this neck of the woods? People like you don''t show up at a ce like this unless they have a real good reason."


    Andrew was the first to talk.


    "We''re on a mission," he said. "We''re looking for a storyline that involves werewolves and takes ce on the mountain near the Powerworks Pavilion. Do you have any information on the location of an omen for a storyline like that or anything that could help us?"


    "I see," Malone said. "See, I cater toward the human type of killer.¡± Then quieter, hemented to himself, ¡°Fees in here asking about werewolves¡­¡± like he was making fun. ¡°What I suggest is that you drink, and you think on it, and just take it all in. You never know what you might find here."


    He smiled, got up from the booth, and walked back to the bar.


    "This is useless," Michael said. "I don''t like going on wild goose chases, and I don''t like being toyed with by those¡­whatever you call them. Pelicans, politicians, paramours..."


    "Paragons," Andrew said. "They''re called Paragons. The older version of the As that we have now talks about them."


    "Doesn''t matter," Michael said, and then he was the first of us to take his beer and take a swig, and because he didn''t fall over, the rest of us followed, even though no one really drank much.


    "Maybe we should take off all our tropes," Kimberly said, "just to make sure that if there''s danger here, none of us are unknowingly detecting it and stopping the baby from working."


    That was actually a smart idea. We were pretty emotional and tense, so if one of our tropes was detecting danger or magic or anything, we possibly would not know it, but our ability to detect it might stop the baby from crying.


    So we all took off all our tropes, and when the baby didn¡¯t cry, we put them right back on. How silly we felt after.


    ¡°It was a good idea,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe we actually are safe here.¡±


    It still didn¡¯t feel like it, and frankly, I was growing really frustrated not knowing why we were there in the first ce.


    I let my eyes wander.


    There was a man drinking alone in the corner.


    He looked like a regr guy, probably good with thedies if I could guess, but he spent all his attention staring at a woman and a man across the room, and asionally the woman would look back at him like they shared a secret.


    I pieced together that they were working together to fleece the third man that the woman was talking to. Yep, from the looks of it, that fellow talking to the woman was going to have a rough night. Maybe I was just imagining it.


    Which is to say, I was having trouble focusing on why we were actually there.


    My eyes carried further around the room as I watched other narratives y out¡ªa couple of con men trying to sell a coin to a dupe, a woman sneaking something into the drink of a jazz pianist, and so on.


    And the man over there in the corner just waiting to paint someone¡¯s caricature.


    Strange fellow.


    He didn¡¯t seem to be interacting with anyone; his eyes were yellow where the white should be and ck everywhere else¡ªnot in a supernatural way, but more in a drinking-himself-to-death sort of way. He had a funny shape to him, too, kind of like a bowling pin with noodle arms. His shape was so distinctive that I recognized him from the picture he had of all those clowns, even without his makeup.


    ¡°Does somebody want to go with me? I want to go talk to this guy over here,¡± I said. It wasn¡¯t as if I thought he was part of our reason for being there, but I still wanted to know what his deal was and why a Speakeasy filled with criminals needed a caricature artist.


    Antoine volunteered to go with me.


    As we approached, the man started to smile¡ªa big toothy smile with yellow teeth that matched his yellow eyes. When he spoke, I could almost hear every cigarette he had ever smoked in his voice.


    ¡°Can I interest you two gents in a portrait?¡± he said, coughing. ¡°I¡¯ll give you one hell of a price, just 10 dors.¡±


    That was worth twenty beers in this economy.


    ¡°Would you like to see some of my other portraits?¡± he asked, flipping open a book filled with Proid pictures of drawings he had done. They were mostly of families with children, as well as a few romantic ones with couples, and of course, a few friend groups who decided to get their picture drawn together.


    ¡°What¡¯s with the clowns?¡± Antoine asked, staring at the sign and the picture on it.


    ¡°You like that?¡± the man said¡ªnot asking, but dering. ¡°Yeah, I work at the Low Top Circus. It¡¯sing back to town next month; it¡¯ll be a thrill. This one¡¯s me,¡± he said, pointing to the one that was obviously him because of his funny shape and yellow eyes.


    ¡°You like being a clown?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oh yeah, but if I¡¯m being honest, I mostly do it for the children,¡± he said, then looked at me nkly.


    I looked through the picture at all the clearly murderous clowns. In movies, clowns usuallye in at least two different versions of themselves¡ªthe perfectly ordinary one that you would expect to see at a real-life circus and the scary one that you would only see when you were about to be killed. The picture had the non-scary versions, and yet they were obviously still murderous, but not in a way that would hold up in court.


    I couldn¡¯t stare at the picture too long because the one clown with the face drawn above his face was starting to freak me out.


    I didn¡¯t know what I was hoping to see, but I thought that maybe because he wasn¡¯t going through his own little narrative like all of the other characters in the Speakeasy, he had something to do with us.


    I looked at Antoine and shrugged my shoulders.


    He shrugged his shoulders back, and we went back to our booth, where everyone was on their second round, even if they didn¡¯t finish their first.


    ¡°Well, maybe we were supposed to go to the mall,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Do you remember all those people talking about going to the real mall when we were at the outlet mall? It¡¯s malls all the way down. Think about it¡ªthere¡¯s a costume shop at the mall, remember? Maybe there¡¯s a werewolf costume, and we¡¯re supposed to buy it, and that¡¯s the omen. Wouldn¡¯t it make sense for a werewolf movie to have a werewolf costume as an omen¡ªliterally turning into a werewolf?¡± He kept tapping his temple as if he was showing you exactly how clever he was.


    And yet, when he said that, all I could think was, <em>What exactly would a werewolf costume look like in Carousel?</em> Because there were so many different types of werewolves. Would it be a big fur suit, or would it be some sort of mask, or maybe some of that facial putty that you¡¯re supposed to glue onto your face to add a snout or something?


    As I started thinking about it, something urred to me, and I really just couldn¡¯t stop thinking about it. Instead of taking my ce back in the booth, I went back to the bar and took a seat there, and finally, the pieces started to click into ce.


    Werewolves from different franchises didn¡¯t look alike at all, did they?


    Somehow, that thought brought me back to the fortune Madam Celia had given us:<blockquote>


    "Your friends have all fallen, some here, some there;


    ''Til they have risen, you''ve no friends to spare.</blockquote>


    I had two pretty strong ideas, but how did they fit together?

 Book Five, Chapter 59: The Thing about Werewolves

    Book Five, Chapter 59: The Thing about Werewolves


    "So, what are you over here nning?" Kimberly asked after I had been sitting at the bar by myself for half an hour, piecing together a theory.


    "Who says I''m nning anything?" I responded. "I''m just hanging out at the Speakeasy, like the rest of you, tying one on."


    "Your status on the red wallpaper says <em>nning</em>," she said.


    "Oh, right," I said. Who even remembered that that was one of the statuses? Maybe since I was always the one nning, I never saw it on other yers.


    "I remember it because it''s always good to see the high-Savvy people nning things. Makes me feel safer. I assume you''re thinking about the prophecy we got from Madam Celia or the baby doll. Did you figure it out?"


    Ah, yes, the fortune.<blockquote>


    Your friends have all fallen, some here, some there;


    ''Til they have risen, you''ve no friends to spare.</blockquote>


    "You know that is what''s on my mind," I said. "But here¡¯s the thing¡ªI don¡¯t think it¡¯s a prophecy. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a fortune, and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a warning.""It sounds like a warning," she said.


    "It does, doesn''t it?"


    "If it¡¯s not all that, what is it?" she asked.


    "I think it¡¯s a riddle, like an old-fashioned riddle where you¡¯re talking about one thing but look like you¡¯re talking about another," I said. "My grandpa used to like them. Unfortunately, they¡¯re not really in vogue¡ªnot for a long time. I think it¡¯s because they¡¯re too up for interpretation. You know, like, <em>What creature walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?</em>"


    She looked at me nkly.


    "I don¡¯t know," Kimberly said. "What is it?"


    "A human who crawls and then walks and then uses a cane as they age. That¡¯s the Riddle of the Sphinx, but I don¡¯t think this riddle is as universal as all that. I think this riddle is about our specific experiences, and it¡¯s also a lot more mundane."


    She smiled, ready for me to spill the beans.


    "All right, what do you think it is?"


    I repeated the fortune, word for word.<blockquote>


    ¡°Your friends have all fallen, some here, some there;


    ''Til they have risen, you''ve no friends to spare.¡±</blockquote>


    I twisted in my seat to look at her straight on.


    "If I''m wrong, don¡¯t make fun of me, all right? I think the riddle is referring to rolling a strike in bowling. That was my first thought. The friends are bowling pins¡ªthey''ve all fallen because you rolled a strike, and then, ''til the machine sets them back up, you can''t roll a spare because you have no friends¡ªno bowling pins."


    "Bowling?" she asked. "I don¡¯t know¡­does that mean the omen¡¯s at the bowling alley?"


    "Maybe," I said. "But then I looked at it again, this time without the metaphor, and I realized that it¡¯s about the bowlers themselves¡ªyou know, our Bowlers, Grace and Reggie, and the others. They all fell in different ces, one or two at a time, and now we have none of them left to spare. The bowling plus the ''friends''¡ªthat¡¯s what I¡¯m thinking about. I think we¡¯re supposed to seek out something about the Bowlers."


    Grace, her brother Reggie, her ex Jessie, their friends Be and Dirk.


    Kimberly looked excited. I figured there was something so simple about my interpretation that she really wanted it to be true; otherwise, reading that riddle at face value was pretty depressing.


    She turned to the others and said, "You all,e over here."


    Her urgency was very convincing to them because soon enough, I was surrounded by everyone, drinks in hand, wanting to know what Kimberly had called them over for.


    "I think Riley figured it out," she said. "The fortune from Madam Celia." She turned to me and said, "You¡¯re confident you¡¯re right, right?"


    "I don¡¯t know. I¡¯d like to think I am."


    "Go on, tell us," Andrew said, barely able to contain himself.


    So I exined to them what I had exined to Kimberly, and while I had thought it was a silly little idea, they seemed to think it was a lot more serious than that.


    "That is a simple and far more practical interpretation than I was thinking," Andrew said.


    They seemed genuinely excited. Even though I thought it was just a whack at getting the correct interpretation, they seemed to trust that I must be right for some reason. And as much as I wanted to dampen their expectations, they were talking excitedly, and Kimberly was going over her memory of how to disarm omens at the bowling alley.


    They were joyful because I had given them a really straightforward heading; it was such a simple interpretation and it was <em>so </em>Carousel.


    Antoine turned to me in the middle of their revelry and asked, "So, next up, the bowling alley?"


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    "Nope," I said.


    And all at once, they stopped talking and just stared at me.


    "And why not?" I think it was Cassie who asked.


    "The crybaby," I said.


    "How does that work in?" Michael asked.


    "Yeah, what about it?" Antoine asked.


    "The baby doll is only useful against dangers that we are not aware of. The bowling alley has lots of omens, but we have three people here who are perfectly capable of scouting them out. Why would we be sent to pick up the baby doll if we just had to go to the bowling alley?"


    That wasn''t to say the bowling alley was safe. It wasn''t, but the danger came from Omens.


    "So what then?" Kimberly asked.


    "There¡¯s a ce in Carousel that¡¯s dangerous, but no one knows why. Don¡¯t you remember?" I asked. "People will get postered there, but there are no omens."


    After a moment, Antoine said, "Carousel Family Video."


    The first time we¡¯d ever held a version of the As¡ªa very redacted version¡ªwe had learned that Carousel Family Video, a once-important hotspot for yers that allowed them to rent movies they had yed in and rewatch them for whatever benefits that might entail, was actually dangerous for reasons that no one knew.


    At least one person had gotten postered there, and no omen could be found, so being extraordinarily cautious, the vets had stopped going there, and by the time we showed up, the new vets barely remembered it.


    "Okay, but other than the baby doll, why would we go to Carousel Family Video?" Antoine asked. ¡°That¡¯s a bit of a leap.¡±


    "It was actually Isaac''sment that made me realize something: He talked about going to the mall to see if they had a werewolf costume in the costume shop that we were all being told to go to when we went to those outlet stores," I said.


    "Wait, we don¡¯t have to go to the mall, do we?" Isaac asked. "I was just joking around."


    "No," I said. "It urred to me that they would have to have multiple werewolf suits because werewolves always look different in horror movies. I mean, every makeup artist or costume designer wants to put their ir on what werewolves look like, and you can practically guess the movie just by looking at its werewolves."


    I paused for them to catch up to where I was headed.


    "None of you saw the name of the movie that the werewolves who killed Logan and Avery were from, but you did see the werewolves. You remember what they looked like, don¡¯t you?"


    Andrew, L, and Michael looked at one another.


    "I¡¯ll never forget it," Michael said.


    "Describe them," I said.


    Andrew, Michael, and L exchanged nces once more, and then Michael said, "Big, hairy, sharp teeth¡­they were werewolves."


    I rolled my eyes. "Were they bipedal? Were theypletely covered in fur? Were they human-shaped and covered in fur, or did they take on apletely wolf-like anatomy? Did they keep their clothes on when they transformed? Did their eyes glow? Did they have a snout, or did their normal mouth just grow sharp teeth? Did it look like they were wearing a monkey suit, or did it look like they had a bunch of fur glued to their skin? Did they perhaps look like they were wearing special contacts to change the shape of their eyes? Could you see their natural hair color after they had transformed? Did they have ws or paws, or still human hands with long nails? Could you tell what the human looked like before the transformation just by looking at the fully transformed wolf? Did they look like demons or animals, or possibly just humans with a bunch of rubber on their faces? Did they get bigger? Did their arms get longer? Did it look like they were wearing masks? Did they have lots of drool? Did their tongues hang out?"


    I took a breath. "I can keep going. There are a million different ways that werewolves differ from movie to movie, and I need you to remember the details."


    Something about my long rant seemed to cause a software malfunction in their brains as they tried to remember exactly what the wolves looked like.


    I pointed to the man painting caricatures in the corner. ¡°And I''m asking you all this because, while that clown is not out killing children, he just happens to be a sketch artist, and they ced him here at the Speakeasy where Tar told us to go.¡±


    They all turned and looked, realization dawning on them all at once.


    ¡°So we identify what the werewolves look like, and then we go look at the covers of the movies at the movie rental store to find the right werewolf,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°You got it,¡± I said. ¡°Werewolves are almost always featured on movie covers because the first thing a werewolf fan wants to see is whether the werewolves look stupid. And once we get the title of the storyline, we go look around the bowling alley to find the omen. I already looked in the As for stuff about the bowling alley¡ªthere¡¯s barely anything. Grace and the Bowlers were the ones that wrote out most of the pathing around that area, but of course, we don¡¯t have ess to what they wrote because we have an older version of the As from before they would have written it.¡±


    For some reason, I didn¡¯t expect my thoughts to be well received. I thought there would be arguments, but they all seemed genuinely happy to hear what I had to say and how all the elements lined up. If I wasn¡¯t wrong, I thought Kimberly looked proud.


    So that''s how the eleven of us sat around a caricature artist who just happened to be a killer clown when the circus was in, as Michael, Andrew, and L tried to describe the monsters they had seen kill their friends.


    ¡°His arms were long so that he could run on all fours without bending over too much,¡± Andrew said. ¡°I distinctly remember it¡ªthis onerge, muscr fellow, his arms just seemed to keep lengthening every time I looked at him.¡±


    ¡°I often wish my arms were long enough to run on all fours,¡± Isaac said. He had more than his fair share of the booze.


    That got a chuckle as the clown and I teamed up to ask more details and questions.


    ¡°What about their faces?¡± I asked. ¡°Were they wolf-like or Wolverine with sharp teeth?¡±


    ¡°Definitely like the head of a wolf sewn onto a human body,¡± L said. ¡°Except, at first, they did just look like humans with sharp teeth. But then I turned my head back, and suddenly they were wolves.¡±


    ¡°The same thing happened to me,¡± Michael said. ¡°I never actually saw them transform¡ªit¡¯s just that every time I looked back, they were a little bit more wolf-like.¡±


    ¡°Andrew,¡± I asked, ¡°is that what you saw too?¡±


    He nodded.


    ¡°I had thought it was just my imagination, or maybe I was just panicking, but it''s true¡ªI never saw them actually transform.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s amon horror movie trope,¡± I said. ¡°Saves on the budget. Better to miss out on the transformation than to ruin it with CGI. Or maybe they could only afford one proper transformation.¡±


    Humans turning into monsters was an art form in horror movies, and one of the cheapest and most reliable tricks was to have the camera look away during the transformation. Carousel, it seemed, had turned that into an enemy trope. I would have to think about why that would be important or how it would y into the game.


    As we talked, a picture started to transform and appear on the easel of an unclothed, long-armed, short-wed, wolf-headed monster with distinct muscr bodies and obvious sexual dimorphism between the males and the females. Apparently, thedy werewolves kept to their curves¡ªan observation that set the creepy clown caricature artist into aughing frenzy.


    ¡°I, for one, think Carousel made a good call by getting rid of their clothes,¡± Isaac said. ¡°They always look goofy with clothes on.¡±


    By the time we were finished, we had a really good sketch of the monsters we were after, all without risking a trip further into their.


    Now, all that was left was for us to travel to Carousel Family Video and hope that a spooky, crying baby doll could save us from whatever was dangerous about a movie rental store.


    I just hoped that my theories were right, that the clues we had been given were personalized to us, and that I hadn¡¯t gotten carried away.


    There was no way I was getting sleep that night without the help of my <strong>Out Like a Light</strong> trope.

 Book Five, Chapter 60: Carousel Family Video

    Book Five, Chapter 60: Carousel Family Video


    Carousel Family Video, despite purporting to be a family store, was huge, but it never lost its charm.


    As I walked inside, I was struck by an invisible wall of nostalgia that didn¡¯t belong to me. For as much as I liked watching vintage horror movies growing up, I missed the age of the video rental store by a few years.


    Sure, when I was a kid, my grandpa would pick up some movies for me to watch, often sneaking them into my backpack when my parents weren¡¯t watching. But by the time I was living with my grandparents, most of my movies were bought online in big boxes of assorted VHSs and DVDs and then doled out one at a time every week or so as a reward for doing my homework,pleting chores, or maybe just when I looked sad.


    But here was a huge store, the size of a grocery market, with two stories¡ªan upstairs and a downstairs¡ªall devoted to movies, specifically VHS. There were no DVDs to be found.


    That had to be a stylistic choice.


    Customers and employees filled the ce, just browsing, asionally checking out a film. As the As had led me to expect, there were no omens in the store and no trope items, either. Whatever danger was here truly was unknown.


    As we filed into the store, Antoine held the crybaby high, like it was some sort of talisman of religious significance, pointing it in different directions, expecting it to start crying, but its little robotic cry never sounded.


    We must have looked like goofballs.


    We had a n for how we were going to do things, and that n involved visiting a local hardware store¡ªone of the old ones from the 1920s, where you told a guy behind a counter what you wanted, and he went and got it for you¡ªto buy a length of rope.It just so happened that the length of rope the guy brought back to us had a really cool trope called <strong>No Bad Noose.</strong> This trope made it so that it would tangle around the neck of its target during First Blood, Second Blood, or the Final Battle and form an impromptu, entirely idental noose. They would fall, their neck would snap (or it would look like it), that sort of thing.


    Iughed when the guy handed it to us because I had seen that trope in countless movies, including <em>Tarzan</em>. It was a very dour subject, but at the end of the day, it always tickled me a little when I recognized a trope from movies I had watched, and that happened all the time in Carousel.


    We didn¡¯t need the length of rope to strangle any bad guys¡ªor good guys, for that matter because it would work on whoever got tangled in it. We needed it to help us keep the group together.


    When we walked into the video store, we each had the rope tied to us somehow. I just looped it through a couple of my belt loops, as did pretty much everyone else with jeans. Other people had to get more creative, but that¡¯s how we decided to solve our problem of people potentially going missing¡ªwe literally tied ourselves together.


    Fortunately, none of the patrons of the store seemed to care that we were all tied together, though I could have sworn I saw some NPCs stifling a chuckle as they looked at us. Some even stared.


    As with bicycle helmets, if you don¡¯t feel ridiculous, then you haven¡¯t taken enough precautions.


    After we had all made it into the store, we just looked at each other andughed because it was such a silly scenario.


    We were so afraid of this ce that seemed so normal¡ªalmost more normal than any other ce in Carousel¡ªbecause it had no omens, and if you didn¡¯t focus on things, it just looked like a normal store.


    We looked like a scene out of <em>The Descent</em>.


    I had to clear my mind and get my head straight.


    We were there to find a movie with the werewolf that a murderous clown had sketched out for us¡ªthe one that had killed Logan and Avery. We were not there to browse in general, but I found clearing my mind to be very difficult because this ce was so exciting.


    I realized that because no one else seemed to be nearly as amazed as I was because of Kimberly.


    ¡°Riley, you¡¯re smiling,¡± she said as soon as she got a good look at me.


    I shrugged my shoulders and said, ¡°What can I say? This ce is awesome.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s in his natural habitat,¡± Antoine said. ¡°All right, everybody, check the knots. We need to make sure we¡¯ve got Riley secured.¡±


    Did I really smile so rarely that it was a cause for rm?


    ¡°Listen up,¡± Antoine continued, reiterating the n that we high-Savvy yers had made. He was the Fred to our Velmas. ¡°We¡¯re going together. We¡¯ll check every row multiple times. We have no reason to be in a hurry. Make sure you get a good look at every movie that looks like it might have a werewolf in it. I don¡¯t need to tell you how dangerous an unknown threat is, so¡ª¡±


    Antoine¡¯s little speech was cut off because someone screamed from deeper into the store. It wasn¡¯t a scared or injured scream¡ªthey were screaming a name.


    ¡°Kimberly Madison!¡± they called from across the store, and then a man in his mid-20s, wearing a red hoodie and anyard, came running toward us.


    ¡°It¡¯s really you!¡± he said as he approached the group. His name on the red wallpaper was Gus¡ªjust Gus, nost name¡ªand he had normal plot armor, like a regr NPC.


    His hair was long, but not as long as mine was getting. He looked like a general geek¡ªthe overly excited kind, not the sulky kind like me.


    We were silent at first because this was the sort of thing that never happened outside of a storyline unless you were getting jumped by an Omen.


    ¡°Do I know you?¡± Kimberly asked.


    He chuckled awkwardly. ¡°Well, of course, you don¡¯t know me,¡± he said. ¡°But I know you. I¡¯ve got your poster hanging on the back wall.¡± He turned around and looked for a spot on the back, pointing his finger, and sure enough, there was a poster of Kimberly. It was from <em>The Die Cast</em>¡ªjust a character poster like one might see on the red wallpaper.


    ¡°I just have to say, I am such a big fan. I¡¯ve watched everything you¡¯ve been in,¡± he said. ¡°Go on, ask me anything about your entire career, and I can tell you.¡±


    Honestly, I was taken aback by this sort of treatment from an NPC outside of a storyline, but Kimberly was a lot faster on her feet, so she did have a question.


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    ¡°How did I get started as an actress?¡± she said, not with any particr curiosity, but as if she was just testing the waters to see how meta this guy was going to get.


    ¡°Easy,¡± he said. ¡°You came to Carousel chasing some boy¡ªI forget his name¡ªended up doing some not-so-well-received horror movies, let¡¯s be honest, but you were the best thing in them half the time. You ended up getting ¡®discovered,¡¯ as they say in the biz, by Salvatore Morowitz when he saw you in <em>The Final Straw</em>, and now you¡¯re probably one of the most famous actresses in Carousel.¡±


    That was one way of putting things¡ªa made-up story constructed from elements of truth. She had chosen her Celebrity aspect after <em>The Final Straw</em>, though technically Sal, her fictional talent agent, was already representing her within the made-up continuity of her career earlier than Gus said. But I would let that slide; things were getting a little meta.


    I had to assume that was what was going on. Gus recognized Kimberly as a Celebrity Eye Candy.


    But by that logic, was it possible that he knew who I was? I also had a meta aspect rted to filmmaking, so I was certain he knew who I was. And that wasn¡¯t me being conceited¡ªit was because he was dressed exactly like me, in my exact hoodie, with jeans and even Converse sneakers.


    But his attention was on Kimberly.


    As amusing as all of this would be when we talked about itter back at the loft, at the moment, we were actually quite afraid because we were looking for something to go wrong. With every breath, I was listening for the crybaby to start wailing, but it never did.


    ¡°Well, Gus,¡± Kimberly said, pointing to hisnyard and the name tag at the end of it, pretending that she didn¡¯t just look at him on the red wallpaper, ¡°can you help us find some werewolf movies? Maybe one that takes ce on a mountain?¡±


    That was a good question¡ªone that sounded like the kind of thing he could answer.


    Every section in the store was marked as <em>Horror</em>.


    How helpful.


    To their credit, they also listed subgenres.


    Unfortunately, none of those subgenres were werewolves. They were things like romance, thrillers, mysteries, and crime stories. That was where our leads ran dry. We didn¡¯t know what kind of horror story this werewolf movie was supposed to be. Luckily, most werewolf movies were straight-up horror and weren¡¯t particrly gimmicky as far as genre goes.


    Still, if Gus could help us, that would be a godsend¡ªthough I wouldn¡¯t be able to say which god sent it.


    ¡°I love werewolf movies! Are you going to do a werewolf movie?¡± Gus said, still focused on Kimberly. ¡°Are you here doing research? Do you need my help?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°We¡¯re doing research for a werewolf movie, and we need to find one that takes ce on a mountain.¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know if we can search based on where it takes ce,¡± Gus said. ¡°And unfortunately, we don¡¯t organize the movies by what monster is in them, but I would be d to help.¡±


    He was really ying up the excited fan angle, and despite the fact that he was a normal NPC on the red wallpaper, I couldn¡¯t help but feel something was going on. Unlike the other NPCs, who were gawking at us for the whole tying-ourselves-together thing, he had yet to acknowledge it.


    But what really made me think something was going on was the way he looked at me when he turned and waved for us to follow him. It was a knowing look, with a grin and everything, that onlysted a second¡ªbut he met my eyeline perfectly.


    Was my <strong>I Don¡¯t Like It Here</strong> trope giving me anxiety? No, no, it wasn¡¯t. In fact, ever since we walked into this store, it hadn¡¯t been making a peep. And I doubted it was my psychic background throwing me a bone.


    What alerted me was my natural distrust of people, and I did not trust this guy¡ªeven though I could not find one objective reason.


    But still, if we ever hoped to leave Carousel, we couldn¡¯t run away from everything we distrusted. So, when he turned and walked away with his goofy demeanor, we followed cautiously.


    And for thirty minutes¡ªthirty whole minutes¡ªGus didn¡¯t do anything to make me think he was up to no good. He just guided us down various aisles, picked up werewolf tapes, and showed them to us.


    And in thirty minutes, we found nothing. Luckily, nothing found us either.


    ¡°Wait a minute,¡± Dina said, and then she managed to point something out to us that we had somehow managed not to notice in all of our searches. With every werewolf movie he presented to us, we did not notice it because we were looking in the wrong ce.


    ¡°Look at this,¡± she said. She grabbed a movie off the shelf and held it out to us.


    On the cover, there was a beautiful vampire queen¡ªalmost exposed and definitely enticing. But that was not what Dina wanted us to look at. She wanted us to look at two of the characters who were on the cover of the movie but not the center of it. They were simply reacting in horror or amazement¡ªI couldn¡¯t quite tell¡ªto the central figure. And darn if I didn¡¯t recognize one of them.


    His name was Sam. I didn¡¯t have a whole lot of history with him other than the fact that we were both trapped in the nightmare world together, but I did know him. He was one of the vets at Camp Dyer. He was an Adventurer¡ªan advanced archetype, originally an Athlete, a Health Nut who would actually go out on jogs every morning from the day he got his first scouting trope that made it quasi-safe for him to do.


    He was on the cover of this movie.


    That was not something we anticipated. And even as we looked at movie after movie that Gus showed us, we had not put it together¡ªthe covers of these VHS tapes had characters on them, and not just the original characters from the universe of the movie, but they had the yers who hadst yed them on them.


    We hadn¡¯t even thought of it because the As didn¡¯t say anything. And more than that, we had spent so much time looking at movie posters on the red wallpaper¡ªwhich didn¡¯t change based on the yers inside of them¡ªthat it never urred to us that the VHS covers might.


    And that simple insight was enough for Dina to ask, ¡°Hey Gus, can we look up movies by who¡¯s in them? Like, who stars in them?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Gus said. ¡°How else would you follow your favorite actor?¡±


    We all looked at each other and suddenly realized what Dina was up to. It was so simple that we felt like fools for not thinking of it. To be fair, she was old enough to have been able to actually go to movie rental stores for much of her formative years.


    ¡°Can we see all the movies starring Grace Varga?¡± she asked.


    Those were the clues we had. Madam Celia''s cryptic riddle seemed to point us to the Bowlers. We had assumed that meant we would eventually have to check for the storyline around the bowling alley, but what if it meant something more than that?


    What if it was a clue that could help us not spend days searching through the massive amount of films in this store?


    What if we were directed to the bowlers because they were thest yers to y the werewolf storyline that we were looking for?


    ¡°Sure,¡± Gus said. ¡°I¡¯ll have to go get the list from the back if you¡¯ll follow me.¡±


    And here¡¯s where he started acting strange again because it was almost like his ns had been ruined just a little bit. But only just.


    But still, we followed him¡ªthis time at a longer distance, on my insistence¡ªas he showed us around to the back of the store, a deste area where even some of the shelves were sparsely popted.


    The lights flickered back here.


    And that is where I saw something I was not looking for.


    At the back of the store, there was a wide doorway leading to a hall. Right across from that doorway was another door that was closed. It had a movie poster on it, which wasn¡¯t so remarkable because most ces had a poster on them in this ce. But it was notable because the poster featured a grotesque eyeball, with the nerve and everything attached.


    The movie was called <em>Archive Esoterica</em>, but that didn¡¯t matter.


    To the left was a stairway going up¡ªbut not up onto the second story of movies; the stairway for that was in the center of the shop. Besides, the doorway had an "Employees Only" sign.


    To the right of the door with the eyeball poster on it was another stairway I could just make out, and it went downward into darkness.


    Gus went upstairs.


    As he started jogging up the steps, I noticed that he passed yet another poster¡ªanother one littering the walls. It was one of many, many of which were torn from people walking up and down the stairs. But I noticed that there was a very particr poster just out of my line of sight.


    I started moving forward, trying to crane my neck so I could see further upstairs and get a better look at this movie poster that seemed to call to me in a way that did not register on the red wallpaper or anywhere else.


    It called to me because I recognized it just from looking at the corner of it¡ªthe bottom right corner. And as I got closer, I knew what it was. It was different than all the others. Untouched, pristine, literally taped on top of some that were already hung in that little hallway moving up the stairs.


    That movie poster did not have a title¡ªjust a nk space filled with underscores, as if the title had yet to be written.


    The photo was taken in front of a carnival ride. It featured three people: two parents and a child: a man, a woman, and a boy.


    I knew them well because one of them was me. This picture had hung in our house when I was a child.


    My parents. On an unfinished poster for a movie.


    Carousel had been teasing me for so long, and now it showed them to me.

 Book Five, Chapter 61: Strike!

    Book Five, Chapter 61: Strike!


    Ramona was the first to notice that something was wrong.


    "Riley, are you OK?" she asked, or something like that¡ªI wasn¡¯t paying attention.


    I just needed to get a closer look at the poster because there was a block of text at the bottom of the poster, and I needed to read what was in that text. I walked forward without thinking about it, just trying to get close enough to make out what those letters said.


    That was all.


    I wasn¡¯t going to follow Gus up the stairs. I just needed to read what it said because it did say something, and I could tell that the first word was "you."


    I pulled forward, and I could feel the rope tugging at my belt loop because the others were not nearly as interested in following me. They even started making amotion about it.


    I wasn¡¯t really paying attention to what they were saying and didn¡¯t notice them, particrly until Antoine grabbed my arm.


    ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± he screamed because the back of the store, with its barren shelves and flickering lights, had scared them.


    I didn¡¯t respond to him.¡°What are you looking at?¡± he asked, following my gaze.


    I didn¡¯t know if he recognized me as a kid or if he just noticed how central and prominent that poster was, but he managed to put together what was going on.


    ¡°Oh, dude,¡± he said, a bit transfixed himself.


    ¡°I just need to get close enough to read it,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna go in the hallway.¡±


    I wriggled a bit out of his arms because he wasn¡¯t holding that tight once he saw the poster, and as I took another step forward, I could see more of what the poster said:


    <em>"You never know where you¡¯ll find¡­"</em>


    I tried to read more, but the text was too small, so I took another step and¡­


    A piercing wail broke through the store, louder than any scream I had heard.


    It was a baby crying.


    That snapped me out of it. I looked back at Kimberly, who was now the one holding the crybaby because Antoine was still grabbing onto my arm. The crybaby was crying its haunted, staticky cry.


    And suddenly, my curiosity was reced with fear because I realized that had we not had that crybaby and had we not been tied together, whatever danger we were being warned of would have consumed me.


    As I looked back at my friends, I saw something rare. I saw Dina crying. And when she noticed I was looking at her, she pointed back toward the hallway with the eyeball poster, the stairway going up, and the stairway going down.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you remember?¡± she asked. ¡°This is what Sean was warning about. Look at it.¡±


    I looked back at it and realized that we <em>had</em> been warned about this ce, even though we didn¡¯t know it.


    When we ran <em>Permanent Vacancy</em> and then used Samantha¡¯s Damsel trope to make it a supernatural story, Dina¡¯s trope that allowed her tomunicate¡ªeither literally or metaphorically¡ªwith her dead loved ones went into overdrive. Her son, or at least something that looked like him, hade in spectral form and kept her safe from the zombies we had summoned.


    As a parting gift, she told me her son had warned about this very ce, about a choice to go upstairs, downstairs, or through a door with an eyeball on it.


    Something about that warning had felt so out of ce that I dismissed it, and we hadn¡¯t spoken of it since. But here it was.


    When you have the choice to go upstairs, downstairs, or through a door with an eyeball on it, the choice I was supposed to make had been given to us explicitly clear.


    ¡°Downstairs first,¡± I said.


    Dina nodded.


    Almost on instinct, I took another step toward the hallway, but as soon as I did, the baby started to cry again, this time even louder. We just stood there as Antoine ryed what he had seen on the poster to the others.


    "Am I supposed to go down there?" I asked Dina as if she would know the answer.


    "Yeah," she said. "That''s the whole point of the warning. You have to go downstairs. Don''t you want to know where this is going?"


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    And I did¡ªof course I did¡ªbut by then, anytime I even <em>thought</em> about moving toward the stairs, the baby started to cry. There was a danger there, something that we could not know.


    I looked around, seeking permission to go anyway. I didn¡¯t know if I would, but I couldn¡¯t shake the desire to just know the truth, whatever the cost.


    Yet a feeling, like dread, moved over me, centered in my heart and not in the back of my neck like normal. I knew that I was not going to go. I knew that was not happening.


    I walked back toward the group and realized they were debating things, and all of them but one hade out on the side of me <em>not</em> going down the murder staircase. I felt the rope in my fingers and traced it back to my belt loops.


    I couldn¡¯t go, even if I wanted to.


    Thatsted long enough for me to get some of my wits back and realize that it would be a stupid decision. Even with Dina¡¯s little warning from beyond the grave, it would be a dumb decision to see what was down there.


    And yet, there was another problem¡ªa deeper horror¡ªas I realized that I was never going to just get over it. Even as I stood there, realizing my breath was fast and that I was sweating, I knew I would toss and turn over this simple question: <em>What was in the basement of Carousel Family Video?</em>


    I could hear them arguing, still with me, kind of, but mostly with themselves because I wasn¡¯t participating.


    ¡°He should go look. He has to pull that thread. I have to know why my son told him to go downstairs,¡± Dina said.


    No one else was having it, but Dina persisted.


    I hated the discussion being about something involving me. I didn¡¯t like being the center of attention, so as Dina argued about how we were supposed to take risks and how this was a huge development, I said, ¡°We¡¯ll have to wait.¡±


    My ears popped, and suddenly, I was back in reality, standing at the back of the store.


    ¡°What?¡± Dina asked. ¡°Wait until when?¡±


    I took a deep breath. ¡°Wait until we¡¯re strong enough that it doesn¡¯t matter what¡¯s down there,¡± I said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to know? We were supposed to go there,¡± she said.


    Of course, she would say that. This was the woman who came to Carousel knowing what was here to save her son, so of course, she was going to be on the side of pulling the thread.


    ¡°We¡¯ll wait until we¡¯re so high-level that there¡¯s no risk,¡± I said. ¡°Besides, I doubt that this is required. It¡¯s a side quest, clearly.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know if I believed that. One thing I <em>did</em> believe was that none of this (none of anything in Carousel) was supposed to be about me, and the thought of thatforted me. I was just an afterthought, invited on a whim. That¡¯s what I told myself. I¡¯m not chasing a picture of my family to my doom.


    None of it was supposed to be about me.


    Before Dina could respond, a young woman with a long brown ponytail, wearing a polo with the logo of Carousel Family Video on it, appeared behind us. Her name was Vangie on the red wallpaper. She was a standard NPC, just like Gus had been, except more believable.


    ¡°I¡¯m not even gonna ask what the rope is about,¡± she said in a chipper customer service tone.


    We all turned to look at her.


    ¡°Can I help you find anything?¡± she asked.


    We took a moment to shift gears.


    ¡°We''re looking for a werewolf movie starring Grace Varga,¡± I said. I needed to leave that space.


    ¡°Sounds like you like mysteries,¡± she responded. ¡°Follow me, I¡¯ll go look it up in the database.¡±


    She led us to the front of the store, where the checkout area was, logged into aputer with a ck screen filled with green text, and started typing really loudly.


    ¡°Alrighty,¡± she said, ¡°I have a list of all of Grace Varga¡¯s films. Do you have any idea what the title is? I don¡¯t see any that have the word werewolf in them, of course. That would be too convenient.¡±


    ¡°Can I see the list?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Sure,¡± she said, rotating theputer monitor around for me to see clearly.


    I looked through the list. I found <em>The</em><em>Strings Attached,</em> as well as every single movie that I remembered from the bowling alley. I continued looking through the list.


    ¡°That¡¯s gotta be it,¡± I said. ¡°#26.¡±


    She turned the screen back around.


    ¡°<em>Stray Dawn: The Mark</em>,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s aisle 42, section 6, and it looks like we have it in stock. You can go check it out. If it¡¯s not there, just tell me.¡±


    It seemed to me that the word "stray" worked for a werewolf movie well, as did the word "dawn."


    We practically ran, in one big blob of people tied together, to aisle 42, which was upstairs (the staircase in the middle of the store, not in the back), section 6. As soon as we got there, it practically jumped out at us.


    The cover featured Grace, our favorite detective, dressed like she was about to have a night out. I could practically smell the hairspray from the way her hair was done. Beside her was Be, a Bully Bruiser on the bowlers'' team, as expected. On the side of the VHS, there was an illustration of the fully transformed werewolf from the movie.


    We all celebrated and hugged each other because we had seeded in finding the film. To the best of our knowledge, it all just fit together so well. Not only did the werewolf match the drawing we had the clown do, but it had the bowlers in it.


    ¡°Some secrets were never meant to see the dawn,¡± Antoine read from the cover of the movie.


    It was ate ''80s, early ''90s-looking movie with lots of punk angst, ironically starring women in their 30s in something that looked like it was designed to appeal to teenagers.


    ¡°Do we have to buy it first to read the back?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°What did the As say?¡±


    ¡°Reading the back is not spoilers, but they did insist that you paid to rent the movie if you¡¯re going to read it,¡± I said.


    It was a real gamble. In the real world, the back matter of a VHS tape could spoil the entire plot or it could spoil absolutely nothing. There was no way to tell until you read it. But I was confident that the As knew what it was talking about. I also just couldn¡¯t resist.


    I turned the VHS over, and Antoine read off the synopsis:


    <em>After fleeing their broken pasts, sisters Grace and Be arrive in the isted town of Carousel, searching for a fresh start. However, their ns unravel when Be is drawn into the seductive world of a mysterious group of outsiders led by the charismatic and dangerous Serena. As Be falls deeper under their spell, Grace is left torn between saving her sister and saving herself from the dark secrets that linger in Carousel. With time running out and trust slipping away, Grace must confront her deepest fears to prevent Be from straying too far into the night.</em>


    It was an angsty, emotional werewolf movie.


    Checking out was a breeze, and as we walked out of the store, our moods could not have been higher.


    I almost forgot about the call of the poster with my family on it and the question of whaty beneath Carousel Family Video.


    Almost.

 Book Five, Chapter 62: A Walk Down Memory Lane

    Book Five, Chapter 62: A Walk Down Memory Lane


    With an abundance of caution, we decided not to go to the bowling alley immediately but rather to head back to the loft to do some research.


    Now that we knew the name of the storyline¡ªor at least were reasonably confident that we were on the money¡ªwe could do some digging. The only way to confirm that this was the right storyline, unfortunately, was to find the actual omen and see if the missing posters of Logan and Avery appeared on it when we were near it.


    It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t trust the mini-quest we were on; it was that I didn¡¯t need to trust when I could verify.


    If we had the most recent copy of the As, we would have all kinds of details about the bowling alley, even if it was missing a whole bunch of older stuff. But since we had the older version, Grace and her team weren¡¯t around to map out how to navigate that area.


    Luckily, we weren¡¯t going to try bowling or hanging out indefinitely. We just needed to get in and get out, and I was confident that my scouting trope would be sufficient for that.


    On the one asion we had gone to the bowling alley before, I was able to anticipate most or all of the problems that Grace and her team had studied, even if I didn¡¯t know how the individual mobile omens would behave.


    Avoiding them would not be a problem, but we would certainly not be able to bowl a whole set.


    As soon as we got back to the loft, we sat in the living room crisscross applesauce because we didn¡¯t have enough chairs for everyone, so it was firste, first-served.


    Meanwhile, Kimberly whipped out her phone and dialed up her talent agent, Sal.It only rang for half a ring.


    "Kimberly, sometimes it feels like you only call me when you need to ask about a role," Sal said as soon as he picked up.


    "You try to tell me about a role every time I call anyway," she said.


    "You got me there, sweetheart. What can I help you with?" he said.


    "What can you tell me about the movie <em>Stray Dawn: The Mark</em>?" she asked.


    "Huh, well, that one is a remake," Sal said. "Let me look through my stacks."


    We listened as he shuffled through papers. I had to wonder if the NPC ying Sal was just fumbling through random sheets of paper or if he actually had information or scripts in front of him.


    "Oh, here we go," Sal said. "That one was already made a few years ago. It was a moderate hit, but, you know, they <em>do</em> have a script floating around for <em>Stray Dawn</em>. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s a reboot or a remake, or heck, this might actually be the original script. I can poke around if you¡¯re interested."


    Kimberly muted the phone and looked up at me. That was not a response we had gotten from Sal before. He would usually tell us about any story, even stories that we were grossly ipatible with.


    "She¡¯s the Detective advanced archetype," I said. "<em>Stray Dawn: The Mark</em> is probably a version of the movie that was altered by her advanced archetype, so we can¡¯t run it."


    Kimberly nodded. She unmuted the phone and said, "All right, tell me everything you know about <em>Stray Dawn</em>."


    "I made some notes when I first read this script, and I have to say, this one will be a little bit of a challenge for you. It¡¯s an older stylistic horror with some ancient curse involved. Honestly, if you ask me, it¡¯s a bit of a sh. On the one hand, you have this angsty, emotional teen story that takes center stage, and on the other hand, you have a much older, more ancient backstory that I think doesn¡¯t get the attention it deserves."


    That was Sal for you¡ªdetails without details.


    "Do you know where it¡¯s set?" Kimberly asked.


    "Yeah, just something about a gothic mansion in southern Carousel, though I think most of the shots of Carousel Proper are from southeastern Carousel. I imagine they¡¯ll try to make it look like those two ces are close together, but I don¡¯t know, whatever the case. There are no big city sites for this story. I know you¡¯ll hate that."


    "Can you tell me anything about my character?" Kimberly asked.


    "A fish out of water who¡¯s new to town and just trying to fit in. It¡¯s that type of thing. It¡¯s one of those frustrating stories that¡¯s about finding yourself when all the audience actually wants to know about is the cool lore, the mystery, and the background characters."


    "Anything else you can tell me?" Kimberly asked. "Anything about the difficulty or the plot?"


    "I¡¯ve forgotten the plot, and I didn¡¯t make a note about it, but that was probably because it didn¡¯t really have an effect on me. This is aing-of-age sort of thing, probably not thatplicated if you follow me. I will say there¡¯s some brutal, bloody stuff in this that''ll probably get cut out for TV," Sal said.


    From what he was talking about, there was good news and bad news.


    From the sound of it, the storyline was too challenging to get much concrete information using her talent agent trope. But on the other hand, it wasn¡¯t going to be too far out of our league because he wasn¡¯t exactly tight-lipped like he was when you asked him about a storyline that was just too strong.


    "All right," Kimberly said. "I¡¯ll give you a callter."


    "Ciao," Sal said, and he hung up the phone.


    "That doesn¡¯t sound right," Andrew said. "It¡¯s on the mountain near the Powerworks Pavilion. I don¡¯t remember there being a gothic mansion up there, and if there were, surely that would be the location listed on Logan and Avery¡¯s missing posters."


    I had simr thoughts.


    "It has to be," Antoine said. "It would be too much of a coincidence if we just happened to find a very simr werewolf in a storyline that¡¯spletely unrted. Plus, the Powerworks Pavilion is as southern as Carousel goes."


    "There¡¯s only one way to know for sure," I said. "We have to actually take the missing posters and get eyes on the omen. Until then, we¡¯re just guessing. And let¡¯s not forget that we don¡¯t actually know how missing posters work. For all we know, the Powerworks Pavilion is just listed as their ce of death because it¡¯s the nearest major setting."


    We talked for a bit about our ns, and most of us were in agreement.


    In the morning, we were going to the bowling alley, but this time we weren¡¯t bringing everyone. This wasn¡¯t a rxing time out or a shopping trip.


    This was surveince, and we needed to move quickly and be ready in case we encountered a problem.


    As I sat at the kitchen table, continuing a fruitless search for any information about the bowling alley from our outdated version of the As, Kimberly, Antoine, and Dina approached me.


    ¡°Can we talk?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to check my schedule,¡± I said, but I smiled so they¡¯d know I was really saying yes.


    ¡°What do you wanna talk about?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We need to discuss what happened today at Carousel Family Video,¡± Antoine said.


    I was puzzled.


    ¡°Hasn¡¯t that been what we¡¯ve been talking about all day? I mean, we¡¯ve been nning this trip to the bowling alley since before we even knew what storyline we were looking for.¡±


    They looked at each other with a concerned gaze that made me ufortable.


    ¡°We¡¯re talking about that poster,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°Why were your parents on a poster? Those were your parents, right?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that,¡± I said. I thought for a moment, then replied, ¡°Carousel¡¯s just messing with me. It has been since the beginning¡ªtalking about my grandparents, just teasing me, that sort of thing.¡±


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    ¡°Why would it put a picture of your parents¡ªand you¡ªon what looked like a storyline poster? That is what we¡¯re asking,¡± Antoine said.


    I shrugged. ¡°Like I told you, it¡¯s just teasing me. It¡¯s trying to lure me back there, so I¡¯ll fall for whatever trap it was the crybaby warned us about. Just Carousel being Carousel.¡±


    The others didn¡¯t seem so sure.


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t you want to know what¡¯s going on there?¡± Antoine pressed. ¡°Why would Dina¡¯s son¡¯s ghost tell you to go downstairs, but the baby warns you there¡¯s a danger if you walk in that direction?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why,¡± I said. ¡°We won¡¯t know until we try it, and we agreed to put it off. If we don¡¯t pull the thread, the sweater stays together.¡±


    ¡°Just because we¡¯re putting off actually going there doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t discuss it,¡± Antoine replied. ¡°Was that a real picture of your parents¡ªand you¡ªon the poster?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°We took it on a trip to Six gs, or some theme park, maybe a carnival¡ªI don¡¯t remember; I was too young. But it was in our house, the picture. I don¡¯t know why Carousel put it on a poster, but probably just to mess with me, like I¡¯ve been telling you over and over again.¡±


    They paused, exchanging nces again, which was really starting to bother me. They were acting like I¡¯d been diagnosed with some strange, deadly illness.


    ¡°I thought you were an orphan,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°That¡¯s what Anna said¡ªthat your parents died.¡±


    I didn¡¯t talk about that.


    ¡°So, if you know, why do you need to talk to me about it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Because we¡¯re concerned,¡± Antoine said. ¡°How did Carousel know you¡¯d be drawn to a poster with your parents on it?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s human nature,¡± I replied. ¡°If it had been a poster of your brother, you¡¯d have tried to read what it said.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Antoine said, ¡°but my brother was literally in Carousel and died here. Your parents died over a decade before we even got here, didn¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you,¡± I said, standing up from my seat. ¡°Carousel just likes to mess with me. That¡¯s why it talks about my grandparents. That¡¯s why it got Dina¡¯s ghost son to try to lure me into a trap¡ªactually, I¡¯m not sure what was going on there, but the point is, it likes to mess with me. I mean, it gave me my old TV just a few days ago.¡±


    ¡°Your old TV?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°That¡¯s why <em>Candyman</em> is in there, isn¡¯t it? I couldn¡¯t figure out why or how you got a movie from our world.¡±


    ¡°Riley,¡± Kimberly said, ¡°why wouldn¡¯t you tell us that?¡±


    ¡°I did tell you that I had one just like that as a kid. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s the same one,¡± I said. ¡°I figured the details could wait until we decided to act on it.¡±


    ¡°If Carousel is starting something¡ªor if God forbid, a Narrator is doing this¡ªwe need to know. We deserve to know. Didn¡¯t you think of that?¡± Antoine asked,ing around the table to look directly at me.


    I had considered it. After all, Dina¡¯s little premonition about going downstairs hade to her right after Project Rewind waspleted, which just so happened to be around the time Ss Dyrkon had tried to trick us.


    So, presumably, it could have been a Narrator.


    ¡°Well, thank goodness we didn¡¯t go down those stairs. And until we do, we¡¯ll never know what¡¯s going on,¡± I said. ¡°I mean, does knowing about it change any¡ª¡±


    ¡°How did your parents die?¡± Dina interrupted. ¡°That poster¡ªit had this off-color warping effect like it was supposed to be spooky or something, but it just looked like a family having a good time. So I¡¯m asking¡ªhow did your parents die?¡±


    I really didn¡¯t want to talk about it.


    ¡°Murder. Robbery gone wrong, maybe,¡± I said. ¡°They were just¡­ killed. I never got answers. The case went unsolved.¡±


    Of course, I was both telling the truth and lying. I didn¡¯t know why they had been killed or who had done it. I knew it was brutal. It was hard enough on my grandparents and they only saw photos.


    All I remembered was that I was watching a movie when it happened, and my grandparents didn¡¯t let the police tell me anything more than I already knew. I never asked.


    And I tried not to remember. For so long, it had worked so well.


    Talking about my parents was one of my weak points. I was crying by then, and I could tell the others felt bad because they stopped acting angry or inquisitive. I think Kimberly even tried to hug me, but I just went to my room.


    I didn¡¯t know why Carousel was teasing me about my parents, and I really did not want to find out.


    I had lived with the unanswered questions surrounding their deaths my whole life, but I didn¡¯t want to learn those answers now.


    Not here.


    Not in Carousel.


    Personally, I just wanted to bring myself, Antoine, Kimberly, Dina, and Bobby, but Andrew and Michael insisted oning. While L would have liked to, she did not speak up, so she didn''t get to go. Since we wanted to keep our group small, Bobby stayed home, and the rest of us hiked out to the bowling alley with nothing but the ghost of a memory of how to stay safe there.


    Luckily, we didn''t need to be as exacting as the bowlers were.


    As we approached, everything was as I remembered it, including the woman talking to her reflection in the building''s window.


    We knew a few things we had to do, like not interacting with the mobile omens, locking the doors, and flipping the closed sign around when we wanted certain patrons not to enter the bowling alley.


    Still, we did not remember the exact sequence or timing as Grace had determined it.


    We also didn''t n on being there long enough for it to matter.


    The bowling alley didn''t actually have a name; it was just called a bowling alley. Whatever its name was had been ripped off the roof of the building. From what remained of the letters, my money was on Memory Lanes.


    As I stared at it, I could still see the struts designed to hold arge sign up there. If I didn''t know any better, that looked like some sort of indication of danger, but I couldn''t say what danger it was referring to.


    "Andrew, do you remember any of the safety precautions that the bowlers used to do?" Antoine asked as we approached the building.


    "I regret to admit that I was not interested in the subject matter when Grace and the bowler showed us the alley. I came because it seemed impolite to turn down their offer," Andrew said.


    That was simr to how I had treated the whole event. My only interest was in learning the concept of how to clear an area, not to learn the bowling alley specifically. Unsurprisingly, I barely remembered it.


    "That being said, we''re in, then we''re out," Antoine said.


    "I could probably go in alone," I said. "I mean, let''s face it, without any scouting tropes, I''m not sure how useful the rest of you will be in there. No offense."


    "We''ll be really useful if you identally trigger an omen," Michael said. "Then you''re going to need some muscle."


    I didn¡¯t say anything in response, but I would certainly say something if he ended up triggering something because he couldn¡¯t see the omens or wasn¡¯t even trying to look.


    With that, Antoine led us across the street and into the building.


    It looked like an ordinary bowling alley from back in the real world. I could hear the sound of pins crashing and balls rolling across the wood. People wereughing, and the child''s birthday that had been there on our first trip to the bowling alley wasn''t even happening, which was good because there was apparently a pretty risky mobile omen associated with it.


    "What do you got, Radar?" Michael said, looking at me.


    "Don¡¯t call me that," I said. I really didn¡¯t need a nickname, especially one that came with a job. "The bowling bag is an omen. Don¡¯t touch it." I continued scanning around the room. "Something is unscrewing the bolts to that neon sign on the wall. It¡¯s an omen¡ªsomething tough, and there¡¯s something invisible. Don¡¯t go anywhere near it. It won¡¯t activate unless the sign falls and hits you."


    That day was not a dense one for omens at the bowling alley. Of course, the real danger of the alley is if you spent too much time there, because so many omens moved in and out. At any one time, there might not be that many, but throughout the day, many cycled through.


    "There¡¯s a trope item over in the ss prize box," Andrew observed.


    I looked over and found it quite hrious. The trope item was a container of string gum, like chewing gum, but in string form, and it had a trope called <strong>She Caught Her Own Killer</strong> that guaranteed there would be some piece of evidence linking the victim to the killer and the act of killing. It was a Schr Sleuth trope.


    "But how would that work?" Kimberly asked. "How does bubble gum link to the killer?"


    That one had me scratching my head.


    Any exnation that I coulde up with sounded convoluted. I almost wanted to win the prize just so I could test it out to figure out what the heck a pack of chewing gum was going to do to help you solve a murder, even with a powerful trope like that attached.


    Trope objects were very new, so deciding how the trope would apply wasn¡¯t an exact science yet.


    "Maybe the killer gets the bubble gum on their shoe?" Andrew said.


    "Gumshoe," I said. "That has to be it. It''s a pun."


    Had I seen any movies where a killer was found out because they got the victim¡¯s bubble gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe? I tried to remember. In fact, I had only seen one such instance on an episode of <em>Monk</em>.


    As we were talking about it, somewhere in the arcade someone must have won something, because the lights started shing and noises started dinging. But when I looked over there, no one was there.


    I continued to search around the small food service area and along thenes and checked every bowling ball. There were two different balls with tropes attached. One was Antoine¡¯s Athlete trope, which allowed him to bring a sports implement into a storyline and gave it bonus damage in meleebat.


    The other one was called <strong>Clutter Coteral</strong>, a Comedian Stooge trope that made it so that when the enemy crashed into a shelf or something with lots of objects on it, the objects would fall on them and cause extra damage. In this case, the object was a bowling ball.


    I continued looking around and found additional omens here and there, including an omen that was nothing but a foul odor near one of the walls in the bowling alley by the bathroom.


    Except the odor wasn¡¯t from the bathroom. It was from something inside the wall. The Omen was triggered by breaking through the drywall. The storyline was called <em>After Hours</em>, as far as I could tell, and it was a really easy storyline.


    "Guys, there¡¯s nothing here," I said. "No omens anything like what we¡¯re looking for¡ªjust all the normal bowling alley omens."


    "Maybe we should check the back again," Andrew suggested.


    "No," I said. "There¡¯s a dangerous omen at the back door. We need to regroup outside because being in here is dangerous."


    "We can¡¯t just give up," Michael said. "You said that a lot of omens show up and travel around the bowling alley, so maybe we just need to stay here and wait it out."


    "We can watch them enter the bowling alley from outside," I said. "We don¡¯t have to wait in here where it¡¯s dangerous."


    "Why are we even saying that the omen is at the bowling alley?" Michael said. "If the riddle was about the bowlers, it was because they were in the movie. That doesn¡¯t mean that the omen is at the bowling alley. Are we just wasting our time here? Do we even have any idea where the omen is?"


    I understood his frustration but I was starting to get annoyed by it.


    "The bowlers spent a lot of time here," Antoine said. "If they ran that storyline, I¡¯d bet anything that the Omen is around here somewhere. It just makes sense."


    That was our logic originally. We thought the bowling elements of the riddle that Madam Celia had given us might be a clue that the omen was at the bowling alley. But then it turned out that it was a clue that the bowlers themselves had been thest ones to run the werewolf storyline we were looking for.


    Still, the bowlers were called that for a reason, and if that omen existed, it was likely nearby. We were out of clues. That had to be it.


    "Let¡¯s take a break," Antoine said.


    "That sounds fair," Andrew agreed. "We can stake out the entrance and see whates by."


    He mainly was talking to Michael, whose patience was growing thin and who reacted to his own worry with irritation.

 Book Five, Chapter 63: The Flea Market

    Book Five, Chapter 63: The Flea Market


    "Nothing has walked in the bowling alley in thest forty minutes," Michael said. "Are we even sure that this stuff happens when yers aren''t around? Maybe if we went in there¡ª"


    "It happens whether yers are there or not," Andrew said. "You know that. I know you want to find that omen as much as I do, but you have to be patient. This is arge undertaking."


    We waited at the corner of the street across from the bowling alley, in a ce where there was very little activity of any kind, whether it be NPCs or omens. I sat under a tree and scanned around, looking for danger. Kimberly had brought the baby doll along, but it hadn''t screamed even once.


    Antoine came over and sat next to me.


    "So, you got any ideas?" he asked. "People are getting a little antsy."


    Truthfully, I wasn¡¯t sure, and if I was being honest, I was starting to believe that the omen we were looking for might not be in the bowling alley.


    "When we talked to Sal, he said that <em>Stray Dawn</em> was set at a mansion in southern Carousel and that the town footage would be southeast Carousel," I said. Like eastern Carousel, there were other sections of Carousel that acted as separate towns in storylines.


    "Right," Antoine said. "You think we need to go look over there? In southern Carousel?"


    I shook my head. "No," I said. "I like our theory. The bowlers yed basically every storyline within their level range that existed in this area.""So, do we need to fan out?" he asked. "Figure out where the omen is? Maybe they left the bowling alley in search of new storylines?"


    "Yes, but it''s more than that," I said. "If the story is mostly set in south and southeast Carousel, I imagine it doesn¡¯t start here because this is basically central, west-central Carousel."


    "Yeah, nowhere near where the movie is set," he said. "So what does that mean?"


    "Well, if the omen is found here as we theorized, but the story is not triggered here, it could be like those in the library, where as soon as you trigger it, a bunch of NPCs start pushing you toward wherever the setting is, one way or another, through bits of dialogue or some sort of narrative device. Or¡­"


    I paused to think.


    "Or?" Antoine asked.


    "Or¡­ you could just purchase the omen over here and run it somewhere else," I said.


    He nodded enthusiastically.


    "A purchasable omen," he repeated. "So we need to look for a shop."


    "That''s what I''m thinking," I said. "But again, it could just be an omen that is ced in a silly area. ces like the library or even the hospital sometimes had a bunch of omens that weren''t set in those ces, but that was kind of their gimmick. That was not the norm necessarily."


    Antoine stood up and quickly raised his voice. "Everybody, gather up. We¡¯ve got a n."


    Everyone was eager to do something other than wait and watch a bowling alley, so they came from where they had been waiting.


    "Riley thinks that the omen might be a purchasable omen, so we need to find stores nearby where the bowlers might have found the omen we''re looking for."


    We didn¡¯t even have to look.


    "What about the For Your Life Flea Market?" Kimberly said. "A block over, there''s a whole lot with a bunch of different booths selling clothes and furniture. We could get some more chairs."


    Of course, Kimberly knew where the nearest shopping venue was.


    "We¡¯ll start there," Antoine said. "But we¡¯re not buying chairs from a flea market. We¡¯re going to steal them from storylines like proper yers."


    Interior decorating was a high-risk, low-reward pastime in Carousel.


    It didn''t take long to find the flea market that Kimberly was talking about.


    I barely even remembered it being there because thest time we had seen it was when we were loaded into a bus, running away from the ck snow, and all the omens were deactivating like bubble wrap popping in a microwave.


    "Alright, stay with me," I said, and I must have said it with some intensity because they all got really close to me. When I moved, they moved.


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    That was a good thing because the flea market was filled with omens, cursed and haunted objects, as well as lots of trope items. It also had tons of old-looking props and vintage clothes.


    "Alright, at first nce, it looks like the omens are constrained to the shelves and the tables, so don''t touch anything unless you''ve really given it a good look," I said. "Even then, don''t touch anything."


    There were probably lots of items that we could have bought there, but I wasn''t looking for them, and frankly, we were running low on cash from our recent shopping spree.


    The flea market was one of my favorite types of ces in Carousel, in its own way, because a lot of the omens had NPCs interacting with them and adding little narrative ir.


    A woman was haggling to purchase an old desk, iming that it was her father''s but that it was sold in an estate sale without her knowledge. She didn¡¯t have enough for the purchase. The storyline was called <em>The Bureau of Investigation</em>, and it was a pretty difficult one. It was triggered by bringing the desk to your base and unlocking its clues, whatever that meant. I liked it because I thought it was a fine name for a storyline and a beautiful desk.


    "This is where we need to take Cassie," Kimberly said.


    I nodded. "Yeah, there are lots of cursed and haunted things here that she could use for her <strong>Curios and Trinkets</strong> trope."


    "Well, that and the clothes here are just her style," she said, eyeing a clothing rack that looked like it was taken from the set of an early ''90s counterculture movie.


    There were nts for sale, including one that was clearly moving under its own power¡ªan omen for a movie called <em>Gorticulture</em>.


    As I looked around with a mix of panic (because I was surrounded by dangerous omens) and amazement (because I was also surrounded by really cool omens), I started to hear a conversation getting heated.


    "I told you," one of the voices said, "I am not here to purchase paintings. I am here to sell paintings; I buy mine from estate auctions and other events where I can check their provenance. I do not have anyone here to authenticate this specimen. If you would like to take it six blocks that way, there is an antique shop that might have more interest."


    As if someone selling paintings at a flea market would care about provenance.


    "Just 60 bucks," another voice said. "Come on, you''re already set up to sell paintings. Just look at it. You don''t need it authenticated; it''s beautiful, it''s an antique. It has to be. It was in an ancient house."


    "If you''ve stolen this painting, do you think that makes me more likely to purchase it?" the first voice asked.


    I found myself drawn to the exchange, so I led the others toward the back of the flea market, where a woman had an entire rack of paintings and other paintings stacked up on easels and desks.


    A grubby-looking man was holding a medium-sized painting and talking to a woman wearing arge hat¡ªjust NPCs reading off a script.


    As we approached, the man turned to look at us, and I saw the ancient painting in his hands. It was of a beautiful, regal woman¡ªa close-up portrait. While I''m sure that she was quite a dame, what drew my attention was her ne.


    It was a silver vial on a silver chain. I wasn''t sure what it might contain, but it looked like some liquid, like mercury in a thermometer. It was entrancing, and it was an omen.


    We had found it.


    <em>Stray Dawn</em>. Its danger level was, <em>"Honey, I¡¯m scared." </em>The omen was triggered by bringing the painting to the<em></em>historic Southeast Carousel and cing it in the back of a wood-panel station wagon parked on Green Street.


    "That''s it," I said. I grabbed the folded-up missing posters from my pocket for Logan and Avery. Sure enough, they showed up on the red wallpaper next to the omen and its information.


    We had figured it out.


    "Holy hell, we found it," Antoine said, and as he stared at it, like me, he was entranced by the ne. In fact, as I looked around, everyone was.


    "You like it?" the man said. He had no name on the red wallpaper other than Miscreant.


    Now it was Kimberly''s turn. She had good Moxie and actual people skills to go along with it.


    "We''re just here to browse," she said. "That is a nice painting."


    "You''re right, it is," the Miscreant said. "Tell you what, 70 bucks, and it''s yours."


    Kimberly shrugged. "Like I said, we''re just looking."


    "Oh,e on. I saw the way you looked at it," the Miscreant said. "Tell you what, take it off my hands, and we can do 65."


    Kimberly said, "No, thank you," and turned to the NPC who was selling all the other paintings.


    "I''m looking for something pastoral, almost. You know, a painting of nature," she said.


    "I think I have a couple that you might be interested in. Just give me one moment," the woman said.


    "Look," the Miscreant said, trying to get Kimberly''s attention. "This is the painting you want, I can tell. You almost look like thedy in the picture."


    In fact, I had not even spotted that, but Kimberly did kind of look like the woman in the picture. But the painting was an oil painting, and it wasn''t exactly fine on the details of anything but the ne. It could have been any blonde woman, but after he said it looked like Kimberly, I couldn''t help but notice it.


    "Then I guess all I really need is a mirror, then, huh?" Kimberly said.


    "Don''t be like that," the Miscreant said. "I''ll tell you what, just give me what you got on you. Come on, look at it¡ªit''s a beautiful painting, one-of-a-kind."


    Only then did Kimberly nce at the painting and look it over.


    "30," she said, "and that''s just because I like the frame."


    "We''re not going all the way down to 30. What were we at, 65?"


    "I thought you said 60," Kimberly said.


    "I said 65," the Miscreant said.


    "And I said 30," Kimberly said.


    "60," the man said.


    Kimberly shook her head. "30."


    "55."


    "30."


    "No, you have to go up. That¡¯s how this works," the man said.


    "35," Kimberly said.


    "I''m staying at 55," the man said.


    Kimberly turned back to the woman selling all the other paintings and said, "Do you have any frames like that one?" Then she pointed at the frame with the painting of the omen.


    "I''m sure I could find something simr," the woman said.


    "Oh, bull," the Miscreant said. "50, then."


    "Hmmm¡­ I only have 40 dors," Kimberly said.


    The man growled in frustration and looked up at the air. "Oh, all right. But know that you are really hurting my bottom line for no reason. You don''t know what I risked to get this thing."


    The man reluctantly handed over the painting, and Kimberly handed over a stack of coins inrge denominations.


    "Nice doing business with you," she said.


    "Nice doing business with you¡­ ripping out my guts," the man growled as he walked away.


    And just like that, we had finally aplished what we had set out to do, what we had walked all over Carousel for.


    We had the omen for <em>Stray Dawn</em>.


    It was time for the nning to really begin.

 Book Five, Chapter 64: Mental Health Day

    Book Five, Chapter 64: Mental Health Day


    ¡°So, thesest few days¡ªthe Doll House, the Speakeasy, Carousel Family Video with the weird guy dressed like you¡ªall of that was to get you to walk into the flea market and hear two NPCs arguing over a painting?¡± Isaac asked.


    We were on the roof, just rxing.


    Isaac was being his cynical, skeptical self, never missing an opportunity to criticize the way Carousel worked. After we returned with the Omen, he chattered incessantly about the whole mini-quest to find which storyline Logan and Avery were locked behind.


    Frankly, I didn¡¯t know if he was doing it because he was actually confused or if he just liked criticizing the powers that be.


    ¡°Basically, yeah,¡± I said. ¡°The clue was about the Bowlers, and we know the Bowlers have cleared every storyline within spitting distance of the bowling alley. We just had to look around. Once we knew where to look, we were in the home stretch.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s weird, is all,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°How strange, the guy who is always skeptical is skeptical about this too,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, I don¡¯t like ying ball with Carousel. Doesn¡¯t it feel weird that it sets you on some scavenger hunt, and you just did what it wanted? It¡¯s training you, don¡¯t you get it? You don¡¯t really think that guy trying to sell the painting just happened to be there when you were there, no¡ªhe was waiting for you,¡± Isaac said as if he had some gotcha. ¡°Carousel is patting you on the head for doing what it wanted.¡±


    ¡°I mean... yeah?¡± I said. ¡°All it wanted us to do was go to a specific ce and look around. And you¡¯re probably right¡ªthat guy selling the painting was probably going to be there anytime we showed up, because he was our reward for pulling the thread on this little mini-quest and figuring out where to look.¡±Isaac just shrugged his shoulders.


    It was true that Carousel¡¯s mini-quest didn¡¯t lead us directly to the Omen, but it led us to the ce where we were supposed to look, and I didn¡¯t feel like I could ask for more than that. I mean, a map with an X on it would have been preferable, but that was too much to ask for.


    We had started out our search by looking in shops hoping to find the Omen for sale--the psychic shop, the pawn shop, heck I even scanned through the omens at the doll shop.


    Carousel just helped us find the right one.


    We sat on the roof of Kimberley''s loft¡ªjust me, Antoine, Andrew, and Kimberley after Isaac left.


    We had some information to gather that we didn''t want the others around for.


    "Kimberley, this is a high-stakes role, and the audience is going to expect a standout performance from you," Sal said over the speakerphone. "But I have to say, I can''t help but feel that the ending will be taken as really bleak, and it might put the brakes on your career."


    "You think it will be a difficult role for me?" Kimberley asked.


    "I think the audience will have a really hard time believing a happy ending. Honestly, it¡¯s just asking a lot," he said. He had a serious tone. That wasn¡¯t good.


    We were now doing our customary mixing and matching, testing our tropes against the omen for<em> Stray Dawn</em>. We needed to find the best possible rescue trope and the best team to go with it.


    Everything was on the line because we no longer had Dina¡¯s very forgiving rescue trope on the table. We wouldn¡¯t have used it if we did.


    Sal and Kimberley exchanged their goodbyes, as he didn''t have much more to say.


    She had equipped her rescue trope, <strong>A Woman in Mourning</strong>, which was usually used against serial killers and shers¡ªhuman killers who might taunt the loved ones of their past victims. And while the trope technically did work with the new werewolf storyline, all indications were that it was just a terrible fit.


    It made sense; creating a visceral thriller where the bad guy has actual supernatural abilities and runs in a pack, while the main character is an isted, emotionally charged individual, just did not stack up as an easy win.


    In fact, when she equipped her rescue trope and I used my <strong>I Don''t Like It Here</strong> scouting ability, the difficulty shot up to <em>Get to the Car Now</em>, the highest difficulty I measured for regr stories.


    The problem was my rescue trope was no different.


    <strong>The Wrong Reel</strong> would have us protecting our base against the werewolves all night long. While this waspatible, it was also far too difficult. My rescue trope, like Kimberley''s, was better against mundane or slightly paranormal human enemies.


    Werewolves were ferocious beasts.


    "Guess that leaves me," Antoine said. I could see a look of relief¡ªor pride, maybe¡ªas he said it.


    He must have sensed the hesitation on my face.


    "What?" he asked. "There¡¯s not going to be a problem here." He quickly equipped his rescue trope, but Kimberley didn¡¯t unequip hers.


    "Maybe we should talk about this," she whispered to Antoine.


    "Let¡¯s just try it out," Antoine said. "Then we can talk once we have the information."


    Ever since Antoine messed up in The Final Straw storyline and dissociated On-Screen for over ten minutes, Kimberley and I had been worried about what we were going to do when we came across another storyline that involved a forest¡ªan apparent trigger for Antoine''stent trauma.


    He got close to her, put his hand on her hand, and then whispered, "Let¡¯s just try it," in a sweet way that she wasn¡¯t going to be able to stand up to.


    Just as I expected, she unequipped her rescue trope, and with a few taps on her phone screen, another call went out to her agent, Sal.


    I didn¡¯t even need to wait for the phone call¡ªI could see that the difficulty of the omen dropped down.


    The difficulty level was <em>This is Scaring Me</em>, which was more difficult than the base storyline had registered but less difficult than what either mine or Kimberley''s rescue trope registered as.


    That might have been counterintuitive, seeing as his trope, <strong>A Race Against Time</strong>, turned a storyline into, well, a race against time. It put a time clock on victory and forced the yers to aplish some feat¡ªusually involving Hustle¡ªbefore time ran out.


    Why would a rescue like that be easier than mine or Kimberley''s? It was actually the same reason that Arthur¡¯s advanced archetype of Monster Hunter had made the <em>Grotesque</em> storyline easier, even though, by all ounts, it made the enemies stronger and more violent.


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    The Grotesque statue was a powerful enemy in the psychological horror story it was originally supposed to be in. But it was actually a pretty beatable enemy with an exploitable weakness in a head-to-head fight.


    The same was probably true with the werewolves in <em>Stray Dawn</em>.


    In both mine and Kimberley''s rescue tropes, the enemy was put into a situation where a werewolf would be far too dominant for us to ovee while simultaneously not giving us enough advantages to be able to win.


    Antoine''s rescue trope, however, seemed to give us enough wiggle room that even a mighty foe could be beaten.


    After all, with <strong>A Race Against Time</strong>, you just had to aplish some goal before the time ran out. We didn¡¯t have to kill or capture werewolves, as in Kimberley''s rescue trope, or survive an onught from them all night, as with mine.


    Of course, what exactly we had to aplish with Antoine''s rescue trope was not clear.


    As we had seen with Dina''s rescue trope in the storyline <em>Itch</em>, sometimes difficulty or ease just came down to how your rescue trope interacted with the base storyline. It wasn¡¯t always clear what would happen¡ªsometimes, the resulting story might be easier or harder for reasons you could never predict.


    "Okay, honey, this is a high-paced, action-packed storyline with a nice mystery angle," Sal said. "It has something for everybody¡ªfrom the ones who just want to turn their brain off and watch a high-paced flick to people who like the backstory and the lore, depending on how the director goes with it. Frankly, I see you on the poster, scared out of your mind, terrifying beasts at your heels."


    "So it''ll be a lot of running from werewolves?" Kimberley asked.


    "Oh, you could expect that," Sal said. "Fair amount of running toward them, too. The secret here is that your character is brave beyond belief, and in fact, if you don''t y this right, people won¡¯t believe it at all. So you have to just be this character that is ready to re-explore her past at all costs. You know what I mean? Like, she¡¯s had it with running, and the fact that there¡¯s a lot of money on the table for her is just one of the reasons she¡¯s doing it because money alone probably won¡¯t make sense."


    Interesting notes about her character.


    "What can you tell me about my costars?" she asked.


    "Well, they had better be ready for a fight," Sal said. "Because this one is an ensemble story where everyone has to bring something to the table, or else nobody is gonna see the light of day, you understand?"


    "I got you," Kimberley said.


    Sal was beginning to get vague again. That made sense because this was going to be a hard storyline, which meant that he wasn¡¯t going to have a lot to say. But he had told us everything we could have hoped to hear¡ªthis was a fight where everyone would need to be ready to carry the story, and Kimberly would be quite important to the narrative, which went well with her Celebrity aspect.


    "Anything else?" Kimberley asked.


    "All I can say, Kimberley, is that every actress needs a werewolf story in her repertoire, and this might be the one for you if you think you can cut it."


    "I think we can cut it," Kimberley said, looking at Antoine but not with optimism. Perhaps with loyalty, like she could never speak an ill word.


    Kimberley hung up the phone.


    "That sounds better than thest ones," Antoine said. "What is your scouting trope saying?" he asked me, but even before I answered, it seemed he knew just by looking at my face. "It''s better, isn''t it? It¡¯s easier with my rescue trope, right?"


    He had me there.


    "Yes," I said, "but I only have theories about why that is."


    "Then it''s settled," Antoine said. "We go with my rescue trope, max out on Hustle and Mettle, and we go kick some werewolf tail." He looked at me and said, "What? You were hoping that you''d get to leave me behind?"


    I hated it when people tried to read me.


    "Come on, Antoine, don''t be like that. You know exactly why this is a problem¡ªthat mountain is covered in forest¡ª"


    "The only problem with <em>The Final Straw</em>," Antoine said, "was that I did not bring along my nightmare trope. That was it. Every other time, I have been fine. Stop treating me like a child."


    "I am not treating you like a child. I''m treating you like someone who lost his sense of reality On-Screen for long enough that the enemy you were chasing came back and found you and pushed you to the ground to snap you out of it. And if it had been anyone that wasn¡¯t Benny, you would have been dead."


    Antoine had no retort, which I hated. I didn¡¯t want to argue. I actually thought we were basically on the same page already, however reluctant he was.


    "Riley," Andrew said, stepping in, "I think what Antoine is asking for is for you to respect his judgment of himself and to treat him like someone who is actively improving his condition every day. He has the tools to live with his ailment. If he thinks he can seed, we should believe him."


    "I think he would say he was fine even if he wasn''t. If we go into this storyline, which is probably low to mid-30s in plot armor difficulty, and he freezes up, he doesn''t just endanger himself¡ªhe endangers all of us. He has the stats and abilities to help us win a storyline like this, and we need him. But if he''spromised, then we need to go out and find other rescue tropes and go about this differently."


    I really wasn''t trying toe across as a jerk.


    "I knew this whole time that you were gonna be like that," Antoine said. He took a deep breath. "Riley, I am struggling; I''m not denying that. But I''m not crazy, and I''m not out of control. I just have... I just need a few amodations, a few mental health tropes, a little bit of understanding. That''s what I need. Sitting out on the bench isn''t going to be any good for me or the team."


    I didn''t say anything for a while because I knew I wasn''t going to win this fight. I even thought that Kimberley agreed with me because she knew Antoine''s condition better than any of us, but she didn¡¯t say anything.


    "I am treating him," Andrew said, "both with my tropes and with my training in psychology. I can vouch for him. His injury is almost artificial in nature¡ªit''s difficult to describe. I believe that if we do our due diligence and treat it seriously, we can prevent any meaningful symptoms in a storyline."


    "Don''t act like I''m some lone dissenter," I said. "We were all in agreement that this was a big deal, and then everyone decided it wasn''t a big deal, and nobody told me. Alright, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re crazy; I just don¡¯t know how to n around that particr problem. But if you say the problem''s gone and everything''s taken care of, well, then I guess I have nothing to talk about."


    Andrew may have been telling the truth, and he also may have been ying the odds. He saw that we needed Antoine''s rescue trope to rescue his teammates, so he may have been putting his thumb on the scale and exaggerating Antoine''s miraculous regimen to maintain his sanity. I would never know.


    "Well, I said my piece," I said. "If you''re saying that he''s gonna be fine, then I¡¯m not going to argue.¡±


    But what I really meant was that whatever happens in the storyline, I needed to constantly n around Antoine not being 100% reliable. Because while rescuing Logan and Avery, two people I had never met, was not exactly the most important thing on my to-do list, it was still important and the experience gained from a sessful rescue was essential.


    This was never going to be easy, so why not just throw on another obstacle? I had to hope that Antoine could keep faking it just a little bit longer.


    Luckily, he was just one yer, and he wasn¡¯t the only fighter we had anymore.


    They may have been suspicious about why I gave in so quickly. Maybe they thought I was going to throw a tantrum or something, or maybe I was overthinking it. I didn¡¯t know.


    But they started talking excitedly about their ns for the storyline, about how vital the Party Phase was going to be because finding weapons that worked against werewolves was essential. The only way for us to do that was through exploration in the Party Phase¡ªor maybe a bit of Rebirth.


    Ideally, we would have found good weapons on our shopping trips, but very few seemed to show up.


    I found myself staring at the painting, to which we had devoted an entire deck chair so that we could stare at it when we needed to activate our tropes or just feel inspired.


    Who was the woman in the picture, and what was the significance of the silver ne? And why didn''t Sal mention it?


    That''s when I realized something had changed.


    "Wait a second," I said. "The omen changed."


    They all stopped talking and looked at the painting.


    "What''s different?" Kimberley asked.


    Purchasable Omens in shops like the pawn shop or the flea market were different from normal omens. Everyone could see details about them, although they were often abbreviated or not very clear.


    From what I gathered, everyone could see, to some degree, how this storyline was triggered. Originally, you had to put it into the back of a wood-panel station wagon in southeastern Carousel to activate the storyline.


    Their instructions simply told them to return it to its owner, a task which would send them on a long string of clues until they eventually figured out how to put it in the back of the wood-panel station wagon.


    But that trigger had changed because of Antoine''s rescue trope. That had not happened with <em>Itch</em>.


    "The trigger was now simply entering Southeast Carousel," I said, and even they knew that.


    "Triggering it became easier," Kimberley said. "Is that good or bad?"


    "Neither," I said. "Or both. It means that the storyline is on a sound stage. Doesn¡¯t it?"


    "Oh," Andrew said. "That does make sense. The original takes ce in Carousel Proper, but this one is different in some meaningful way."


    "Can we get L to show us around the sound stage using her scouting trope so we''re familiar with things?" Antoine asked.


    Andrew shook his head. "Her scouting trope''s not particrly good for that sort of thing. The sound stages are usually barren when she opens them up¡ªno NPCs, no good information. And I''m not sure she could select this specific sound stage even if she wanted to, especially since the omen isn''t in that area; it''s a purchasable omen."


    L could open up sound stages for the purpose of traveling safely, but as amazing as that ability was, it apparently had some limitations.


    I didn''t know how much this changed things or if it did at all.


    Either way, we would find out soon.

 Book Five, Chapter 65: The Lineup

    Book Five, Chapter 65: The Lineup


    Now that we had decided we were using Antoine''s rescue trope¡ªand I say "we" very loosely¡ªwe could bring up some of the other yers to join the talk since the subject of Antoine''s mental health was no longer on the table.


    Should we have kept that a secret from them? I had no idea. I was done thinking about it.


    Cassie was now in one of the lounging chairs, doing her best to focus. "On a voice."


    "No," she said, "voices. I think they''re lovers quarreling. Two women. I hear growling. I can''t tell what they''re saying."


    "How can you tell they¡¯re lovers if you can''t tell what they''re saying?" Isaac asked.


    "I''ll tell you when you''re older," Antoine said.


    "One of them is very angry, but now all I hear is roars. I think it''s the werewolves. I hear the word ''curse,''" Cassie said. "One of them is very angry at the other, but it''s like I''m hearing them through a wall or something."


    She was using her <strong>I''m Blocked</strong> trope, which allowed her to eavesdrop on the enemy, so to speak, until they eventually shut her out. So far, we hadn''t gotten much content from the trope, but it still held its clues.


    If we didn¡¯t already know this was a werewolf storyline, we could probably guess from the way she was describing it. And the two women arguing were interesting, although I didn¡¯t understand the context yet.Suddenly, Cassie let out a bloodcurdling scream.


    "One of them noticed me and just screamed in my ear," she said. "That''s all I got." She was actually physically pressing her hand against her ear. Could her psychic eavesdropping cause her physical pain in her ear? Who knew?


    "That was useless," she said. "I''m sorry."


    "Don''t be sorry," Antoine said. "We learned plenty."


    "Like what?" Isaac asked. "What did we learn?"


    "We learned that there is psychic power in this storyline, so these aren''t strictly biological werewolves. Their curse is probably magical in nature," I said. "If there wasn¡¯t any magic, her trope wouldn¡¯t have worked at all. And we know that a fight between two women¡ªwho Cassie somehow knows are lovers¡ªis somehow important, but it''s not clear how."


    "Maybe one of them is Serena," Ramona said, holding up the VHS copy of <em>Stray Dawn: The Mark.</em>


    The back matter of the VHS talked about an enigmatic and charismatic troublemaker who was most certainly a werewolf.


    "We''ll see," I said.


    Meanwhile, Andrew had his nose buried in the As in a section about werewolves.


    I thought he was wasting his time because, frankly, that section, which described different archetypal enemies, was oftencking.


    It could never give spoilers, and trying to generalize enemies based on cosmetic simrities seemed dangerous.


    That wasn¡¯t to say there weren¡¯t nuggets of good knowledge in that section of the As; after all, there were some good rules of thumb about different movie monsters that a lot of yers might not be familiar with.


    "It would seem that a weakness to silver is universal, although the potency of silver changes from film to film," Andrew said.


    Yes...


    "It says that Carousel likes to add a mystery to werewolf stories about the identity of the werewolf if possible, and the person who wrote this note suggests that you really spend a lot of time building up that mystery because it''ll take up screen time and take the ce of physical altercations."


    "That''s a really good insight," I said, genuinely surprised. I had read that section, but it had been a while.


    "So we try to exaggerate the mystery elements so that the big reveal is what''s important, and the actual fights get less screen time, and we¡¯re less likely to die, right?" Antoine asked.


    "That''s how I took it," I said.


    There was one resource that Carousel had in limited supply, regardless of its omnipotence: runtime. A storyline, or at least the movie made from it, could only have so many minutes in it. So, if you could fill up that screen time with stuff that won¡¯t get you killed but that is interesting to the audience, then there would be less time for all the things that can kill you.


    "It says that one of the first things you have to do," Andrew said, "is determine the mindset of these werewolves¡ªwhether they are aware of their transformation, whether they''re hiding it, or if they have the same mental faculties as a human and as a wolf. This determination," he read, "could be the single most important piece of insight in any werewolf story."


    He continued to read through the hints and would read them out loud when he found one he liked.


    "Look at this," he said. "It says that any betrayal trope can act as a blood control trope because in order to betray allies, a yer would have an opportunity to be turned into a werewolf, and yers should use this to help propel the story forward."


    That wasn¡¯t just true about werewolves; it applied to vampires and zombies as well. Anything that converted you into a monster would work with a betrayal trope to guarantee that that person became a monster¡ªor at least give them the opportunity for it.


    He continued reading and didn¡¯t find any more pieces of advice that he felt were worth reading aloud until he got to the end.


    "It says here that werewolves are really good for pursuing a Monster Hunter advanced archetype because of the nature of investigating lore, werewolf identity, and eventually hunting down the werewolf¡­ This one mentions a conversation with Arthur C.," Andrew said.


    "Arthur?" Kimberley repeated. "So that¡¯s how he did it¡ªhow he got his advanced archetype."


    "It would appear so," Andrew said. "Of course, this was back before the archetype tracker, so they were just guessing, but it seems they understood the basics. Try to get cast as your desired AA, and then do well in that role. Rinse and repeat."


    "Maybe I''ll go for Monster Hunter," Antoine said.


    "That probably wouldn¡¯t make much sense," Andrew said gently. "A Monster Hunter is a Savvy-based melee fighter; you¡¯re already a Mettle-based melee fighter. If anything, this would be a downgrade for you."


    "I can put points in Savvy if I need to," Antoine said. "I find the Athlete to be too generalized. Yeah, I''m a melee fighter, but I feel like I just get assigned to roles without much bite to them. Security guard, cop, jock¡­ I feel like I¡¯m not living up to my potential."


    "That might change once you get your Aspect," I said. "I feel like most of my roles ever since I got my Aspect have been pretty specific to my skill set."


    "Sport, Stud, or Health Nut," Antoine said aloud, leaning back in his deck chair and drinking a beer. ¡°What grand opportunitiesy before me."


    The conversation continued but took a much more practical route, as we had to discuss builds and teamposition.


    Luckily, my <strong>I Don¡¯t Like It Here</strong> trope could do a lot of the thinking for us.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    For instance, Dina and Bobby appeared to be of little benefit in this storyline. We determined that by seeing if the difficulty went up and down with their presence, but it simply didn''t¡ªwhether they were on the team or not, I couldn''t even feel the difficulty change at all.


    "Sal did say that this was an ensemble movie, right?" Kimberley said. "So Wallflowers and Outsiders don¡¯t get a lot of screen time because they are minor archetypes, right?"


    "That¡¯s more or less it," I said, "but that depends on their Aspect and tropes."


    The more meta they were, the less substantial characters they could y, but again, that was true with Film Buffs, too.


    Unfortunately, we could never get a measure of how difficult the storyline would be without me, because I was the one taking the measurement. And unless I was included on the team, we would never know how tough it was. Of course, I could have given my trope to one of them to use, but I didn¡¯t mention that.


    "Well, that means we don''t need L either," Michael said. He had kept quiet for most of this, but I could see him over there doing push-ups and sit-ups as he mentally prepared for the fight ahead.


    L, who had also not been talking much, was finally roused out of silence by thatment.


    "I have to go," she said. "I have to make it up to them¡­ If you take me, I''ll be one of the blood sacrifices. I can guarantee my death¡ªor at least it''ll look like it," she said.


    She did have a trope that allowed her to trigger her own Off-Screen death, simr to mine, although it took her less work because all she had to do was let out a bloodcurdling scream. I, on the other hand, had toe up with some convoluted scenario where it looked like I died but didn¡¯t.


    To be honest, that was a very strong offer. Even if she did nothing else, taking first or second blood for the rest of us was a huge benefit.


    Kimberley, feeling a sense of duty or something like that, said, "Well, that means I can be first blood. My <strong>Looks Don¡¯t Last</strong> trope guarantees it."


    Normally, I would be on board, but this wasn''t a normal circumstance.


    "The thing is, you¡¯re a Celebrity," I said. "Keeping the story revolving around you with your <strong>Hall of Fame</strong> aspect trope could be really useful to us. And <strong>Looks Don¡¯t Last</strong> doesn¡¯t guarantee your death¡ªit guarantees that you suffer the fate of that particr storyline, which in this case might mean turning into a werewolf. And if you''re a werewolfbined with being a narrative-hogging Celebrity, it might make you a pretty strong werewolf, depending on how those two things y together."


    L''s trope guaranteed that she would get the "dead" status, which meant she would not turn into a werewolf. It was a huge benefit.


    "So, what are we talking? L as First Blood?" Andrew asked.


    "That would be hard to guarantee," I said. Unlike <strong>Looks Don¡¯t Last</strong>, her trope <strong>Dying Last Scream</strong> did not guarantee that she would be first or second blood; it just guaranteed that she would get the dead status when she let out a bloodcurdling scream while being attacked.


    "What if she had a little bad luck?" Antoine asked.


    "Well, there¡¯s a thought," I said. Now where could we get some bad luck?


    "Bad luck?" Andrew asked.


    Antoine reached into his pocket and pulled out his <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong> trope. He had been awarded this in the middle of the <em>Campfire</em> storyline in order to guarantee he was attacked and to ensure he could not run from it. It would give the rest of us a lot of invisible bonuses on everything we tried as long as she lived, but it would guarantee she was targeted first, regardless of anything else.


    Andrew grabbed the trope from Antoine and read over it.


    "Yes, you told me about this," he said. "It looks like it could work. Any thoughts?" he asked, looking over at me.


    "Well, assuming that there is no enemy trope that allows for early deaths unrted to First Blood and assuming that there''s not a scripted First Blood, it would likely work," I said. ¡°If there is a scripted First Blood, that would be even better.¡±


    Whatever objection Michael or anyone else might have had to allowing L to run the storyline evaporated at the prospect of giving her <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong>. In all likelihood, she would die pretty quickly, but if she didn¡¯t, she would make us a little bit better at everything we did.


    It was a win-win.


    "All right, so Les on as general support and potential blood sacrifice. Antoine is in as a fighter and for his rescue trope," I said. "Kimberley is in for narrative control; because she''s a Celebrity, we can ensure that the story will circle around her in some manner that¡¯ll make it predictable for us. What else?"


    Andrew nodded his head. "What has me particrly confused is that the story seems to respond so well to high-Savvy yers. You and I are both high-Savvy," he said, talking to me. "We won¡¯t do very well in a fight, and yet our presence seems to make the story easier. I¡¯m curious as to why that might be."


    He was right. Whenever he left, the storyline did get a little harder, but I had chalked that up as just the benefit of having a healer. But it was true¡ªthe team did have a lot of Savvy, and it wasn''t clear why that was beneficial from anything we were told.


    Until I thought about it for a moment.


    "Well, werewolves go hand in hand with monster hunters, right?" I said. "And monster hunters are Savvy-based. So, is it possible that this storyline benefits from Savvy because werewolves have to be researched and have to be hunted, which are things that Savvy is good for?"


    Now, we were onto something.


    "So we have a Doctor and a Film Buff covering it from both a lore and meta perspective," Andrew said. "And I must say that, in addition to being Logan and Avery¡¯s teammate, Michael also has many tropes that could be useful for fighting werewolves."


    He certainly did¡ªhis ability to know the terrain alone would be priceless.


    "Hell yeah, I do," Michael said.


    "So that''s it," I said. "A soldier, a doctor, an athlete, a celebrity, a blood sacrifice, and a guy who watches too many movies."


    "Sounds like a team to me," Antoine said.


    There was a nervous excitement in the air as we all talked about what tropes we were going to bring. We let Antoine talk about how well we were going to do and give us a pep talk.


    But the truth was, we were at a big disadvantage. It was true that this storyline was not as hard as <em>Post-Traumatic</em>, the storyline that Anna and Camden were trapped in, but it was a difficult storyline, and we were not going to have an easy time.


    Even though Antoine¡¯s rescue trope also had that same little safety that Dina¡¯s had¡ªwhere if you weren¡¯t killed in the storyline, you would survive it even if you failed¡ªthis one would be different because, unlike in Dina''s trope, we would not be background characters or nonexistent characters. We would be the focus, and I had a hard time believing that too many of us were going to survive if we failed, regardless of a safety.


    More than that, I believed we had to throw away the safety in our minds because our goal wasn¡¯t to struggle through and grind out levels over the decades. Our goal was to beat this in one shot and gain enough experience to beat the game at Carousel before we died of old age.


    I knew that the smart thing to do was to abandon our hope of this rescue for a time, go out, train, gather more experience, and level up until this rescue would be easier.


    But to do that would take months, and it would defeat the purpose of having all these rescues avable to us. We couldn¡¯t be safe. We had to be exceptional.


    The goal was to reach a high level with the fewest storylines possible. That way, we could maximize experience without building up too many residual spoilers.


    And we were going to seed at that because I had no intention of letting my friends rot in Carousel for the rest of their lives.


    I wanted to bring Dina along, or maybe even Bobby. ording to my difficulty rating abilities, they might not help that much innately, but having them around to level up would be great. Unfortunately, having them stay behind might have been more critical.


    After we had nned out a run of <em>Stray Dawn</em>, Antoine, Kimberly, and I got Bobby and Dina together and we went over the n.


    "We need you to stay behind with Isaac, Ramona, and Cassie," I said. "As much help as I would think you might be on the storyline, we need you to stay behind in case we fail."


    Dina seemed to have already gathered that.


    "I''ll have to get my rescue trope back," Dina said, "but that shouldn''t take more than a few months, and it''ll take a long time to be able to rescue you."


    "We''ve been thinking about that," I said. "We think what you need to do is find other storylines where you can be awarded rescue tropes¡ªstorylines that have innate rescues built into them. That''s where you have to go. Get as many rescue tropes as you can find and find one that works really well toe to save us. I think that¡¯s your best method of attack," I said. "I suspect that the rescue tropes we have right now are not perfect, but they¡¯re good enough. When youe to rescue us, you need one that''s perfect."


    I handed them a list of storylines we had found that had a high probability of rewarding rescue tropes.


    "Of course, you''ll also keep the As."


    "You really thought this out, didn¡¯t you?" Dina said. "I knew you''ve been looking into this, but... I didn''t think you were this far."


    "All I get to do is n. That''s my whole job," I said. "And about going to Bobby''s ce¡ªyou''ll probably want to go directly there when we leave, on second thought, just in case. If the Writ of Habitation suddenly stops working while you''re asleep one night, well, you''ll probably be hit by an omen really quickly."


    Perhaps I was being a little too nonchnt about all of this, but they were taking it in pretty heavily.


    They let me exin it and seemed to take it well enough, heaviness aside.


    "One thing," Bobby said. "Before you go on that storyline, I want to see <em>The Grotesque.</em>"


    Of course, he did.


    "I''ll show it to you," I said, "but I''m telling you, she''s only in one scene and barely¡ªshe''s mostly just referred to."


    "I want to see it," he said. "I''m sure of it."


    Who was I to deny that request¡ªthest glimpse of his wife he might ever see, and it was a background shot of her standing outside of a home while the rest of us did our jobs and yed our characters.


    And then she was gone, but we watched the whole movie through, and Bobby was closely attentive, watching everything.


    She wasn¡¯t even in it enough to trigger heavy breathing. There was no hint of the axe murderer.


    I thought he would be angry and demand more, but Bobby wasn''t the type to get angry. He was the type to get sad. Sad but resolute.


    "I''ll find her if it''s thest thing I do," he said through tears, "no matter what."


    I hoped he would find answers, though I had no idea what those answers would be.


    Now, all that was left was to throw our chips in against Carousel¡¯s terrible beasties and see if we lived to see the dawn.

 Book Five, Chapter 66: An Invitation

    Book Five, Chapter 66: An Invitation


    Riley Lawrence is <em>The Film Buff</em><blockquote>


    His aspect is Filmmaker.


    <strong>Filmmaker</strong>: The Filmmaker has aprehensive understanding of the filmmaking process. They can manipte the game environment effectively, altering the game''s dynamics in subtle but impactful ways. Their abilities are a mixture of meta-Insight and meta-Rule tropes. They have higher Hustle, reflecting their ability to stay out of the way, stay alive, and remain unseen as they manipte meta-movie elements.


    Riley has a Plot Armor score of 30, Mettle of 4, Moxie of 7, Hustle of 7, Savvy of 8, and Grit of 4.


    Free Background Trope: <strong>"My Grandmother Had the Gift¡­" </strong>A background trope that gives Riley¡¯s character some ambiguous connection to ¡°The Gift¡± through his heritage.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    <strong>"Trope Master"</strong> grants him the ability to perceive enemy tropes, but at the cost of sacrificing half of his Plot Armor.


    As an <strong>"Oblivious Bystander,"</strong> Riley remains untargeted by enemies as he convincingly acts oblivious to their presence.


    ¡°<strong>Cutaway Death</strong>¡± sends him Off-Screen before the moment of his character¡¯s implied demise and allows him to exist behind the scenes Written Off if he survives the encounter."<strong>The Dailies</strong>¡± allows him to see a selection of raw footage from the day''s shoot.


    ¡°<strong>Just Out of Shot</strong>¡± allows him to see ¡®cameras¡¯ when sneaking near an enemy to avoid being seen.


    <strong>¡°Quiet on Set¡±</strong> allows the user to listen to the audio of the current On-Screen scene while Off-Screen, depending on Savvy and the information''s value.


    <strong>¡°Raised by Television¡±</strong> buffs the user to do one big meaningful action if they establish their inspiration from film and television to establish it.


    <strong>"The Insert Shot"</strong> makes allies aware of an object the yer chooses. The object will be shown to the audience and its use will be buffed in the Finale.


    ¡°<strong>Director¡¯s Monitor</strong>¡± Grants the user Deathwatch upon their character¡¯s death.</blockquote>


    ~


    Kimberly Madison is <em>The Eye Candy</em><blockquote>


    Her aspect is Celebrity


    <strong>Celebrity</strong>: The Celebrity aspect treats the yer like an actor and the storylines like films they sign on to. Using meta tropes to create hype, fan favoritism, andrger than life roles, the Celebrity is the most versatile of the Eye Candy aspects. Using past roles to help their ¡°career¡±, the Celebrity can specialize in virtually anything if they have long enough to build a career.


    Kimberly has a Plot Armor score of 27, Mettle of 5, Moxie of 10, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 1, and Grit of 6.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    <strong>"Convenient Backstory"</strong> allows her to believably change her backstory to assist with the current task, buffing the relevant stat.


    <strong>¡°Does anyone have a scrunchie?¡±</strong> allows her to shift Moxie''s points into another stat by putting her hair up.


    "<strong>The Penthouse</strong>" The character will get the nicest, safest amodations in a multiday storyline.


    ¡°<strong>The Hall of Fame</strong>¡± The user gains Center of Attention and will have a heightened role in the story regardless of casting. Meta story elements are more central.


    <strong>"Get a Room!"</strong> boosts the odds of important discoveries when exploring with a love interest during the party.


    <strong>"When in Rome"</strong> buffs her Grit until Rebirth if her performance matches the tone of the movie.


    <strong>"Social Awareness"</strong> allows her to see the Moxie stat of all enemies and NPCs and intuit rtionship dynamics.


    "<strong>Contract Negotiations</strong>" the user will get a buff to an Improvisation after "discussing" an improvisation with Carousel.


    <strong>¡°Breaking the Veil of Silence¡± </strong>the user will get warnings from knowledgeable NPCs. Outside of storylines, NPCs will warn of dangers to women and hint at storyline rewards.</blockquote>


    ~


    Antoine Stone is <em>The Athlete</em><blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Antoine has a Plot Armor score of 26, Mettle of 8, Moxie of 4, Hustle of 5, Savvy of 3, and Grit of 7.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    <strong>"Gym Rat"</strong> buffs Mettle and Hustle by revealing athletic backstory.


    Brandishing a weapon is <strong>¡°Like a Security nket,¡±</strong> buffing his Grit and soothing his and his allies¡¯ fear.


    "<strong>Everyone Loves a Winner</strong>" the user''s character will have some previous sess that endears them to NPCs. Failure reverses this.


    <strong>¡°Stronger Together¡±</strong> buffs mental health and healing when the user and allies are together in a group.


    <strong>"A Race Against Time</strong>" creates a rescue with a time clock that must be beaten.


    <strong>¡°You were having a nightmare¡­¡± </strong>reduces traumatic memories to nothing but a lingering dream and can undo much of a storyline at a very high level.


    <strong>¡°Knight in Shining Armor¡± </strong>buffs Mettle and Grit when defending a romantic interest.


    "<strong>The ybook</strong>" The user will be able to see when it is their turn to act in an established n.


    ¡°<strong>Better Make it Count</strong>¡± greatly buffs thest round of ammunition the yer has avable in a fight.</blockquote>


    ~


    Dr. Andrew Hughes is <em>The Doctor</em><blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Andrew has a Plot Armor score of 28, Mettle of 1, Moxie of 5, Hustle of 8, Savvy of 9, and Grit of 5.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    ¡°<strong>Step Into My Office</strong>¡± Sanctuary is granted while treating allies in a private scene, safeguarding all until treatment isplete based on the user¡¯s Savvy.


    ¡°<strong>The Oath</strong>¡± By referencing their personal healer¡¯s oath, the user¡¯s Grit is buffed while treating a wounded ally.


    ¡°<strong>Observational Analysis</strong>¡± Observing characters before critical scenes lets the user discern their fixed personality traits, making it easier to predict their reactions if provoked.


    ¡°<strong>Let it Out</strong>¡± During mental trauma treatment, the patient reveals deep-seated feelings, aiding in their mental recovery but risking emotional breakdowns.


    ¡°<strong>Professional Courtesy</strong>¡± Characters in rted professions recognize the user¡¯s professional status, offering them helpful insights and special ess.


    ¡°<strong>Absolute Focus</strong>¡± The user¡¯s Hustle is enhanced when performing tasks requiring dexterity and precision, thanks to their meticulous focus.


    ¡°<strong>Critical Anatomy</strong>¡± Studying a creature reveals weak spots, increasing the user¡¯s Mettle when targeting these vulnerabilities.


    ¡°<strong>The b</strong>¡± Performing a post-mortem on a corpse yields increasing information over time, with a countdown until the scene¡¯s end.


    ¡°<strong>Study Session</strong>¡± If the user has the highest Savvy, they designate a ¡°Stacks¡± research location where allies are safe during certain scenes and can ess valuable knowledge.</blockquote>


    ~


    Michael Brooks is <em>The Soldier</em><blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    Michael has a Plot Armor score of 26, Mettle of 8, Moxie of 2, Hustle of 6, Savvy of 3, and Grit of 7.


    Current Trope Limit: 9


    ¡°<strong>Born and Raised</strong>¡± A background trope that makes it so he is a local to the setting and is familiar with it, granting several equipable tropes.


    ¡°<strong>Back of My Hand</strong>¡± Familiarity with the setting allows the user to navigate known locations easily, with a map of key areas avable.


    ¡°<strong>Live off the Land</strong>¡± The user knows where to find food, water, and shelter in the wild and can locate ingredients for rituals or spells if appropriate.


    ¡°<strong>Knife Rush</strong>¡± Rushing an enemy who has a ded weapon gives the user a brief window of invulnerability, thanks to their Hustle.


    ¡°<strong>Nighty Night</strong>¡± A stealthy strike on an unaware target renders them unconscious, provided their Plot Armor is weak enough and their character wouldn¡¯t go for the kill.


    ¡°<strong>Half a World Away</strong>¡± Demonstrating yearning for a distant lover bolsters the user¡¯s Grit.


    ¡°<strong>Sold a Lie</strong>¡± The user can detect deceptions too good to be true and sense maniptors, even if the details are unclear.


    ¡°<strong>Basic Training</strong>¡± The lowest of the user¡¯s Mettle, Hustle, and Grit stats receive a slight buff and the user may equip standard-issue soldier gear when relevant.


    ¡°<strong>You¡¯re Wasting Your Bullets</strong>¡± Upon hitting an enemy without damaging them, the user gains insight into the enemy¡¯s defenses.


    ¡°<strong>Conservation of Lead</strong>¡± Ammo automatically adjusts to match the user¡¯s current firearm, converting based on weight.</blockquote>


    ~


    L White is <em>The Wallflower</em><blockquote>


    No aspect has been chosen.


    L has a Plot Armor score of 23, Mettle of 1, Moxie of 3, Hustle of 10, Savvy of 4, and Grit of 5.


    Current Trope Limit: 8


    <strong>¡°Bad Luck Ma¡± </strong>All rolls will fail, and the user will be targeted. Allies will have the opposite happen. (borrowed from Antoine)


    ¡°<strong>A Hopeless Plea</strong>¡± Begging for release forces the captor to verbally deny it; if they don¡¯t, persuasion might seed.


    ¡°<strong>A Scream in the Distance...</strong>¡± A loud scream sends the user Off-Screen, allowing an ally who hears it to appear On-Screen.


    ¡°<strong>There¡¯s Been a Murder!</strong>¡± Discovering a gruesome scene lets the user scream, initiating an investigative scene with applicable characters.


    ¡°<strong>Not Important Enough</strong>¡± Staying out of plot-critical actions keeps the user safe from intelligent enemies until the Midpoint, where they are Written-Off. Grants limited ess to the script.


    ¡°<strong>Dying Last Scream</strong>¡± A realistic death scream sends the user Off-Screen, allowing enemies to ignore them while gaining Deathwatch and the Dead status.


    ¡°<strong>The Killer¡¯s Wake</strong>¡± ying dead during a massacre allows the user to escape safely after the scene and provides knowledge of theplete script for that scene.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°<strong>A Cry in the Dark</strong>¡± A cry during peril alerts nearby allies to the user¡¯s location and status.</blockquote>


    ~


    ~


    ~


    The Omen trigger for <em>Stray Dawn</em> was simply to bring the painting to southeastern Carousel.


    It meant exactly that.


    Because while we left in a group and walked in a group, as soon as we crossed the invisible barrier between Central Carousel and Southeastern Carousel, I found myself instantly transported into the driver¡¯s seat of a 1981 Comstock Ovender, careening down the highway at 60 miles an hour.


    The shock and surprise of it all almost sent me off the road into a tree.


    Luckily, I wasn¡¯t On-Screen because I cussed from sheer surprise and mmed on the brakes, leaving my car¡ªa very long, four-door vehicle that reminded me of a Crown Victoria¡ªspread out on the narrow road, covering bothnes.


    My heart raced as I put two and two together and realized what had happened.


    Then, I got distracted by something else.


    Carousel took my hoodie again.


    That was the first thing I noticed, and I didn¡¯t quite mind. Instead of some generic jacket, it gave me a ssy trench coat, like some noir detective. I looked around the car and saw that a folder of papers had been scattered all over the passenger seat floor from my harsh braking.


    This little jump scare had stirred up a great deal of anxiety in me.


    All I could do was take a deep breath and send out a silent prayer to the universe that we¡¯d seed on our first shot.


    We had run <em>Itch</em> so many times that I worried it had rewired my brain to believe that these storylines were somewhat safe. But all of my instincts told me this one would be difficult. We had prepped as well as we could, but at the end of the day, werewolves were icons for a reason.


    It would be a struggle.


    I reached down, gathered up the scattered papers, and noticed that one of the most prominent of them was a map. Thankfully, someone had traced out my route, even marking where I was supposed to stop and where to go afterward.


    They even did it in my own handwriting. How thoughtful.


    We were still at the very beginning of the Party Phase, and it didn¡¯t look like the needle on the Plot Cycle was moving at all.


    I took another deep breath, letting my heart rate settle, then eased off the brake and corrected my course, heading straight down the road.


    I was alone.


    That meant Kimberly, Antoine, Andrew, L, and Michael were somewhere out there, hopefully gathering all the information we needed to understand how these werewolves worked and what we were supposed to do to survive.


    All we knew for sure about the plot was that there would be a ticking clock.


    With werewolves, the ticking clock usually revolved around the full moon. For some reason, that bit of information didn¡¯t make me feel any safer.


    I started about 15 miles out of town, and as I looked at the map, I realized that, geographically, nothing made sense. Based on my estimation, all of the wooded areas beside the road should have been houses and buildings within Carousel proper. But we weren¡¯t in Carousel proper; we were on a sound stage.


    I hoped to figure out what was so special about this version of <em>Stray Dawn</em> that it needed its own dedicated sound stage. That and a million other things could be the clue we needed to survive, and it was my job to find it. It could also be useless trivia.


    As I followed the map and road, I quickly realized that this miniature version of Carousel¡ªwith one post office and a few restaurants¡ªwas surrounded by forests with names like Big Root State Park or High Mountain Reservation.


    We were in the wilderness.


    I shuddered to think what that might do to Antoine¡¯s trauma, but I didn¡¯t have time to dwell on it. It wasn¡¯t productive. We were in the thick of it; it was time to stay sharp and trust my team.


    The drive into town was uneventful, though I did encounter some traffic. There was a car in front of me, a station wagon, though not the wood-panel model described by the Omen. This one had a canoe on top.


    As I drove along, I noticed more cars with hints of motorsports and outdoor activities¡ªjet skis being hauled, fishing poles packed up.


    Before long, I found myself approaching a sign that read, "Wee to Carousel. Poption: 1,532."


    It was so small that it didn¡¯t even use the entirety of Southeastern Carousel as a setting.


    Though I had eaten before we left, I was suddenly very hungry. I realized this just as I was about to pass a diner¡ªa ssic drive-in.


    When the universe speaks, I listen. Or maybe it was Carousel speaking, but either way, I pulled into the diner and found a spot.


    My onlyint was that I didn¡¯t know if I¡¯d have to pay out of pocket or if it would be scripted and, therefore, free. I ordered a hamburger and French fries¡ªthe cheapest thing on the menu, just in case.


    The food was great, but as I sat there munching on my burger, I started leafing through the pages I¡¯d been given. This was not unusual, especially for a Savvy-heavy yer.


    I recalled that Camden had, on at least two asions, received file folders twice as thick as the one on the car seat beside me. These folders contained all the information my character should know going in, but it would be impractical for me to learn organically in the time Carousel wanted me to.


    It seemed I was ying an established character, not just some rando with a goal to survive. But what did I know?


    As I opened the folder, the first thing that popped out was a beautiful envelope, as ssy as ssy could be. It was addressed to me, though it didn¡¯t have a stamp or anything.


    I set my burger down, grabbed the envelope, and opened it, watching a bunch of 80s teenagers running around the parking lot, squirting water guns at each other.


    The letter was quite informative. I read it three times over, trying to absorb as much as I could.<blockquote>


    <strong>Witherhold Manor</strong>


    Carousel, October 14, 1986


    Dearest Mr. Riley Lawrence,


    How does one pen a letter to Riley Lawrence¡ª<em>the</em> Riley Lawrence¡ªdocumentarian of the otherworldly, chronicler of the unfathomable? I do hope this note finds you not tangled in some remote marsh or mid-interview with a spirit medium, as it seems to me such circumstances would be your natural element.


    My name is Egan Kirst. Perhaps you¡¯ve heard it tossed around corporate circles, or perhaps not, as the supernatural intrigues me far more than boardrooms ever could. Recently, I happened upon your stirring piece on Appchian ck dogs and, dare I say, the iparable footage you captured of that skunk ape down in Okeechobee. Exquisite work, truly. You capture the elusive with an artist¡¯s eye, as though these shadows and creatures trust you in ways they trust no other. To put it inly, I was hooked¡ªthough my tastes do run toward the macabre, as it happens.


    Now, allow me to propose an invitation most peculiar. I am hosting a gathering on the evening of October 31st here at Witherhold Manor in Carousel Five o¡¯clock, an estate as steeped in mystery as it is in mildew. The manor has been left much as it was¡ªrambling halls, crumbling walls, a touch of fogged-over history. It would be my utmost delight to wee you here as our guest of honor and, dare I say, principal storyteller. I am gathering individuals with a discerning ear for the bizarre, and none could hold a candle to your chronicles, Riley¡ªespecially on the matter of werewolves.


    As I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware, Witherhold carries a certain¡­ odor of lycanthropic lore, tales murkier than the manor¡¯s dusty halls. If you¡¯re inclined, I would like you to share your findings, your theories, perhaps even your footage of the elusive half-men. You¡¯ll be handsomelypensated, of course¡ª$3,500 for the evening, with full arrangements for travel and amodations. While humble, theye with the peculiar promise of proximity to uncharted mysteries. And I assure you, Riley, this estate has an energy that few ces possess.


    Do consider this, won¡¯t you? If the prospect tempts you as much as I suspect, please send your reply with my courier. The 31st approaches and I feel the timing could not be more curious¡ªnor the moon¡¯s light more¡­ telling.


    Yours in restless anticipation,


    <strong>Egan Kirst</strong>


    CEO, KRSL Corporation


    Host of Witherhold Manor</blockquote>


    ~


    That was my kind of setup¡ªa mysterious invitation to an old mansion. There was something about the purity of it that I liked.


    What I found even more interesting was that after I read the letter, something appeared on the red wallpaper for me. They were a collection of titles in the form of mental VHS tapes, which I realized I could y onmand, just as I could any of my past storylines.


    They were my character¡¯s documentaries.


    I zoomed through them, listening asionally. If there was something important, I would be able to research through these, but I had to believe that a five-minute clip of a skunk ape wasn¡¯t going to help me with werewolves¡ªespecially when the skunk ape kind of just looked like a ck bear.


    I did get good footage of the Appchian ck dogs, though. They were definitely dogs, and the surrounding narration describing the history of ck dogs in folklore was riveting. But I decided not to watch the whole thing¡ªI got the gist of it. I was a hack documentarian, piecing together a bunch of interviews with people who imed to see things of a supernatural nature.


    Wonderful.


    I tried to put myself in the mind of such a man, and it came naturally enough. I had to remember that in this world, the supernatural was real, so I probably wasn¡¯t a crackpot. I had to avoid whatever instinct I might have to y the character as an entric and instead y him as a skeptic who just happens to live in a world where everything is true.


    It was truly the acting challenge of my lifetime.


    The other slips of paper in the folder were newspaper copies, like the kind you would make at a public library. Apparently, my character had been doing some research into this Egan Kirst fellow.


    What was it with names that were so on the nose? First Geist, and now Kirst. Apparently, the audience didn¡¯t need subtlety.


    The articles basically painted my future dinner host as a real bastard¡ªor at least, that was the general tone they set.<blockquote>


    <strong>Westward Business Review</strong>


    <em>July 19, 1981</em>


    <strong>"Trouble Brewing on Solmira Coast? Spection Mounts over Kirst¡¯s Overseas Tactics"</strong>


    Reports from Solmira Coast suggest that Egan Kirst, CEO of KRSL Corporation, may be engaging in ruthless tactics to secure local resources. Rumors imply that Kirst¡¯s operations are discingmunities, sparking unrest in the area.


    One insider ims Kirst¡¯s focus on control and expansion leaves little room for local welfare: ¡°He¡¯s got no qualms about who he pushes out,¡± theymented. While KRSL representatives deny any wrongdoing, sources close to Solmira say Kirst¡¯s approach has raised eyebrows and concerns about his corporate ethics.</blockquote>


    I read through all the articles but I didn''t see anything that jumped out at me as a clue. They had simr titles to the first one.<blockquote>


    <strong>Industrial Observer</strong>


    <em>August 2, 1976</em>


    <strong>"KRSL CEO used of Overrunning Local Businesses in Aggressive Acquisition Spree"</strong></blockquote>


    ¡­<blockquote>


    <strong>Global Industry Digest</strong>


    <em>September 10, 1979</em>


    <strong>"KRSL Under Fire: Kirst Faces Bacsh Over Environmental Neglect Allegations"</strong></blockquote>


    <strong>¡­</strong><blockquote>


    <strong>Market Watch Weekly</strong>


    <em>November 3, 1984</em>


    <strong>"Kirst¡¯s KRSL Hit with Worker Protests: CEO Remains Unmoved by Demands"</strong></blockquote>


    <strong>¡­</strong>


    After <em>Itch</em>, I really did not want to think about an evil corporation again, and I sincerely hoped that wouldn¡¯t be featured heavily in this storyline, too.


    Another article in the folder was copied from a book and featured a small blurb about the mansion I was headed toward.<blockquote>


    <strong>An Anthology of Historic Estates and Manors</strong>


    <em>Published 1962</em>


    <strong>Witherhold Manor, Carousel</strong>


    Built in the early 1800s, Witherhold Manor is one of Carousel¡¯s oldest structures, bearing elements of both Gothic Revival and early Federalist architecture. The manor¡¯s original owner, a minor local official whose name has since been lost, reportedly abandoned the estate after only a few years, a mystery to which no historical documentation offers any insight. Witherhold¡¯s worn stone facade, unlit corridors, and overt signs of neglect have be somewhat iconic in local memory, with a prominent iron gate that remains locked to this day.


    The manor¡¯s long history is marked by an unusual resistance to renovation or modern alteration. Though attempts to restore the grounds have surfaced over the years, each effort seems to stall, as if prevented by an invisible force. Local lore attributes the manor¡¯s eerie preservation to ¡°unsettled energies,¡± ¡°haunting howls,¡± and ¡°unseen inhabitants,¡± though no credible evidence of paranormal activity has been recorded. Nheless, Witherhold Manor remains a source of fascination, enduring as both a histordmark and an enigma to Carousel¡¯s residents.</blockquote>


    ~


    Finally, I had a flyer picked up from somewhere I didn''t know about the summer season in Carousel or at least this miniature version of Carousel.<blockquote>


    <strong>Carousel Flyer</strong>


    <em>May 01, 1986</em>


    <strong>"Carousel Kicks Off the Season: Town and Trails Open Up for Summer"</strong>


    Carousel is officially ready to wee back locals and visitors for another exciting summer season! With nearby state parks and nature preserves now open, outdoor enthusiasts can look forward to favorite activities like hiking, river floating, and camping¡­</blockquote>


    It went on for a while, just exining all of the fun activities that could be done in this revamped version of the horror town I knew. Strangely, as I looked around, the lighting and the tone reminded me a lot of Camp Dyer.


    But that was it¡ªthat was the end of the freebies. Every other clue, I would have to get on my own.


    The first insight I managed to pick up was from a young blonde woman sitting in a parked convertible in a motel parking lot across the street. She was talking to a tall man dressed like he was ready to employ some guerri war tactics.


    It was Kimberly and Antoine, and I could see on the red wallpaper that they were On-Screen. We had discussed some ideas about how we would work our characters together, and they decided to go with a ssic they hadn¡¯t used in a while¡ªa romantic angle.


    I could almost hear what they were saying right now.


    ¡°Oh my goodness, Antoine, I haven¡¯t seen you in so long, but the feelings inside still burn hot.¡±


    ¡°I feel the same way, Kimberly. If only we could get over our individual baggage and reconnect at this spooky dinner, we were both invited to. See my envelope?¡±


    ¡°You have an envelope? I have an envelope too, see? What a coincidence.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t get along too well this early. Let¡¯s leave the audience wanting more and leaving a little bit unsaid, my love.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my big tough hero. Please look at me with your big, brooding eyes onest time.¡±


    Before they departed, Antoine gave Kimberly a very meaningfulst look before walking back to his truck and driving off down the road, followed by Kimberly, now Off-Screen.


    <em>Ahem</em>¡­


    Everything was going ording to n.


    I put my papers back in the passenger seat. I wanted to get out and talk to some of the locals, but time was running tight. I barely had time to eat and read, and ording to my character¡¯s wristwatch, it was time to head out and follow thest leg of the journey on the map to a location I could only assume was Witherhold Manor.


    I had to hope that, in the same way I was given a lot of information in both film and text format, Kimberly and Antoine had had time to explore the town and talk to the locals. We would have topare notes when we got there.


    I put my car in reverse and tried to pull out of my parking space¡ªthe carhop never asked me for money, for the record.


    Somehow, and I swear this wasn¡¯t my fault, as I started to pull out, I almost hit a group of people.


    I¡¯d say they were around my age, maybe a little younger, some a little older.


    They came out of nowhere, and I realized that it wasn¡¯t me who did it because as I was about to curse in surprise again, I noticed I was On-Screen.


    My character was supposed to be running into these people. Or, almost running into them, rather.


    I scanned the crowd as they looked at me in disgust as if I were some sort of crazed driver who had almost killed them, even though I was fairly certain it was a scripted interaction. One of them was flipping me off with both fingers.


    They were dressed like hikers, taking advantage of a very warm October, onest breath of summer. But there was something off. I looked them up and down, catching fleeting details that didn¡¯t quite add up. They all had real names¡ªno ceholders or default NPC tags¡ªand a little too much attitude for random extras. They seemed ordinary enough at first nce, but I sensed a kind of restlessness, an alertness that didn¡¯t match the casual camping attire.


    The guy who flipped me off was big, tall, and wild-looking, with a roughness that could have belonged to an ouw or a vagrant. His name was Frank. Nost name, no need for one, apparently. He held my gaze a little longer than necessary, like he was daring me to try something.


    For all intents and purposes, they looked like standard campers, but they seemed to bristle with a hostility that didn¡¯t sit right. As they made their way to the tables at the restaurant I was leaving, they kept ncing back at me, muttering and ring, their eyes tracking my every move.


    I pulled out a little slower this time, and instead of saying something hard-headed or brash, I just gave them a little wave as if to say sorry, though that did very little to improve their opinion of me. I pulled out of the gravel parking lot and back onto the thin highway as I drove further up the mountain.


    Funny enough, I realized that was <em>the</em> mountain. It was the same one that KRSL Powerworks Pavilion was on, and I recognized its shape and general height.


    I drove down the road, looking for any other piece of information, but I found none. Perhaps the town itself wasn¡¯t a big part of the setting for this story.


    Only time would tell.

 Book Five, Chapter 67: The Host

    Book Five, Chapter 67: The Host


    After about ten minutes of driving, I finally connected with a familiar road¡ªa road that normally led to the Powerworks Pavilion. But this time, as I drove along, I saw that I was supposed to turn left onto a small road leading further uphill, one that had been washed out when we¡¯d been here before.


    There was a simple sign showing the way to the Manor. The other road, the one we usually traveled down, seemed to lead to a quarry instead of a space base/power station. I suspected they had shut it down a long time ago because the sign was so rotten I could barely read it.


    So, up the mountain, I drove.


    I nced at my watch and realized I was making good time. I suspected that time itself was being toyed with, but I couldn¡¯t prove it.


    The further I drove, the more signs of the estate I began to see: old, crumbling walls, a well surrounded by a gazebo, wind chimes, and other decorations hanging from the trees. I began to realize that, in a way, autumn had made its first strike here at the top of the mountain, even though everywhere else, summer still had a little fight left in it.


    It was dreary and damp. Perfect for an abandoned manor.


    I drove onward until I reached a gate guarded by three armed men decked out in army gear. One of the men nced down at a clipboard and walked up to my window as I arrived.


    "Name?" he asked as I rolled down my window.


    "Riley Lawrence," I said.He nodded, looking at his list.


    "Drive right on through, sir. Stick to the right and park in front of the big house."


    I nodded, and forward I went. They didn¡¯t even check my ID. What kind of security were they?


    The gate''s presence had tricked me. I had assumed I was almost there, but I still had another mile to go.


    Then I saw it as I rounded a curve.


    At first, I noticed therge fountain in front of the house, which had probably not had running water in many, many years. But it was beautiful, featuring a sort of angel¡ªor perhaps a naiad¡ªdancing in the water that didn¡¯t run, yfully being chased by a wolfhound, all of it tarnished by time and neglect.


    I drove onward, noticing that there was a card on the fountain that I¡¯d need to get closer to read, but I¡¯d have to park my car first.


    I saw Kimberley¡¯s convertible and Antoine¡¯s truck parked and decided to find a ce next to them.


    I got out of my car and set myself on a path back toward the fountain, intent on reading whatever inscription I had spied from the road.


    When I got there, I was met with a simple poem:<blockquote>


    <em>"In twilight''s rest, our darling sleeps,</em>


    <em>The chain of sorrow, love still keeps."</em>


    <em>"Bound no more by moon''s embrace,</em>


    <em>She finds her peace in silent grace."</em>


    <em>"Beyond the bars of night and grief,</em>


    <em>Her spirit soars, atst, released."</em>


    <em>"In hallowed earth, where shadows lie,</em>


    <em>We leave our love, a soft goodbye."</em></blockquote>


    All I could say was, "Huh. That''s interesting."


    I stared up at the woman I had at first believed to be an angel but now saw as a beloved and indomitable spirit of a young daughter, probably taken too soon.


    After a quick scan to see if there was an opening to an underground vault or something, I walked back toward my car and looked at my watch again, realizing I had more time before I had to go inside.


    It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t want to go into the spooky, old, gothic mansion; I just didn¡¯t want to miss something out here.


    So, I went back to my car and opened up the trunk, and thank goodness I did. What I was met with was a milk crate¡ªthe old wooden kind¡ªfilled with tape reels in little metal canisters, eachbeled with a title written on a piece of tape. I shuffled through them and immediately knew that most of them didn¡¯t matter, and I knew that because the three that did matter appeared in my head on the red wallpaper.


    The only way I could figure it was that, like all the other information I had gotten so far, this was information my character would absolutely already know and that by checking the trunk, I had gained ess to it.


    I let the tapes in my mind start to y, beginning with onebeled <em>Background Info: Werewolf Soft Springs 1985</em>.


    As I watched the tapes, I sorted through the rest of the trunk''s contents and found a handheld camera, a Super 8 or simr, from what I could tell. As a documentarian, was I meant to film everything?


    The tape was of an interview done with an older woman who spoke about the lore of werewolves. I was rubbing my hands together as I watched it; I must have looked like a real fool, but this was great stuff.


    You have to learn the basics of how a werewolf works in the universe of the movie you¡¯re in.


    These werewolves had a lot of typical qualities, like hating silver.


    ording to the woman, as she showed off what appeared to be a friendship bracelet made of silver, werewolves were particrly sensitive to the metal. Then she went on with more details, like the magical connection between wolves of a pack or that a werewolf will remember you for decades.


    In fact, she imed that the same werewolf had visited her every few years since she was a little girl.


    Someone with my voice asked her why. That was even creepier than Carousel copying my handwriting.


    She said it was because it was her brother who went missing when they were children.


    That would have sounded kooky if someone in the real world said it.


    I could only imagine what it would be like to try to find the truth about something supernatural in a world where magic existed but was denied by the public atrge. It would be hard to sort through what was real and what was nonsense.


    But if I were to make a guess based on the way the woman spoke, she really was being visited by her werewolf brother.


    She went on to list a few other details like the curse being spread by saliva. And she said something peculiar to wrap up the short interview: "All werewolves are in love. That¡¯s why they howl at the moon."


    That was a new one for me.


    That was the whole tape, and while I wanted to watch the others, my time ran out. I took a look up at the Manor and quickly walked toward the front door.


    It opened before I even had a chance to knock on the old, rusted knocker, which was just a round metal loop inside the mouth of a wolf, appropriately enough.


    "Mr. Lawrence," a tall, olive-skinned man said to me with a polite smile while I still held my hand in the air, reaching for the knocker like an idiot.


    On the red wallpaper, his name was Duval, Mr. Duval.


    "Hello, I got an invitation to be here tonight," I said, holding up my envelope.


    "You did, Mr. Lawrence, and I am so pleased that you have arrived," he said. He didn¡¯t stick out his hand for me to shake; his hands were firmly at his sides as he bowed in greeting.


    He was an old-fashioned butler.


    As I walked past him to get inside, I started to wonder if perhaps there was going to be a murder and if he was the one who did it.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "The other guests are in the gentleman¡¯s parlor," he said. "I must make further arrangements for tonight¡¯s dinner if you¡¯ll excuse me. Oh, and I must ask that you never film Mr. Kirst. I understand that you are a documentarian, but he is off-limits. Perhaps you should wait until tomorrow to begin."


    I was still holding the camera from the trunk of my car. I supposed the dinner wasn''t on the record. I wasn''t heartbroken.


    I nodded and smiled as if to release him from whatever bounds of servitude a butler signed on for.


    I took a look around the Manor, just taking things in.


    My first observation was that there was no electricity. The ce was wired, but for whatever reason, the electric lights¡ªantique and beautiful, though covered in dust and cobwebs¡ªwere not on.


    Lanterns were ced around the entrance area. Was that called a foyer or a lobby? I couldn¡¯t remember, but it was a grand,rge area that would have been quite beautiful if not for a hundred years without maid service.


    Large bookcases were ced here and there with books that appeared to be authentic from the time period rotting right on the shelves. They had not done much to clean up around the ce except sweep paths between the rooms.


    This was going to be a real, authentic mping experience.


    There were three rooms leading from the entryway, and I decided to pick one at random. By luck, I found the gentleman¡¯s parlor, where three guests were already there, looking awkwardly at me as I entered the room.


    We were On-Screen.


    "Hello," I said, trying to pretend my character had people skills. "Riley Lawrence."


    The first person to greet me was a Dr. Andrew Hughes, who crossed the room with grace and authority, extending his hand for me to shake.


    "If you have any doubts about your choice toe this evening," he said, "you should know that the whiskey is almost as old as the house¡ªand smooth as the Carousel River."


    "That¡¯s good," I said, not quite matching Andrew''s tone. "Need a little booze to exchange our ghost stories, don¡¯t we?"


    "I don¡¯t know if we¡¯ll need it, but we definitely have it," Kimberly Madison said from across the room.


    She and Antoine were standing next to each other awkwardly as if they were choosing not to speak so they could start their On-Screen rtionship slowly.


    "So, does anyone know what the deal is? Are we really here just to talk about werewolves?" I asked.


    "That''s all anyone wants to talk about with me," Kimberly said. "Why should the richest man in the world be any different?"


    I shrugged my shoulders.


    We were On-Screen, so I couldn''t ask questions like, <em>Where''s L or Michael?</em> or, maybe more importantly, <em>What exactly is the countdown that we were supposed to be racing against?</em>


    Instead of talking about what we were doing there as yers, we started feeding lines to Carousel that it might use to help set up the werewolf situation.


    "So, can you believe we''re actually in the Witherhold Manor?" I said. "I mean, you trace werewolf lore¡ªno matter how far back you go¡ªites through here. You¡¯d almost think that werewolves died off before the 1800s and then popped up again in little old Carousel out of nowhere."


    That was something the olddy had told me in the film I watched, but now I could repeat it and sound smart and informed.


    "I have little interest in lore or superstition," Andrew said. "Kirst told me he had an intact w from a werewolf. I may be a sucker for it, but I packed a bag immediately."


    "Physical evidence is hard toe by," I said, just piecing things together. "That''s why I always like to capture things on film. I figure the more people learn about the dangers we all know about, the better."


    "People don''t want to know about the dangers we know about," Antoine said. "You could show it to them, and they¡¯d choose not to believe it. People want to feel safe, and you can''t feel safe once you know werewolves exist, once you know that your life is a hunt, and you''re either the hunter or the prey, and you won''t know till the end."


    That was a very intense choice for Antoine to go with. I liked it¡ªCarousel must have given him a pretty heavy backstory.


    We spoke some more, mostly with one-liners like the ones we had done already. It wasn''t until Kimberly got one in that the story started to move forward again.


    She said, "I''ve been running from werewolves since I was a teenager. Never thought I would be back here, but you can''t run from your problems forever. It''ll be nice to tell my story to people that believe me for a change."


    And that was it. Duval, the butler, opened the door and asked us to reenter the entryway.


    When we did, we found Michael standing next to a man named Hawk Kipling. Hawk had a plot armor of 30 and a bunch of tropes that I couldn''t see. Apparently, it was the situation where a Paragon had gotten scaled down to my level for this storyline.


    To describe Hawk, I could say that I knew immediately he was the Monster Hunter Paragon¡ªand that wasn''t just because I had read about him in the <em>As</em>. He had a giant knife on one hip and a gun on the other. He wore what was probably the coolest-looking fanny pack I had ever seen, which I could only imagine was filled with monster-hunting gear. He wore tough boots, jeans, and arge jacket, the kind ranchers used to wear. To top it all off, he had¡­ well, it wasn''t a cowboy hat, but it was definitely in the family of cowboy hats.


    I couldn''t tell what era his character was supposed to be from, but I could tell from the look on his face that he had experienced a lot of violence and action and was ready for more.


    Having an advanced archetype Paragon in the story was very useful information because it told us that his advanced archetype was being used to modify this story, turning this, whatever it was, into a hunt. I had experience with that because Arthur had done the same thing with the grotesques.


    We had a fight ahead of us, but I had to know that already¡ªbecause, werewolves, duh.


    "Mr. Kirst will be with you shortly," the butler said as he left us in the entryway.


    We were On-Screen, so again, no talking, noparing notes out of character. But we could stillpare notes in character.


    "I thought he had gathered some people that wanted to talk to us," I said. "Where are the guests? This is supposed to be a speaking engagement or something."


    "He didn¡¯t tell me anything about a speaking engagement," Antoine said. "He was looking for advice on killing werewolves."


    We looked at each other, confused.


    "What did he tell you this was?" I asked Kimberly.


    "Same as you," she said. "We were supposed to talk to some guests of his."


    "Well, maybe we should ask for half of our pay up front," I said.


    At least Andrewughed at my joke as he went to greet Michael, whose character he had not been introduced to yet. Michael shook his hand, ying the strong, silent type from what I could tell. Even as Andrew introduced himself, Michael simply said "hello" and didn¡¯t respond further.


    Before we could make much small talk, however, the man of the hour decided to make an entrance.


    At first, I heard pping from above us, upstairs, and then I saw him appear at the top of the stairs and begin to walk downward, slowly, deliberately.


    "I have before me some of the greatest minds in paranormal investigation that the world has ever known. I''m just getting goosebumps at the thought of it," he said.


    ¡°It urred to me that monster hunters of all stripes are rather lonely creatures, aren¡¯t they? Always choosing to travel alone, to live alone, to pursue the darkness alone. So, I thought to myself, <em>How much could we get done if I just gathered together some of the best paranormal minds and really set them to task discussing their upation?¡±</em>


    "I was very selective in my choice for this inaugural dinner. Antoine Stone," he said, "probably the most prolific hunter of evil creatures known to man. I spoke to a sheriff¡¯s deputy who swore up and down that Mr. Stone saved him from a vampire infestation that nearly killed an entire town."


    He left a pause in his speech as he continued walking down the stairs. Antoine didn¡¯t respond, and I didn¡¯t think he was meant to; the pause was there so we could all stare at Antoine and get a good look at the man who could do such a thing.


    "And, of course, Riley Lawrence. In a world where dangers see fit to stay hidden, this man shines a light on them. Your work is incredibly important, and of course, I would love to consider myself a patron."


    He reached the bottom of the stairs and came to shake my hand. That¡¯s when I got a really good look at him, and frankly, I just didn¡¯t get it.


    I had pictured something in my mind when I thought about the idea of an entric billionaire, but what stood before me was a man of means but also a man of practicality. He was not dressed up in a tux or anything like that; instead, he wore a simple sports coat and a button-up shirt with no tie, unbuttoned enough that his chest hair was visible.


    He didn¡¯t look like the soft-handed fool who would throw his money at people chasing monsters in the dark for his own entertainment, and yet, when he spoke, that¡¯s exactly what he was¡ªa huge fan.


    He wore a short mustache and a humble hairstyle. While I was sure his clothes were high quality, they did not look shy. He just looked like a normal guy¡ªor perhaps as normal as a wealthy CEO could look.


    He looked friendly. The only thing about him that gave me pause was that his plot armor was the same as mine, despite him being an NPC. However, unlike Hawk Kipling, he did not appear to be a Paragon.


    "Doctor Andrew Hughes," he said after shaking mine and then Antoine¡¯s hand. "I can only imagine the frustration of a man of science trying to understand a creature whose entire existence seems to fade from the fabric of reality whenever the sun rises."


    "Well, it certainly hasn¡¯t done much for my career as a medical doctor," Andrew said.


    "Oh, I could only imagine. Tell me, how did you first be aware of the existence of werewolves? No, wait¡ªtell me that over dinner. Remind me about itter; I¡¯m sure that you have many wonderful stories."


    He shook Andrew¡¯s hand and then went to shake Hawk Kipling¡¯s, with nothing but the phrase, "And Mr. Kipling here needs no introduction, I¡¯m sure¡ªnot in this room. The world¡¯s greatest Monster Hunter."


    "The greatest living one, at least," Hawk said, his voice deep but yful.


    "Mr. Brookes," he said, turning to Michael, "thank you and thank your people. I would never want to investigate the werewolf curse of Carousel without one of Carousel¡¯s own here. I am sure that the oral histories of your people and the knowledge passed down will make this conversation far more productive."


    He didn¡¯t shake Michael¡¯s hand; he acted as if it would have been rude to do so. Michael was Native American, but I guessed in this story he was native Carousel-ian. I wasn¡¯t sure, so I decided not to focus on it.


    "Andst but not least, the girl who lived," he said, turning to Kimberly. "I read your ount of that harrowing event, and I could hardly take a breath during it¡ªit was thatpelling. Now, I looked at the police records, and they¡¯re iming that your friends all died of hypothermia or some simr nonsense and then were scavenged upon by wild animals, which would exin all the w marks. But you and I know the truth¡ªand the rest of us do, too. And maybe, after tonight¡¯s dinner, we can find a way to make sure that everyone knows the truth."


    Kimberly was hit by the intensity of Mr. Kirst¡¯sments as if a gale of wind had just struck her. She reacted at first with surprise at how blunt he was being, but then with a polite smile, and she said, "I¡¯d like that."


    "Well, if that is everything," Mr. Kirst said, "I suppose all that¡¯s left to do is eat and discuss. As you may have guessed, I am the special person you have been brought here to speak to, and I intend to learn as much as I can."

 Book Five, Chapter 68: Silverware

    Mr. Kirst led us to a small dining room with a single window.


    "You¡¯ll have to forgive me; the formal dining room is damaged beyond repair," he said.


    The (informal?) dining room we were in was probably the nicest room in the house. There were very few signs of a hundred years without affection; in fact, it only looked like it had been abandoned for less than fifty years. It was practically in mint condition. If we had to sleep in the Manor for this storyline, this would be the room to do it in.


    There was arge round wooden table with ce settings ready to go and little name cards for each of us, showing us where to sit.


    "I chose a round table because I want this to be a conversation. I don¡¯t want you to try to defer to me just because I¡¯m your host," Mr. Kirst said. "And I hope you¡¯ll notice that the silverware is genuine silver. There could be nothing less for a conversation like the one we¡¯re about to have."


    As we walked in, we were still On-Screen, but Kimberly managed to discretely elbow me and point to the painting on the wall of the dining room. It wasn¡¯t quite the painting we had brought. It wasn¡¯t <em>The Omen</em>.


    It was arger version of <em>The Omen</em>. Where the one we had purchased at the flea market only showed the woman¡¯s head and enough of her torso to disy her ne, this one was a full-body portrait of her standing next to a window with a beautiful watery vista.


    Still, the silver ne was probably the most detailed and beautiful part of the painting.


    It had no inscription or title that I could see, and when I asked Mr. Kirst about it, he simply said, "Oh, yes, that came with the house. You¡¯d be shocked to know that the looters actually left some good stuff. Perhaps the best home defense is a reputation for being haunted."I had to give it to him¡ªMr. Kirst was funny, always ready with a quip. Throughout much of the dinner, he showed himself to be a very inquisitive and knowledgeable man who could keep a conversation flowing masterfully.


    He asked us about our experiences, and we told him to the best of our ability. Sometimes we were On-Screen, sometimes Off-Screen, as Carousel got its footage of the conversation and the charismatic, strange man who had brought us there.


    "So, in all of your travels, you¡¯ve never found a cure?" Mr. Kirst asked with childlike intensity. "Not one potion, not one spell?"


    "The cure is silver," Antoine said. "Preferably in the heart."


    "But that kills the werewolf," Mr. Kirst replied. "I can see why you''re not the doctor at the table."


    "Like I said, it''s the cure," Antoine responded.


    "Oh, I see. So you would never make an attempt to return an afflicted back to their human form? You¡¯ve never even considered it?" Andrew asked, wine ss in hand.


    "Never had the time," Antoine said. "Of course, I don¡¯t study them in ab. I¡¯m usually running after them in the woods."


    That got augh.


    "Of course, I know the legends," Antoine continued. "To revert a werewolf to its human form permanently, you have to kill the wolf who turned them, but I don¡¯t believe it. It can be hard to sort the chaff from the wheat when ites to supernatural lore."


    "No," Hawk Kipling said. "Not the werewolf that turned them; you have to kill the pack leader. All werewolves are bound to their pack leader, and if you kill their pack leader before the curse has taken hold, they will be freed from it."


    I didn''t know that. None of my videos had told me.


    "It didn¡¯t take us long to get away from the scientific, did it?" Mr. Kirst asked Andrew with augh.


    "It rarely does," Andrew responded. "Unfortunately, this space is dominated by folklore and very little study."


    Kirstughed. "To the contrary. Lycanthropy used to be studied with some rigor, back before the advent of modern medicine."


    "There''s probably a reason for that," Andrew said.


    "And what is that?" I asked.


    "If you go looking for a magical curse and find only a dreadful disease, you probably lose interest," Andrew said with a chuckle.


    "It is interesting you say that," Kirst said. "I cannot help but feel the reverse may be true."


    Andrew took a short sip from his drink and said, "You believe the werewolf curse is really that, a curse?"


    Kirst did not answer at first, but for a moment, I saw a glint in his eye that I could not ce. He wasn''t the mboyant businessman for a moment. He was something else.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "I have made my fortune by assuming that men''s pride is folly," Kirst said. "The very suggestion that this force of nature could be dissected and understood reads as pure hubris. No offense to you, Doctor Hughes; I admire the dogged pursuit of truth. This is a force we do not understand, and I believe we can count on that to remain the case."


    There was a moment of silence at that statement. I couldn''t help but wonder what it was we had gotten into.


    We were eating some kind of roast with carrots that tasted like honey while discussing werewolves at length. The conversation was quite riveting, actually, because everyone had been given different bits of lore, and we were all discussing them.


    As soon as we started, I had my tapes ying in the background of my mind, casually listening over and over. They were simr to the first tape, just interviews with folks who had lived long enough to have seen some things and heard some things¡ªnothing hard-hitting.


    "Now, what say your people?" Mr. Kirst asked, looking at Michael.


    "We say the best cure is to never get bit, to never kiss strange women around the campfire, and to always wear silver around your neck," Michael said, showing a ne he wore with an unformed lump of silver dangling from the end. ¡°That¡¯s as close to a cure as you¡¯re going to get unless you¡¯re chasing fairy dust.¡±


    "What is it with silver?" Mr. Kirst asked, taking arge drink from his wine ss. "Why silver? Why does it have some interaction with werewolves? Does anyone have any idea?"


    "Silver does have antimicrobial qualities," Andrew offered. "Perhaps the werewolf virus is particrly weak to its presence. Unfortunately, I haven¡¯t been able to find an intact tissue sample from a werewolf."


    "The damn things keep turning back into human samples, don¡¯t they?" Hawk asked.


    "As you say," Andrew answered.


    "I¡¯m sure that you didn¡¯t have the presence of mind to do tests on that werewolf who shifted while you were operating on them like you were telling us about?" Mr. Kirst asked.


    Andrew had told a story of performing surgery on a car ident victim who went wolf in the hospital.


    "I didn¡¯t, I confess," Andrew said. "I was afraid for my life and wondering how I was going to get my scalpel back after the beast¡¯s flesh regrew around it."


    Werewolves in this story could be drawn out of their human forms when injured.


    Moreughter. It was a genuinely good time.


    "Well, I only asked if you knew a way to revert a werewolf to its human form permanently because I know that Christian Stone¡ªyour brother, Antoine¡ªwas a hunter who got bitten on one of his hunts, correct?" Mr. Kirst asked.


    Silence for a moment.


    "That was the risk we signed on for. Our dad always told us that you should only want to be alive or dead, nothing in between," Antoine said.


    I don¡¯t know where people got off calling werewolves undead, but that was often a category they were put into.


    "But you didn¡¯t even think for one moment about curing him?" Kimberly asked.


    "By the time I knew he needed curing, it was toote to even think about it," Antoine said. "What¡¯s done is done."


    This was a great acting job from Antoine.


    "A sad recollection," Mr. Kirst said, "a sad sentiment. More than a few at this table know the same. Miss Madison, would you care to tell us your tale again? I would like to hear it again."


    Kimberly, who had barely touched her food, ced her fork down beside her te. She had told us this story already, but we were Off-Screen.


    "I remember everything," she said, "but nowadays, I don¡¯t really tell the whole story. When people think that you lost your mind in grief, they¡¯re okay with tolerating a simple, vague story¡ªthey never want details. I was camping with my friends at an abandoned summer camp we had gone to years earlier. A reunion, of sorts.


    "We got attacked in the night, and my friends didn¡¯t make it. I did, but I had help," she said. "Those monsters were just tearing the ce apart because they could. There¡¯s no way I could have survived. I wish I had more to tell you than that, but truthfully, that¡¯s exactly what happened. It was a fun getaway in the woods, and then suddenly, people were just killed, and those monsters were all around. I kept myself locked away in one of the lodges. Then I heard yelping. When morning came, I went outside to see my friends, who had been mauled, and some naked people with silver bullet holes and stuffed bellies. And I found Antoine getting ready to go hunt down the ones that got away. I¡¯ve been looking for people with stories like mine ever since."


    She looked up at Antoine, and they shared a moment, locking eyes. Antoine didn¡¯t say anything, but it should have been clear to anyone in the audience that they had a romantic history if it wasn¡¯t already.


    "Well, that is an amazing story," Mr. Kirst said. "Might I throw something by you¡ªa rumor I heard about the cure for the werewolf curse?"


    He paused as if we were going to say no.


    "See, what I¡¯ve always heard in all of my studies¡ªmy quite extensive studies as ofte¡ªwas that the only way to reverse the curse is to kill the pack leader before the very next full moon. That¡¯s when the curse sets in: the next full moon," he said, looking at Hawk as ifpleting the lore Hawk had presented. "In fact, I have something in my possession that I would love to show you. We could call it an experiment, but I like to think of it as a desperatest attempt. I¡¯ll be right back."


    And so he got up from the table and left the small dining room.


    And we were left to wait On-Screen.


    The longer we waited, the more concerned I became. Were we supposed to be talking? Perhaps but the plot cycle was moving forward, however slowly, which meant that we were just supposed to stay there and wait. But what were we waiting for?


    "Oh my god," Kimberly said. Somehow, she was the first to notice.


    She pointed up at the vents at the top of the room. A thin white gas snaked down from them. No sooner did we see it than we started to cough and feel its effects.


    It fried my brain almost immediately. I was useless.


    We began panicking, screaming, asking what was going on.


    Our first thought was to try to leave the room, but when we went to the door, we found it locked and barred from the other side.


    Antoine, with all his might, began beating on the door while Michael went to the window nearby. He found that while he could smash it, it was shuttered and, therefore, not usable for escape.


    Perhaps with enough time, we could have gotten out; we had a lot of mettle in that room, after all.


    But we didn¡¯t have time because the smoke was making us drowsy.


    In fact, by the time I felt I had my wits together, it was toote. I felt myself getting sleepy, and the "unconscious" light on the red wallpaper started to light up.


    Adrenaline and fear kept me awake long enough to realize that it could be that simple¡ªthat this could be the end.


    Had we just gotten postered?


    "Why is he doing this?" Antoine said. "Why poison us?"


    "It¡¯s not poison," I said. "It¡¯s knockout gas." But I didn¡¯t get to say much more than that because my Grit was lower than some of the others in the room, and I soon found myself slinking to the floor.


    I was out and at the mercy of Egan Kirst.

 Book Five, Chapter 69: The Werewolf Curse

    When I awoke, I found myself tied to a chair inside the main hallway of the manor.


    At first, I was groggy and didn¡¯t understand what was going on, but as I came to my senses, the horror of what had just happened took over me.


    The relief that we were still in the storyline¡ªthat we were still alive¡ªwas little sce. We were still at the very beginning of the Party Phase; this was just the setup for the story.


    That would exin why Kirst had such high Plot Armor. He needed enough Moxie to ensure he could lure us in.


    I looked around at the others. They were tied to chairs the same as me, and the thick ropes used to bind us did not look like the kind you could cut through quickly, and certainly not the kind you could muscle your way out of without a lot of Mettle.


    Heck, this whole event might have been scripted so tightly that it couldn''t be avoided, but I wasn''t sure. I couldn''t see the script, and our only ally with ess to it had not made her appearance yet.


    Kimberly was panicking¡ªor pretending to panic; I couldn''t tell which. Antoine and Michael were trying to break the ropes with pure strength, to no avail. Hawk Kipling was awake but kept his cool. Andrew was trying to reach the knot in the ropes behind him, but he had no sess.


    I wished that I had brought my <strong>Escape Artist</strong> trope, but I suspected that it wouldn''t matter just yet. We were Off-Screen. I doubted any of us were getting out of our bindings unless the audience saw it.


    So, I rxed."This looks scripted," I said. "I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happen, but keep your wits."


    "How do you know this isn¡¯t a game over?" Antoine asked.


    I didn¡¯t, but if it was, there was no use in panicking just yet. In my experience, emotions like that had a way of gaining momentum, so it was best to dy them as long as you could.


    It wasn¡¯t much longer after I woke up that our host, Egan Kirst, entered the room.


    On-Screen.


    We screamed at him and yelled to be let go, and all of it was useless, but we had to say something. He ignored us as he went into his monologue.


    "I suspect you''re wondering why it is that I called you here, although you are probably more specifically worried about why it is that I gassed you and tied you up. So, I¡¯ll make you a promise: from this point forward, I will not lie to you. Of course, I don¡¯t expect you to believe me, but it is true. I need you to know the facts so that I can best utilize your skillsets.¡±


    He walked toward us slowly, with no trace of anger on his face despite what he had done to us. He was almost, friendly, but resereved.


    "A month ago, if you had told me that werewolves existed, I would haveughed in your face. Oh, how jealous I am of my past ignorance. I digress¡­ As a man of means, I¡¯ve been able to give those I love everything they have ever asked for. Andst month, my son asked to take a trip here to Carousel for a camping experience that he said would be like no other. It had a brochure and everything. I would never deny him his happiness; after all, one day, he¡¯s going to need something to think back to when he¡¯s sitting behind a desk making adult decisions, wouldn¡¯t you say?"


    He paused as if we were going to respond in kind.


    None of us responded. Perhaps we should have, but the truth was, even though all of this was a show, there definitely was an aura of fear in the room because none of us knew what to expect, and we desperately wanted there to be good news somewhere buried inside his exposition.


    "Well, it would seem that on that camping trip, my son and his friends were attacked by creatures that could not exist¡ªwerewolves. If I had not seen him transform after acquiring the curse, I would never believe it, but I have seen it. In the ensuing weeks, I have gone from someone who did not believe in werewolves to someone who knows everything there is to know¡ªexcept for how to catch one. No, it would seem that such knowledge is passed down from hunter to hunter and is written about rarely in the texts I was able to acquire. For much of human history, the idea of purposefully going out and finding werewolves would have been seen as folly. But here you are, hunters of the howling shadows, defying all logic andmon sense. I believe that you have the abilities and knowledge required to help me."


    "So hire us," Hawk said. "Cut it out with all the theatrics. Give us money, and we will do the thing we do for a living. Why are you oveplicating it?"


    Kirst walked around us in slow circles, asionally weaving in between us to examine our faces.


    "I know the nature of men and the nature of tradesmen more so. And I know that no amount of money could ever buy a man¡¯s entire heart, his entire mind. At most, you get 50%. The rest is saved because, in truth, the employee always resents his employer, and he will either subconsciously or purposefully withhold his true potential."


    "What are you talking about?" Antoine asked. "Your kid got bit by the curse, and you want us to kill the pack leader. That¡¯s what we do for a living. 50%, 100%¡ªit doesn¡¯t matter. A dead wolf is a dead wolf. In the heat of the hunt, we will do what it takes to survive."


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the vition.


    "Yes, a dead wolf is a dead wolf. Unless that wolf is twice asrge as any other and is able to shift in daylight at will."


    Thatment sucked the air out of the room. I didn¡¯t have theplete ount of the lore because my character was, in many ways, an outsider¡ªnot a true hunter, but someone who had stumbled into the world of the paranormal.


    From the videos I had watched, I knew enough to know that being able to shift in daylight was a sign of a very seasoned, mature wolf and that the size of a werewolf was determined by its rank in the pack, not only by the size of its human form.


    "Sounds like you got quite the wolf problem," Hawk said. "But all the same, I¡¯ve killed old wolves and young wolves. Ain¡¯t no matter. Just pay me my money and untie me, damn it."


    "It isn¡¯t quite that simple," Kirst said. "I already tried that. Finding a hunter was one of the first things that I did. You see, I don¡¯tck for resources, and it took me almost no time to discover the secret underworld of paranormal investigation. In fact, I had purchased this legendary estate within a week in hopes that it might hold clues to the curse. Money gets people talking; curiosity gets them talking faster. As tight-lipped as you hunters are, you sure like talking when people believe you. I found a gentleman that liked to talk. He had a scar on the right side of his face and said that he could take care of my problem easily. I sent him and four of my men into the woods to hunt down and kill whatever pack of wolves was terrorizing Carousel, and that was thest I saw of them. You see, he took one look at our wolf infestation and hightailed it out of the state. I found out about his departure by post. My men were nowhere to be found."


    "A scar on his face?" Antoine said. "You¡¯re not talking about Tin Gun McAdoo, are you?"


    "Patrick McAdoo," Kirst said curiously.


    Antoine started tough, as did Hawk Kipling.


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s your problem,¡± Hawk said. ¡°Tin Gun McAdoo is a bottom feeder more concerned with his brand than he is with the hunt. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he saw more than a few wolves and decided it wasn¡¯t worth the trouble. Let me guess¡ªyou paid him up front?¡±


    Egan Kirst lost all semnce of amusement or warmth from his face. He didn¡¯t like being mocked.


    ¡°I suspected as much when he tucked his tail between his legs,¡± Kirst said. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ve learned a lesson about your industry¡ªthat when there are fewer than 100 people with a skillset, it can be difficult to find good help. Well, I¡¯ve learned my lesson and learned it well, which is why I decided that money was not enough. You needed better motivation to give me the 100% that I¡¯m paying for.¡±


    Antoine and Hawk stoppedughing.


    ¡°And I <em>will</em> pay you,¡± Kirst said. ¡°I am a man of my word, so here is my offer: you kill the leader of the pack who turned my son and his girlfriend into monsters before the setting of thest full moon of the cycle, and I will give each of you a million dors. Do I have your attention now? Mock me all you want, but money always seems to quiet contempt. And as my insurance¡ª¡± he said, reaching into his pocket, withdrawing five small capsules, and showing them to us.


    A close inspection revealed that they were syringes. They almost appeared designed to go on the end of a dart for a dart gun, but they had not been fully assembled. They were filled with a liquid that wasn¡¯t quite clear, almost like bleach.


    ¡°No,¡± Hawk said. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing with that?¡±


    ¡°Is that what I think it is?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Kirst said. ¡°The werewolf curse spreads by saliva in the bloodstream. In fact, the only part of the werewolf that doesn''t revert to human is their saliva. The way I see it, this will ensure your full participation. What is it they say? That you don¡¯t truly care unless you have skin in the game? And you do. Or at least, you will soon.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Antoine screamed. ¡°I¡¯ll do anything, just not that! Please, I¡¯ll kill that thing¡ªdon¡¯t stick me with that needle, please, no!¡±


    At the sound of his screams, five decked outmandos came from the same direction that Kirst had. They each got behind one of us as we were strapped to our chairs and held us down as we tried to squirm free.


    Thesemandos were no joke. Like Kirst, they were NPCs with high plot armor¡ª25 apiece. This was going to be a high-octane story if the side characters were going to be that strong.


    Hawk was the first to get injected. He fought as hard as he could, but at the end of the day, there was just nothing we could do.


    Thesemandos must have been all Mettle. They certainly didn¡¯t need Savvy or Moxie, and I half expected that their Grit would be low so that they could act as meat shields or cannon fodder. All 25 of those stat points were put into making them strong enough to hold us down, no matter what we did.


    A simple injection in the arm was all it took. First Hawk, then Kimberly, who screamed and cried and put on a good show¡ªthough for what might have been the first time, she was shown up by Antoine.


    He desperately did not want to get that injection, and it made a lot of sense for his character. His own brother had been turned into a werewolf. He fought as best he could, but at the end of the day, there was nothing to be done.


    ¡°Don¡¯t youe near me with that thing!¡± he screamed. ¡°You think you can just do this to a person and we¡¯re going to forgive you because of money or because we feel sorry for you¡ªyour poor son? Money, no money, infection, no infection¡ªyou¡¯re on my list.¡±


    Kirst didn¡¯t seem angry at thatment. He must have anticipated it or even respected it.


    ¡°If those be the consequences,¡± he said, ¡°then I¡¯ll take them. If you were a father, you would understand.¡±


    He injected Antoine, and that was that. Antoine continued to scream, but there was nothing to be done. His rage meant nothing.


    Michael was stoic as he was infected.


    So, I had to decide. Did I get emotional like Antoine or Kimberly, or did I look Kirst dead in the eye like a man?


    I chose a bit of both, but it wasn¡¯t because I was afraid of the werewolf curse. I just had a thing with needles after being experimented on during the tutorial. I closed my eyes and let it happen.


    After he was done, Kirst took a few steps back and said, ¡°Now, I have your loyalty until the job is done. As I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware, werewolf saliva is not potent. Most who are bitten will never change. They simply die of the injuries from their mauling. The odds are about one in four, but you¡¯ll never know whether you have sumbed to the curse until the final full moon of the cycle. So until that happens, I expect nothing but 100% of your efforts in tracking down and killing this beast. In the meantime, I will supply you with unlimited resources¡ªhundreds of pounds of silver that can be molded into any sort of weapon you think might be useful, wolfsbane by the bushel, guns, and several dozen highly trained mercenaries at yourmand.


    ¡°We have a week and some change. If we seed in killing the pack leader, you will get the agreed-upon sum, and you will have every opportunity to murder me if that¡¯s what you wish. But all I ask is that until we have the job done, we work together. You need me as much as I need you. The forest is crowded with wolves.¡±


    He turned to hismandos and said, ¡°Untie them. We have work to do.¡±


    And so, each of themandos undid the ropes that bound us.


    Antoine put on a show of mean-mugging Kirst but didn¡¯t attack him because the man was right¡ªwe did need him.


    ¡°Now, follow me. I¡¯d like you to meet my son,¡± Kirst said.

 Book Five, Chapter 70: Caged Wolves

    "I don''t know why he brought me," I said as we walked down the stairs into the basement. "The only thing I can shoot those wolves with is my camera."


    It may have been the wrong time for a joke, but I wanted to establish that my character was not prone to bing emotional or losing his cool. That was an important part of setting up <strong>Oblivious Bystander</strong>, among other things.


    Like everything else, the stairs and the basement were lit withnterns, and as we went down, I started to smell the people we were about to meet. They smelled like wet dog.


    Before long, we followed the corridor to arge clearing that appeared to have been hollowed out of pure rock, more like a cave system than a basement. In the center of that clearing were two cages of thick iron bars, about the size of jail cells.


    Two people¡ªa man and a woman wearing hospital scrubs with w marks cut through them¡ªwere in those cages.


    When they looked over at us, they were shocked to see us¡ªor, to be more exact, they were shocked to see Andrew and Michael.


    Something I hadn''t anticipated had happened.


    As I looked at them on the red wallpaper, I noticed that the tall blonde man and the short, redheaded woman were Logan and Avery¡ªnot NPCs acting as surrogates, but the actual yers. Their plot armor was set to 0, and they had no tropes equipped, but it definitely appeared to be them.


    Logan was probably in histe twenties or early thirties. Even in his pitiful state, he had knowing, clever eyes. Avery might have been my age. She was scared witless.Luckily, they were aware enough of their situation that they didn''t break character, given that we were On-Screen. Perhaps they were being controlled by the script. Either way, I could see immediately that they knew what was happening. They must have been so confused because they weren''t aware that Rescue tropes existed again.


    "Logan," Kirst said, "herees the cavalry. The best paranormal investigators and monster hunters money could buy."


    "You''ve got them in a cage down here?" Hawk said. "I suppose this is where you got the werewolf saliva. I half expected they were out there roaming in the wild."


    "No, not for long," Kirst said. "The first thing Logan did after realizing his affliction was call me."


    "That''s a rare amount of trust," Hawk said. "Most newly turned wolves abandon their livespletely and get killed hunting cows if they don¡¯t find their pack soon enough. They''re too ashamed or too uninterested in returning."


    Logan and Avery stood there confused, drained of every ounce of energy.


    "Of course he wanted to return," I said. "He''s a rich kid; he doesn''t want to be a vagabond by day, dog by night."


    Logan looked at me. I could see his eyes blur out as he read about me on the red wallpaper.


    "He returned because he knows his father loves him," Kirst said, "and that I would do anything for him."


    Kirst was really selling it. I didn''t like the guy after what he did, but he was verypelling.


    "How much longer do I have before it''s permanent?" Logan asked, straining. "It''s hard to remember."


    "That''s okay, son," Kirst said. "The werewolf infection has a way of confusing a new host. We''ll get you fixed. We have plenty of time. Everything will be okay."


    He got genuinely emotional. Must have had practice.


    "I can feel iting," Avery said. "The moon''s about toe up, isn''t it?"


    "Yes, dear girl," Kirst said. "Don''t you fret. We will rid you of this curse."


    As she mentioned the moon was about to rise, I became hyper-aware that I might be infected. Kirst said there was a one-in-four chance of being turned, and the <strong>Infected</strong> light on my status bar seemed to reflect that, blinking slowly about every four seconds.


    But that got me thinking¡ªif it was almost nighttime and he had just infected us, shouldn''t we be locked in cages, too? And wouldn''t it be awfully inconvenient to try to hunt werewolves when you turned into one at night?


    I didn''t want to ask those questions On-Screen because doing so would have made my character look like an idiot who wasn''t experienced.


    Luckily, Hawk did an exiner a few minutester On-Screen that covered all of that. Kirst had stepped out.


    "Odds are only one of us is going to transform, and even then, I doubt any of us will start showing signs until thetter part of the week. Fast transformations only happen when you''re injured, and the greater the injury, the faster they happen. It''s like the werewolf in you has to slowly rece the rest of you. With us, we weren''t injured, so the recement will be slow. Heck, it may be a whole other cycle before we fully transform. I expect Logan and Avery here weren''t just pricked with a little needle of werewolf saliva."


    Logan shook his head. "They ate my heart," he said.


    "That''ll do it. That''s why werewolves go for the internal organs. They don''t just like the taste; if their victim ends up catching the curse, they might even transform that night. Just a little prick of saliva? I''m not sure how long it''ll take us."


    "What do you think the odds are that there was no saliva in those syringes?" I asked. "We''d never know¡ªnot if we get the job done."


    "I don''t think you understand the kind of man we''re dealing with," Hawk said. "A man like that isn¡¯t going to cut corners. Now, let''s stop talking. We don¡¯t want to antagonize these two. If my estimate is right, we''re about to see the enemy."


    And his estimate was right.


    As we stood there, backed against the wall as far away from those cages as we could get, Logan and Avery started screaming in pain.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    It was strange¡ªthey didn¡¯t sprout ears or a tail immediately. No, the wind started to blow through the cavern of the basement, and thenterns around us began to flicker until only the biggest one was still lit.


    There was no mistaking it: these werewolves were magical. Why else would the winde to greet them as they transformed?


    Thergentern flickered, and as it did, the room would grow dark, and we would watch them transform one little burst of light at a time.


    First, the arms lengthened. I could hear the bones stretching. Then, their bodies started to growrger. It was hard for me to tell exactly what was happening as they began to sprout fur in patches sporadically with each flicker of the light.


    One flicker of the light, and suddenly they had a snout¡ªnot quite a full wolf snout.


    Another flicker, and finally, their heads werepletely reced with those of wolves, and their cries turned to howls.


    Another flicker and the long-armed wolves stood before us, almost identical, with only the slightest difference in the shade of gray to tell them apart. Logan''s fur had a slight lightness, possibly thanks to his blonde hair, whereas Avery''s had just a hint of auburn.


    I expected it would be harder to tell them apart when mixed with other wolves. The only real difference, other than the slight variation in fur shade, was the slight sexual dimorphism: Avery kept whatever curves she had, and Logan¡¯s torso was triangr in shape like he¡¯d been hitting the gym his whole life.


    And then, as they shifted from yer to enemy, I could finally see their enemy tropes on the red wallpaper. Thanks to their nonexistent plot armor, I could see all of their tropes, which was quite useful.


    Werewolf


    Plot Armor: 0


    __________


    Tropes


    Quick Change


    Artist


    This viin can change into and out of their disguise without being seen or getting caught.


    Hidden In


    in Sight


    This viin cannot be attacked On-Screen until it attacks the yer or is otherwise identified as hostile. Attacking it will not be effective, nor will it change the story. It will cause the yer to go Off-Screen for a time.


    Stop Motion Transformation


    This creature transforms in phases, with each phase bing more monstrous. Each phase urs out of frame and out of sight.


    Silver Bullet


    This monster has a weakness specific to them that renders them dead or vulnerable.


    Join Us


    This enemy has some means of increasing its numbers through conversion.


    Everyone Is A Suspect


    No characters or yers will have an alibi for the murders urring before the finale.


    Repress And Deny


    This viin will not remember their evil deeds and will adamantly deny any usations until confronted with undeniable proof on-screen.


    Fatal Attraction


    This creature is prone to romantic obsession, disying an intense and often destructive allure.


    Otherwise Impervious


    This creature regenerates from all damage, recovering quickly from any wound that isn''t inflicted by its unique mortal weakness.


    Paranormal Hierarchy


    This creature¡¯s effective Plot Armor is determined by its rank on the chain ofmand regardless of base Plot Armor.


    Animals Are Psychic


    The viin demonstrates knowledge that it has no logical means to acquire, an instinct to kill or survive.


    Tidy Monster


    This viin inexplicably bes clean and almost free of evidence of their violent acts by the time they are next on-screen, making them harder to identify.


    Patient Hunter


    This viin avoids attacking the entire group at once until Second Blood, choosing instead to pick off members one by one.


    asional Contagion


    This viin''s infection is not guaranteed to take hold; victims remain in suspense until the reveal, which depends on the needs of the story and nothing else.


    Climactic Imperative


    This viin can only be defeated at the zenith of a conflict or interaction, requiring a dramatic, pivotal confrontation or clever trap rather than being easily dispatched or overwhelmed with conventional means despite all logic.


    Carousel¡¯s Uncertainty Principle


    This viin''s lore and weaknesses only be true once they are discovered, but if they are contradicted on-screen before being revealed, the lore shifts and is no longer valid.


    Shifting Protagonist


    The role of the protagonist shifts between different characters throughout the story, maintaining suspense and unpredictability until a single main hero is solidified during the finale. The audience will not know who the main character is until the Finale.


    At first nce, it became clear that their tropes weren''t just monster tropes; they had several that were usually used for masked killers and shers. As the As had forewarned, there was going to be a small murder mystery element to these wolves as we tried to guess who killed whom. I wasn''t looking forward to that.


    As soon as we went Off-Screen, Antoine turned to us and said, ¡°Four days, 11 hours, and 37 minutes.¡±


    His Rescue trope gave him a timer, telling us how long we had to kill the pack leader, save Logan and Avery, and save ourselves.


    I read their tropes off to my teammates, and we discussed them as we stared at the wolves, which banged against the bars of their cages, hoping for freedom.


    Hawk just stood there and listened. Could he not speak about meta things? Were the rules for Ss'' Dyrkon''s fake tutorial different than the norm, or had Carousel nerfed Paragons?


    We could see elements of the plot ahead of us inside of these tropes, but we could also see how terrifyingly difficult this fight was going to be. While they did have an absolute weakness to silver, their <strong>Climactic Imperative</strong> trope would nullify that advantage quite a bit.


    It also appeared that researching the lore was of huge importance, as whatever additional weaknesses or mystical properties they may have would only be avable to us if we found them¡ªprobably somewhere in the library that this abandoned old house most certainly had to have.


    Finally, we got to thest trope of the lot: <strong>Shifting Protagonist</strong>. That one was interesting because it almost counteracted Kimberley¡¯s Celebrity trope to give each of us a turn at being the main character.


    I wondered if I might be the main character. Hard to imagine that.


    I supposed it could end up being anyone.


    ~


    ~


    ..... Click "Next Chapter" to find out.

 Book Five, Chapter 71: The Eye Candy

    ~Kimberly~


    Before I opened my eyes, all I felt was a pang in my heart.


    Something deeply, deeply painful was on the horizon. Whether it was it something in the future or the past, I didn''t know. As my eyes began to focus, all I knew for sure was that this character I was ying was real once.


    They weren¡¯t always. Most of the time, it felt like they existed within the four corners of the script alone, but in this story and some others, I knew there was more to the character.


    I could never exin it to Antoine or Riley, but sometimes I could just feel it¡ªthat this was a person, a person who had lived a life and whose story I was borrowing. I could feel the character I was ying in <em>Stray Dawn</em>, and her story was sad and painful and not over.


    The others humored me the first few times I brought it up, but, not feeling it themselves, they didn''t have much to say. I never really med them for that. Bobby was the only person on our team that had felt it and he mostly just remembered small details like his characters'' favorite foods or nearby rtives.


    I felt them under my skin, in my bones, no matter what anyone said.


    I was Kimberly Madison, the girl with no real problems, just the Eye Candy.


    Others at Camp Dyer had reported something simr, and the As talked about it, but it never said anything concrete. So a lot of yers just imed it wasn¡¯t real, that it was in my mind, that maybe I was sensing something in the script, or I was being scripted.After all, I had to have some role that made me worthwhile. I wasn¡¯t a fighter, and I wasn¡¯t a nner. I was a face, a big ball of emotion, and I was beautiful, so I must not know what I was talking about. Gentle nudgings from the script, that was all.


    I opened my eyes, still groggy.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, I asked you if you knew how fast you were going,¡± a voice said with an unnatural slowness, like a memory in a dream.


    With a jolt, I realized what was happening.


    I found myself behind the wheel of some kind of convertible. There was no reason to try to figure out what kind because the brand names in Carousel were knockoffs.


    To my left, a man stood beside my door, not much older than me. He had a long nose, red hair, and adult e.


    And he thought I was attractive. My trope, <strong>Social Awareness,</strong> told me that, but so did his eyes.


    He was smiling¡ªno, smirking.


    Ever sinceing to Carousel, I had met so many NPCs that stared unapologetically. This ce had monsters and ghosts and all kinds of dangers, but somehow, it was the NPCs who couldn¡¯t get their eyes off of me, who couldn¡¯t resist the opportunity to flirt, that sent my skin crawling.


    The question was, was this in their script and Carousel was forcing them to make me ufortable, or was it in their nature, and that was the reason Carousel picked them to begin with?


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, officer, I didn¡¯t notice if I was speeding,¡± I said, keeping my tone light and yful. I could y a dumb blonde.


    ¡°When you rounded that curve, you were going at least 80 miles an hour. I eyeballed it. Do you know how dangerous that is?¡± the man asked as if he were my father¡ªas if he wasn¡¯t admonishing me for breaking thew but rather felt the need to scold me and teach me a lesson.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think I was going <em>that </em>fast, do you?¡± I asked, on the verge of tears. ¡°It¡¯s just that I¡¯m not used to a car with a big engine like this one.¡±


    ¡°This tin can does not have a big engine,¡± the man said. He took the bait. He had no name on the red wallpaper, but he looked like a normal NPC to me.


    Officer Stares-Too-Long was the only name I knew for him, and sure enough, not long after that thought passed through my head, that was what appeared on the red wallpaper below his poster: Officer Stares-Too-Long.


    ¡°You want to see a big engine? Look behind you.¡±


    I turned my head and saw his gas-guzzling police cruiser, about twice as long and one and a half times the width of my little convertible.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I said. ¡°I bet you could chase down just about anything in that car.¡±


    ¡°Of course I could,¡± Officer Stares-Too-Long said. ¡°I know this area like the back of my hand.¡±


    He smiled at me, and suddenly, whatever desire he had to scold me seemed to fade away.


    ttery it was, then.


    ¡°Have you ever been in a real police chase?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t really call it a chase. I mean, I catch them so quick, you know,¡± he said, clearly lying. He had done nothing but write parking tickets and yell at people for littering; I was sure of it.


    ¡°Oh my gosh, I would be so scared to chase somebody down,¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯s part of the job,¡± he said. ¡°So, what brings you to Carousel? Are you going to be tubing on the river or¡­¡± He paused for a moment as he stared at something in front of me. I followed his gaze and saw a photograph tucked up under the windshield, clearly visible, of a group of people¡ªone of whom was me¡ªposing in front of an old, beautiful Gothic mansion.


    ¡°So you¡¯ve been up to Witherhold Manor, huh?¡± he asked.


    Apparently, I had.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°It was really scary.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that scary,¡± he said. ¡°Mostly just old. The wind howls over the busted roof and makes a whistling sound, and people get scared for nothing. We¡¯re always chasing teenagers out of that ce.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t that far from being a teenager himself.


    ¡°Well, you must know everything about it, then,¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh yeah,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m from Carousel. I grew up here, and the stories about that ce¡­ Mostly just good for tourism. I¡¯m not sure if I believe the stories about the werewolves, but there are definitely some odd things that happen in these hills.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± I asked, ever eager, smiling innocently.


    ¡°Hikers go missing every other year, it seems like. Sometimes they disappear forever, other times they turn back up a few monthster with no memory of what happened, looking like they¡¯ve seen a ghost,¡± he said.


    ¡°Do you think it has something to do with the wi¡ªwith¡­¡±


    ¡°Witherhold Manor?¡± he said.


    ¡°Yeah, that,¡± I said with an embarrassed smile.


    ¡°That depends on who you ask,¡± he said. ¡°They say the ce is guarded by werewolves, or ghosts, or maybe the ghosts of werewolves, I don¡¯t know. But they¡¯ve beening up with rumors about that ce ever since the family that built it died out. You know, in fact, that ce just got sold. Some rich fellow came and bought it from the town. It was supposed to be a pretty big deal; he¡¯s going to fix it up as a historical location. We¡¯re supposed to stay away from it. I don¡¯t mind. Let him chase the teenagers out.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    He was trying so hard to sound cool.


    ¡°You have more important things to do, right?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You know it,¡± he said.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know how fast I was going, but I promise, promise, promise that I will go the speed limit if you just let me go, just this one time,¡± I said.


    I smiled at him, and he blushed, then said, ¡°I¡¯ll let you off with a warning this time, Miss¡­¡±


    ¡°Madison,¡± I said. ¡°Kimberly Madison.¡±


    ¡°Well, Miss Madison, wee to Carousel, and don¡¯t you worry about those werewolves and ghosts. The most dangerous thing here is forgetting to wear your life jacket on the river.¡±


    He smiled andughed at his joke, and then Iughed, too. It was funny in a dorky way. Riley would have liked it.


    Eventually, he walked back to his squad car and left me sitting in my convertible on the side of the road.


    Witherhold Manor, huh?


    That entire interaction was Off-Screen.


    I hated it when that happened; I hated wasting my charm¡ªnot that I had to use a lot.


    He was a normal NPC, so my Moxie versus his¡­ I¡¯d win every time. But sometimes, NPCs were a little moreplicated than that. Sometimes, they have their own tropes, and it¡¯s not just about having high Moxie. You also have to have a good story, y your role well, and hope that whatever trope they have, you¡¯ll stille out on top.


    Officer Stares-Too-Long was not aplicated NPC; he was just there to help introduce me to the world of the story¡ªa story about werewolves and forests and ghosts from the sound of it.


    I looked over at the seat next to me and saw my purse on top of a map that showed me where I was supposed to go. I scrounged around the car, looking for clues about who I was. The first thing you were supposed to do in a Storyline was figure out more about the character you were ying.


    And I was ying a survivor.


    More than that, I was ying a Final Girl, pretty much. I had a picture of myself in front of the manor that the map said I was driving toward, and I had a newspaper clipping about a tragic ident and the mysterious deaths of high school students¡ªall except for one survivor, Kimberly Madison.


    I read through it and stared at the pictures of the victims, memorizing their names: John, Tomas, Sarah, Jesslyn, and two or three others whose names had not yet been revealed, at least at the time the article was written.


    As I scrounged around for more clues, I found a letter in a beautiful envelope. I opened it and read it.<blockquote>


    <strong>Witherhold Manor</strong>


    Carousel, October 19, 1982


    Dear Ms. Kimberly Madison,


    I hope this letter reaches you as a spark in the dark, as I understand well the weight of the work you have undertaken. My name is Egan Kirst, known to some in the business world, though I suspect that world is of little interest to someone asmitted as yourself. Allow me to be more direct: I am a lifelong admirer of the truth¡ªand I believe our paths are aligned.


    It was through your interview in <em>Frontier Watch</em> that I first became aware of your strength and dedication. To have survived, then found a way to confront and expose a world that others either ridicule or refuse to see¡ªwell, few can im to have done so with such conviction. You have not only survived but be a beacon, a rare champion for those who are otherwise silenced, not to mention a splendid hunter in your own right.


    It is with that in mind that I extend an invitation to you, one that I believe carries particr significance. I am hosting a gathering on the evening of October 31st at Witherhold Manor here in Carousel. As you may recall, the manor borders the woods where your life was irrevocably changed. And though the years have passed, thend¡¯s stories remain as mysterious¡ªand as potent¡ªas ever. I imagine this invitation may feel like a return of sorts. In truth, it is my hope that together we can delve into the questions left unanswered since that night.


    The evening promises both goodpany and invaluable perspective; several of the invited guests have experience with simr, let¡¯s say, matters. But it is your unique insight, your ability to see through the veils and expose the truth, that Witherhold truly awaits. I will be providing a substantial honorarium¡ª3,500 dors¡ªas well as full arrangements for your travel and stay, though I suspect the mysteries of the manor may provide the richest incentive of all.


    Should you choose to ept, please respond by way of the courier who delivered this letter. I believe this is more than just a gathering, Ms. Madison. It is an opportunity for truth, perhaps even for resolution. And Witherhold, I am certain, will be waiting.


    Yours in truth and admiration,


    <strong>Egan Kirst</strong>


    CEO, KRSL Corporation


    Host of Witherhold Manor</blockquote>


    A dinner party¡ªthat exined why I was wearing the dress. My history with that location exined why I had shorts underneath and ts that were good for running, second only to actual athletic shoes. The werewolf thing exined why I found a silver letter opener tied to my inner thigh.


    I was prepared for things to go bad.


    After I¡¯d searched the car for any other clues, I began driving toward Carousel, not knowing exactly where my character¡¯s story was leading.


    I was filled with a lot of nervous excitement that did not belong to me.


    And a little that did.


    I arrived in town five hours before the dinner party was to start. That meant one thing¡ªit was time to start talking to people.


    That was what I brought to the table. Antoine could fight, Riley could see tropes ande up with ns, and I could be the center of attention. I could let the audience get to know me, maybe even like me, as much as I resented needing that.


    So, that¡¯s what I set about doing: just talking to people. I parked my car at a small motel and wandered from ce to ce, looking for NPCs who might engage with me.


    It was nerve-wracking.


    In some ways, it was scarier than walking alone in the woods, knowing a monster could be lurking. But the fear here was different. As I looked through the crowds of hikers, swimmers, and fishermen, I worried I would miss something or not do well enough.


    I was always afraid to let the others down.


    That fear started to rear its ugly head as I failed, time after time, to get anyone to talk to me in a meaningful way¡ªnot like the officer had, with his flood of information.


    They spoke, sure, but in short, unremarkable ways, never letting the conversation unfold. That was the telltale sign: when people just kept talking, as long as you kept pulling the thread, you knew you were onto something.


    After two hours of chatting with cashiers and drunk teenagers heading for the river, I felt like I was failing entirely.


    I hadn¡¯t even been On-Screen for more than a few seconds at a time. What was I doing wrong? I tried to think it through. The plot cycle was still at the very beginning of the Party Phase, so it wasn¡¯t toote¡ªbut I needed to get a move on. I needed to figure out why Carousel had dropped me here.


    As I pondered this, walking on a thin, worn sidewalk along the road, a woman with a ttering pixie cut waved to me.


    She was just an ordinary NPC¡ªa waitress, in fact¡ªand she waved me over to take a seat at a small diner with outdoor benches and pic tables.


    I was so eager for an interaction that I practically ran over, and as soon as I sat down, I was On-Screen. That meant I hadn¡¯t screwed up yet.


    ¡°What¡¯ll you have?¡± she asked as if she hadn¡¯t just waved me over and was a little annoyed to see me.


    ¡°Just some French fries,¡± I said.


    The formerly friendly waitress gave me a look of disdain like she hated her job. She rolled her eyes and said, ¡°It¡¯ll be just a minute.¡±


    As strange as it was, I liked those moments when I caught a glimpse of what might be the "real" person, watching her put on this facade of annoyance. But that was thest time I would speak to her. I had no real scene here.


    Why was I brought to this ce? Was I supposed to have said something else?


    I looked around, hoping to make eye contact with someone.


    From my spot on the bench, I could see across the street to the motel parking lot where my convertible sat. A cluster of teenagers hung around, but none were messing with my car. Beyond the motel was a trailhead leading down into the woods and eventually to the river¡ªI¡¯d seen it while wandering around, looking for interactions.


    And then, I saw what I¡¯d been meant to find.


    I saw a dead woman.


    Knowing immediately what I needed to do, I stood up from the bench, squinting to get a better look. Beyond the motel was a group of hikers with beach towels draped over their shoulders, and beyond them was a trio who looked like they¡¯d juste from a grungy music festival.


    In the center of them was a woman with long ck hair, red lips¡ªred as blood¡ªand bare feet. She walked with a sure, confident stride.


    ¡°Sarah!¡± I screamed.


    This was my character¡¯s friend from the article I¡¯d found in my car¡ªone of the friends who was supposed to be dead.


    I screamed her name again, louder, and this time she looked at me. Our eyes met, and we just stared at each other On-Screen.


    <strong>Social Awareness</strong> told me she remembered me. It told me she had strong feelings, but I couldn¡¯t tell what they were. She looked like an ordinary NPC, but ording to <strong>Social Awareness</strong>, her Moxie level was 7, which was strong enough to resist my insight trope a bit.


    She was hiding something, but I couldn¡¯t say what. Lots of NPCs had higher Moxie than their Plot Armor would suggest. Carousel used them to manipte yers without them knowing.


    NPCs had a trope that hid their Moxie and didn¡¯t apply it to their effective Plot Armor. It didn¡¯t evere up unless you were interacting with them in a very specific way, a way rted to their purpose in the story.


    I started moving toward her.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, your French fries,¡± the waitress called after me, having conveniently delivered them just as I spotted my supposedly dead friend. But I ignored her.


    I called Sarah¡¯s name again. As I ran to cross the street, a car suddenly honked, tires squealing on the pavement. I swore I¡¯d been watching where I was going, yet this car hade out of nowhere, trapping me on my side of the road just long enough for Sarah and the two men with her to vanish without a trace.


    When the car passed, I looked around, panicking, trying to evoke the emotions my character must be feeling.


    ¡°Sarah!¡± I called out onest time, but she was gone. And the scene was over. And the story was just beginning.

 Book Five, Chapter 72: The Stone Fort

    <strong>~Riley~</strong>


    I was getting all kinds of footage as we walked back up through the basement path that would lead us into Witherhold Manor. <strong>The Dailies</strong> triggered around the time the werewolves started transforming.


    I thought I would zoom through the footage and give the group the highlights.


    "There are so many hikers, campers, and people staying at cabins along the river," I said. "Carousel''s been taking footage of them all day, but I think some of them are werewolves. I don''t know which ones, though. I can see the way it focuses the camera on some of them, but I''m not sure exactly what thenguage of film is trying to convey here. Are all of these people werewolves?"


    I was talking to myself out loud at that point, but the others were listening closely.


    "What exactly are you seeing?" Antoine asked.


    "Just nature photography mostly," I replied. "But whenever I see a group of people, sometimes the camera will look at them from a certain angle that in movies means they¡¯re evil¡ªexaggerating the size of their head, the sharpness of their features, catching them in shadows. That¡¯s how you know someone¡¯s bad before you know they¡¯re bad."


    It could be hard to exin, but you knew it when you saw it.


    "So you''re saying we may be surrounded by hundreds of werewolves? We''re going to get our butts kicked?" Antoine asked."Or chewed," I said. "I''m not getting as much footage as I''d like, which should theoretically mean that we have a high-Savvy enemy... but that doesn''t sound right at all. Unless Kirst¡¯s Savvy is what I''m fighting against, which is a can of worms itself."


    Maybe one of the werewolf tropes was interfering with The Dailies. I didn¡¯t know.


    "Are you getting locations with this data?" Andrew asked. He wanted all the facts as much as I did. More facts meant better nning. Even though he was high-Savvy, his tropes were mostly centered around healing, and he wasn''t great at finding out information unless he was cutting open a dead body.


    "Vaguely," I said. "They¡¯re all situated along the river, and there have been a lot of shots following the river all the way up toward the property the Manor is on. Wait a second..."


    "What is it?" Antoine asked.


    shes of carnage flickered in my mind. Was there an attack recently? No. That wasn¡¯t it.


    "I got footage of the werewolves mauling Logan and Avery,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s cut up and pasted together, but I think it''s actual footage."


    "They''re using the footage of when we trespassed onto the monsterir?" Andrew asked.


    "That''s my best guess," I said.


    From the way they shot it, it almost felt like they didn¡¯t know how it was going to be used in the final film.


    ¡°I, for one,¡± Kimberly said, ¡°Am d not to have footage of someone being mauled in my head.¡±


    As we made our way up into the Manor from the basement, we were greeted by Kirst¡¯s butler, who insisted on leading us outside.


    "Wait, you''re not putting us outside when we know there are werewolves around, are you?" Kimberly asked the butler.


    "I don''t think you have anything to fear here, my darling," he said in reply.


    I didn¡¯t know this guy¡¯s story, but he had way too much personality for a random NPC.


    He continued leading us out of the Manor and back onto the property where I could see some type of... well, it wasn''t exactly a castle, but there were lots of stone structures and walls.


    On-Screen.


    "What is that?" Kimberly asked. She was always ready for a scene.


    "That, my dear, is the palisade¡ªthe Fort. Or at least, it was once."


    Palisades were made of vertical sticks stuck in the ground. This was not. I¡¯d have to let that slide.


    What I saw in front of me was awork of tall stone walls, many of them crumbling but still upright and imposing.


    "That''s a death trap," Antoine said. "A werewolf could clear those walls without even thinking about it."


    The butler smiled his devious little smile and said, "I think we¡¯re counting on that."


    "You''re nning a trap?" Andrew asked.


    "Werewolves are mindless creatures," the butler said. "Many of the resources we''ve found confirmed that."


    What resources were they looking at?


    "That''s a bad bet," Hawk said. He was mostly quiet. He was one of those men that you could just see the intelligence in his eyes. He understood what we were talking about Off-Screen, whether he spoke about it or not.


    "Oh?" the butler asked. "Then, I suppose you will have no difficulty imparting your wisdom to the captain."


    "Imparting wisdom is always the hard part," Hawk said. "The werewolves around Carousel are not stupid like many of the wolves in other parts of the world. Here, they¡¯re as smart as you are¡ªonce they mature a bit."


    That hung in the air for a beat.


    "Perhaps you can design," the butler said, pausing as the sound of a wolf could be heard in the distance, "a better trap then. Go straight onto the palisade wall; there¡¯s an entrance. You¡¯ll be able to see it when you get closer. I should not have to tell you that Kirst''s men know you have been infected, and each one of them is ready to take your head off if you cause problems."


    I really hoped that wasn¡¯t a source of drama in this story. That would beme.


    "If the legends are true," I said, "I imagine we won¡¯t be the only infected ones soon enough. Something tells me you picked a really bad week to try to antagonize the wolves."


    I wanted toe back at him in equal force while being vague.


    "What are you, some sort of psychic now? I didn¡¯t remember reading that in your dossier," the butler said.


    "No," I said, "that¡¯s my grandmother¡ªthat¡¯s the psychic. Me? I just have gut instinct. Lots of would-be hunters think it¡¯s a werewolf¡¯s ferocity that kills, but that¡¯s not it. It¡¯s their yfulness."


    I wanted to set this movie up as a battle of the wits, not just a fight to the death. We could win the Savvy and Hustle fight. The werewolves had the advantage in directbat.


    For the first time, the butler seemed to have been tripped up by something one of us said.


    Antoine leaned over to the butler and said, "They¡¯re thrill-seekers, werewolves, and my money says they already know we¡¯re here. In fact, my money says they¡¯ve already walked amongst us, watching us. I hope you kept track of the meatheads."


    He must have understood where I was going.


    The butler didn¡¯t have much to say to that. He just did a strange little bow, turned tail, and walked back toward the Manor.


    Off-Screen.


    Before we got to the palisade, Kimberly decided to tell us about her backstory. She told us about a woman who was her friend and former camp counselor who had somehow survived the attack that Kimberly thought had killed her.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    "If she¡¯s alive, that means she was turned," Michael said. He didn¡¯t make a peep On-Screen.


    I agreed with him.


    "You¡¯ll have to y that up," I said. "Really focus on that rtionship. Should take up screen time and make a good subplot."


    Kimberly nodded.


    She didn¡¯t have a lot of information on the woman¡ªSarah, so she was probably going to have to make things up, but that was okay. Sarah would go along with pretty much anything Kimberly said and would probably even add to it.


    Usually.


    Once we found the entrance to the Fort, hidden in the stone and not easily visible from afar, we followed a path of overgrown grass and dead leaves that had recently been trampled on.


    Inside the Fort, arge courtyard was transformed into a battle station. Two dozen armed mercenaries, many firearms, and explosives were set up. In the corner, a cksmith appeared to be creating silver bullets en masse.


    "Cannon fodder," Michael said, looking over the men.


    "Dead meat," I agreed.


    "L''s not here," Andrew said. "I haven¡¯t seen a trace of her yet. It¡¯s always difficult with her being a wallflower and all. Did you see her while watching the dailies?" he asked me.


    I shook my head. "She might have been there, but there were so many different people I didn¡¯t notice her. She might not have ever appeared On-Screen yet."


    I remembered she was good at that.


    "It¡¯s a pity," Andrew said.


    Andrew, like Cassie, had the ability to detect the health status of all of his teammates from anywhere, but he had to actually interact in some way with them in the story first. Even a mention from someone who had talked to them might be enough. He hadn¡¯t done that yet with L.


    Was he afraid that she had run away or that she was up to something? I didn¡¯t know, but I could tell that some of us were thinking it.


    "All right," Antoine said. "Spread out. See if you can get any information. I need to find this captain person and have a talk."


    "Get ay of thend as best you can. Just do some exploring," Hawk said, speaking for the first time Off-Screen. "I doubt the wolves are going toe out tonight. It''s too overcast¡ªthey get lethargic without the moon, even with this pitiful little sliver shining through."


    He was looking up at the sky, and while the moon was not visible, there was a glow through the clouds¡ªjust enough to tell where the moon was, but not enough to make it outpletely.


    So Hawk could speak to us¡ªjust not out of character.


    I spent a while looking around the fort.


    I wanted to know the exits, the people, the vibe. I wanted to know where we would be sleeping and if I could find a change of clothes.


    I wanted to think about the story.


    Egan Kirst was a perfectly charming and polite sociopath, and yet, when I saw the way he looked at his son, I could see he was truly vulnerable. Riley and Antoine didn¡¯t trust him¡ªthey thought he was going to backstab us again¡ªbut I thought he was telling the truth, not just in the way an NPC is when following a script.


    I believed that the real man beneath it all felt something intensely during that scene, and that might have been the only true thing he said to us: that he loved his son.


    That didn¡¯t make sense because his son was being yed by someone else, but I knew in my heart that Egan Kirst did love someone. I would bet money that he lost them, too.


    He was using his pain for his performance. I knew a thing or two about that.


    I heard someone yelling in the distance and snapped out of my thoughts.


    "Now, men, listen up! This here is Antoine Stone. He''s a third-generation werewolf killer, and he seems to think he knows something we don''t. And as I don''t want to be werewolf shit in the morning, I say we give him a listen."


    The man talking was older than the rest. He had kind eyes for a mercenary.


    His name was Captain Neil Tiber. He was a grizzled military type. Riley had called him a direct stereotype when we first saw him, and I supposed he was, but I thought he had a sense of humor.


    Antoine stood next to the captain in front of 26 mercenaries, most of whom were at least as tall as Antoine and twice as muscr.


    "We have a bit of an emergency here," Antoine said. "I''ve been looking around at your firearms, and you''ve got them all wrong."


    Antoine wasn¡¯t afraid to butt heads.


    "Wolfes to me, I''ll blow his head off," one of the men said with an ent I couldn''t ce.


    That got chuckles out of the rest of the men.


    I stood in the back and watched. All I had managed to aplish was finding a change of clothes so that I didn''t have to wear a dress everywhere I went. I also picked up a gun. They were everywhere.


    "That''s the exact problem," Antoine said. "Most of the firearms I see around here are too strong."


    Theughter didn''t stop; it just changed from mocking to curious.


    "The goal is to put the silver bullet into the wolf, not to shoot through it. The silver has to stay in the body until morning light," Antoine said. "If your shot is a through-and-through, that wolf gets right back up 30 minutester. I rmend handguns for closebat and silver bird shot to keep them sweet. Shoot once to kill, shoot again to make sure they stay dead."


    The men weren''tughing anymore.


    "They''ll get right back up if I shoot ''em in the head?" the first soldier asked again.


    Antoine started to answer, but then Hawk took over.


    "They can survive anything, assuming the silver slug doesn''t stay in their corpse. Headshot? They''ll get up eventually. Shot to the heart takes a little longer. But worse than that, they''re gonna y dead and make you think you got ''em. And if you did get ''em, one of their friends¡ªone of the more mature ones, the self-aware ones¡ªthey''lle over and dig that silver out. We are up against an enemy that knows its weaknesses. This isn''t a big game hunt; this is a war."


    The men were silent and confused.


    "How are we supposed to know these things are dead if what you say is true?" the captain asked.


    "Shoot ''em dead, then shoot ''em with silver birdshot like the young gun said. That¡¯ll work. What I like to do is nt this sucker in their heart, make sure they stay down ''til morning," Hawk said, producing arge hunting knife made entirely of silver.


    From there on, I half-listened to the conversation between the soldiers, Antoine, and Hawk. Something else had caught my attention¡ªa cksmith. She was a woman, easily in her 60s, wearing a mask to save herself from the silver fumes.


    On the red wallpaper, her name was Hetty Morgan.


    I''m not sure what drew me to her. Maybe it was the calluses on her fingers I noticed when she took off one of her big cksmith gloves or the way she kept ncing up at Antoine as if she wasn''t surprised at all at the things she was hearing, unlike the soldiers.


    I approached her, but before I could ask her anything, she walked to the back of her little forge setup and tinkered with something I couldn''t see. I thought it was just a piece of wood.


    Soon, I understood what was happening¡ªAntoine and the others were On-Screen, and this interaction I was about to have needed to be On-Screen. And yet, Carousel stuck to its rule that only one thing was On-Screen at a time.


    Sure enough, when Antoine went Off-Screen and the soldiers disbanded, the silversmith gracefully walked back over to her workbench and began gathering little bits of silver into a thick cup made of something that could be put into the furnace. A crucible, I thought it was called.


    <strong>On-Screen.</strong>


    "Do you think we have a chance?" I asked, trying to y it cool, like Anna would have.


    I looked over the weapons she was making with extreme interest.


    The woman looked up at me, wiped the sweat off her brow, and said, "This is a foolish thing to do."


    "Mr. Kirst is desperate," I said.


    "Most fools are, eventually," she answered as she picked the cup up and moved it over into the furnace.


    "Still, we have to try."


    "Do we have to try?" Hetty asked. "I say you either kill a werewolf or you set it free. The wolves around Carousel are peaceful¡ªfor wolves. They only kill once in a blue moon, and I''m old enough to remember it could be much worse. Wolves without a pack ain''t much better than wild things. This thing we''re doing¡ªeven if we seed¡ªa lot of people in Carousel are going to die for it."


    She had clearly been thinking about this for a while. She sounded angry. But why help if she thought it was a bad idea?


    "Killing the pack leader," I said. "Do you think that''s a mistake?"


    She was quick to answer.


    "I do," Hetty said. "You kill her, and all these wolves won''t be no better than any of the others. She keeps ''em in line."


    "She?" I asked. "The pack leader is a female¡ªa woman?"


    Hettyughed.


    "A she-wolf," she said. "You don''t think a man could do that job, do you? Always been a woman since before I was a child. Since my mother herself was a child, the she-wolf roamed these hills and gathered her pack, and there was peace. But the wolves ain''t always so peaceful, and when she ain''t around to stop it, some of her little boys go a bit crazy. They go killing just to kill, just to eat."


    "And she doesn''t have them do that?" I asked.


    "Not her," Hetty said. "You can hear it in her howl. She''s the most lovesick wolf you ever heard. She''s looking for love, not blood, but she ain''t found it yet."


    I listened as close as I could and I let those words affect me for a moment.


    "I was attacked not far from here. My friends were killed," I said after a few seconds. "I finally got the courage toe back here."


    Hetty turned and finally looked me in the eye.


    "I know who you are, girly," she said. ¡°And you should never havee back here.¡±


    Chills went down my spine as the wind picked right when she said that.


    "Why?" I asked.


    "The wolves never forget a scent," she said.


    I cleared my throat.


    "You seem to know a lot about this," I said.


    "I only know what I''ve been told."


    "What can you tell me about the Manor house? How does it fit into the legend?" I asked.


    "Well, everything''s got to start somewhere," she said. "Everything''s gotta end somewhere too."


    "You''re saying the werewolf curse actually did start here, just like they¡¯re saying?" I asked.


    Hetty pulled the crucible from the fire and poured the silver down into a metal box where it would form into bullets.


    "You''ll have to ask the she-wolf about that. She was here when it happened. She''s been looking for love ever since."


    I didn¡¯t know where this was going, but it sounded important.


    "My colleague Riley Lawrence over there says that all werewolves are in love."


    He had seen in on footage in his head.


    "Oh, yes," the woman said with a cackle. "Ever since the first."


    She grabbed the newly formed batch of bullets and hauled them to a different part of her tent. She was done talking.


    <strong>Off-Screen.</strong>


    We continued exploring, and while we didn''t find a whole lot inside the palisade walls, we did get a good understanding of theiryout in case we were suicidal enough to actually have a fight out under the stars.


    We were given sleeping quarters in a chamber underneath the palisade, and the first night drifted away peacefully. First Blood was still long enough away that we could feel safe.


    All werewolves were in love, I thought to myself as Iy on my cot. I looked across the room to where Antoine was sleeping.


    Everything was so much better when you were in love. Even a ce like Carousel couldn''t break you if you could be with someone who cared about you above all else.


    So, Carousel told stories about love, huh? Did that mean love still had power here? I hoped so.


    I drifted off to sleep, only waking once to what I thought was the sound of a wolf howling¡ªbut it was just the wind.

 Book Five, Chapter 73: The Stacks

    As I looked over the group of mercenaries, all eyes trained on me, I was hit with memories from my basketball days. That era was so long ago. Damn. I guess it really just hit me again¡ªI was a retired basketball yer. I¡¯d been itching to quit for years, but when the time finally came, it wasn¡¯t on my terms, and somehow, I hardly even noticed. Anyway, these mercenaries¡ªthey were like my old teammates back then.


    There¡¯s nothing like having a team, themon goal, the camaraderie, the rity of purpose. That¡¯s what sports had been for me. My teammates were a kind of family¡­ back when my actual family was not.


    And somehow, I¡¯d found something close in this group of men, all of us in way over our heads. I could sense their camaraderie, feel their hands reaching out to me, inviting me into their strange, reckless chapter. They wanted me to be one of them, a fighter.


    Hell, that¡¯s what everyone seemed to want me to be.


    ¡°When are we gonna go out there and skin some pups?¡± one of the men called out, sparking a round of cheers from the others.


    He had long blond hair tied up in a bun, deep blue eyes that almost pierced through you, and even a scar over his eyebrow. But I knew he wasn¡¯t anyone important¡ªhe didn¡¯t even have a name on the red wallpaper. He was a mercenary, and that was all there was to him¡ªa mercenary who hoots and hollers and gets everyone riled up.


    But wasn¡¯t that what I was, too?


    I surveyed the group. A lot of them were buzzing with rage, itching to kill something, but that didn¡¯t sit right with me. Rage wasn¡¯t what they needed; it didn¡¯t make sense here. They didn¡¯t have anything to be angry at. Maybe they just wanted blood, or, more likely, they were scared.


    But why didn¡¯t they run? They didn¡¯t have to be here.I knew what Riley would say¡ªthat they were ¡°scripted¡± to be here. But I was thinking about them as people, as men. Why would they stay when everything we¡¯d told them had been nothing but bad news? They weren¡¯t going to massacre the werewolves; it wasn¡¯t going to be some killing spree, and they sure as hell weren¡¯t going to skin any pups.


    All I could figure was that they were afraid. And with practice, you can turn fear into anger, and anger can make you feel so damn powerful. But anger fueled by fear¡­ that¡¯s a dangerous thing¡ªsomething you can¡¯t control.


    Because when the killerse, the anger fades, and the feares back twice as strong. I knew that. I¡¯d been in Carousel long enough. I¡¯d looked for power within myself so many times¡ªthe power to keep going, to just survive a little longer¡ªand anger didn¡¯t cut it. Not for long.


    Sometimes, you run out of power, and you don¡¯t die. That¡¯s the worst thing that can happen. I knew that better than anyone.


    Even as I stood there, my brain tried to remind me it was broken.


    Calm. I had to stay calm, project strength, and be a leader.


    I took a deep breath. I looked at the men again.


    There are no mercenaries in the forest, I thought to myself.


    I further surveyed the courtyard.


    There are no stone walls in the forest.


    There are no campfires in the forest.


    I must not be in the forest, then.


    Surely.


    It¡¯s true what they say: you can take a man out of the Straggler Forest, but you can¡¯t take a man out of the Straggler Forest.


    ¡°Our first line of business,¡± I said, ¡°is to find out where their hideout is. We have to make a full frontal attack during daylight hours when only the mature wolves will be able to shift.¡±


    They looked at me, waiting for me to say the right thing. They didn¡¯t want a n¡ªthey wanted reassurance, wanted me to fan the mes inside them, make them feel invincible.


    ¡°Then we¡¯re gonna go skin some pups!¡± I yelled.


    The apuse was thunderous, the cheering, the screaming.


    When I¡¯d first met these mercenaries, they were skeptical of me. I hadn¡¯t had enough Moxie to keep them under control effortlessly; I had to win them over with actual words. I had to y the scene right because, whether Riley knew it or not, we weren¡¯t in a horror movie anymore¡ªwe were in a sports movie. And an inspirational speech had power in those.


    I¡¯d watched enough of them in the locker room before games.


    Our team had to win. The other team had to lose. And maybe, if I yed this right, I¡¯d get the big kiss from the leadingdy.


    I looked across the courtyard to where Kimberly was talking to the cksmith, an older woman whom I could now see was probably a much more important character than most of these mercenaries.


    Kimberly sure knew how to pick a lead. She took a bit to get the hang of this game, but when she set her heart to it, she thrived.


    Kimberly was not in the forest.


    So neither was I.


    ¡°Now, it¡¯s my understanding that you¡¯ve been doing Recon here for thest week or so. I need you to get me up to speed; it¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve hunted in these parts,¡± I said.


    Most of the mercenaries dispersed as I was led to arge table with a map of Carousel¡¯s parks spread across it.


    Michael was already there. He didn¡¯t need a map, and it almost seemed like he didn¡¯t like us looking at one like that, which might make him obsolete. He really wanted to help save his friends. I understood. I had friends¡ªand a brother¡ªto save too.


    The map didn¡¯t make much sense from what I knew of Carousel¡¯s terrain andyout, but that was why we were here on a sound stage, wasn¡¯t it?


    Captain Neil Tiber seemed different from the others. He didn¡¯t need me to y cheerleader or convince him we were bound for sess. He seemed to understand the odds weren¡¯t in our favor, yet he never suggested we back down.


    That part¡­ that might have been because of the script, though. He was too smart to go along with this.


    ¡°We spent thest week checking most of the cave systems to the south,¡± the captain said. ¡°Didn¡¯t find any evidence of squatting. It¡¯s my understanding that werewolves don¡¯t like to live in the wilderness¡ªthey tend to have hideaways that are morefortable for their human forms.¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    He looked up at me, expecting a response.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re looking for abandoned buildings, ces really out of the way.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a tough one,¡± the captain said. ¡°We¡¯ve scoured the area. There were some factories near the quarry, but no signs of life there, beast or otherwise. The only area we haven¡¯t checked is this section, but that¡¯s because there are so many campers there. And since we¡¯ve gotten here, the numbers have nearly doubled,¡± he said, frowning.


    As we spoke, Kimberly walked over, close enough to see where the captain¡¯s finger was pointing.


    ¡°The summer camp,¡± she said. ¡°Is it still standing?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an awful good question, miss. In fact, it¡¯s the next ce we need to check,¡± the captain said.


    ¡°I¡¯m going,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you.¡±


    Her character had survived a massacre at that summer camp, so it made sense she¡¯d feel drawn to that ce. Storyline exploration was almost intuitive; you just followed hunches, looked for clues, and kept looking until something fit. And, usually, you found something.


    Kimberly had to go, and so did I, but I knew I couldn¡¯t just let her jump in without a second thought.


    I gently took her hand and moved her a few steps from the map. I leaned in close and asked, ¡°Are you sure? We can check it out ourselves, you know. You don¡¯t have to go back. I¡¯m confident you can handle it; it¡¯s just¡­ you might have some bad memories there you don¡¯t need to stir up?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± she said, ¡°but I didn¡¯te here to run from my past. For so many years, I was confused about what happened¡ªmy memories all mixed up in a blur. I need to remember.¡±


    ¡°Is it about your friend, the one you saw in town?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s part of it,¡± she said, ¡°but it¡¯s not just that. I need answers. Why did I survive, Antoine? Do you remember that night? I remember I barricaded myself in one of the cabins, but I don¡¯t know why they didn¡¯t break in. They had plenty of time before you got there. I just don¡¯t understand.¡±


    I had no answers for her.


    I nodded, touching her arm gently in reassurance.


    We walked back over to the table, where the captain was talking to Michael, who, thanks to his tropes, knew thendmarks better than anyone. He knew every trail, where the blueberry and salmonberry bushes grew, where the springs and even old treehouses were located.


    ¡°Do werewolves eat berries?¡± the captain asked suddenly, confused at why Michael had brought it up.


    Michael stopped, stumped. His tropes didn¡¯t supply him an answer for that. He was just showing off.


    ¡°Humans do,¡± I said, ¡°and they need to eat, too, when they¡¯re not wolves.¡± I tried to smooth over the awkward pause, aware we were On-Screen.


    We all looked down at the map, at the little icon shaped like a cabin, with the words <em>Carousel River Camp</em> printed neatly next to it.


    ¡°Time to go camping,¡± I said.


    It was never toote to learn something new in Carousel.


    One thing I was looking forward to in this storyline was the concept of Sanctuary. It was something a trope could do, where you¡¯d be given a location that would be guaranteed to be safe for a certain amount of time based on one of your stats.


    I had done a lot of reading about it after discovering that the Speakeasy was associated with a trope. The Speakeasy gave Sanctuary based on the yer¡¯s Hustle stat.


    In the As, the first thing you learn about sanctuary is to never trust it. It wasn''t fully understood. While it wouldst longer depending on whichever stat controlled it, it would sometimes just kind of disappear if you identally derailed whatever subplot was taking ce inside it.


    Andrew had not one but two tropes that provided sanctuary.


    His first protected him while he was healing someone and onlysted long enough to do that. That sounded fair¡ªhe said it was pretty reliable.


    His second was called <strong>Study Session</strong>, and it ensured there would be a miniature library in a storyline. This library would contain lots of information, some of it useful, that the user and allies could use for research purposes. Better yet, that trope said the sanctuary wouldst all of <em>Rebirth</em>.


    However, Andrew imed that there was more to it than that.


    "Sometimes it protects long before <em>Rebirth</em>, and often it cuts out right in the middle. I haven''t quite figured it out yet; it¡¯s a newer trope."


    I didn¡¯t like the idea of a trope I didn¡¯t understand, but I was fascinated by the idea.


    We were Off-Screen as we searched through the Manor for <em>The Stacks</em>, which was the name of his miniature library granted by his trope.


    "Are you sure it''s going to be in the Manor?" I asked.


    Andrew nodded. "Yes. I spoke with Kirst, and he assured me that he had collected together all of the written works that were in the house¡ªand many of those that had been stolen and sold¡ªand he put them inside the study."


    "He didn¡¯t tell you where the study was, though?"


    "Evidently not," Andrew said.


    Reading in the As, I felt like I could understand the idea of a sanctuary¡ªkind of.


    For instance, with <em>The Stacks</em>, you had to continue your search for answers. Once you were finished, or if you gave up, the protection would disappear. That made sense.


    As for why the trope might protect you before <em>Rebirth</em> despite saying it didn¡¯t, I couldn¡¯t say. Perhaps in some storylines, there was simply a logistical issue¡ªthat if someone was killed in <em>The Stacks</em> in <em>First Blood</em>, they might not be avable during <em>Rebirth</em>, so Carousel might extend protection so that no one gets killed there before <em>Rebirth</em>.


    But that was all guesswork.


    We turned a corner on the top floor of the Manor, and suddenly we found ourselves bathed in candle light. It was early morning, but the windows in the house had been shuttered, so it was pretty dark inside, and we were relying onnterns.


    Once we got to the west wing of the top floor¡ªor the top floor of the west wing, as it was supposed to be¡ªwe saw sconces with candles on them leading to a room at the end of the hall, a room whose doorway was hidden behind a bookcase left ajar.


    Inside, we saw Egan Kirst, for the first time since he had left usst night, reading his way through arge volume that looked to be hundreds of years old.


    On-Screen.


    Kirst didn¡¯t get up and didn¡¯t acknowledge us.


    We entered <em>The Stacks</em> and gazed upon¡­ well, the stacks and stacks of books, some of which were decades old, others hundreds of years old.


    Once we were done gazing in amazement, Kirst finally spoke up.


    "I suspect that if this room were not hidden, we would not have the benefit of this bounty. Thieves plundered this ce for over a hundred years."


    "I suspect that right along with you," I said.


    He got up from his old leather chair, which barely fit into the room, which was not very wide due to the stacks of books.


    "I expect that you¡¯ll be able to learn whatever you might need from this collection," he said. "Remember, the pack leader must be dead, so study as you must, but don¡¯t think I¡¯ll pay you if you stay tucked into this room for your entire stay."


    He had a smile on his face; he must have seen how excited we were around these old books.


    And I was excited¡ªI didn¡¯t have to pretend. I knew there were solutions to our problems in these books. It wasn¡¯t like in normal storylines I¡¯d been in, where you might have been wasting your time if you didn¡¯t have a schr there to confirm it for you.


    I knew there were answers here. I just didn¡¯t know which book held them.


    Luckily, Andrew and I both had high Savvy stats, which would theoretically help us find what we were looking for, though it was difficult to imagine how that would work. Savvy wasn¡¯t actual intelligence, after all¡ªit was intelligence that showed up On-Screen. And as far as the Screen was concerned, picking up the right book at the right time was being intelligent.


    So what we had to do was start picking up books.


    The first volume I picked up was called <em>Anderon¡¯s Book of Salves</em>, which I thought might be useful if it had something for werewolf bites or simr, but I had no such luck. It did, however, have a really cool first line that I found as I sat myself down in a chair I had brought from downstairs and looked through it.


    "If you¡¯re reading this book, it¡¯s already toote," it read.


    That was the first line worthy of a better book. With no salves rted to werewolves, I put the book in an area we had designated for our duds and moved on to the next one.


    As we went along, most of the books were duds¡ªand thank goodness most were obvious duds. We didn¡¯t have to waste too much time on any one book, with few exceptions.


    We were on and off-screen for the entire time.


    It was strange to think that somewhere in these stacks was, tucked away, a book that couldpletely tilt the advantage in our direction. But which one?


    I looked through the stacks. Lots of old legal texts¡ªyou could always tell from the binding. I was looking for something different, something old but not <em>too</em> old. If it was too old, I wouldn¡¯t be able to read it.


    My eyes rested on a leather-bound tome buried near the bottom of arge stack.


    Something felt special about it, but I couldn¡¯t quite tell what. Perhaps it was that half the book had been damaged by water, giving it an almost ghost-like quality, like I was staring at a half-dead book.


    At that point, I had been through so many that I was due for a winner. Andrew had already found a textbook that imed to be on meta-human anatomy, although calling it a "textbook" was generous. It was very old, and the sketches were not particrly well done.


    I opened the book and soon found that what was before me was the journal of a man who used the pseudonym Amadeus Sing.


    The date in the first entry of the book was June 11, 1825, and boy, did the handwriting match. It was a real struggle to get through, but it also had a really good first line:


    ¡°I write at the behest of monsters.¡±


    Well, alright¡ªyou have my attention, I thought.

 Book Five, Chapter 74: Exploration and Research

    By far, the most urate measure of sess during research was the On-Screen/Off-Screen indicator.


    The difficulty with ying a character who is supposed to be an expert on the supernatural is that, in the pursuit of research, you often find yourself learning things that your character was already supposed to know.


    It can be deting to stumble across an interesting tidbit¡ªa tiny morsel that you believe might unlock clues to the mysteries of the paranormal¡ªonly to realize that the entire discovery urred Off-Screen.


    No matter how important the discovery, if it urred Off-Screen, it was likely that Carousel did not intend for that line of research to bear much fruit.


    The role of the researcher in a story is incredibly consistent, and discovering lore that could enable you to destroy evil always follows a pattern: you start with a problem and then seek a solution. You find one, but you don¡¯t fully understand it. After initial failures, you reach a better understanding, and then, if you are clever, you can find a way to implement your discovery into a solution that can win the day.


    Carousel will obtain footage of you all along the way, so if youe across something interesting in a book and the cameras are not rolling, you can almost certainly assume that you have not solved your problem.


    The books in the stacks within the Witherhold Manor certainly contained lots of information about werewolves. Much of it was redundant, so Riley and I were left searching for errant phrases, small paragraphs that contained information we didn¡¯t know among seas of information that we already did.


    Riley had found a journal that fascinated him and contained enormous troves of information about the history of Witherhold Manor, but the information was, as he imed, not canon to the storyline itself but rather to something deeper. He believed he had found information about this story from before it was a story, from back when it was real in its own world. I wasn''t sure if he was correct about the nature of his discovery, but we stayed Off-Screen as he read it to himself and to me, so it didn''t really matter.


    It gave me no small amount of pride that I was the first to find something substantial, something that brought us On-Screen¡ªthough I soon wished I hadn¡¯t.On-Screen.


    ¡°Look here,¡± I said.


    ¡°You got something?¡± Riley asked, his voice eager but cracking from hours of disuse.


    ¡°I believe I do,¡± I replied, flipping open the brittle pages. ¡°This is an oral history from a man named Ephraim Stokes, a jailer in an asylum far to the south. He was charged with the responsibility of feeding a group of ex-soldiers, locked in the deepest, darkest dungeon of that asylum¡ªmen afflicted with a curse, men who howled at the full moon.¡±


    Riley¡¯s eyes sparked. ¡°That sounds right up our alley.¡±


    I nodded, letting the weight of the words settle between us. ¡°Here¡¯s what Stokes wrote,¡± I began, my voice steady. ¡°¡®They be men lost, but only in flesh, for their spirits have long gone from ¡®em.¡¯ Stokes saw more than just beasts; he saw broken men, shattered in ways deeper than scars of flesh. ¡®Several of the men,¡¯ he says, ¡®were scarred in the war¡ªnot scars of the body, but of the soul.¡¯¡±


    Riley listened on, no doubt curious as to why Carousel saw this information worth broadcasting.


    ¡°¡®As the curse takes hold,¡¯ Stokes wrote, ¡®they find themselves back on the battlefield, haunted by old fears, old wounds. In their desperation to escape, they take refuge in the wolf, surrenderin¡¯ their spirit to it. And to keep from falling apart, they look to the pack leader for something steady, something to hold onto.¡¯¡±


    I paused, the candlelight flickering across Riley¡¯s face.


    ¡°Some, Stokes believed, would never be men again,¡± I read.


    I let those words hang in the air. First-hand knowledge of having dealt with wolves was useful when most of our research involved legends or secondhand information.


    "That''s the best exnation for why they''re so loyal to the pack leader that I''ve found," Riley said.


    ¡°Yes, most ounts seem to hand-wave that away, as they can''t exin why creatures of human intelligence would resort to an animalistic hierarchy that does not appear to be based on reproduction or territory.¡±


    We continued to squabble with smallments, hoping to provide Carousel with whatever lines it needed for its movie, but the plot cycle never shifted one centimeter. The story wasn¡¯t moving forward, which, to my understanding, meant that there was something we were supposed to do or say.


    Luckily, Riley was adept at figuring out these particr problems¡ªmore so than I had seen among the veterans.


    ¡°It would seem,¡± he said, ¡°that those who have trauma before being cursed have the worst of it.¡±


    He stared at me with usatory eyes.


    ¡°It would definitely seem that some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder would exacerbate the curse if this ount is to be believed,¡± I said.


    ¡°Well, I hope none of us have any such baggage,¡± he said with a cough.


    And just like that, the plot cycle started moving forward again¡ªjust enough for me to notice¡ªand we were Off-Screen almost instantly afterward.


    For a moment, Riley and I just stared at each other, and I was certain he was preparing to mock me. It was suddenly quite clear what Carousel''s ns were.


    "Antoine may end up being more of a liability than we anticipated," I said.


    "Yep," Riley replied. Was he being smug, or was he being so tight-lipped to avoid gloating?


    I cleared my throat. We would certainly have to n around whatever it was Carousel was scheming.


    ~-~


    "Michael Brooks is not in the forest," the big guy, Antoine, mumbled under his breath. I thought that¡¯s what he said, at least.


    ¡°Did you say my name?¡± I asked.


    Antoine turned to me and said, ¡°No.¡±


    I could have sworn he did. He must not have said any of that because I <em>was</em> in the forest. So was he. I was hearing things.


    He started looking around the forest trail, then turned to me and asked, ¡°How far are we?¡±


    ¡°Just a little over half a mile further to go,¡± I said. I knew my way around. A parks map was attached to the red wallpaper in my mind, pinned there with a hunting knife. I could see the map, and I could see us on it. I was the master of navigation. It wasn¡¯t the type of map we used back in the army, but I wasn¡¯t going toin. I neverined.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Not untiltely.


    ¡°A lot of the popr walking trails are up this direction,¡± I said. ¡°Try not to look like we¡¯re on our way to assassinate somebody. We don¡¯t want to scare the shit out of some family on vacation.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll just tell him we¡¯re out on a hunt,¡± the blonde mercenary said. ¡°It¡¯s true, ain¡¯t it?¡±


    The menughed. I didn¡¯t.


    Back at Camp Dyer, they told me that if I didn¡¯t learn to act, I was never going to level up, but that if I always acted intensely and quietly, I could just be that character¡ªthe strong, silent type.


    It had worked.


    We had packed light for this mission. This was reconnaissance, but I could tell that the mercenaries were itching for a fight. I was, too. I put off following up with my character''s subplot to make sure I was here in case things went wrong. I had time.


    During daylight hours, the wolves would be at their weakest, and we could end this movie before it started. We could make this a blowout.


    We did that once with some snakes. Made the whole story about killing metric shit tons of vipers. Best storyline we ever ran.


    As we walked forward, I kept thinking about something the nerd had said: that we needed to be sure someone was a wolf before we killed them. Because if we didn''t confirm they were cursed, they almost certainly wouldn¡¯t be. Carousel would make sure of it, and we would lose all moral high ground, making the story impossible to win. However it was that worked.


    I didn¡¯t see how you could possibly know that, but then, I wasn¡¯t sure how he knew most of the stuff he imed to. Film Buff sounded like a snob of an archetype. The folks at Camp Dyer managed to get by without film buffs, but now we were supposed to act like he was an expert.


    I didn¡¯t know what to think. Andrew said that we should trust him, that he thinks Riley is so in tune with the game that we can trust him to help us win it. I think he''s just obsessed. Spends all his time in the As like it''s his best friend. Only talks about the next mission or some other part of the game.


    I couldn¡¯t wait to find out what Logan would have to say about all this. Logan always had good takes on things. He seemed to understand them so quickly. The Logan in the basement was... different. He wasn''t himself. He was sick. His tongue was tied.


    All we had to do was rescue him, and I would do that if it cost me my life.


    All I knew then was that I wanted to see a werewolf in front of me so I could shoot it.


    It¡¯s not often that you can solve a problem with a gun in Carousel. There was always some twist or restriction. It was a drag. But in this storyline, guns were the answer, and I was ready.


    What good was I if I wasn¡¯t good for that?


    Andrew was really good at research.


    Even without the <strong>Eureka</strong> trope, he had an eye for finding important things and dismissing things that weren''t. Maybe Savvy really did help with that, and I was just having a tough time noticing. I wasn''t sure.


    Every little piece of information mattered. Even if we weren''t going On-Screen for it, knowing more about werewolves was like arming ourselves for battle. The more we knew, the fewer assumptions we had to make, the easier Improvisation would be.


    Our fate could be determined by how well we wielded even one fact.


    It was no surprise that Carousel was going to incorporate Antoine''s trauma into the story somehow. I knew it from the moment I learned his character also had a dead brother.


    It wasn¡¯t being cruel. Carousel saw the world in terms of production value. Why have someone pretend to be messed up in the head when you could get the real deal?


    I was reading through the journal of Amadeus Sing, a pseudonym for a Far Eastern academic who didn¡¯t think investigating mythical creatures would help his career, so he used a fake name. The Woolsey family hired him to investigate local werewolves, which were beginning to overwhelm the poption. His journal told the story of his discoveries. Sometime before he started documenting things, he concluded that the Woolsey¡¯s had killed their daughter. He was afraid for his life, but he didn¡¯t want to abandon his research.


    A ssic dilemma.


    There was one problem with this story: the family name in the storyline, the people that had built Witherhold Manor, were called the Withers. Thomas and Agnes Withers, to be exact.


    So why were they called Woolsey¡¯s in this journal, and why was the Manor called Woolsey Manor?


    Well, it was a secret, so to speak.


    ~-~


    While we were doing our research, we were found by the final member of our team. That¡¯s right: L White decided to make an appearance while we were knee-deep in the stacks, investigating lore.


    ¡°Where have you been?¡± Andrew asked her as soon as he saw her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t start with me,¡± she said, exhausted. ¡°I had to walk all the way here. I had to hitchhike to town, but nobody was willing to bring me all the way to the Manor. They said it was too dangerous or haunted or something.¡±


    ¡°Well, it makes sense,¡± I said. ¡°<strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong> would make you fail every Moxie check.¡±


    She threw up her arms, clearly tired, and said, ¡°Well, I¡¯m here now.¡±


    After more discussion, it became clear that she had just arrived in Carousel that morning. It also became clear that she was not ying a character. As a <strong>Wallflower</strong>, she was cast as an extra¡ªa background character with little to no lines. Maybe that was because of <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong>. Maybe that was just her type of casting.


    ¡°I made it here before First Blood. That¡¯s all that matters, right?¡± she asked.


    Sure enough.


    I had never seen her so talkative. Perhaps we had not met under circumstances where the subtleties of her personality were easily seen.


    ¡°Did you find anything? Is your research at least going well?¡± she asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s going very well,¡± Andrew said. ¡°I feel confident I know most there is to know about the anatomy of werewolves as well as much of the lore. I question how much more there is to discover, but we have thousands of books to go, and there¡¯s no way we¡¯re going to get through them in the time we have.¡±


    L looked up at me as if asking what it was I had found. Her pale skin was red and sunburnt. Had she lost a Grit check against the sun?


    ¡°I definitely found something, but I¡¯m trying to find a way to go On-Screen with it,¡± I said, then I had a thought. ¡°You¡¯re a Wallflower, right? So you should be able to see the script because of one of your tropes?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t see much, though.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. Can you tell me what you see right now?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± she said. She closed her eyes and focused. ¡°Midday exploration of Carousel River Camp. Research in the stacks. Campers in the distance act suspicious.¡±


    ¡°And those are the scenes that are ongoing right now?¡± I asked.


    She nodded. ¡°Those are the ones my Savvy is good enough to see. There might be something else, but I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°So you see the scene where we¡¯re here researching, right? Is there anything on it? On that page?¡±


    She thought for a moment. ¡°You revealed a scripted subplot about trauma. Andrewpleted his character¡¯s knowledge tree, which means that he learned everything his character should know going into the story. That¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing else?¡± I asked. ¡°Anything about something called ¡®Rolling Silver¡¯?¡±


    A look of surprise came over her face. ¡°Yeah, just for a second when you said it, but then it disappeared again.¡±


    ¡°Strange,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s this thing that the author is talking about called <em>Rolling Silver</em>, which is supposed to be a huge weakness of werewolves, but I can¡¯t find a way to make it go On-Screen. But I¡¯ve got my theories. We¡¯re going to have to do some tests.¡±


    ¡°What theories?¡± Andrew asked.


    I startedughing because what I was about to reveal was, frankly, quite a huge coincidence in my mind at the time.


    ¡°You know how <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong> is supposed to give a boost to all of the user¡¯s allies as long as they¡¯re alive, basically making them a little bit better at everything they attempt?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Andrew said. ¡°That¡¯s the primary reason we brought L¡ªso she could help us with exploration and give us a good foundation for the rest of the story.¡±


    ¡°I think <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong> is the reason we¡¯re doing so well discovering information about werewolves. Heck, once I figure out what <em>Rolling Silver</em> is, it¡¯s supposed to be an incredibly potent weapon against them. But I don¡¯t think it just helped us discover werewolves¡¯ weaknesses. I think there was a reason that Roxy or whoever sent you guys to die at the werewolves''ir.¡±


    ¡°And what was that?¡± Andrew asked, rmed.


    ¡°I think there¡¯s secret lore here,¡± I said, holding up the journal. ¡°I think this journal holds a secret that isn¡¯t even part of the storyline itself¡ªsomething older.¡±


    ¡°Whoa,¡± L said, seeing something in her mind¡¯s eye.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Andrew asked. "Now you''re saying it''s secret lore?"


    ¡°It¡¯s weird,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s like a space opened up on the red wallpaper when he said that, but there was nothing there.¡±


    Andrew and I looked at each other.


    ¡°What exactly is that journal about?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°It mixes lore and secret lore,¡± I said. ¡°I think this thing goes all the way back to the beginning. I might need your help.¡±


    The question was, did we want to spend our precious time following this lead or focus on a clean victory?


    That was probably one of the toughest decisions I had ever been asked to make.


    ¡°We should start trying to figure out what he means by rolling silver,¡± I said. ¡°Then, if we have time, we can spare some time to learn the secrets of the universe.¡±


    I felt we needed to untangle "rolling silver" from the forbidden secret lore, so I started outlining what we needed to do. If we could incorporate this weakness into the storyline, we might just put the werewolves on the back foot--or the back paw, rather.

 Book Five, Chapter 75: Armed with Knowledge

    ~Riley~


    Just because Carousel decided to redress me didn¡¯t mean I lost ess to my luggage tag or to any of the items I¡¯d brought in my hoodie pocket.


    It just meant I now had to try to find a way to squeeze my headphones out of the narrow breast pocket of my suit jacket.


    I literally had to disassemble them just to get them out. Luckily, I didn¡¯t have to try to get my Walkman out too¡ªthat would have been impossible. The pocket was made for sses or a pen. Cell phones hadn¡¯t been invented yet.


    I only needed my headphones because those would allow me to listen in on whatever scene was On-Screen using <strong>Quiet On Set</strong>. Seeing as this storyline was shaping up to be quite research-heavy in nature, with Andrew, L, and me nose-deep in books, I felt the need to multitask and listen in.


    And it was weird.


    At first, I heard a lot of breathing. I thought it was just someone who needed to hit the gym more often, but then I realized I was listening to a dog¡ªno, a wolf¡ªrunning for, like, 30 whole seconds. As I realized that¡¯s what I was hearing, I became afraid I was going to hear a scream afterward, but I never did.


    Instead, the conversation shifted from ce to ce, focusing on things that were mostly irrelevant to the plot. I heardughing and sshing. I heard people talking as they walked the trails.


    Whatever Carousel was nning for all the summertime vacationers in the area, it was <em>sure</em> taking its time setting things up.Meanwhile, I was trying my best to sort through the information I¡¯d found in a nearly 200-year-old journal.


    As far as I could figure, the information could be divided into three different types: stuff that I thought was secret lore, which would not go On-Screen; stuff that was normal lore, which would go On-Screen; and finally, detailed paranormal experimentation, which could be either type. I didn¡¯t know.


    If werewolves were allergic to normal silver, rolling silver¡ªwhatever that was¡ªwas like kryptonite to them.


    Just reading the entries got me excited. ¡°Amadeus Sing¡± really got into experiment mode in the summer of 1826.<blockquote>


    <strong>June 25, 1826</strong>


    <strong>Experiment XVII: Subject D.A. (Volunteer Lycanthrope)</strong>


    <em>Objective:</em> Test exposure to rolling silver for transformation interruption and potential cure.


    <strong>10:00 PM</strong> - Exposure begins. Subject seated, restrained. Ten ounces of rolling silver ced within ten feet and activated. Initial signs of difort: shallow breathing, furrowed brow.


    <strong>10:05 PM</strong> ¨C At three feet. Subject exhibits visible distress. Sweating profusely, reporting "burning" sensation internally. Pulse elevated.


    <strong>10:10 PM</strong> - Early signs of transformation (wing at restraints, reddening of irises) abruptly cease. Subject begins retching, copsing against bonds. No observable wolfish traits develop.


    <strong>10:15 PM</strong> - Consciousness fades briefly; upon revival, subject is fully human but unresponsive. Skin pale, ashen. Reports "hollow heat" in chest, unable to rise.


    <em>Note:</em> The Woolsey family has agreed to additional funding for my tests. Rolling silver continues to elicit transformative disruption but offers no progress toward reversing affliction. Subject withdrew consent after recovery, citing "unbearable torment." Curious¡ªeffect persists even at distance. Mechanism remains unexined. Rolling silver potency affected by amount and proximity.</blockquote>


    When I read this On-Screen, I would have to change Woolsey to Withers if it came up, their in-story name. Carousel always liked toplicate things.<blockquote>


    <strong>July 18, 1826</strong>


    <strong>Experiment XIX: Transformed Subject E.J. (Lycanthrope, non-volunteer)</strong>


    <em>Objective:</em> Test exposure to rolling silver on a subject already in wolfish form.


    11:00 PM - Transformed subject introduced to containment area. Nominal amount of rolling silver activated. No immediate reaction; subject growls low, pacing. ?


    <strong>11:03 PM</strong> ¨C Now at three feet. Subject emits guttural growls, escting to loud howls. ws at containment bars in agitation. No visible signs of reversion.


    <strong>11:07 PM</strong> - Amount increased. Howling ceases. Subject copses into a convulsive state, fur bristling unnaturally. Movement restricted to spasms. Transformation remains intact.


    <strong>11:10 PM</strong> - Subject lies motionless apart frombored breathing. Observed continued wolfish traits with no signs of human emergence.


    <strong>11:20 PM</strong> - Experiment terminated. Subject subdued and restrained.


    <em>Note:</em> Rolling silver induces severe distress but fails to initiate reversion from the fully transformed state. Consistent agony observed, mirroring earlier trials. Contradicts findings from pre-transformation exposures.</blockquote>


    ~<blockquote>


    <strong>July 22, 1826</strong>


    <strong>Experiment XX: Barrier Trial with Rolling Silver Subject D.A. (Lycanthrope, non-volunteer)</strong>


    <em>Objective:</em> Test efficacy of rolling silver through a dense barrier.


    <strong>11:30 PM</strong> - Nominal rolling silver activated ten feet behind a 1-foot-thick brick wall which blockades the beast from contact. Transformed subject introduced unrestrained into adjacent chamber. Initial pacing and sniffing observed.


    <strong>11:35 PM</strong> - At six feet. Subject begins growling, scratching at the ground. Agitation builds despite no direct exposure to rolling silver.


    <strong>11:36 PM</strong> - Subject stumbles mid-pace, convulsing briefly. Breathing bes erratic, growling ceases.


    <strong>11:40 PM</strong> - Subject copses entirely, lying motionless but maintaining wolfish form. Labored breathing observed.


    <strong>11:45 PM</strong> - Experiment concluded.


    <em>Note:</em> Rolling silver¡¯s effects persist even when entirely obstructed by dense material. Potency is unaffected by physical barriers, suggesting the reaction originates from properties beyond physical exposure. Need air-tight apparatus to confirm. Mechanism remains wholly unexined. Further study is required.</blockquote>


    ~


    Whatever <em>rolling silver</em> was, it was a big deal. Honestly, I refused to believe that any real-life scientist could do such thorough and exhaustive research on a subject without once actually defining it, but for a movie, that was a fairly typical problem to have.


    We knew that <em>rolling silver</em> was a very potent weapon, and now we had to figure out what it was exactly. I had some ideas. Mercury sprang to mind, but I wasn''t sure what it meant for mercury to be "activated." I might have to do some experiments of my own.


    This tale has been uwfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    More importantly, we had to bring it into the story. We had to establish it, or else it might not be around for us to useter on.


    I took off my headphones and hid them behind a stack of books. It was 1986, so they weren¡¯t exactly an egregious anachronism, but they did feel out of ce in a candlelit library while reading 100-year-old texts.


    I conferred with Andrew about how we were going to establish <em>rolling silver</em>. We asked L to wait outside. She was another problem. In order for her to be First Blood, we probably had to establish her as a character.


    She said she would work on it.


    After a quick conversation¡ªand confirming that nothing important was happening On-Screen by listening to my headphones for a moment¡ªI knew we were in a prime moment to introduce <em>rolling silver</em> to the narrative. All the information rted to secret lore would just have to wait.


    It turned out we were getting pretty good at this game because as soon as we were prepared, Carousel was there, waiting to start filming.


    <strong>On-Screen</strong>


    ¡°Have you read anything about something called <em>rolling silver</em>?¡± I asked, holding up the journal and pointing it out to Andrew.


    He leaned over and squinted at the page. ¡°How in the world are you reading that handwriting?¡± he asked. ¡°<em>Rolling silver</em>?¡± He sat back and thought for a moment. ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s an old way of saying mercury?¡±


    ¡°I had thought of that, but I wasn¡¯t sure,¡± I said. ¡°They did used to call mercury quicksilver, didn¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°They did.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, though,¡± I said. ¡°This is supposed to be really potent stuff. We''re talking about every wolf nearby would be doubled over if you had enough of it...If mercury was as effective against the werewolves as this scientist is iming rolling silver is, then I can¡¯t imagine someone in the modern age wouldn¡¯t have figured it out already.¡±


    ¡°It would certainly strain credulity,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Mercury is in every household in thermometers. Though most modern werewolf experts rarely approach the subject from a scientific perspective. How did he discover it?¡±


    ¡°Sheer luck,¡± I said. ¡°He talks about it as if it were something everyone might have ess to.¡±


    I selected a passage from when the scientist first started learning about the effects of <em>rolling silver</em> and decided to read/sh summarize it for the audience.


    ¡°All right, here we go¡ªMay 24, 1826,¡± I said. ¡°So, this guy has a docile caged werewolf in hisb¡ªlike, super tame, been in captivity forever. He leaves the room for a moment, and then he hears, <em>¡®violent howling echoed through the walls, followed by the sound of frantic movement.¡¯</em> Hees back, and the wolf¡¯s going nuts, thrashing and howling like crazy.¡±


    ¡°Not so tame then,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°Well, wait. Hisb assistant was still in the room. So, they start systematically working through everything that might have changed in those few moments, hoping to figure out what caused the werewolf to go crazy in pain. You following me? Eventually, they figured out the assistant had been ¡®handling rolling silver¡¯, whatever that meant, nearby. He tested it again and said, <em>¡®Simply bringing the rolling silver into the wolf¡¯s proximity triggered agitation and torment.¡¯</em> Even though it wasn¡¯t near the wolf or touching it, itpletely set the thing off.¡±


    ¡°It might be actually mercury,¡± Andrew said. ¡°That was amon enough substance for a scientist back then.¡±


    I shrugged my shoulders.


    ¡°Then, on August 3, 1826, he writes about how he talked to some colleagues,¡± I continued. ¡°Apparently, others have had simr findings but haven¡¯t been able to study the issue thoroughly because werewolves were harder to find, and next to none of them volunteered for study, and ¡®themon decency of hunters to spare a poor wolf¡¯s life had gone out of fashion.¡¯ Carousel, though, was having an epidemic.¡±


    ¡°That would exin why we haven¡¯t heard anything about it,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Werewolves are rare¡ªfar more rare than they were hundreds of years ago, it would seem¡ªor at least far more elusive.¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± I said. ¡°A couple of decades after this guy was working, the study of werewolves as a scientific pursuit pretty much stopped happening. They became myths. All we really have to go on these days was lore and old wives¡¯ tales. It¡¯s crazy to think they were actually closer to a solution then than we are now.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like we <em>are</em> close,¡± Andrew said. ¡°We just have to figure out what they mean when they say <em>rolling silver</em>.¡±


    ¡°That is the million-dor question,¡± I said.


    <strong>Off-Screen</strong>


    ¡°Very good,¡± Andrew said, clearing his throat.


    ¡°All right,¡± I said. ¡°The next time we¡¯re On-Screen with this, I need to establish how effective it is because it is knocking these werewolves on their butts and preventing them from transforming if they aren¡¯t already.¡±


    ¡°So now we look for the word <em>rolling silver</em> with a definition?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°And there¡¯s something else here I didn¡¯t read because Carousel sent us Off-Screen.¡±


    I found thest part of the journal entry and read it aloud:<blockquote>


    <em>¡°Still, questions linger: Why is Carousel afflicted so severely? Why do these modern werewolves act so differently from those I encountered in my youth? And how is this connected to the sudden potency of rolling silver? What are the Woolseys hiding? What happened to young ra Woolsey? The answers remain elusive, but I am determined to find them before this gue consumes the town.¡±</em></blockquote>


    ¡°<em>Rolling silver</em> was a new solution,¡± Andrew said. ¡°And the werewolves are different than they used to be. Strange.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what it sounds like. He makes a lot ofments about it¡ªnothing fully descriptive¡ªbut little things that make me think something changed about werewolves about 200 years ago. He talks about them like they were a disease like they¡¯re people with an illness that gets worse as the full moon approaches.¡±


    ¡°That <em>is</em> interesting,¡± Andrew said. ¡°I can¡¯t find any urate depictions of werewolves from before the year 1813. It¡¯s as if an entire field of paranormal investigation appeared overnight for the purpose of this storyline.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not too unusual,¡± I said. ¡°Carousel could probably manufacture books on lore, but trying to separate the stuff for the storyline from stuff that might be real is tough.¡±


    <strong>On-Screen</strong>


    We were both taken by surprise to be On-Screen again and tried to look busy as best we could. I almost got a little greedy and tried to throw in a quick conversation about how potent <em>rolling silver</em> was supposed to be to make sure the audience would hear those words, and Carousel would be forced to go along with them. But then I realized what the scene was about.


    L was bringing us tea.


    ¡°Mr. Kirst said that you would be thirsty by now,¡± she said, walking into the room and delivering the tea.


    ¡°Thank you, L,¡± Andrew said. ¡°You¡¯ve been very amodating.¡±


    She smiled, did a strange little curtsy, and turned to leave, and we went Off-Screen.


    L had used a bit of simple improvisation to inject herself into the story, and now she was a named character. That was better than just a cameo, which was what I¡¯d been expecting. I supposed that even with <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong>, Carousel wasn''t going to deny her name in the credits. After all, what fun is a character with bad luck if they are not On-Screen?


    It was funny¡ªwhen we were discussing our ns for the storyline, we had actually thought of the idea of intentionally infecting L with the werewolf curse in hopes that she would transform and, therefore, not be attacked by the other monsters.


    There was a brief hope that this might extend our use of <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong><em>,</em> but we came to the conclusion that transforming into a wolf would break that trope¡¯s effect.


    The irony that everyone but her was potentially infected now was not lost on me.


    I grabbed my headphones from behind the stack of books and began listening in.


    Somewhere On-Screen, Kimberly, Antoine, and Michael were discussing a group of cabins at the summer camp they had just hiked to. They were doing their best toy out some exposition¡ªwhat had happened there and their strategy for exploring.


    Something about being able to hear what was going On-Screen was very satisfying for me and, dare I say, stress-relieving. Using the <strong>Dailies</strong> to get some of the On-Screen footage at the end of the day was useful, but hearing it actively as it was happening¡ªeven if it was only audio¡ªmade me feel more in control.


    I sat there with a dumb smile on my face, listening. Then I nearly dropped my cup of tea as I heard Kimberly whisper a phrase I didn¡¯t expect to hear On-Screen for years toe.


    ¡°That over there,¡± she said, ¡°that¡¯s Dyer¡¯s Lodge. That¡¯s where the counselors slept.¡±


    A summer camp, huh? Not just any summer camp, though. It needed a summer camp that was usually west of Carousel. Suddenly, I thought I understood why Carousel put this version of the storyline on a sound stage.


    It needed to do some rearranging.


    Talk about a cameo.

 Book Five, Chapter 76: Return to Camp

    It amazed me how early exploration quietly became my favorite part of a storyline.


    It amazed me that I even had a favorite part of a storyline. It wasn¡¯t too long ago that I couldn¡¯t bear to think about them at all.


    Exploration was the only time I felt safe¡­ I would usually have to pretend I was having fun. Sometimes, I could actually feel it. Talking to NPCs, finding new locations, the thrill of a discovery that could take the story in a whole new direction¡ªthe innocence before the killing starts.


    I didn¡¯t want it to end.


    But it would. It always did, and in the worst of ways.


    Carousel had warned me about pigeonholing myself as Antoine''s love interest, but because of my trope <strong>Get A Room</strong>, we had to add that to the story. It seemed Carousel was going along with it.


    As much as I liked exploration, the trip down the forest trail to Carousel River Camp was still tense. It was too early in the Party Phase for me to worry about getting attacked, but the forest was thick, and I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling we were being watched from the moment we stepped into it.


    Antoine was on alert. Was that because he was a protector and ready to fight, or was the anxiety of being in a forest getting to him?


    I didn¡¯t know. He swore to my face that he had everything under control, and I wanted to believe him. But I also knew that Antoine could keep secrets better than most¡ªeven from me.¡°What do you say we take a dip at the river?¡± one of the mercenaries said, the blonde one with the long hair tied up in a bun.


    ¡°I¡¯ll allow it,¡± Antoine said, ¡°but you have to keep your gear on.¡±


    The menughed. They were carrying so much gear that they¡¯d drown if they ended up in the water.


    I wondered what they were being told in their scripts. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d think they were totally enjoying themselves¡ªenjoying the hunt. Boys being boys. But then again, scripted NPCs were such great actors.


    Was it because of practice, or were they magically controlled to y their character? I couldn¡¯t know.


    I had seen some NPCs that didn¡¯t give great performances. They were either wooden or way extra. Riley said that¡¯s just how horror movies were, so it was probably on purpose, but I wasn¡¯t sure.


    ¡°The camp is just up ahead,¡± Michael said as we rounded a long stretch of the trail that almostpletely circled a pond.


    I didn¡¯t know what to think about Michael, but now that I saw him in action, I felt I knew him better. He understood the hunt. He understood fighting. It was every other part of Carousel that seemed to drive him crazy. He always looked so frustrated.


    L told me Michael had been tricked intoing to Carousel through a pen pal who had written love letters to him. They said that when he got back stateside from a deployment, he drove straight to Carousel.


    I couldn¡¯t imagine how disappointing that would be.


    I had not seen the side of Michael that could get tricked like that. He was hiding it.


    Just like Antoine was hiding his pain, Michael was hiding his.


    Boys will be boys.


    We walked further along the trail. It was steep, and thick roots grew where the trail had been zed many years ago.


    The character I yed was getting nervous. She remembered this ce. I tried to clear my mind, to feel her heartbeat through mine. I needed to know what she knew¡ªeven if all I¡¯d been able to do so far was know what she felt. ?


    And what she felt about this ce was terror.


    The script said she was brave, and that was why she decided to return here, but she did not feel brave. I¡¯d have to feel it for her.


    Just a few hundred feetter, we came across a junction where an old dirt road met the trail.


    I gasped when I saw what stood beyond that.


    Camp Dyer.


    I recognized it right away, even with the wrong name on the arch at the entrance. This was the wrong ce. These were the wrong hills, the wrong dirt, the wrong trees.


    As we entered under the archway (one of the mercenaries had to cut a lock off the gate) and followed the trail toward the camp, I started to see the old familiar buildings. They appeared to have beenid out in the same way they had been in my memory. The only difference was that there was no Lake Dyer, no docks¡ªjust arge blue riverzily flowing by.


    And everything looked decrepit. The buildings were falling apart. The nts had grown and were overtaking everything.


    We were On-Screen, so I couldn¡¯t discuss this with Antoine, but I could see he was reacting to it just as I was.


    Was this Carousel teasing us, or was Camp Dyer here simply because the story called for a summer camp, and this was Carousel¡¯s favorite one?


    Antoine turned to me as I stared over the buildings, up at Dyer¡¯s Lodge, and around to the other cabins.


    ¡°You all right?¡± he asked.


    I hardened my features and put on a brave face. ¡°Of course,¡± I said.


    Be brave, Kimberly, I thought to myself.


    ¡°That over there,¡± I said, pointing, ¡°that¡¯s Dyer¡¯s Lodge. That¡¯s where the counselors slept.¡±


    ¡°Looks empty,¡± Michael said. ¡°The windows are broken.¡±


    ¡°This ce has been vandalized ten times over,¡± Antoine said. ¡°All right, fan out in groups of two. Don¡¯t be too brave. Make sure to call for backup if you see anything, and don¡¯t kill some random kids who decided to trespass.¡±


    ¡°Come on, boss, you take the fun out of everything,¡± one of the mercenaries grumbled.


    What was it with these guys and theirme jokes in the face of danger?


    Pairs of two meant only one thing¡ªthat Antoine was ready to go exploring with me. With any luck, we would find something good here.


    And we did have luck, thanks to L bringing <strong>Bad Luck Ma.</strong>


    That poor woman. She wanted so much to be forgiven for what she had done that she was willing to use that trope.


    I hoped nothing too bad would happen to her.


    Antoine looked at me and nodded his head for me to follow.


    Everyone scattered. Antoine and I walked around the camp, kicking over piles of leaves, both trying not to talk about the tension between us.


    We couldn¡¯t hold off forever.


    ¡°That cabin over there is the ce we first met,¡± Antoine said.


    It was an easy guess.


    We were close enough to see all the w marks on the doors and the things that had been stacked up in front of the windows. That had been the ce where my character had somehow survived an onught that killed my friends.


    The question was, how was I going to find answers about it without an NPC around to tell me everything or another convenient newspaper article? If we were going to get the information we needed, we would have to give Carousel¡ªand the audience¡ªwhat they needed.


    This tale has been uwfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°It¡¯s the ce where my life changed forever,¡± I said. ¡°You saved me. I¡¯ll always be grateful for that.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll always have Camp Dyer,¡± Antoine said with a smirk eyeing the perimeter, moving forward careful step after careful step.


    ¡°Oh God, don¡¯t say that,¡± I said,ughing. ¡°This isn¡¯t a romantic spot.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Antoine said, holding back augh.


    ¡°Never thought I would hear you say that,¡± I said. ¡°You rescued me, stole my heart, taught me the life of a hunter, and then abandoned me. This is the only sorry I get?¡±


    Antoine took a deep breath.


    ¡°I always told you it wasn¡¯t going to be forever,¡± he said. ¡°I can¡¯t risk getting too close to anyone.¡±


    His eyes grew distant. The audience would already know what was on his mind. His character''s brother, like his real brother, was dead. And like his real brother, he felt responsible.


    ¡°That is the final lesson you taught me,¡± I said. ¡°Always be the first one to leave. I was young, and you were everything.¡±


    ¡°Kimberly,¡± he said.


    I turned away, doing my best to force out tears so that I could hold them back to look tough.


    After a moment of me turning away and him staring after me longingly, I said, ¡°Do you remember that Italian ce where they yed poker in the basement? The one we went to when we were staking out the werewolf in the Pine Barrens?¡±


    I turned to look at him.


    ¡°Best pasta I ever had,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°What was it¡ªGino¡¯s?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t even think they were a real restaurant. I think they were just a cover for illegal gambling.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, that ce was mobbed up,¡± he said, ¡°a hundred percent.¡±


    Weughed and smiled at each other, but of course, theughter couldn¡¯tst.


    ¡°We¡¯ll always have Gino¡¯s,¡± I said. ¡°This ce belongs to the wolves.¡±


    That was it. No more fluttering eyshes. No more thin smiles. It was back to business.


    I walked up ahead toward the cabin, and he followed.


    We sorted through the wreckage On-Screen the entire time. Michael must not have had much luck because he hadn¡¯t stolen the audience¡¯s attention even once.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand it,¡± I said. ¡°If the werewolves wanted me, they could have busted this door down. Heck, they could have gone through the wall. This isn¡¯t a real log cabin¡ªthese boards are thinner than they look.¡±


    ¡°I was distracting them,¡± Antoine said. ¡°They didn¡¯t burst through because they smelled me in the wind, and they didn¡¯t want to get caught surprised.¡±


    That didn¡¯t sound right.


    As I looked at the door and my character¡¯s feeble attempts to support it by putting a bunk bed up against it, it just made no sense. Looking at the w marks on the door¡ªtheir ws went right through the press board like it was butter¡ªand yet, from what I understood, I had held out inside this cabin for 30 minutes before Antoine¡¯s character cleared the wolves.


    We kept searching, turning things over, looking for clues. That¡¯s how exploration went. Most of it didn¡¯t show up in the final cut, but tossing couch cushions and opening every drawer and closet was how you found important things.


    I was just about to give up when I looked out the window and saw a tree with a single set of w marks. They were old, probably from the date of my attack. Above the marks was a hole¡ªthe kind that a small animal might call home¡ªexcept this one was perfect and round. Below those w marks were carvings.


    At first, I didn¡¯t understand what the letters meant until I realized they were the initials of all the friends I lost. I had put those marks there¡ªor at least my character had, I had to assume, as the sole survivor.


    Now, we were on to something.


    I slowly walked out to the tree, trying to project uncertainty and hesitation¡ªnot because my character didn¡¯t know what was there, but because I was afraid to look inside the hole. It was a subtle performance.


    The inside of the hole was dark¡ªalmost too dark for real life. Still, I knew how storylines worked, and I knew there would be something important inside.


    Bravely, I reached into the darkness.


    Something scuffled against my hand. I let out a small scream as a bird flew out of the hole¡ªan owl, from what I could tell.


    Antoine, behind me, started tough.


    ¡°Let me help you out there,¡± he said.


    He unclipped a shlight from his belt and shined it inside the hole. There was a bird¡¯s nest in there, for sure, but there was something else, too¡ªa square bag. It was made of leather and had a zipper.


    I grabbed it and retrieved it from the hole.


    It was worse for wear, but it looked like nothing had gotten inside of it. I looked around and saw the nearest pic table.


    I set the bag down on the table and unzipped it. The first thing I found was an old Proid-style camera. The name <em>Thomas L</em> was written on the side in marker.


    Thomas was one of the victims of the attack. He was one of my friends.


    I gently moved my fingers over the camera as if remembering something, and sure enough, I could feel my character mourning someone. Not Thomas, but someone simr. That old, familiar pang in my heart was returning.


    I set the camera down and looked deeper into the bag, where I found arge stack of Proids.


    The pictures were of me and my character¡¯s friends. I had no idea how they had gotten my image. Carousel often imitated our voices or handwriting, but to see myself smiling back with my arms spread around strangers was off-putting.


    I couldn¡¯t hide it from my face, so I tried to make it look like I was having a difficult time reliving old memories.


    The pictures were innocent¡ªteenagers having fun. I even looked younger in the photos. Antoine watched over my shoulder as I shuffled through them.


    I flipped through the first couple, which were of me and my friends camping and hiking.


    I found a picture of Sarah and stopped.


    I could feel my character reacting to the photo, so I tried my best to mimic those feelings: confusion, longing, and dread. Emotions I felt with each and every picture. But when I looked at Sarah¡¯s, it was mostly confusion.


    ¡°Is that the one you saw, the one that is still alive?¡± Antoine asked.


    I nodded my head. ¡°She was a camp counselor back when we went here as preteens. After the camp closed down, she invited us out here when we were all adults. Well, we were 18, so we <em>thought</em> we were adults. But now it feels like we were still just kids.¡±


    He furrowed his brow.


    ¡°Whenever I find a victim of a werewolf, I always pepper their wounds with silver shavings to stop them from turning. I¡¯m not sure how your friend managed to shift anyway. I must have missed her.¡±


    ¡°You must have,¡± I said.


    But I kept flipping through the photos¡ªbecause we were still On-Screen, which told me there was more information in them.


    And then I figured out what it was.


    I flipped to a photo and saw that both Sarah and I were in it, although we were not standing next to each other.


    ¡°Does it look like she¡¯s staring at me?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Kind of,¡± Antoine said.


    I flipped through more photos until I found another one where she was in the photo with me. Yet again, while I was hanging from a low tree branch like a goofball, she was in the distance staring at me.


    Another picture: my arms were around Thomas. He had apparently stuck the camera on a timer or something. In the background, nearly out of the shot, was Sarah¡ªstaring at me.


    A shot of us in the abandoned cabins, partying. John¡¯s older brother had bought him beer for the trip.


    We were all posing for a picture, looking at the camera¡ªexcept for Sarah, who was looking at me.


    ¡°I never noticed this before,¡± I said.


    Antoine didn¡¯t know what to say. He just stared at me with his best, "Things are starting to get strange" look, and I could almost feel the tension in the moment.


    We didn¡¯t know what to say.


    ¡°Did you find anything?¡± a voice called out from back toward Camp Dyer.


    Suddenly, the tension was gone, and we looked over to see that the blonde mercenary had separated from his buddy and was watching us from a distance.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Antoine called back to him.


    He looked at me as I put the camera and pictures back inside the bag and grabbed it.


    It was time to go.


    We waited at the gates for all of the groups to return.


    ¡°Did anyone find any signs of squatting or anyone living here at all?¡± Antoine asked the group as soon as everyone had returned.


    Everyone shook their heads or answered, ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± Antoine said. ¡°We¡¯ve narrowed things down considerably. There are only a few more locations that we need to check.¡±


    Antoine could always see the bright side. It was one of my favorite things about him.


    We found the trail that would lead back toward Witherhold Manor and traveled down it for some time, both On- and Off-Screen. After we had walked for 30 minutes, we suddenly went On-Screen, and I heard all of the mercenaries stowing their weapons as best as possible.


    I tried to look around to see what had happened.


    There were no werewolves from what I could see, but up ahead was a line of six hikers in brightly colored clothing.


    ¡°Act normal, people,¡± Antoine said. Then, after a pause, he added, ¡°On second thought, act <em>better</em> than normal.¡±


    The guys snickered. Theyughed at all his jokes.


    We continued walking down the path as the hikers approached us. Everything should have gone just fine, though I noticed that they were staring at us with well-warranted concern.


    Except for one of them.


    He was grinning from ear to ear.


    When they got close, that guy¡ªa very tall hiker with a pointy chin¡ªsaid, ¡°You can never be too safe out here in the woods, huh?¡± Heughed like he had made a great joke.


    Seeing a bunch of heavily armed military men in the middle of a hiking trail <em>would</em> be pretty concerning, but this guy thought it was funny.


    The hiker behind him, a woman, tugged at his shirt as if begging him not to engage.


    The blonde mercenary decided to respond. He said, ¡°I don¡¯t know if we¡¯re overdressed or if you guys are underdressed.¡±


    Most of the hikers were very wary of us, but the tall, pointy-chinned oneughed and said, ¡°Well, maybe you guys are the underdressed ones.¡±


    ¡°I sure hope not,¡± the blonde mercenary said.


    I really needed to ask him what his name was. It was very strange to have an NPC who wasn¡¯t named be this vocal. He was just called Mercenary.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move ahead,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Pick up the pace.¡±


    We started walking forward, even faster than we had been, and the hikers looked relieved.


    The big, tall hiker, who was supposed to just be an NPC, didn¡¯t have much Moxie, just one point. He turned and watched us go, calling after us, ¡°Is there something you know that we don¡¯t?¡± with a grin.


    No one answered him.


    Often, I would get jealous of the tropes my teammates had. They could do some truly incredible things. Riley could know whatever tropes the bad guys had. Antoine could basically be superhuman. Dina could sneak around a storyline without ever being seen. Anna was guaranteed to be thest one to die.


    I was a social butterfly, and in a lot of storylines, you didn¡¯t really need a social butterfly.


    But in this storyline, I was d to have my tropes because one of them¡ª<strong>Social Awareness</strong>¡ªhad just given me a very important insight. It could tell me information about rtionships between different characters.


    Most of the time, you could figure that out by talking to people. I still liked to keep it for moments like this.


    Whenever the pointy-chinned hiker and the blonde-haired mercenary talked to each other, I learned something that sent chills down my spine.


    Those two knew each other.


    More than that, if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, those two men were best friends.

 Book Five, Chapter 77: A Nursery Rhyme

    Book Five, Chapter 77: A Nursery Rhyme


    Even with my life on the line, I couldn''t stay in that little room filled with books forever.


    I had to get out and stretch my legs. If there were some narrative thread that required me to be around, it almost certainly wouldn''t reach me if I was locked away behind a hidden bookcase.


    Truth be told, I wasn''t so certain that my character was innate to the story. I might not even really have my own subplots the way that Kimberly and Antoine certainly did. I had checked the little film canisters I had been given for clues and came up empty.


    That''s what it meant to be a Film Buff, though. I was a meta character, which meant that I was forever a side dish, never the entr¨¦e. But supposedly, in this story, anyone could be the main character.


    So, who knew?


    At the point that I finally found my way down the stairs into the basement to get another look at the caverns beneath the Manor¡ªin case they ever came into y¡ªI was confident that I was not going to be central.


    After all, most of the research I had done seemed to revolve around secret lore or otherwise hidden history, which was not going toe up unless we found the trigger. And in truth, even if we did, it might be better for us not to pull it.


    The only storyline we had done with secret lore had been butchered by it, and we really needed this storyline to go off without a hitch¡ªand to score high points.


    I made my way down to the dank caverns beneath the Manor with nothing but a Lantern and a small pea shooter I had picked up. There was really no use in me having a big gun when I didn¡¯t have a big Mettle stat to go with it.Sure, I could hit anything I aimed at because of my high Hustle, but the damage was going to be pretty simr no matter what gun I used.


    Carousel always had its tricks to make sure that you yed your role and lived with your choices, including your choice of where to apply your stat tickets.


    The smell hit me again before I could even see Logan and Avery in their cages. As I walked into the clearing where theyy in their cots behind iron bars, I realized that I was not the only person there.


    Egan Kirst himself sat in a chair next to a table in the room. He sat, and he stared at his son.


    We were Off-Screen.


    I wondered if he was just waiting for a yer to show up and run through a dialogue tree or something, or if perhaps he was here of his own volition, for his own purposes.


    He wouldn¡¯t tell me, even if I asked.


    Whatever the case, as soon as I made it a few steps into the room, I went On-Screen. So, we were going to have our conversation¡ªwhatever it may be¡ªin character.


    Truthfully, his character was a glorified plot device, so I didn¡¯t expect him to know a whole lot.


    He hadrgely served his purpose, and as far as I knew, the only thing left for him to do was buy stuff if we asked him to. We had already run through a list of things that we wanted¡ªthings like grenades with bits of silver in them, or at least the supplies to make them. We wanted tranquilizer darts and everything we might need to set up traps.


    His servant, the Butler¡ªwhose name I constantly forgot¡ªwas able to supply us with those things within a day¡ªmaybe less.


    ¡°I hope your research into the history of this manor has been fruitful,¡± Kirst said with a stern but mncholy tone.


    ¡°Surprisingly so,¡± I said. ¡°I think we may have rediscovered a powerful weapon against werewolves.¡±


    Kirst nodded but did not look excited. ¡°How long until it is operational?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re putting all of our resources into it right now,¡± I said. Then, on a whim, I asked, ¡°Have you, by any chance, heard of the term <em>rolling silver</em>?¡±


    Kirst thought for a moment and then shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I haven¡¯t.¡±


    Somewhere, dice had just rolled, and I came up short.


    ¡°Supposedly, it has a powerful impact on any werewolf nearby. There¡¯s a bit of anguage barrier between us and the author of the text I¡¯m reading, but once we ovee that, we should be able to have quite an effective weapon at our disposal.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Kirst said.


    The man was going through some depression. It was as if the performance he had put on for us had drained him, and now all that was left was for him to wait.


    ¡°In your research, did you learn anything about this Manor or the people that owned it?¡± I asked.


    He took a deep breath.


    ¡°The Withers family,¡± Kirst said, ¡°died out just over a hundred years ago. The house has been abandoned since until the town purchased it. I bought it directly from them. Supposedly, Witherhold Manor was gued by werewolves for many, many years, and it is the setting for all sorts of campfire tales.¡±


    His face was doing the acting. His heart wasn¡¯t in it.


    ¡°I¡¯m actually interested in one of those tales,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s an inscription on the fountain out front. It sounds like an epitaph for a child¡ªa young woman or girl. Can you tell me anything about that?¡±


    I was really pushing it. I didn¡¯t know how much footage Carousel had of the fountain out front or of me reading it, but I felt it only logical that I would have this knowledge after snooping around the ce long enough.


    Kirst must have sensed that I was pushing boundaries because he gave me a look that didn¡¯t belong to his character. A look that told me to be careful.


    ¡°Rumors only,¡± he said. ¡°The young ra Withers. A nursery rhyme. I barely remember it. I thought it was inconsequential, but it was in the information packet that I managed to acquire from various oral historians. I had no idea it might be useful. But then, I am dabbling in a field far out of my expertise.¡±


    ra Withers. Before Carousel, her name had been ra Woolsey. I understood why Carousel had swapped it out. The Woolsey Manor didn¡¯t have the same spooky vibes. Carousel had done the same thing to the Halles and probably the Geists.


    ¡°A nursery rhyme?¡± I asked. ¡°Do you happen to remember it or still have the information on you?¡±


    ¡°No need for that,¡± Kirst said. ¡°The poem is written on the back of the painting in the small dining room we ate in. You can go see it for yourself.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± I said.


    I kept my eyes on Logan and Avery, who were seemingly wasting away in their cages for reasons that hadn¡¯t been established in the lore. Newly transformed werewolves were often quite energetic and erratic.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°Are these two sedated?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Kirst said. ¡°Though most of the tunnels are copsed now, they were originally dug for the safety of the Withers family. They lined the walls with silver powder. Imagine that.¡±


    ¡°Of course they did,¡± I said. ¡°Werewolves are nose-blind to silver.¡±


    ¡°That is what I understand,¡± he said.


    It was strange. You would think it would be the other way around¡ªthat werewolves would be intimately aware of any silver nearby. But that wasn¡¯t the case when it came to their sense of smell.


    So he kept his kid and his kid¡¯s girlfriend down here to keep them safe from the wolves¡ªor to weaken them in case the worst scenario urred. Either way, Kirst was shaping up to be argely pragmatic man by some definition.


    Not long after we got to that point in the conversation, we went Off-Screen.


    I decided to do a quick walk around of the remaining tunnels. Kirst was right. Most of them had caved in, and those that didn¡¯t went in loops or led to dead ends or safe rooms.


    I did learn an important lesson. Always explore the tunnels.


    Actually, no. Most of the time, tunnels are dangerous. Never explore strange tunnels.


    Except when you are fairly certain you will be safe.


    When I was searching an empty stone room at the end of a long tunnel, I found something. I had gone On-Screen off and on long enough to establish I was snooping around. That told me there might be something down here.


    I had my gun out, ready to bop a werewolf, but I didn¡¯t find one.


    Instead, I found a ce where a wall was crumbling.


    On-Screen.


    ¡°Not just silver powder,¡± I said.


    Where the wall had fallen, several different items had been sealed in the wall. Silver tters, cups, and forks all closed up to keep the werewolves at bay. Talk about loot.


    Those trinkets weren¡¯t what concerned me.


    It was the item in the mess that had a trope attached that I cared about.


    I reached down into the pile of stone, mortar, and silver works and pulled out arge pure silver serving spoon.


    The trope was called ¡°Selective Sharpness,¡± and it had a remarkable effect. It prevented users from cutting themselves when wielding a ded weapon and helped them perceive sharp objects on the red wallpaper.


    And it was attached to arge, heavy spoon.


    I stared at it for too long and remembered I was On-Screen.


    ¡°What in the world?¡± I whispered to myself.


    I stared along the tunnels and saw that the walls were all lined with the same stone as the fallen wall. Had they covered the whole ce with silverware and goblets? Just to hide their scent?


    I smacked the spoon against my hand a few times to show its weight and possibly justify taking it out of the basement.


    After I rounded the first corner, I was Off-Screen.


    On my way back out, Kirst was still there, watching his son¡ªor at least watching Logan, who was pretending to be his son.


    Since we were Off-Screen, I decided to ask him a question just because it couldn¡¯t hurt.


    ¡°Are you meta-aware?¡± I asked.


    Dr. Halle had been, though I didn¡¯t know if he was able to talk to me because we were off-screen or because we were both officially dead in the storyline we met.


    Whatever the case, Kirst shot me a nce like he was not going to put up with my nonsense but otherwise didn¡¯t respond.


    I¡¯d say he was meta-aware. If he weren¡¯t, he would have responded in character.


    From my conversation with Kirst, I learned some important things. I learned that the ill-fated daughter of the n who built this Manor was indeed part of the story and not just part of secret lore.


    I hated that I had to untangle things like that.


    It was strange to think that before we discovered secret lore, the information that didn¡¯t show up On-Screen would have been dismissed as fictional filler. Now, we knew the truth, but that didn¡¯t do us much good until we could sort it out.


    My next stop was the dining room, where we had been tricked and gassed. That was where the painting of young ra Withers was. When I burst through the door, I was surprised to find that she had an admirer¡ªan admirer who just happened to look a lot like her.


    We were Off-Screen.


    I didn¡¯t even want to talk about the painting first; I had another pressing question.


    ¡°What did you find in the tree?¡± I asked as soon as I recognized her.


    She had the answer slung over her shoulder: it was a camera bag or something simr, old leather, worn.


    ¡°Is that it?¡± I asked before she had a chance to answer my first question.


    ¡°This is it,¡± she said. ¡°Wait, so you heard that entire conversation?¡±


    ¡°I heard the whole thing,¡± I said.


    It was my first time using <strong>Quiet on Set</strong>, and while the trope didn¡¯t work super well for anything that didn¡¯t involve my fellow yers, it provided very clear and easy-to-understand audio from when my teammates were On-Screen.


    She took the bag, set it on the table, and started opening it up. Inside was a camera and pictures.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought you guys were talking about,¡± I said. ¡°So this Sarah woman¡­ she was staring at you?¡±


    Kimberly took the pictures and showed them to me one at a time. This woman, Sarah, seemed to have an obsession with Kimberly, even back in her teenage years.


    At that moment, Kimberly looked like she was about to say something¡ªand I¡¯m sure she was¡ªbecause before she could, we went On-Screen. Carousel wanted to keep us on our toes.


    Kimberly was pretty good on her toes.


    I thumbed through the pictures and said, ¡°So, you¡¯re thinking that this woman might have been a werewolf already when you were attacked?¡±


    ¡°Am I overreacting?¡± she asked. ¡°Isn¡¯t it a huge coincidence that this person just happened to survive a werewolf attack? And in these pictures, she looks like she is very interested¡­ and not in a friendly way.¡±


    I thumbed through the pictures again. It was my job to push back on Kimberly¡¯s theory so that she could fight for it in front of the audience.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think maybe she has a crush. Did you think of that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Maybe... It''s just, I just have this feeling,¡± Kimberly said, ¡°that maybe there was a reason I survived. If she was a werewolf, maybe that¡¯s the reason. Maybe she didn¡¯t want me killed.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Kimberly. I know your story. You think I didn¡¯te across it in my research for my documentary? If a werewolf <em>was</em> interested in you romantically, the first thing she¡¯d want to do is kill you. She¡¯d eat your heart and liver and cross her ws that you woulde back to life and roam the wilderness forever with her.¡±


    ¡°I know how it sounds,¡± she said, ¡°but I can¡¯t think of any reason that they would have spared me.¡±


    There was a moment of silence as I pretended to perceive the desperation in Kimberly¡¯s voice, and Kimberly became withdrawn and thoughtful.


    ¡°Well, I can think of another reason,¡± I said, pointing to the painting on the wall. ¡°Have you noticed that you happen to be the spitting image of the ill-fated ra Withers?¡±


    She looked back at the painting.


    ¡°I did notice,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°How does that fit into this? Do you think the werewolf knew this woman, whoever she was? They do live a long time.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°My grandma always believed that people had lived lives before their current lives¡ªreincarnation, something like that. But then my grandma was also very suspicious of squirrels, so take that with a grain of salt.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t waste a scene where we were On-Screen, so I moved toward the painting and grabbed it. It wasrger than the original <em>Omen</em> had been, but it was still small enough for me to handle with one hand. I held it out in front of me and then looked from the painting to Kimberly and back to the painting.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe Grandma was on to something,¡± I said. ¡°Then again, all blondes do look a little alike.¡±


    ¡°Hush,¡± Kimberly said. She grabbed the painting from me. ¡°Look at this.¡±


    She turned the painting around and set it down on the table, picture side down. As promised, there was a cross-stitched piece of fabric attached to the back of the painting with a simple nursery rhyme on it.


    ¡°This is what I hade in here to check,¡± I said. ¡°Kirst said it was rted to the woman who lived here around the time that the werewolf legends started.¡±<blockquote>


    <strong>ra, ra, where¡¯d you go?</strong>


    <strong>Mother¡¯s cure was far too slow.</strong>


    <strong>Golden hair and silver bright,</strong>


    <strong>Now, a wolf that haunts the night.</strong>


    <strong>Howls at dusk, her eyes aglow,</strong>


    <strong>If she is lost, no one knows.</strong>


    <strong>Was the cure she got toote,</strong>


    <strong>Or was it meant to seal her fate?</strong></blockquote>


    Beneath the rhyme was another line:


    <em>"To my dear cousin ra, wherever you may be. May you find peace in the beyond¡ªif indeed you are truly gone."</em>


    <em>-Agatha Withers, May 1st, 1866</em>


    ~


    Kimberly and I stared at each other.


    ¡°Do you think ra may still be alive?¡± she asked. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what this rhyme is saying?¡±


    I shrugged my shoulders.


    ¡°It certainly would throw a wrench into my reincarnation theory,¡± I said.


    There was a pause as we stared at the nursery rhyme.


    Off-Screen.


    Finally. We hadn¡¯t had time to n anything out for that scene, and I had to be careful about what I said because I didn¡¯t want to reveal secret lore and mess up everything identally.


    Kimberly stared down at the nursery rhyme.


    ¡°1866,¡± she said. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a littlete?¡±


    ¡°It sure is,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s about 50 years after ra passed¡ªor disappeared, if you believe that.¡±


    ¡°Maybe they knew each other as girls, Agatha and ra,¡± Kimberly suggested.


    ¡°Or maybe Agatha wanted to make a quick buck by hyping the family legend. That would be about the time that the Withers family ran out of luck financially.¡±


    Kimberly thought for a moment. ¡°Haven¡¯t you and Andrew been researching the Manor? Do you know anything about ra or the legend?¡±


    I actuallyughed.


    ¡°Not only do I know the legend,¡± I said, ¡°I know some of what actually happened.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®what actually happened¡¯?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Secret lore, or maybe a hidden subplot, or something,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure this story has secret lore anyway. At the very least, there''s an underlying truth to be revealed. I don¡¯t know how to trigger the cutscene or whatever it is, but I¡¯m fairly certain I¡¯ve learned stuff about it.¡±


    ¡°So, what did actually happen?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly,¡± I said, ¡°but I do know a lot. Come with me. I¡¯ll show you the journal.¡±

 Book Five, Chapter 78: A Tentative Plan

    Somehow, we managed to squeeze all of us into that small hidden room behind the bookcase. We only had two chairs, so most everyone was left to cram amongst the stacks and hope there wasn¡¯t an avnche of books anytime soon.


    We had two items on the agenda. First, we needed to decide whether we were going to dig further into a possible hidden subplot dealing with the history of the werewolf curse even if we might identally hit secret lore and ruin the storyline. Second, we needed to get our n together for First Blood because it was upon us.


    ¡°So, in the story we¡¯re actually in, the woman in the painting is named ra Withers, and she died mysteriously,¡± Antoine said. ¡°Do we know how that affects the story?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± I replied. ¡°I don¡¯t think it has to affect this story at all. Every single bit of lore we¡¯ve uncovered about the history of the werewolf curse has been through sheer effort. Carousel doesn¡¯t seem to be pulling us in that direction. It is mostly concerned about us killing the pack leader.¡±


    For a moment, we were all silent, as if waiting for the books to start speaking to us.


    ¡°Well, we need some of it to get aplete story,¡± Andrew said. ¡°The question of the werewolf curse and its origins has been brought up to some extent, especially if it changes that the curse has gone through. It¡¯s at least been established that our werewolves here in Carousel are different than the werewolves around the world.¡±


    It felt like we¡¯d had this same conversation over and over, just with different arrangements of the words, as we all grasped it in our own time. As best we could tell, delving into the history of the curse was optional. And, of course, trying to pursue secret lore was <em>extra</em> optional.


    ¡°What does your guy say about the death of ra?¡± Kimberly asked me.


    She was very interested in ra Woolsey¡ªor, as Carousel had renamed her, ra Withers.¡°Amadeus Sing started hearing some legends about this daughter the family had some 10¨C15 years before he got there. From the legends, it sounded like she¡¯d been killed by a curse, and he tried to exin that to her mother and father. They got very upset and told him he was supposed to be studying the werewolf epidemic, not their daughter. He concludes¡ªat least at the point I¡¯ve read to so far in the journal¡ªthat ra got the werewolf curse, and her parents killed her for it. And he believes that¡¯s why the curse changed but good luck trying to understand his logic.¡±


    The journal I had been reading was a nightmare to pick through, but I found it engaging. Unfortunately, we were under a time constraint.


    ¡°All right,¡± Antoine said, standing up. ¡°At the end of the day, we¡¯re either going to pursue this, or we aren¡¯t. I¡¯ve got nothing on it as far as any of my background stuff goes. My character¡¯s father¡¯s journal doesn¡¯t have anything on it, from what I can tell, so if you want to pursue this older lore, I don¡¯t know if I can help.¡±


    Antoine¡¯s character had inherited his father¡¯s monster-hunting journal, which contained news articles and asional bits of lore about various beasts, including werewolves. He was taking his time going through it as we were having our discussion.


    ¡°I have to agree,¡± Andrew said. ¡°The background reports I have were entirely from a scientific point of view, which is increasingly bing less and less useful in this story.¡±


    ¡°Does anyone else have anything about the older lore or the werewolf curse?¡± Antoine asked.


    He looked around the room at each of us, even though it took a little bit of repositioning because L was under a table, and Michael had somehow wiggled his way in between tworge stacks of books and had basically disappeared behind them.


    ¡°L, anything?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± she said. ¡°Nothing I¡¯ve tried has worked. Nobody would talk to me. The script is almost nk. I don¡¯t know anything.¡±


    <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong> seemed to have a much more profound effect on gamey than we had ever realized. Perhaps it was just because she was a Wallflower, but every attempt she had made to learn anything using Savvy or Moxie failed. Any attempted exploration she had tried failed.


    I could see that she was upset about it. She really wanted to be able to help.


    From what I could tell, in a way, she had helped. The rest of us had so much luck with exploration that we were digging up secret lore by ident. <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong> was a powerful trope.


    We understood these werewolves very well. We were on fire.


    ¡°How about you, Michael?¡± Antoine asked. ¡°Anything?¡±


    Michael didn¡¯t say anything at first but then said, ¡°Nothing.¡±


    I thought that was weird. If anyone was going to have good lore about the history of Witherhold Manor, it should be Michael¡¯s character, whose family had lived in the area for multiple generations.


    ¡°See?¡± Antoine said. ¡°I just don¡¯t think we have a lot to go off here. We have to focus on the fight that ising. Even if we miss a few points for not getting the secret of the curse, that¡¯s all right. Survival is too important.¡±


    ¡°I have an idea,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°I can use <strong>Convenient Backstory</strong> to say that I¡¯m having visions or maybe I had a dream about ra. That should steer the story, right?¡±


    Kimberly was adamant. She was on a quest for answers more than usual.


    Antoine looked at her, and she looked him right back in the eye, and they had an unspoken conversation. Then he turned to me.


    ¡°Do you think that¡¯ll work?¡± he asked.


    I shrugged my shoulders. ¡°In a normal story, I would say to go for it. We know that this is a supernatural story. We know that psychic power works here. And we know that there is a strange link between Kimberly and this old dead chick.¡±


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Is this a normal story?¡± Antoine asked.


    I wasn¡¯t sure.


    ¡°There¡¯s clearly secret lore going on here, and we don¡¯t know how that will affect things. It seems that every time we dig for the truth of the storyline, we dig a little too far and end up with more than we asked for. I¡¯m having a tough time sorting through the information in this old guy¡¯s journal because half of it isn¡¯t canon to the storyline¡ªit¡¯s canon to the reality of where this story is from. If we pursue the lore, we may end up triggering secret lore, and that¡¯s great, except that could make things way harder.¡±


    I wanted to trigger secret lore. We needed to, for some reason that had yet to be revealed, but we didn¡¯t know enough about it to know what would be safe.


    Antoine nodded. ¡°So maybe we shoulde back, do the base storyline, and then get the secret lore,¡± he suggested.


    I threw up my hands. I didn¡¯t know.


    "It''s a novel problem," Andrew said. "I don''t know exactly what you experienced when you triggered secret lore before, but I know that if we identally reveal secret lore On-Screen, we''ll be sent Off-Screen, and that could have immense consequences at the wrong moment."


    He had a point. If I didn¡¯t sessfully sort out what was true and what was secretly true, we could end up ruining the story, and that could have all kinds of consequences.


    "I think I speak for the rest of us when I say we should just steer clear of digging into the lore on this one," Antoine said, looking at Kimberly.


    Kimberly did not look pleased.


    "What if more of the story reveals that I am the reincarnation of ra? Or maybe a distant rtive? Do we pull that thread then?" she asked.


    I was starting to wonder if I should have mentioned the possibility of secret lore or hidden subplots.


    The trope of a main character being a reincarnated historical figure is an old and predictable one. Kimberly looked too much like the woman in the painting for it all to mean nothing.


    "The fact is," I said, "our win condition is beating the clock. We have to kill the pack leader before thest full moon of the cycle. If we had a different win condition, maybe the backstory would be more important."


    "Agreed," Antoine said.


    I didn¡¯t know why he was on this side of things, but I had to suspect it was because his character had nothing to do with this side plot, and he didn¡¯t want to emphasize a part of the story that he couldn¡¯t help with. But I was just guessing.


    Maybe he liked the rity of a simple game of <em>kill the werewolf.</em> I couldn¡¯t know.


    "Well, that leads us to our next problem," I said. "First Blood ising up, and we need to be ready."


    It took us a while to actually change over to that topic, as no matter what logic told us, we really wanted to get to the bottom of the werewolf curse lore. I certainly did, even if I knew the risks.


    And Kimberly never backed down. It was like she took it personally that we were suggesting we might have to abandon that subplot for the sake of survival.


    She was fighting for it, but ultimately, what mattered was whether or not the story moved in that direction. We could not force it beyond mere research and improvisation¡ªor at least we shouldn¡¯t try. Not when we had a very clear objective in front of us.


    "Riley, you got a look at the tropes. What do you know about their first attack?" Antoine asked.


    I thought back to the various rules and abilities that the werewolves in this story had, ording to what I had seen on Logan when he transformed.


    "The first attack is going to be an individual. They won¡¯t attack us all at once until Second Blood. To kill a werewolf, you have to make its death special, so a long-distance shot probably isn¡¯t going to do it. It¡¯s not personal or climactic enough. You¡¯ll probably have to put yourself in danger."


    The wolves could not die mundane deaths. Even if the lore said they were deathly allergic to silver, the meta said you could only kill them at the zenith of battle¡ªwhatever that meant. My interpretation was that they had to have a special death that had to be set up and executed.


    "They¡¯ve also got that annoying trope from <em>Ranger Danger,</em>" I said. "<strong>Everyone Is a Suspect.</strong>"


    "Great," Antoine said. "I thought you had said that. I was hoping I misheard you."


    "What trope are we referring to?" Andrew asked.


    I couldn¡¯t see him from where I was sitting, so I just spoke aloud to the room. "You guys yed <em>Ranger Danger,</em> right?"


    "Yes," Andrew said. "<em>Delta Epsilon Delta</em> was one of our first storylines."


    It seemed that was a pretty typical starter storyline around Camp Dyer.


    "Do you remember the part, around the time the murder happened in that storyline, where everyone got separated, and no one saw where any of the suspects were?"


    There was a moment of silence, and then Andrew said, "Oh, that. Yes, I was called away to help someone with an injury. I was a medical student in that storyline."


    "Exactly," I said. "In this story, it¡¯ll be even worse, though, because in this story, there¡¯s a chance that one of us actually will be the killer. I mean, if we turn into a werewolf."


    "What are the implications of this?" Andrew asked.


    "I¡¯ve been thinking about this," I said. "The way I see it, tonight¡ªand it will almost certainly be tonight because of where the plot cycle is¡ªeveryone in this room is either going to be a victim or a suspect. So don¡¯t fight against it. During First Blood, make sure that you¡¯re away from the others¡ªhiding, running, whatever. But don¡¯t go too far because we need to regroup right after First Blood."


    After First Blood, anyone could die. Well, most likely, it would be me because of my low effective plot armor, but the point remained. After First Blood ended, Rebirth started, and while deaths were not guaranteed during Rebirth, they were possible.


    "Except me," L said. "I¡¯ll definitely be a victim."


    She didn¡¯t sound like she felt sorry for herself. She was just correcting me, and she was certainly right.


    Most of us had been in that situation before, knowing our death was toe. That was part of the game. <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong> made her the first target. Always.


    "I¡¯ll be right after you," I said. "Most likely."


    "This is all a shame," Andrew said. "I was hoping that some of us could hole up inside this room tonight. Perhaps we would get lucky, and Sanctuary would set up a bit early."


    "I thought about that too," I said. "But if everyone ends up being a suspect or a victim, that means if two of us ended up in here, one of us would end up dead. Or else we would get forced out somehow. You can stay here, though. If it¡¯s just you, you should be safe."


    "Unless I¡¯m the werewolf," Andrew said.


    Iughed.


    "That¡¯s true," I said. "Though if Kimberly¡¯s right, it sounds like the blonde mercenary might be the werewolf."


    That would be a little too easy.


    "So, do we kill him?" Michael said¡ªthe first real sentence he had spoken in a while.


    "No," Antoine answered. "He¡¯s gotta be our suspect. We¡¯re supposed to draw out the mystery aspect, so we can¡¯t acknowledge we know he¡¯s a werewolf On-Screen."


    That was the hard part. We could devise a way of detecting a werewolf in our midst, but if we did that, the mystery would be solved too soon, and what would we fill up the rest of the movie with? Carnage?


    "We have to pretend to suspect each other then," Andrew said. "That could be difficult."


    That was an eptable n, but personally, I wasn¡¯t sure how much Carousel would go along with our n to cast suspicion in every direction, hoping to draw out the murder mystery aspect of the story.


    At first, I thought that¡¯s what we were going to do. The As even suggested it. But the more I got a feel for this story, the more I began to question whether Carousel would go for such a subplot.


    "Let¡¯s just be cautious about using each other," I said. "Earlier, when we discussed things On-Screen, we decided that that little pinprick of werewolf saliva wasn¡¯t enough to transform us this quickly. If that¡¯s the case, Carousel may not want our characters using each other at first."


    "Why not?" Antoine asked.


    I tried to find a way to phrase it delicately.


    "It¡¯ll make us seem stupid," I said. "The lore says it takes a while to transform unless you are gutted in a werewolf attack. Maybe once the full moon hits, we can use each other, but we can¡¯t be overly paranoid too quickly."


    "So we y it by ear," Antoine said.


    "We y it by ear," I agreed.


    The problem with that, of course, was that Carousel could y it by ear, too.

 Book Five, Chapter 79: There has been a murder!

    What did it mean to "not resist" the trope <strong>Everyone Is a Suspect</strong>?


    I knew what Riley meant when he said it. He meant we shouldn¡¯t stay in groups because if you¡¯re with someone, neither of you can be suspects because you can vouch for each other, and then Carousel would have to do something to split you up.


    But how were we actually supposed to do that? Was I seriously supposed to wander off on my own, knowing full well there were werewolves in the forest?


    At least in <em>Ranger Danger</em>, we were just clueless college kids who wouldn¡¯t have realized something bad was about to happen. But in <em>this</em> story, we were supposed to be seasoned werewolf hunters. How could we ever get so separated that there¡¯d be no witnesses to our innocence?


    It turned out to be easier than I had thought.


    We trickled out of the mini-library one or two at a time because it would look more natural that way.


    As we walked back toward the stone walls of the fort, I saw Hetty Morgan, the silversmith, heading our way. She was carrying arge, heavy bag and clearly struggling with it.


    <strong>On-Screen</strong>


    ¡°Miss,¡± she called out. ¡°Miss Kimberly, could you please help me with this?¡±I didn¡¯t hesitate. I jumped forward and grabbed one of the bag¡¯s handles to help her out.


    ¡°I just need help getting it to my cabin on the other side of the valley. It¡¯s a ten-minute walk, no more.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be d to help,¡± Antoine offered, always eager to lend a hand.


    ¡°Wedies have it,¡± Hetty said, waving him off. ¡°Now go back over there with your guns and your army men, young fe.¡±


    Hetty <em>really</em> didn¡¯t like the mercenaries.


    And just like that, I was separated from the group. It was nearly dark, the moon already up and hidden behind some clouds¡ªalmost full.


    Hetty and I walked one way, and the rest of the team stayed back at the fort.


    As we walked, Hetty stared straight ahead, focused and quiet. If we hadn¡¯t been On-Screen, I¡¯d have expected her to stay like that.


    Maybe I was supposed to fill the silence, so I started to form a question about ra Withers and the werewolf curse. But before I could say anything, Hetty spoke first.


    ¡°You got something weighing on you, girl?¡± she asked. No, she wasn¡¯t asking¡ªshe was <em>telling</em> me.


    ¡°A lot of things, actually,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°I heard what Mr. Kirst did to you folks. I feel awful sorry about it. If I¡¯d known that was what he was up to, I would never have helped him,¡± she said.


    Carousel wanted us to react to the betrayal. Getting injected with werewolf saliva should¡¯ve been a traumatic moment, but we all just sort of shrugged it off. Maybe we took it a little too well. ??


    ¡°You get into this business; you expect to get bitten one day,¡± I said. ¡°Werewolf hunters don¡¯t live long.¡±


    I took my free hand and brushed my hair out of my eyes, aiming for something dramatic. My hair blew just right in the breeze. I tried to put on a brave face, but at the same time, I had to act worried, preupied.


    ¡°Sometimes they live forever,¡± Hetty said, cracking a sly smile I could barely see in the dim light. ¡°They get bit.¡±


    Iughed softly.


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s true,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe if I <em>do</em> end up a werewolf, at least I¡¯ll get answers.¡±


    ¡°I knew you were a woman with questions,¡± Hetty said. ¡°You ain¡¯t the first woman with questions toe to Witherhold Manor.¡±


    I stopped walking, gripping the bag tightly. Hetty kept going a few steps before she realized I wasn¡¯t moving.


    ¡°Did they look like me?¡± I asked.


    Hetty turned back, giving me a curious smile.


    ¡°There¡¯s a painting of a young woman in the house,¡± I said. ¡°She looks a lot like me. And I¡¯m starting to think the reason I¡¯m alive is because somehow all of this involves me. Do you know anything?¡±


    Hettyughed, the sound soft but knowing.


    ¡°I only know the story,¡± she said. ¡°Come on, we gotta get in before dark.¡±


    Antoine and Riley had been worried about digging too deeply into the lore of this story. Antoine¡¯s Rescue Trope might not reward the search for deeper truths, and the risk of uncovering secret lore that could derail the storyline was too big.


    But if Carousel was offering me a lead¡­ I wasn¡¯t going to let it slip away.


    Andrew was going to stay in the stacks. I pushed the bookcase closed as I left him there. He said he was going to stay up researching.


    ¡°Remember to keep an eye on your statuses,¡± I said. ¡°Being locked in a room with all these candles can¡¯t be too healthy on your oxygen intake.¡±


    It was also a fire hazard.


    ¡°Yes, but as long as I survive until Rebirth, I¡¯ll be fine because this room will be a Sanctuary, and I won¡¯t be able to die here,¡± he said.


    That was technically true. Maybe he just didn¡¯t want to walk all the way to the fort to find a gasntern. Heck, they might have even had electric.


    shlight tech was pretty advanced in 1986, right? In this storyline, it almost felt like we were pre-electric.


    I was headed down into the tunnels underneath the manor. I had wrangled up a cot and a sleeping bag, and I was going to find the furthest room from the cages filled with werewolves that I could find, close myself in, and spend the night.


    I would upy myself by digging into the walls, searching for silver or anything else that might be hidden there.


    I had it all pictured out: I was going to use myrge silver spoon to budge the stone out of its mortar while whispering to myself, <em>What were you hiding down here?</em> in hopes that Carousel would hear me and decide to give me a gift or a lead.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I had noticed something odd about the property. There was no graveyard. Nowhere to bury the dead. Witherhold Manor, as it was now called, was a picturesque location for a spooky cemetery, so the fact that there wasn¡¯t one was quite strange.


    So where did they put the dead people?


    The catbs underneath the manor were my obvious pick. So, when we all decided where we were going to stay during First Blood, that was my choice.


    I had asked about the young woman, ra Withers. I had researched her, and now I was following a lead¡ªor maybe a hunch¡ªand Carousel didn¡¯t seem to be getting in my way. I felt like if I could just dig in and get a handhold on this historical subplot, I could help Kimberly make a nice proper story for her character. There may have been secret lore involved in this story, but a lot of it was just good old-fashioned lore that we were supposed to uncover for the audience.


    As I was carrying my supplies into the manor to bring down to the basement level, I heard a helicopter in the sky.


    Egan Kirst was leaving for the night.


    That was good news and bad news. The bad news was that he wasn¡¯t going to get killed as a scripted First Blood, which could have been very useful to us. Extending L¡¯s <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong> would have been great.


    The good news was that we could take him out of the equation for a while.


    Now, all I had to do was make my way down into the catbs, past the caged werewolves, and into the safety of the tunnels beyond, searching for dead bodies.


    I brought my camera with me¡ªthe one that was in the back of my car. The lighting wasn¡¯t good enough to really use it down in the tunnels, but it was a great prop and allowed me to talk out loud without sounding like a crazy person.


    I had a full night ahead of me. If I found nothing, that would be okay. If I found the resting ce of a tragic young woman, well, at least Kimberly would be happy.


    That ce would likely have to have some clues about the origin of the werewolf curse.


    I took watch again. Sleeping during the day worked fine for me, especially now that I¡¯d botched my subplot.


    I should¡¯ve known better. I had never seen a subplot disappear that fast.


    I was supposed to go find my grandmother¡¯s house and hear her stories about werewolves and Witherhold Manor. I waited too long, figuring I had time until Rebirth to make the trip. I was wrong.


    Now, I couldn¡¯t even tell Andrew. Couldn¡¯t look him in the eye.


    One minute, I had a clear map in my head, pinpointing her house out in the woods. The next, when I chose to head to the abandoned summer camp instead, it vanished. Just gone.


    I¡¯d let it go too long. That part of the story was erased. Now, there¡¯s just a nk spot where the answers used to be.


    What stories would she have told? How to kill werewolves? The truth about Witherhold Manor? Guess I¡¯ll never know.


    Researching wasn¡¯t my strong suit anyway. I got my levels inbat¡ªfighting monsters, not learning about them. Sometimes bare-knuckle, if it came to it.


    That¡¯s how this would y out too. I¡¯d take down a wolf, put on a show, make it count. People would say I did well, maybe even saved the day.


    It¡¯d make up for the rest.


    Riley and Andrew had the library. They didn¡¯t need some old family story. Tonight, the wolves woulde out, and I was going to get one.


    Whatever it took, there¡¯d be a body on the ground by morning. A monster, gone.


    The stone walls had a narrow walkway on top, and my Hustle kept me steady as I patrolled. Up there, with the moonlight cutting through the dark, I could see everything.


    I moved along the maze of walls, quiet as a shadow.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted L. Her character didn¡¯t bunk at the fort¡ªshe stayed in town.


    Riley had spun a whole scenario for her. She¡¯d leave the fort as the sun dropped, dragging a big, overstuffed bag full of supplies. Sewing needles, provisions, a weapon or two. Whatever seemed usible, but definitely more than she should carry.


    The bag would rip. She¡¯d scramble to fix it, picking up her things while the light faded, the dark closed in, and the moon rose.


    How did Riley know that¡¯d work? No clue.


    He said it¡¯s the kind of thing that works in movies. Said the audience wouldn¡¯t care if her character got killed doing something dumb, as long as she wasn¡¯t ying a smart character to begin with.


    L was going to y dumb, staying out in the dark to pick up a few knickknacks. She wasn¡¯t dumb, though. She was usually pretty smart. That''s what burns me up about the whole betrayal.


    When the werewolf attacked¡ªand it <em>would</em> attack. Thanks to her trope <strong>Dying Last Scream</strong>¡ªshe¡¯d scream, go Off-Screen, and her character would die in the script. But L herself? She¡¯d survive.


    That¡¯s when I¡¯d move. I¡¯d find the wolf, track it, and kill it.


    That was my role. Just doing the job.


    I kept my eyes on L, watching her shuffle On-Screen and Off-Screen. She hurried when visible and slowed down when not. She was following the n.


    And Riley was right.


    Carousel loved it.


    The wind shifted, and I knew the monster wasing. I pretended not to notice, but my body was ready. I just had to wait for L¡¯s scream¡ªthen I¡¯d move.


    After L¡¯s betrayal, I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever forgive her. Maybe I still won¡¯t. But watching her now, setting herself up like bait to help bring back Logan and Avery¡ªeven though she was terrified¡ªit meant something.


    Even though she wouldn¡¯t really die, sitting there defenseless, knowing she¡¯d be attacked, that was the bravest thing anyone could do.


    Everyone said that L ended up as a Wallflower instead of a Hysteric because she was so afraid of being On-Screen that she could never be a proper Hysteric.


    I didn¡¯t think that was true.


    I thought L couldn¡¯t be a Hysteric because, even though she doesn¡¯t like being watched by the audience, she wasn¡¯t afraid of dying.


    I¡¯d seen her once in the Astralist¡¯sir, tied to a chair, about to lose her soul. On-Screen, she screamed and begged. Off-Screen, though? She looked the ghost straight in the eye and said, ¡°You going to pull the lever or not?¡±


    That ghost grinned, and so did I.


    L wasn¡¯t scared of death. She feared the things she couldn¡¯t control¡ªforces that bent life and death for their own amusement.


    Maybe that was the better thing to fear.


    The plot cycle ticked forward. The party phase was gone. Somewhere, a small death approached.


    This truck is not in the forest, so I must not be in the forest.


    This manor is not in the forest, so I must not be in the forest.


    This fort is not in the forest, so I must not be in the forest.


    These soldiers are not in the forest, so I must not be in the forest.


    Kimberly is not in the forest, so I must not be in the forest.


    L is not in the forest, so I must not be in the forest.


    L... Dead.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± I asked.


    Ly on the ground, many gathered around her. Michael held her unmoving body.


    That didn¡¯t make sense. There wasn¡¯t supposed to be a body. She was supposed to get the <em>Dead</em> status and then be able to walk around Off-Screen. That was what made her trope so powerful.


    There was no blood.


    There were no w marks.


    Last night, there had not been a scream. I was on patrol.


    Where was my gun?


    I patted myself up and down. My clothes were fine. My gun was missing. The big one I carried. I still had one in my boot and another strapped to my belt, but my big rifle was gone.


    I had gone into the woods on patrol. I should not have done that. But it was my turn. Everyone was counting on me.


    I must have zoned out and let the monster in. Now Ly there, dead.


    ¡°Move out of the way,¡± Andrew said as he rushed forward to check on L.


    ¡°Is she a wolf?¡± the captain asked. ¡°It looks like her wounds have all healed.¡±


    Andrew examined her body, looking her over up and down. He looked up at me, then over at the captain, and then at Kimberly.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± Andrew said. ¡°She wasn¡¯t bitten or scratched, that I can tell, and she certainly hasn¡¯t healed. Her clothes are intact.¡±


    He stuck his fingers near her neck. Was he checking her pulse? No.


    ¡°Contusions around the neck. It looks like she was strangled,¡± he said.


    Strangled. Why would a werewolf strangle someone and not leave another scratch?


    We all reacted with confusion On-Screen for a while, and then we went Off-Screen.


    Michael was there. He said he saw the whole thing. He said the werewolf didn¡¯t even try to bite her; it just crushed her throat, and he chased it off. Couldn¡¯t get a hit on it.


    Riley showed up just after that. He had dirt under his fingernails. Dirt all over his skin and clothes. What had he been doing all night?


    We caught him up to speed.


    ¡°I was listening for a scream, but I never heard one,¡± he said. ¡°What happened?¡±


    He had been using his <strong>Quiet On Set</strong> trope to try to listen to First Blood.


    After we had exined everything, he got this look on his face like he had just figured something out.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Why would a werewolf strangle someone?¡± he asked.


    We didn¡¯t have an answer, so we waited for him to answer his own question.


    ¡°Because it knew that it couldn¡¯t let her scream,¡± he said.


    At first, I didn¡¯t understand what he was getting at, and then I realized. There were suspects¡ªpeople¡ªwho knew they couldn¡¯t let her scream.


    Because if she screamed, they would go Off-Screen and wouldn¡¯t be able to attack her anymore. It¡¯s what her trope did. The Dead status was powerful on a living yer.


    So whoever killed her, whatever killed her, knew about her trope.


    And who knew about her trope?


    All of us. Her teammates.


    We really were all suspects. Huh.

 Book Five, Chapter 80: A Werewolf Kiss

    ¡°Strangled,¡± Hawk said, as if he were talking to himself and not to the rest of us. He had his hat off and was pacing back and forth, working through the information.


    "Don''t see that a lot with werewolves," Antoine said. ¡°I¡¯ve <em>never</em> seen that with werewolves, in fact.¡±


    We were On-Screen, so we had to give our characters'' reactions to L¡¯s demise.


    It didn¡¯t make a lot of sense for a werewolf to strangle a woman. In fact, the only reason I coulde up with waspletely meta: someone wanted to stop her from screaming. Because if she screamed, she would get the Dead status and couldn¡¯t be attacked. That was the power of her trope.


    I had one simr, <strong>Cutaway Death</strong>, but with that trope, I could still be killed because I only got Written-Off. Whatever wolf killed her must have wanted her dead¡ªor at the very least didn¡¯t want her to be able to report on what she saw.


    But that didn¡¯t make sense either because there was another witness.


    Allegedly.


    ¡°Are you sure that it was a werewolf?¡± I asked Michael. ¡°What you saw kill her¡ªit was a definitely a wolf? How far away were you?¡±


    Michael had been standing still, his face unmoving as stone.¡°It was a werewolf,¡± he said. ¡°I was on the far wall when it happened. The only thing that was out of the ordinary¡ª¡± he started to say, but then he paused.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Hawk asked, moving toward him.


    ¡°The arms,¡± Michael said. ¡°The arms were too short.¡±


    Hawk pointed at Michael as if he¡¯d just found his answer. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± he said. ¡°It wasn¡¯t finished with its transformation. So, we¡¯re talking about an immature wolf, possibly a brand new one.¡±


    We all exchanged looks.


    ¡°I had the understanding that immature wolves were the most dangerous and least controble,¡± Andrew said. ¡°A bloodless kill seems out of character.¡±


    Hawk shook his head. ¡°If we¡¯re talking about a wolf that hadn¡¯tpleted its transformation, it was probably still more human than wolf. Which means that when she saw it, she may have recognized who it was.¡±


    More exchanging looks. We hadn¡¯t rehearsed this. It was our real reaction.


    ¡°Are you saying it killed her to hide its identity?¡± Kimberly asked. She was sitting near Antoine but still keeping some distance.


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Hawk said.


    ¡°It was hiding its shame,¡± Antoine interjected. ¡°Newly turned werewolves are ashamed of themselves. That¡¯s why they run away from home and usually don¡¯t seek help.¡±


    Hawk nodded. ¡°I think she recognized who it was, and they were going through such an emotionally turbulent moment during their transformation that they just strangled her because they didn¡¯t want to be seen that way.¡± R£Á


    There was a moment of silence among us.


    ¡°So it is one of us,¡± I said.


    Antoine looked up at me and asked, ¡°Does that surprise you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°We shouldn''t be transforming so soon, and, frankly, I didn¡¯t believe we were actually injected with werewolf saliva to begin with.¡±


    I had to bring this thought forward. It was a fun plot device, sure, but I couldn¡¯t just let go of how¡­ dumb of an idea it seemed at first blush. I needed to dig further and see if there was more to it.


    ¡°You thought he was bluffing?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°Kirst? You thought he was just trying to motivate us?¡±


    I threw up my hands. ¡°At the time, it¡¯s what made the most sense. Gathering experts to hunt werewolves and then turning them into werewolves seems counterproductive.¡±


    ¡°So he¡¯s just an idiot,¡± Michael said. ¡°He didn¡¯t think it through.¡±


    I looked around at the group, one at a time. We were still On-Screen, so there was more to be said.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d call Kirst a lot of names, but idiot is not one of them. He¡¯s not stupid.¡±


    ¡°Could have fooled me,¡± Michael said.


    I looked at Hawk. ¡°What is a reason you would intentionally infect someone with the werewolf curse? How does that get him closer to his objectives?¡±


    Hawk looked me in the eye and said, ¡°Couldn¡¯t say.¡±


    Except I thought he was lying¡ªnot because of my Moxie or my people skills, but because I felt he was hiding his thoughts for the benefit of the audience, as if he wanted them to know he was hiding something.


    After a poignant moment of silence, we went Off-Screen.


    We were still in the courtyard of the fort where L had fallen. There was a sheet covering her now, and it didn¡¯t take long for mercenaries to show up to carry away her body. They were acting as NPCs, cleaning up the scene and getting ready for the next one.


    Shame was our On-Screen reason for her getting killed in such a peculiar manner¡ªwe needed one. I didn¡¯t know what the audience had seen, and I didn¡¯t know if Michael was telling the truth, but we were working with what we had.


    ¡°All right, everyone, where were you during the murder?¡± Antoine asked.


    It was a topic that couldn¡¯t be avoided. We had to figure out who the werewolf was¡ªif it was any of us¡ªso that our characters could properly figure it out.


    ¡°I was in the tunnels under the manor,¡± I said quickly because I wanted to exin why I was covered in dirt. ¡°I found something big down there. We¡¯re going to have to do a scene with it. Like I said earlier, I was listening when the murder happened. I never heard a scream. Now I know why. I might have heard a struggle, but maybe I was imagining it.¡±


    This tale has been uwfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Your <strong>Quiet On Set</strong> trope only works for things that are On-Screen, right?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I answered.


    ¡°Maybe the murder wasn¡¯t On-Screen,¡± she said. ¡°That would exin why you didn¡¯t hear it.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said. ¡°But I have a hard time believing Carousel wouldn¡¯t capture that on film. I doubt it will show the audience who the killer is right as it¡¯s happening, butter, it will want to.¡±


    ¡°It was On-Screen,¡± Michael confirmed.


    That was that.


    ¡°What exactly did you find down there?¡± Antoine asked.


    I exined my theory that the Withers family might be buried underneath the manor because there was no cemetery on the property.


    ¡°Did you find one?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°I did,¡± I said. ¡°I found ra¡¯s tomb. I didn¡¯t disturb anything, but I opened it enough to know that there¡¯s nothing in there.¡±


    ¡°Nothing in the tomb?¡± Kimberly asked. ¡°Do you mean, like, the coffin itself is empty? There¡¯s no body?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no body,¡± I said. ¡°No ne either.¡±


    Kimberly seemed really excited to hear that news.


    ¡°That sounds like a really big deal,¡± she said. ¡°Were you On-Screen or Off-Screen when it happened?¡±


    ¡°Off-Screen from the moment I broke into the room,¡± I said. ¡°It couldn¡¯t have gotten more than a few seconds of footage of me looking into the crypt with my light.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s canon?¡± she asked.


    ¡°The crypt is,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s only one real way to find out.¡±


    Antoine seemed cold to the idea of looking through the tunnels. Maybe he just didn¡¯t want to explore that subplot¡ªI couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he said. ¡°Michael was at the scene of the crime. I was in the woods on patrol. Andrew, you were inside the library, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°Can¡¯t really verify that, but I¡¯ll have to take your word for now. Kimberly, where were you at the time of the murder?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°I was at Hetty Morgan¡¯s cottage. She was telling me about the legend of ra Withers. It was mostly stuff we knew.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Antoine said. ¡°How about you, Hawk? Are you going to talk to us?¡±


    Now that we were Off-Screen, Hawk was silent as a mouse. Hawk just looked at him. It wasn¡¯t an angry look. In fact, I could tell there was the smallest part of a smirk on his lips.


    Still not helping us Off-Screen. At least, he wasn¡¯t going to help us out of character. He would still act as an NPC.


    Antoine was trying to think for a moment, and then he asked me, ¡°Who do you need for your scene in the tunnels?¡±


    ¡°Me, definitely. Kimberly, defnitely. Andrew, if only to help y into the whole science-versus-magic sh. Maybe Hawk. He¡¯s a monster hunter, so he might be useful down there, if only for exposition.¡±


    Antoine nodded.


    Then, as if to reinforce that he would only act as an NPC, Hawk finally spoke up, careful to speak in character.


    ¡°I have business up here,¡± he said, staring directly at Antoine. ¡°Take the werewolf-killing wunderkind. You might need an¡­ extra gun down there.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more help up here,¡± Antoine said, hesitant.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be a quick scene,¡± I interjected. ¡°Open up the coffin, gasp a little, cough because of the dust. We¡¯ll be in and out.¡±


    Antoine didn¡¯t speak for a moment, but then he said, ¡°All right, but make it quick. We¡¯ve got to regroup, coordinate an offensive.¡±


    His mind seemed to drift elsewhere.


    And so, we departed. Michael and Hawk went to work on whatever project they were working on, and the rest of us headed down into the tunnels.


    As we walked, Kimberly told her story from the night before.


    ¡°A hole in the ground full of rowdy men is no ce for ady to sleep,¡± Hetty said, handing me a stack of nkets and a pillow.


    I had already denied her offer to sleep on her couch three times, but as I grabbed the nkets from her arms, I knew there was no denying her any longer. She wasn¡¯t being polite. She was telling me.


    ¡°Thank you, Hetty,¡± I said. ¡°You really don¡¯t have to let me stay here.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but I do,¡± she said. ¡°Usdies gotta stick together. Now, let me go get changed, and then we can have a chat.¡±


    ¡°I look forward to it,¡± I said.


    What I really wanted was to borrow her shower, but I didn¡¯t say it. If I ever started to look too grungy, NPCs would starting out of the woodwork to offer me a ce to freshen up¡ªeven if it made no sense.


    Women in films were held to a higher standard. As Adeline used to say, you can fight monsters while covered in blood, but you can never have greasy hair.


    It didn¡¯t take long for Hetty to return, this time in a nightgown with her hair let down from the bun she usually kept it in.


    While I was waiting for her, I let my eyes wander around the cabin. I noticed the old d¨¦cor. Hetty must have been in her 60s, but even then, she was too young to have some of the knickknacks I saw around her cottage. She was either a collector or an inheritor.


    I noticed that all the windows had their shutters down. It was nearly the full moon, so it was probably the right decision. I also noticed a humble silver letter opener on the table next to the front door, right next to a shotgun. It was funny to see it among all the frills and patterned china.


    It felt like I was sitting in Little Red Riding Hood¡¯s grandma¡¯s house¡ªafter the wolf incident.


    <strong>On-Screen</strong>


    When she came back, she sat in arge rocking chair while I sat on the couch, where I hadid out the nkets. She stared at me.


    ¡°Girl, they all look like you,¡± she said. ¡°Like I was saying, they all find their way back here, and they don¡¯t stay for long.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying there were other women that are drawn to Witherhold Manor?¡±


    ¡°Every couple decades,¡± Hetty said.


    I tried to conceal my excitement¡ªor maybe channel it into nervousness.


    ¡°ra Withers¡ªthe young woman in the painting up at the Manor¡ªit¡¯s all about her, right?¡± I asked. ¡°Can you tell me her story? Her real story?¡±


    Hetty smiled. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I wasn¡¯t around for the real story,¡± she said. ¡°But I know the rumors. I heard the nursery rhyme growing up.¡±


    The nursery rhyme had been embroidered on a piece of fabric and then stuck on the back of the painting of ra Withers.


    ¡°What did you hear growing up?¡± I asked.


    ¡°ra Withers was a sickly young woman. Always holed up in the manor by her mama and daddy. Never allowed toe y with the children of the town or to flirt with the workers at the quarry. Did you know there was a quarry?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°It¡¯s been shut down for a long time,¡± I said.


    ¡°Longer than I¡¯ve been alive,¡± Hetty confirmed. ¡°See, the rumor was that she and her family were gone on some vacation overseas to the Far East or the deep jungle. No one knew. While she was there, she contracted a terrible curse¡ªa gue to her. In those days, it happened.¡±


    ¡°In these days, it still does,¡± I said.


    ¡°On asion, but not like back then. Back then, your baby might get cursed or sick with a disease that mankind doesn¡¯t understand. And unless you could find some sort of medicine man or magical cure, that child was as good as dead.¡±


    Her eyes drifted back into the past.


    ¡°Well, the werewolf curse isn¡¯t deadly¡ªat least, not to the person who has it,¡± I said. ¡°What happened to ra?¡±


    ¡°Well, you see, her parents were rich, so she wasn¡¯t some sick little poor girl. No, her parents spent every dime they had trying to make her better. Even brought in magical men and sorcerers from all over, just trying to remove her curse. They say even old Mrs. Withers tried her hand at magic to save her daughter. They say that¡¯s why Witherhold Manor is a touch gloomier than the rest of eastern Carousel. Maybe Mrs. Withers went too far.¡±


    She stopped talking, waiting for me to understand what she was saying.


    ¡°She killed her daughter,¡± I said.


    ¡°Just rumors,¡± Hetty answered. ¡°For years, that youngdy wore a silver ne that was supposed to draw out the curse. They say it did such a good job that when her mama went to perform some dark magic on her, it ended up killing her because there wasn¡¯t enough wolf left in her to take the hit. Don¡¯t know it¡¯s true. That¡¯s what they say.¡±


    I furrowed my brow, tilted my head, and said, ¡°The nursery rhyme makes it sound like ra is still out there¡ªlike she¡¯s a wolf running around.¡±


    ¡°A lot of confusion out there. That¡¯s the she-wolf, you see. Because ra Withers had a lover. What they didn¡¯t know back then was that the werewolf curse could be passed with a kiss, not just a bite.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying that the wolf we¡¯re after right now is the same one that was turned by ra Withers herself?¡±


    ¡°Just rumors¡ªall packed together, all swirled around. But I told you, that she-wolf is looking for love. And there¡¯s a reason she ain¡¯t found it yet.¡±


    I took a moment to soak it all in.


    <strong>Off-Screen</strong>


    I continued my conversation with Hetty, but it never went anywhere.


    A few times we went back On-Screen, but there wasn¡¯t much more to be learned. A lot of what she said was familiar, but this was the first time we got it all in one ce,id out for us On-Screen.


    At the very least, it was the first time I had gotten much of this information. It was my subplot, after all, so I was the one who needed it. Riley had found bits and scraps, and Carousel would choose which one of us would be the one to receive the information in the final cut.


    I had a feeling it would be me.

 Book Five, Chapter 81: The Tomb

    "That''s a slightly less scandalous version than what I read in the journal," I said after listening to Kimberly''s story about ra Withers.


    When I had read about it, it was a hush-hush murder situation. But the way Kimberly''s story went, it was almost a tragedy of parents willing to do anything to help their daughter¡ªanything other than letting her be a werewolf.


    "Unfortunately, this does nothing to resolve the question of why the werewolf curse seems to have changed in thest 200 years or so," Andrew said.


    I shrugged. "That part might get cut," I said.


    Andrew nodded.


    We were Off-Screen until we got to the stairs, right after Antoine said, "I''ll stand guard out here. If you need help, scream."


    "You''re noting?" Kimberly asked.


    Antoine thought for a moment and then said, "Look, guys, I just need a break. I was in the woods all night, and I''m not sure I can be at 100% On-Screen."


    "Do we need to use your nightmare trope?" Kimberly asked. "We have time."Antoine shook his head. "I just need a breather."


    Kimberly acted all concerned and hugged Antoine. Andrew looked wary, like for the first time he might have been second-guessing advocating for Antoine.


    Personally, I didn¡¯t mind. At least he was finally being open about it. Usually, I was thest one to find out when he was having trouble.


    "We''ll be down there. Just gotta walk around in circles for a while, and then I''ll show them around the crypt," I said. "No big deal."


    "Thanks, Riley," he said, brandishing his gun like he was on guard. "I''ll make sure nothinges down after you."


    For some reason, I didn¡¯t feel any safer. Maybe I was more worried about whether Carousel was going to keep the tunnels empty like they had been the night before.


    After a few steps down the stairs into the basement, we were On-Screen.


    "What exactly did you see?" Kimberly asked, not missing a beat.


    "I swear it was some sort of crypt," I said.


    "A crypt?" Kimberly repeated. "Like a ce where ra Withers might have found her final resting ce?"


    "There''s only one way to find out," I said.


    We had picked up shlights andmps from the fort. We had much better lighting than I¡¯d had the night before. As I had told Antoine, I mostly spent time leading Kimberly and Andrew around in circles just to make sure Carousel got as much footage as it needed.


    The crypt wasn¡¯t too awfully far away. In fact, it was a little too conveniently close.


    Once I knew the family had been digging down there and had my little connection about there being no cemetery, my high Savvy helped beef up my exploration where my low plot armor would have let me down. It also didn¡¯t hurt that L had been alive back then, and her <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong> gave me a nudge in the right direction¡ªor so I assumed.


    Eventually, I led them directly to the hole I had crawled through into the crypt.


    "Have you been inside yet?" Andrew asked.


    "Of course, I haven¡¯t," I lied. "I¡¯m not going in there alone."


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    "It¡¯s not the dead we need to worry about here," he said.


    "Right," I said. "It¡¯s the werewolves. One of which is lying inside a tomb in there."


    Of course, I had been in there before and knew that ra Withers'' tomb was empty.


    Kimberly was the first inside, followed by me and Andrew.


    Kimberly was very anxious to see what was going to happen. I just wanted to know where the story was going once our characters discovered that the coffin ra had been buried in¡ªallegedly¡ªwas empty.


    We took some time to get familiar with the area. The crypt looked like something you might have found in your average cemetery, but it had a very low ceiling and everything carved out of the stone of the earth we were standing in. There were dozens of individual cubbyholes where different members of the Withers family¡¯s coffins were held in eternity.


    Some of the members had special areas¡ªindividual tombs that were a lot like the fancy cemetery houses in New Orleans. What were those things called? Mausoleums.


    Except, of course, they were underground and covered in cobwebs. Somehow, the spiders had survived down here where nothing else had. I was half expecting a pit of snakes to be next.


    "Ebenezer Withers," Andrew read off one of the inscriptions.


    "I read about him," I said. "He was a real miser."


    Andrew looked like he would say something, but he didn''t get the chance.


    "ra," Kimberly announced, interrupting us. "Here she is."


    She had found her way right to her, right where I said she would be. It was almost as if she had a magical connection¡ªor at least, that¡¯s what it would look like to the audience.


    The three of us crowded around the tomb built for ra, shining a light up into the little cranny of the mausoleum where she was kept.


    "They really loved her," Kimberly said. "Look at her resting ce. It¡¯s beautiful."


    It really was. This wasn¡¯t carved out of the same stone that everything else was. This was marble, and if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, it had silver iy that made an intricate, beautiful pattern.


    "So what now?" I asked.


    "We look for clues," Kimberly said. "There must be something here."


    "All right," I said, "but we gottae back here and set this ce up with proper lighting so I can get a good shot of this. I wasted a whole reel of filmst night just trying to capture something."


    Kimberly looked around the cramped mausoleum. Andrew and I helped. In the center was the giant b that served as the lid to her coffin. Around her were little nooks carved into the stone where things like a ivorybs and a teddy bear could be found.


    "These are all¡­ hers," Kimberly said, reaching out for the teddy bear but stopping right before she touched it. She looked almost scared. I didn''t know what she was going for there.


    She was putting on a show, staring at these belongings.


    "I hate to be the one to say it, but from my perspective, there¡¯s only one way to find out if ra is running around as a giant werewolf every night," I said.


    "You¡¯re not serious," Andrew responded.


    "Unfortunately, I often am," I said.


    There was a moment of silence as Kimberly continued to look at the various items of ra¡¯s that had been left around¡ªa pair of shoes, a neatly folded dress that was deteriorated to the point of being threads.


    "Let¡¯s open it," Kimberly said. "We need to see."


    So Andrew and I stood at the head and foot, respectively, as Kimberly got on one side, and we all heaved with all our might.


    Suddenly, the lid was very hard to move. The night before, it hadn¡¯t been easy, but I was able to open it up enough to look inside. Andrew was looking at me like, <em>How did you open thisst night if we can barely move it right now?</em> But he couldn¡¯t say anything because we were On-Screen.


    I started to wonder if maybe we should have brought Antoine down to get some proper Mettle. But finally, the b budged, and once we got momentum, we were able to move it all the way to the side.


    d to be done with it, I took my shlight and shined it inside the coffin.


    And then I jumped back. I barely suppressed a scream.


    Because while this tomb had been empty the night before, what I was looking at now was the desated corpse of a young woman with long blonde hair.


    I was breathing heavy, and I couldn¡¯t help but smile at how Carousel had yed the switcheroo.


    "I guess she isn¡¯t running around as a werewolf at night, huh?" I said.


    The others didn¡¯t answer. Their eyes were fixated on the silver ne thaty against her mummified torso. It was beautiful in a dark way.


    Andrew started to reach for the ne.


    "Don¡¯t do that," I said. "Haven¡¯t you ever seen a mummy movie?"


    He looked at me like I was a crazy person.


    "I¡¯m serious," I said.


    Then I looked back down at the ne and reached my hand out¡ªnot to grab it, but as if I was feeling something in the air, as if it was letting off some sort of aura.


    It may well have been letting off an aura¡ªI had no idea. But when you¡¯re canonically psychic, you gotta give the audience a show.


    "More of your grandmother¡¯s gift, I assume," Andrew said mockingly.


    "Just don¡¯t touch it," I said, acting freaked out. "There¡¯s something¡­ dark¡­ here."


    "A dead 19-year-old is pretty dark," Andrew said. But even though he was mocking me, he didn¡¯t reach for the ne again.


    Kimberly was absolutely enchanted by the ne, but I assumed that was just an act.


    For a moment, we were On-Screen without saying anything, just as Kimberly stared at the deceased young woman.


    And then we went Off-Screen.

 Book Five, Chapter 82: Rolling Silver

    On-Screen


    ¡°And you¡¯re telling me for certain that I cannot touch the body?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch the body. Don¡¯t touch the ne. Don¡¯t touch anything,¡± I said, trying to sound panicked. ¡°Not with your hands at least.¡±


    He rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re not going to get much of an autopsy done, are we?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Just look at her. Can¡¯t you tell anything just by looking at her?¡± I asked.


    Andrew nced down at what remained of ra Withers. We were back On-Screen almost immediately after we left it because he was technically examining a dead body, which activated his <strong>The</strong><strong>b</strong><em></em>trope.


    In many ways, it felt like a misfire because he didn¡¯t actually have time to examine her properly. My insistence on forbidding him from touching her or her ne certainly didn''t help. The whole thing seemed off, yet we were On-Screen, and we had to y our parts.


    Still, he was careful. Using a probe he carried in his pocket, he moved around her hair and clothes, examining them as best he could. He was unimpeachably methodical.¡°She doesn¡¯t appear to have been killed by physical trauma. In fact, I would have to conclude that she was fully intact when she wasid to rest. I confess I¡¯m not certain what procedures were done to decedents in those days. She certainly wasn¡¯t embalmed.¡±


    ¡°She was killed by a curse!¡± Kimberly said, pacing back and forth. ¡°I told you that.¡±


    ¡°That is a rumor,¡± Andrew replied. "We have no idea what they might have meant by ''curse'' in those days."


    ¡°A curse, as in magic,¡± I said. ¡°If she wasn¡¯t killed by a silver bullet, the only way she could be dead is¡­ is with magic, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the only conclusion possible,¡± Andrew said sarcastically. ¡°Alternatively, she could have died of a disease. She could have been suffocated or starved. In those days, the real curse was dehydration due to dysentery. I simply have no way of knowing, given her advanced state of decay and the limitations you¡¯ve ced on me.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything else?¡± Kimberly asked Andrew.


    He shook his head. ¡°It would seem the secrets of her demise died with her,¡± he said.


    After a little more back-and-forth, we went Off-Screen. I wasn¡¯t sure how much of that Carousel was going to use, but it was good to have established that she did not appear to have died from a silver bullet, though I wasn¡¯t sure how we would use it yet.


    We left the crypt and returned to the fort. As we climbed the stairs into the manor house, Antoine was waiting for us.


    ¡°Did you get what you were looking for?¡± he asked.


    ¡°We got a lot,¡± Kimberly said, and then she went on to exin everything that had happened.


    At that point, we were pretty much splitting up. Kimberly had to pursue her subplot further, and Antoine needed to work with the mercenaries. Andrew and I, however, were still together, trying to figure out what <em>rolling silver</em> was.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯ve been thinking about it,¡± I said as we walked across the overgrownwn on our way to the fort. ¡°It could be rolling silver because it¡¯s really hot¡ªyou know, like a rolling boil.¡±


    ¡°Boiling silver,¡± Andrew repeated. ¡°Silver¡¯s boiling point is more than twice as hot as its melting point. Are we certain that, in those days, your journaler¡¯s assistant would have casually been boiling silver?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said, ¡°but I know who to talk to about it.¡±


    Carousel must have liked my idea because as we entered the fort courtyard and started walking toward the silversmith¡¯s hovel, we went On-Screen. It was midday by then.


    The NPC, Hetty Morgan, didn¡¯t look us in the eye as we arrived. I think the only person she had actually talked to for more than ten seconds was Kimberly.


    After waiting for her to notice us, she finally said, ¡°What do you want?¡± She did look busy¡ªshe was making spikes of some kind, like caltrops, out of silver.


    ¡°How difficult is it to boil silver?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You mean boil, or do you mean melt it?¡± she asked, not stopping her work. ¡°Those are two different things.¡±


    ¡°Actually boiling it¡ªnot just melting it. Up to the boiling point.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t do that here. Don¡¯t have the fuel, don¡¯t have the right rig, don¡¯t have any good reason.¡±


    Well, that was pretty definitive. I wasn¡¯t sure if that was just Hetty¡¯s personality or if it was us getting the proverbial door mmed in our faces regarding <em>rolling silver</em>.


    I turned to Andrew. ¡°Well, if it takes a huge rig to be able to boil silver, I¡¯m going to assume that¡¯s not what rolling silver is.¡±


    He scratched his neck.


    ¡°Perhaps we dismissed mercury too soon,¡± he said.


    We turned to walk away, but before we could, Hetty called out to us. ¡°I don¡¯t know about boiling silver, but if you want rolling silver, that¡¯s a different thing.¡±


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    We looked at each other, then back at her.


    ¡°You know what rolling silver is?¡± I asked. Obviously, we had to ask the silversmith eventually, but we had to wait until we had set up the question. I had no doubt that if we¡¯d asked her initially, she might not have known.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said. ¡°Every cksmith, prospector, doomsday prepper, and even the asional pyromaniac knows about that.¡±


    We were getting somewhere.


    ¡°Can you show us?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Sure, I have all the time in the world,¡± she said. She stopped what she was doing, grabbed a handful of silverware from a bin near her workspace, and picked up what looked to me like a rough frying pan with a long handle, though I knew that couldn¡¯t be what it was.


    She pulled up a rig that was essentially a blowtorch connected to a propane tank.


    ¡°Stand back,¡± she said.


    She dropped the handful of silverware into the pan, set the torch in a metal rig at an angle, and turned the fuel all the way up. She lit the torch with a small clicking device and adjusted the angle of the me until it hit the silverware in the pan. Then, with thick gloves, she grabbed the handle of the pan and began to move the pan around slowly.


    ¡°This old silver here is filled with impurities,¡± she said. ¡°All you gotta do is melt it down. Get it nice and hot.¡±


    It didn¡¯t take long at all. The silverware started to melt, congealing into one glowing mass of metal. Then after it was way hotter than it needed to be for making silver bullets, all at once, I finally saw it¡ª<em>rolling silver</em>.


    The silver formed into one glob, perfectly round like a ball, and as she moved the pan, it rolled around, hissing and spitting, leaving behind a crust of g.


    ¡°You see that?¡± she asked. ¡°That is what the old timers used to call rolling silver. It''s a handy way of getting the junk out.¡±


    I looked at Andrew.


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°Silver is a noble metal. It oxidizes at an incredibly high temperature, so if you heat it enough, many impurities react with the air and form g while the silver itself stays molten.¡±


    I watched as the impurities were pulled right out of the rolling molten ball.


    ¡°She¡¯s purifying it,¡± I said.


    The more she worked the silver, the more g was left behind, until eventually all that remained was a small, round bulb of silver. She turned off the blowtorch and set the pan in front of us so we could see.


    ¡°There are better ways of doing it if you need a lot of pure silver,¡± she said, ¡°but it¡¯ll get the job done.¡±


    Andrew and I exchanged amazed nces.


    Normal werewolf hunters would not have needed to heat silver that hot, and they certainly didn¡¯t need to purify it, not merely to kill a werewolf. No wonder this was not modern knowledge.


    ¡°This is great. Now we just need to get the werewolves to stand real still while we fry up some silver,¡± I said.


    Andrew nodded with a smile.


    With that, we went Off-Screen.


    ¡°We need to continue our experiments,¡± Andrew said. ¡°We need to establish that this is the rolling silver referred to in the journal and understand the effects it has.¡±


    ¡°We could easily bring this rig down into the basement,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Experimenting on Logan and Avery?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°You got a better idea?¡± I asked.


    He didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Will this kill them?¡± Kirst asked as we moved around the table, setting up our experiment near the cages of Logan and Avery.


    We were back On-Screen.


    ¡°None of our research indicates it will,¡± Andrew said, ¡°but you should know it will be very unpleasant if it¡¯s sessful.¡±


    Kirst looked at Logan in his cage. Logany on his cot, looking pitiful. More than any time before, Kirst looked like a father worried about his son.


    ¡°Do it,¡± Kirst said. ¡°Get results. We are running out of time.¡±


    That was true within the world of the story. In the meta, we had time¡ªplenty of it. We were nearly halfway through the rebirth phase. No mandatory deaths tonight, thank goodness.


    We couldn¡¯t convince Hetty Morgan toe down to the basement with the werewolves, but I had persuaded her to take therge silver serving spoon with a trope attached I had found. She promised to turn it into a de for me.


    That was a bonus.


    Luckily, once you¡¯d seen it done, rolling silver was easy to replicate¡ªassuming you had the proper equipment and a super-high Savvy.


    Andrew had a high Savvy, and he also had a trope that boosted his Hustle when he was doing meticulous little things like this. He looked almost as adept at rolling silver as Hetty had.


    ¡°Let me say for the record,¡± Andrew said, ¡°I really wish we were in an area with better venttion.¡±


    That was really something he wanted his character to have said? I guess I could understand it. He was ying a man of science.


    The change wasing. Logan and Avery could feel it¡ªthe full moon.


    Andrew looked over at me and nodded. We were both wearing safety goggles andrge gloves, making Hetty Morgan look really toughpared to us.


    I quickly opened the gas valve on the propane tank, and Andrew lit the fumes with a striker. Logan and Avery hadn¡¯t begun to change yet, but it was clear they could any moment.


    As soon as the silver got red hot¡ªas hot as the blow torch could get it¡ªAndrew began shaking it around in the pan, allowing impurities to slough off¡ªoh boy, did Logan and Avery feel it.


    It started with obvious difort. Then, as I suspect internal changes were taking ce, that is when the pain started.


    It sounded like they were being murdered like their skin was being pulled off with tweezers. They tried to growl, but it wasn¡¯t the deep, guttural growl of a monster. It sounded like a person in terrible pain.


    When Andrew shook the pan under the heat, the wolves reacted sharply. When he pulled it away and stopped agitating it, they stopped.


    He did this several times to confirm.


    They shook and frothed on the ground, but they didn¡¯t die.


    This went on for nearly four minutes, with both of them showing pure agony.


    ¡°That¡¯s it. Shut it off,¡± Kirst said. He couldn¡¯t take it anymore. ¡°You know what you need to know.¡±


    I immediately shut off the gas, and Andrew set down the pan of silver.


    Logan and Avery didn¡¯t begin to transform immediately. Instead, theyy at the bottom of their cells, unconscious. The sun wasn¡¯t all the way down yet¡ªjust enough to get a reaction out of them.


    ¡°I¡¯d say that¡¯s confirmed,¡± I said.


    ¡°Do you have the journal with you?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°I¡¯d like topare our results to those of your journaler.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°The journal¡¯s upstairs in the library. I can go grab it.¡±


    ¡°I really need to understand what reaction is urring here. Is it the heated silver itself that is causing this?¡± Andrew started to say, but he mostly mumbled to himself.


    I turned and found the stairs. As I left, I stayed On-Screen.


    As I emerged from the basement, thest light of day was waning, and the first full moon of the cycle was taking dominion over the skies. I walked quickly up out of the basement, into the main house, toward the stairs that would take me up to the library.


    ¡°Any luck?¡± a voice called from the entrance of the manor. It was Antoine leaning against a wood beam.


    ¡°It¡¯s looking great,¡± I said.


    ¡°I¡¯m d to hear it. Should you be wandering around by yourself right now? It¡¯s almost night. Do you even have a gun?¡±


    I looked at him for a moment.


    ¡°Of course I do,¡± I said. ¡°Never leave home without it.¡± I patted my belt where the holster for my little pea shooter was.


    ¡°Would you like an escort?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather you fight the wolves than me if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking,¡± I said.


    Antoineughed. ¡°Yeah, I figured.¡±


    ¡°Well,e on,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going upstairs. I can¡¯t wait to show you what we¡¯ve been doing down in the basement. The effects of this weapon are crazy.¡±


    ¡°It was called rolling silver, right?¡± Antoine asked.


    ¡°Yep,¡± I said. ¡°Once we figured out what it was, it turned out it was the Holy Grail.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I would like to see it,¡± Antoine said.


    ¡°First, I gotta go upstairs,¡± I said, and then I started legging it up the stairs to the second floor, all the while still On-Screen.


    Antoine followed.

 Book Five, Chapter 83: Always in the Forest

    Riley was up the stairs so quickly. He was getting away. I had to book it if I wanted to catch up. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, he was already all the way down the hall.


    He didn¡¯t look back, but he called out, "It¡¯ll just be a second. I have to grab some books."


    He was standing in front of arge bookcase, quickly pushing it to the side to reveal the doorway to the library. Had I been there before? <em>I couldn¡¯t remember.</em>


    I couldn¡¯t run.


    <em>Just walk slowly. One foot in front of the other. Just walk slowly. Why was he taking so long? He shoulde back this way any moment. He''ll be back soon, right?</em>


    I watched him as he stood next to a table inside the little library, stacking book on top of book until the pile was sorge he could barely see over it.


    He lifted it up. I could barely believe it¡ªthose noodle arms managing to carry all of those books?


    "Let me take some of those for you," I said, <em>stay calm. Make your voice even.</em><em>You¡¯re perfectly ordinary. You¡¯re perfectly ordinary.</em>


    <em>There are no books in the forest. So, you¡¯re not in the forest,</em> I told myself.


    Riley turned toward me and started walking out of the little library. I could barely suppress a smile.


    "No, I''ve got this. I need your hands free to hold the gun, remember?" Riley said.


    I swayed my head to the side, then back, trying to find his eye line.


    <em>Look at me.</em>


    "Oh! Don¡¯t want to forget to close this," he said, turning around in a little swirl while bncing those books. He <em>did</em> have Hustle, didn¡¯t he?


    <em>Look at me.</em>


    "I got it," he said, struggling to put one pinky against the side of the bookshelf to push it closed. "We don¡¯t want any of the mercenaries finding the books. Can¡¯t have them learning to read."


    Iughed at his joke¡ªtoo loud, too off. He was going to suspect me.


    <em>Look at me, you little thing.</em>


    "There we go," he said.


    I was almost to him. My teeth itched.


    He was turning, walking toward me. My smile spread wide. <em>Wider, wider, wider.</em>


    <em>Riley is not in the forest. So, you are not in the forest.</em>


    He was almost to me. <em>Just look at me, you little piece of meat.</em>


    But I couldn¡¯t see his eyes. The stack of books in his arms was too high. His head was on the wrong side, watching the ground. If I didn¡¯t do something, he was going to pass me.


    I needed to get him to look at me. <em>Why was he not looking at me?</em>


    "Hey, Riley," I started to say, but before I could even get the words halfway out, he was talking¡ªlouder, talking over me.


    "We are on the edge of doing something incredible here! We¡¯re not just talking about killing werewolves, or hurting werewolves, or hunting werewolves, we¡¯re talking about a cure. As silver is purified, it seems to... I don''t know... zap the wolves of their strength and power. I don''t know how else to describe it. What if this could prevent someone from sumbing to the curse in the first ce? If they never transform¡ªif the curse vector never has a chance to propagate throughout the body¡ªcould you imagine? Think of all the victims who don¡¯t have to be victims!"


    I was supposed to respond. I had to.


    "My brother," I said, though I didn¡¯t know where it came from.


    "Exactly!" Riley eximed, nearly skipping down the hallway, passing right by me without so much as a nce. "We¡¯re talking about a world with no more werewolf victims. We couldpletely eradicate this disease¡ªor curse, rather. And I am going to have it all on film for the world to know what happened."


    He was walking away. I had to stop him.


    I was going to lunge, but I couldn¡¯t. I could feel something stopping me, something controlling me. I could practically feel the strings attached to my nervous system, to my muscles, even crawling inside of my brain like worms.


    <em>Look at me,</em> a voice inside my head screamed.


    But he didn¡¯t look at me. He would soon, though.


    I huffed, and I puffed, ready to roar and steal his attention away, and then¡ªBAM.


    There was a loud noise. <em>What just happened?</em>


    A book fell off the top of his stack,nding on the ground with a smack that knocked me out of my senses.


    "Oh, damn," Riley said. "Can you grab that for me? I¡¯d really appreciate it."


    His nose was buried in another book, a smaller one. He was walking, reading, and carrying arge stack all at once.


    I looked down at the book he dropped.


    It wasn¡¯t just a book. There was something spilling out of it. Pictures. Proids.


    <em>Kimberly.</em>


    They were pictures of Kimberly. I needed to protect her. Someone was after her, right? Someone was obsessed with her. The other girl in the photo.


    <em>Kimberly.</em>


    I looked down at them and started to reach out. As I saw my hand, it wasn¡¯t my hand anymore.


    It was covered in hair, and the nails were long and sharp. My arm was so long I could nearly reach the ground while standing. All I had to do was lean over.


    <em>But where was my prey?</em>


    I looked down the hallway. Riley was nowhere to be found.


    <em>Riley. I couldn¡¯t kill Riley.</em>


    <em>He has to protect Kimberly because I can¡¯t anymore.</em>


    I looked around, back the way we hade, then in every direction until I saw a boarded-up window at the end of the hallway.


    <em>Go. Find. Kill.</em>


    The voice in my head was so simple, so pure. It was the only thing I had to do in the world.


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    I was about to run downstairs after him, but then a memory came. <em>Rolling silver.</em> That¡¯s where he was going¡ªinto the basement where they had a weapon.


    That was it. I couldn¡¯t go near the rolling silver. <em>What could I do?</em>


    I could jump out the window.


    I didn¡¯t know how to walk with my huge arms, but they knew all on their own. As soon as I started moving forward, my nails dug into the wood. I ran as fast as I could. When I came to the stairway, I pushed through it, and instead of turning, I continued running until I got to the window. Boarded up to protect people inside from things like me.


    With all my might, I jumped through the window, crashing through the ancient ss and boards, and fell onto the ground below.


    Freedom tastes like wind and moonlight.


    When I hit the ground, I didn¡¯t hesitate.


    The body that was once Antoine''s rolled and sprang up under my control, ws digging into the soft dirt, propelling me forward before I¡¯d even drawn my first full breath of the night. The wind screamed past my ears, a song as wild as the thrum in my chest. The moon hung high, silver and full, whispering its eternal promise.


    It filled me, fed me. It was mine, and I belonged to it.


    I ran because I <em>could.</em>


    The meat inside me screamed. The man¡ªhe squirmed, wriggling like a fish on a hook. His voice flitted through my head like an annoying bird. <em>The woods! The woods! Hide there! It¡¯s all you deserve!</em>


    Oh, I would go in the woods when I wanted to.


    The woods were nothing but dark and quiet. The wind, the scent trails, the promise of prey¡ªthey were out here. I had the world at my feet, and I wouldn¡¯t waste it hiding like a coward. I let my tongue loll out, tasting the air.


    Dirt, damp leaves, and then... <em>her.</em>


    She was there, her scent wrapping around me like silk. Sweet. Familiar. Fragile. My ws dug deeper into the ground as I followed it, bounding faster, harder. She was near.


    <em>Kimberly,</em> the man said inside me, his voice weak and desperate. <em>Not prey!</em>


    Not prey? Of course she isn¡¯t prey. She is my love. The scent of her was fire and heat, lighting every nerve in my body. Her heartbeat called to me, and I wanted to sink my teeth into it. Not to destroy¡ªno, not entirely¡ªbut to im, to know she was mine, that I was hers. My muscles tightened with the thought, and I surged forward.


    The gravel under my paws bit back, sharp and unkind, but I loved it. Pain was life. It meant I was alive. I snarled at the lights ahead, where the scent led. Closer. She was so close.


    The man screamed louder now, wing at me from inside, his thoughts like gnats in my ears. <em>Turn! Turn to the trees! Go back where you belong! Don¡¯t hurt her!</em>


    The trees would be mine soon. The fields were mine now. I could run fast and forever in the fields.


    I growled, shaking my head to shut him up. His fear, his weak little urges¡ªthey didn¡¯t matter. I was strong. I was <em>free.</em> The moon sang louder now, urging me forward. <em>Find her.</em>


    And then, pain. White-hot and blinding.


    I yelped, stumbling as the agony shot up my leg. My paw felt wrong¡ªsearing, screaming. I lifted it, seeing the glint of silver. A spike pierced deep into my flesh, and I swore I could see smoke curling where it touched. I growled low and deep, biting at the wound, but the silver bit back harder. It was poison, it was fire, it was <em>wrong.</em>


    Before I could pull free, the ground snapped beneath me.


    A trap.


    The rope came alive, wrapping tight around my leg. I roared, thrashing, but the trap was faster, smarter. It yanked me up, snapping my body up like a crackle in a fire. The air rushed past as I was flung skyward, the earth spinning away.


    The Monster Hunter.


    He saw me before I saw myself, while I was still a pup in the heart of a man. I knew it.


    I dangled, suspended, the moon mocking me with its cold light. I twisted, snapping at the rope, but it held firm. My ws swiped the air, useless, rage bubbling inside me. I roared again, louder, trying to drown out the man¡¯sughter inside my head.


    <em>¡°</em>Got you<em>,</em>¡± someone whispered in the darkness, smug and pathetic. Where was he? I would eat his heart.


    No. This wasn¡¯t over. I would find her. She was near. I would be free again. I snarled at the moon, at the stars, at the whole cursed world that dared try to stop me.


    I would not stay caught.


    Off-Screen.


    Now, I couldn''t free myself. I didn''t know why, but I stopped struggling.


    ¡°How did you know it was him?¡± a voice asked. Her voice. <em>Kimberly.</em> She was here. She was <em>here.</em> Everything I ever needed was in her voice. I could hear her. I could smell her, her scent riding the wind, cutting through the poison and the pain.


    ¡°Just a hunch,¡± said another voice. Male. Gruff. <em>Hawk.</em> ¡°I just want to know how the kid knew.¡±


    ¡°Nice to finally hear you talk,¡± a third voice chimed in. <em>Riley.</em> My prey. He sounded so close, but the world spun and spun, twisting me in the rope. I couldn¡¯t ce him. I snapped my jaws at the air, trying to catch his scent.


    ¡°I guess you couldn¡¯t just tell us who it was,¡± Riley said.


    No answer from Hawk. Hah. That made meugh¡ªdeep, growlingughter that came from my chest, shaking the rope.


    ¡°I knew it was him because it fit the story, werewolves feeding off trauma and all. Also, the guns,¡± Riley said.


    <em>The guns?</em> What was he talking about? The spinning disoriented me. My ears twitched at every word, every movement. Where was he? I couldn¡¯t see him, but I could hear every sound, every shift of weight, every inhale.


    ¡°The guns?¡± Hawk asked.


    ¡°He has a trope that makes it so his allies getforted when he brandishes a weapon,¡± Riley said. ¡°When he pulled his gun at the fort after L was killed and then again in the manor, I felt nothing. That meant I wasn¡¯t his ally anymore.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± Hawk grunted.


    There was silence then. I flexed, twisting my body to reach the rope. My ws scraped against it, but it held firm. Strong, too strong. What was it made of? It didn¡¯t matter. I would find a way. I always found a way. I found a way out of this meat, didn¡¯t I?


    ¡°Do we have to kill him?¡± Kimberly asked.


    <em>My Kimberly.</em> She wanted me alive. My heart thumped hard, but the sound was muffled by the blood pounding in my ears. I had to find her. To see her. To have her.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Hawk said, casual.


    ¡°Why not?¡± another voice asked. <em>The soldier.</em> The one who smelled of sweat and oil.


    ¡°Kirst didn¡¯t infect all of us just as a plot device,¡± Riley said, smug. He always sounded smug. <em>Know-it-all.</em> ¡°I told you guys he had to have a n. He wanted one of us to turn because a baby wolf eventually runs home to the packleader if she¡¯s nearby.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°We¡¯re going to track him. We have to say that On-Screen, right, set it up?¡±


    They were close now. I could hear them moving, boots on gravel, soft and cautious. I twisted again, harder this time, the rope creaking under my weight. I gnashed my teeth at them, snarling, daring them toe closer.


    They would never catch me.


    I was not some coon hound to be tamed.


    The tall one¡ªHawk¡ªheld out his gun, steady and sure. I growled at him. The biting silver. I couldn¡¯t fight him, not with that weapon in his hands.


    ¡°So is he lost?¡± Kimberly asked, her voice softer, hesitant. ¡°Can¡¯t we do the thing you talked about earlier, Riley?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what will happen,¡± Riley said.


    ¡°Let¡¯s try it,¡± Kimberly begged.


    Hawk sighed. The sound grated against me, dismissive and cold. He shifted his gun, pulling out another one¡ªthinner, strange. Not the biting silver.


    He pointed it at me.


    <em>No. NO.</em>


    Something struck me in the shoulder. I jerked, roaring, snapping at the spot where it pierced my fur.


    <em>Ow! What was this?</em>


    Not the burning pain of silver. Something else. Something soft. Slow. Heavy.


    I blinked, the moon blurring above me. My limbs felt weak. My growls faded, my jaws hanging ck. The spinning stopped, but so did the fight.


    I was so tired. So tired.


    The world dimmed, the rope creaking softly above me.


    It was a dart.


    ¡°Antoine,¡± a beautiful voice called to me, cutting through the haze. ¡°Antoine, wake up. You¡¯re having a nightmare.¡±


    A nightmare? <em>This is all¡­ this is all a dream? The wolf is just a dream?</em>


    Thank god.


    I opened my eyes. Kimberly stood beside me, her face soft with concern.


    She was upside down.


    I was hanging from a rope.


    <em>It was not a nightmare.</em>


    The wolf... it was gone. Sleeping. No¡ª<em>fighting.</em> Always fighting. <em>On-Screen.</em>


    I growled, the sound rumbling deep and angry in my chest. I tried to speak, to warn her. <em>Get back. Get away from me.</em> But my mouth wasn¡¯t built for words anymore, only fangs and rage.


    I thrashed, desperate to free myself, and my paw struck her.


    <em>No!</em>


    She stumbled back, clutching her shoulder. Blood. I smelled it before I saw it. My stomach turned.


    I roared again, but it wasn¡¯t anger this time¡ªit was an apology, raw and guttural. But how could I tell her? <em>I can¡¯t speak! I can¡¯t fix this!</em>


    My eyes darted to the rope. I needed to get down. My ws scraped at the knot, and I slipped one sharp edge into the twisted fibers. The rope was no match for me. I could loosen the knot. I yanked my leg free, my back paw tearing through the loop.


    I hit the ground hard, the impact shaking the earth beneath me. Pain shot through my legs, but I was already moving, already standing. My muscles coiled, tense, ready for a fight.


    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot him!¡± Kimberly cried.


    Her voice stopped me cold. She was hurt. <em>She¡¯s hurt because of me.</em> Carousel picked me to be the wolf because of my... problem. Because I couldn¡¯t control it. Her shoulder glistened red in the moonlight. The sight of it made the wolf stir, whispering promises in the back of my mind.


    <em>im her. Make her one of us. Free her.</em>


    ¡°No,¡± I growled, low and broken. It was just a growl. It wasn¡¯t a thought. It wasn¡¯t amand. It was a denial, simple and final.


    I was not the wolf. That was just a nightmare.


    I stared at her, at Kimberly, at everything I could never touch or protect again. It felt like goodbye. It <em>was</em> goodbye. My ws dug into the ground as I turned, my body trembling with the effort, and I bolted.


    I ran.


    Faster than I ever had before, faster than the wolf ever had. The forest called to me. Its shadows wrapped around me like a nket, pulling me deeper. Away from them. Away from her. Away from everything I could break.


    There was no fort. No libraries. No Riley. No Kimberly.


    Not in the forest.


    There were only trees. Endless, silent trees.


    I <em>was </em>in the forest.


    I always had been.

 Book Five, Chapter 84: A touch of chemistry...

    "Do you think it''ll help him?" Kimberly asked, chewing on her bottom lip. She still stared after him long after he ran into the forest.


    We were Off-Screen, and the tears that had started On-Screen were stilling down her cheeks uninterrupted. Maybe that was why she was a good actress. Because the feelings¡ªto her¡ªwere real.


    Even as we and the mercenaries started preparing for what was certainly going to be a big action scene, she would asionally nce in that direction or find an excuse to climb up onto the fort''s upper wall lookout paths, hoping she might be able to see into the forest.


    It was too dark to see anything, even under the full moon.


    I didn''t know how to answer her question.


    "It can''t hurt," I said. "The werewolf curse is strengthened by trauma. The man embraces the wolf to forget the pain. Maybe helping him forget his trauma will help him ovee the wolf. But like I told you, I don''t know what will happen, Kimberly."


    Antoine¡¯s nightmare trope was powerful, but it was also a bit vague.


    I wished I knew what to say to make her feel better. Heck, I wished I could understand exactly what was going through her mind. This was a storyline, and when it was over, Antoine would be fine¡ªassuming we survived.


    Was she worried that the damage would be more than just physical?I didn''t have time to dwell on that. That wasn¡¯t my job. I wasn¡¯t there to help Kimberly just then. I wasn''t there to help the mercenaries get their guns oiled andid out. I was a nner.


    We had alreadye together and digested Antoine¡¯s transformation On-Screen. There wasn¡¯t much to it. We stood around, looking at his blood trail in the moonlight, and realized that we might share his fate within a few days.


    Kimberly cried.


    Andrew rationalized.


    Hawk and Michael nned their hunt.


    I did nothing but use the little camera from the back of my character¡¯s car and film things. It was a great way to contribute without contributing much.


    The funny thing was, my character would be feeling the same way I was, or close enough. What did I feel? What did I <em>really </em>feel?


    Like I had just barely escaped death? Like I was a doomed man?


    No.


    I felt like we just had to get the scene over with and go back to nning.


    Feeling things was the enemy.


    If we worked and nned and manipted the story just right, all of our feelings would disappear.


    I hoped.


    The truth was we were under-leveled in this sandbox of a storyline, and Second Blood was likely to shock and awe us into oblivion.


    We could die here.


    Antoine¡¯s fate might not be temporary. My fate in this story¡ªprobably a tragic one¡ªmight not be temporary. As much as we were acting, we weren¡¯t really. ??


    This was real danger.


    All I could do was treat it like a game and do whatever it took to win it.


    If we failed, I wouldn¡¯t have to think about it.


    Andrew and I had ns to make.


    Unlike previous nights, Kirst had not flown away in a helicopter just yet. Maybe he knew there wasn''t going to be another attack tonight, that Antoine''s transformation was the only excitement we would get on this full moon.


    We still had quite a bit of work to do to make rolling silver usable as a weapon.


    There was no doubt it was effective, but the problem was you had to hold it up against a blowtorch for a minute or two. Then, once the silver had already been cured of its impurities, the effect would fade away. Pure silver wasn''t notably more effective than, say, sterling silver. But while it was being purified, something was happening that shredded those wolves in an unseen way.


    Suffice it to say, it was not battle-ready.


    In truth, I thought we would be up all night trying to figure this out, but Carousel seemed to know otherwise. The moment we started speaking about it, huddled in the corner of the fort''s courtyard not long after Antoine left, we went On-Screen.


    We were going to have a busy night.


    "So, we figured out what rolling silver is," Andrew said. "We could spend weeks trying to understand it, but we only have until the end of this phase of the lunar cycle to turn this into a viable weapon. Now, I''ve been thinking up some ideas about how we could create a sort of rig to melt the silver and sift it back and forth so that the impurities would be removed. If only we had a proper engineer around. I thought perhaps a cement mixer and arge blowtorch might do the job, but even then, I am out of the realm of my expertise.¡±


    ¡°Also, werewolves might notice the cement mixer,¡± I said. I wasn¡¯t trying to be a smart aleck, but sometimes it just ended up that way.


    We were in deep thinking, brainstorming mode, the mode that came right after research when we had to put all the facts together.


    I was pacing back and forth. You had to pace back and forth for a brainstorming montage.


    "We''re assuming that it''s that particr method that is causing the effect on werewolves," I said.


    "Isn''t that what we concluded?" Andrew replied. "We sought to discover what rolling silver was, and we found it out. Now we have to find a way to apply it to the problem."


    We discussed it for some time out there under the moonlight.


    "We need something portable," I said. "I wouldn''t be surprised if they attacked us all at once, but we can''t rely on that¡ªnot in the time frame we have. We need something we can carry around with us. Something that doesn''t need our full attention."


    Andrew was exasperated. He wasn''t sure where to go with that.


    "And what do you propose?" he said.


    I scratched my head, hoping that this line of thought would bear fruit.


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    "What if it wasn''t the specific method," I said. "I¡¯ve been thinking about this. You¡¯re not going to like it. This is a magical curse. We¡¯re thinking too scientifically. Maybe it isn¡¯t the heat or the silver particles or the gases being released that causes the damage. What if it''s the very act of purifying silver that causes the damage? Like it has some magical effect."


    We weren''t alone in our brainstorming montage. We had Hawk Kipling with us. Despite his gruff exterior and ample weaponry, he was technically an academic.


    Unfortunately, he had nothing to contribute to the conversation. But I did think the way he looked at me was weird. Was that a good sign or a bad sign? I couldn''t tell. I assumed he wanted us to win, but I had no idea how much he was willing to do to help us.


    "What is it you''re suggesting?" Andrew asked. ¡°We don¡¯t have enough data to specte on the exact mechanism for this effect, and I would hardly expect it to be so¡­ abstract.¡±


    He was doing great. He was a man of science; I was a semi-psychic grandma¡¯s boy. It was a nice back-and-forth.


    "In modern times, how do we purify silver?" I asked.


    "Chemicals," Andrew answered confidently. "We use chemistry."


    "Let''s try that," I said. "We know that rolling silver was the activity used for purifying silver. So what chemicals can we use in ce of a giant blowtorch and a frying pan?"


    I really wished we had had time to talk about this Off-Screen, but we had only shared snippets of ideas.


    "It''s that simple, then. We''ll just use chemicals to activate the magical reaction," Andrew said. But right after he had finished, I could see an idea appear in his eyes.


    "Well, we could¡­" he said.


    "We could what?" I asked.


    He paused for a moment, thinking.


    "We need to run an experiment," Andrew said. "We don''t have much time, and I don''t know if we could get the equipment we need before sunrise. It will have to be quick and dirty. If we need something that can be portable and done quickly like you say... where is Kirst?"


    "He''s back at the Manor," I said.


    "It''s time we put those unlimited resources to use," Andrew said.


    "Are you sure this will work?" Kirst asked. He was sitting in the same dining room where we had had our fateful dinner.


    "No," Andrew answered. "This is in the name of experimentation¡ªa much more convenient method for purifying silver. It is our current¡­ hypothesis that it is the very act of purification that seems to affect the wolves. As if by magic."


    Kirst was silent for a time.


    "Can you get our supplies?" I asked.


    Kirst nodded his head. He had no choice; we were his only hope.


    He looked over to his butler and nodded toward him.


    Andrew had written up a quick list. The butler took it and was soon out of the Manor.


    "If we can get those back before morning light, we should be able to test to see if it is effective. A quick chemical purification of silver would be far preferable to the bulky setup needed for rolling silver," Andrew said.


    "Yes," Kirst said. "It is my understanding that Mr. Stone has left a blood trail into the forest."


    "That''s right," I said. "He stepped on one of Miss Morgan''s silver caltrops. The wound isn''t going to heal for some time, so they will be able to track him. Hawk Kipling feels certain about it."


    "Will you have this weapon ready in time for the excursion?" Kirst asked, his expression intense and concerned. Time was closing in.


    "I cannot make such a promise," Andrew said. "If this chemical version works, then yes, we can begin production on a weapon that will bring the werewolves to their knees. I don¡¯t know if the mercenaries are willing to wait that long. Kipling has been stoking their fears about the full moon tomorrow night being stronger than tonight''s."


    "Remember, you only have to kill the pack leader," Kirst said. "Just one death is necessary."


    "I suspect we''ll get more than one death, whether we like it or not," I said.


    Kirst didn¡¯t respond.


    Good to his word, Kirst was able to get us the supplies Andrew had drawn up within an hour and a half.


    It was good to have a wealthy benefactor.


    We were in the basement, apanied by the growling of two caged werewolves. Their snarls echoed off the stone walls, though I noted they weren¡¯t as energetic as they usually were.


    It was the first full moon of the cycle.


    The waxing moon.


    No. Waning.


    Waxing. It had something to do with a gibbon; that was all I knew. I wasn''t an astronomer.


    The effects of rolling silver were still evident on Logan and Avery, leaving them in a weakened state. It wasn¡¯t clear if this was due to the potency of the process itself or simply because they had no Grit to defend against it.


    The table that had once held a blowtorch was now set up with a variety ofboratory ssware: beakers, sks, pipettes, and funnels, all glinting under thentern light. We didn¡¯t need most of it, nor had we asked for it, but Carousel often insisted on setting the scene.


    On-Screen.


    Andrew looked nervous as he held up arge ss beaker, inspecting it carefully.


    ¡°This will do nicely,¡± he said. He ced it on the table and then lifted a stic jug from beneath it. Another jug sat nearby, which I grabbed to look useful.


    "Water first," Andrew said sternly, which was an instruction for me because I had the distilled water. He should have called it H2O like a proper movie scientist. Carousel was going to dock points.


    I poured the water in until it hit the amount he had told me previously.


    He began to pour a liquid from his jug, narrating as he went, ¡°Equal parts Nitric acid.¡± The clear, slightly yellowish fluid poured gently into the beaker.


    Andrew reached into a small wooden crate that had once been filled with various silver items that Kirst¡¯s men had collected. These had been melted down by Hetty Morgan into small, uneven lumps and pellets. Heid them out on a scale, meticulously measuring until he reached the precise weight he wanted. Satisfied, he used a pair of tongs to drop the silver pellets into the acid-water mixture.


    It didn¡¯t take long to see a reaction.


    The silver began dissolving almost immediately, tiny bubbles forming as it broke down into the solution.


    ¡°The silver will dissolve, forming silver nitrate,¡± Andrew exined. ¡°The contaminants will simply sink to the bottom.¡±


    As he spoke, I watched exactly that happen. The heavier impurities sank in slow motion, settling into a dark sludge at the bottom of the beaker. The reaction was faster than I¡¯d expected, thanks to the small size of the silver pellets.


    Logan¡ªor the werewolf he had be¡ªbegan to moan softly in his cage.


    Andrew and I exchanged a nce. That sound was a sign of sess, even though we hadn¡¯t expected it so early in the process.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Andrew said, his brow furrowing. ¡°We¡¯ve not yet produced pure silver. Simply removing the impurities seems to affect them¡ªeven at this stage, all we have is silver nitrate.¡±


    When the silver pellets had dissolved entirely, all that remained was a mostly clear liquid with sediment settled at the bottom.


    ¡°Now we must filter the solution,¡± Andrew said.


    He poured the mixture through what looked an awful lot like a coffee filter, though its setup was decidedly more scientific. The liquid dripped into another beaker below, leaving the dark sediment behind. Andrew worked with the precision of someone who had clearly paid attention in his college chemistry sses.


    I, on the other hand, tried not to stick out like a sore thumb while I watched.


    ¡°Now, the real test,¡± Andrew said.


    He opened another wooden crate, which was filled with copper items: wires, pipes, and fittings. Selecting a small clump of copper wire, he gripped it with tongs and held it over the filtered silver nitrate solution.


    ¡°We drop the copper into the silver nitrate, and we should precipitate pure silver,¡± he narrated.


    Sure enough, as the copper hit the liquid, an instant reaction urred. A dull y-like material began forming around the copper wire.


    ¡°That¡¯s silver?¡± I asked softly, captivated by the transformation. It didn¡¯t look like it. The audience would need a dumb guy to ask about it.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Andrew said, his voice filled with quiet excitement. ¡°Silver crystals.¡±


    He gave the beaker a gentle shake, causing the gray material to fall off the copper wire and sink to the bottom of the beaker. The process repeated itself: new ¡°crystals¡± grew, detached, and sank, forming a growingyer of pale material.


    If I hadn¡¯t known better, I might have thought the process looked like mold forming.


    As the reaction continued, the once-clear liquid turned a vibrant, intense Windex blue¡ªa hue I swore Carousel was adding in to make it look cool, but Andrew wouldter inform me that it was quite urate.


    ¡°See?¡± Andrew said. ¡°The copper disces the silver in the silver nitrate, forming that brilliant copper nitrate and precipitating pure silver. Of course, we¡¯ll need to wash and melt it down to make it usable again, but I¡¯d estimate this silver is already 90 to 95% pure at least.¡±


    To me, it looked like yogurt and not silver. But looks could be deceiving.


    A third reaction urred at the same time as the others, and it wasn¡¯t in the beaker. It began the moment the silver started forming on the copper wire.


    It was in the cages.


    Logan and Avery, the caged werewolves, howled and screamed. Their thrashing grew weaker until, momentster, both copsed to the floor of their cells, unconscious.


    Andrew and I looked at each other, stunned. The reaction itself had somehow incapacitated the werewolves. They were six or seven feet away, yet simply purifying the silver through this chemical process hadpletely neutralized them.


    "Huh," Andrew said under his breath. "None of this makes any sense, but it does seem to confirm our hypothesis."


    Kirst, who had been watching in silence, leaned forward, his eyes alight with newfound determination.


    ¡°How much more of these supplies do you need?¡± he asked.


    Andrew and I exchanged a nce.


    ¡°As much as you can get,¡± I said.

 Book Five, Chapter 85: Last-call Return

    Book Five, Chapter 85: Last-call Return


    The forest was endless, but I ran anyway.


    The trees bent and swayed unnaturally, their shadows wing at me like they were alive. My paws tore at the ground, but no matter how far I went, the air clung to me, thick and heavy.


    The wolf snarled in the back of my mind, restless and wild, but I forced it down, forcing myself forward.


    Forward to where? I didn¡¯t know.


    I had messed up; I had ruined everything. They had talked about shame, heck, I had talked about a young wolf¡¯s shame, and I knew best. It took everything I had not to wring myself into a knot just thinking about my shame.


    I was cursed. I was a monster. I was broken.


    It was my fault.


    <em>No</em>, the wolf said in my mind. <em>Just let me take over. It will all blow away. I can run fast. I can run faster than the shame.</em>


    I fought the urge to just let it win. It felt like I was fighting gravity. Eventually, gravity wins. Always.I still ran. My mind was weary, but my legs were not.


    The world twisted as I went along. Was I losing my mind, or was it losing me?


    The trees began to shimmer, their bark sliding into the shape of smooth wooden beams.


    Hallucinations. Just like old times.


    The underbrush curled and darkened, bing carpet underfoot. The scents of dirt and pine dissolved into something sharper¡ªlemon cleaner and old upholstery. A sound broke through the woods, a faint ringing, high-pitched and insistent. My ears twitched toward it.


    <em>What is that?</em>


    The wolf didn¡¯t know.


    I stopped running. I stopped fighting. I needed to see this.


    The ringing grew louder, sharper, joined by the flickering of light. Between the trees, shapes began to emerge¡ªsolid shapes, angr and familiar. A chair appeared first, then a couch. Beyond it, the static glow of a television flickered.


    The wolf growled, uneasy, but I pushed it down and stumbled closer.


    This was the ce I went in my mind when I really wanted to hate myself.


    On-Screen.


    <em>No! Not On-Screen. Don¡¯t show the audience this. Don¡¯t show¡­ Riley.</em>


    As I approached, the ringing turned into the unmistakable chime of a phone. A corded house phone. The shapes solidified, snapping into ce, and there it was: my living room. Not just any living room. <em>My</em> living room. The one I hadn¡¯t seen in years but knew in every detail.


    The scuffed coffee table my mom had ¡°resurfaced,¡± the well-worn leather couch with the cigarette burn in the arm that my dad insisted was there to let the air out of the cushions when you sat down, the little television perched precariously on the old TV stand.


    It shouldn¡¯t have been here. Not in the woods. Not ever again.


    The air shimmered; there were no walls, no ceiling. The furniture stood alone, surrounded by trees that crept impossibly close, as if the forest were trying to consume the scene but couldn¡¯t.


    The wolf stirred inside me, pacing, growling low and uncertain. This scared him more than silver.


    The phone rang again. It sat on the coffee table, old and beige, the cord coiled like a snake. My fur bristled as I took another step forward.


    I had to watch. This was my punishment.


    The sound of muffled crying broke the tension. My head snapped toward the couch. Two figures were there now. My mother, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. Beside her sat my father, his fists clenched on his knees, his face red and twisted with anger.


    <em>It¡¯s not them.</em> I knew it wasn¡¯t. They were NPCs. In the Straggler Forest, it wasn¡¯t like this. There, it was all in my head.


    Here, Carousel was reenacting my worst memory with NPCs.


    But I couldn¡¯t stop myself from stepping closer, pulled by something deeper than fear.


    Farther away, I saw the staircase. It shouldn¡¯t have been there¡ªit had no ce in the middle of the woods¡ªbut it rose in the distance, dark and familiar. On the steps, half-hidden in shadow was <em>me.</em>


    A smaller NPC version of me, fourteen years old, hunched down with wide eyes, peering at the adults below. He didn¡¯t notice me¡ªor couldn¡¯t.


    The wolf howled inside me, restless. <em>This isn¡¯t real!</em> it screamed, but its voice was drowned by the sharp ring of the phone.


    <em>It is real, you stupid wolf. It is real and evesting.</em>


    My mother reached for the phone, her trembling hand lifting the receiver. Her movements were jerky and mechanical. She put it to her ear and, after a few moments, said, ¡°It¡¯s Christian.¡± Her voice cracked, thick with tears.


    She really did sound like my mother. The look wasn¡¯t far off either.


    Christian. The name hit me like a stone, and I stumbled back. The wolf growled, confused, but I couldn¡¯t look away. The scene unfolded as if it had been waiting for me.


    It was my memory of <em>the</em><em>call</em>. The call that changed everything.


    The room darkened. The staircase loomed. The figures moved, their voices rising in frantic urgency. The wolf snarled, unsure whether to attack or run, but I couldn¡¯t move. The ringing faded, reced by a thin voice on the other end of the phone.


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    I could hear iting out of the handset because my ears were oh sorge.


    It was Christian¡¯s voice, but it wasn¡¯t him.


    And I knew¡ª<em>I knew</em>¡ªthis was wrong. But I kept watching.


    The room tilted as I watched, the edges of the furniture blurring and shifting like shadows underwater.


    My parents¡ªthe <em>knockoff-parents</em>¡ªcame into focus.


    My mother sat hunched on the couch, the phone pressed tightly to her ear. Her sobs broke the air, jagged and raw. My father paced back and forth, his heavy boots thudding on the floor that shouldn¡¯t exist, his face red with barely contained fury. His voice rose, sharp and using, but I couldn¡¯t make out the words. The air rippled, and the room pulsed, like it was breathing.


    He was in middle management, but he dressed like a bricyer on his days off, just like my grandad had.


    ¡°Put him on speaker!¡± he barked, the words suddenly clear.


    My mother obeyed, her hands trembling as she pressed a button. The phone¡¯s tinny speaker buzzed, and then I heard it. Christian¡¯s voice. My brother¡¯s voice. But it wasn¡¯t <em>his</em> voice. Not really.


    It sure fooled us then though.


    ¡°I¡¯m noting back,¡± the voice said, hollow and distant. It carried the sound of something <em>else</em> beneath it, something oily and slick that I could almost smell. ¡°I¡¯ve found a new home.¡±


    The words coiled around my chest, squeezing tight. The wolf stirred, uneasy, but I silenced it. <em>Listen,</em> I thought. <em>Just listen.</em>


    Why was this On-Screen?


    What was Carousel doing?


    And then I realized¡­ Carousel was going to take my worst memory and cut it up and make it my character¡¯s backstory.


    My character''s brother got himself bitten by a wolf.


    My real brother got trapped by Carousel.


    The little boy who lost his brother. That was me in every story.


    ¡°Christian, you don¡¯t mean that!¡± my mother cried, her hands clutching at her chest. ¡°Please,e home. We can fix this.¡±


    ¡°Fix it?¡± my father snapped, his voice full of venom. ¡°Do you know what you¡¯re throwing away, boy? All the work we put in! All the sacrifices! You¡¯re ruining everything!¡±


    In the corner, by the stairs, I saw myself¡ªyoung Antoine¡ªhunched over, trying to make himself smaller. His wide eyes darted between the adults, his fingers digging into the worn carpet. I could see the tension in his jaw and the way he held his breath to avoid making a sound.


    Across the room, a well-dressed third figure spoke, and as soon as he did, we went Off-Screen just for his lines. We called him my Uncle, but he wasn¡¯t. He was Chris¡¯ sports agent, and Chris was his meal ticket.


    Or he would have been if Chris hadn¡¯t gotten trapped here.


    He stood by the television, arms crossed, his voice calm but calcted. ¡°Christian,¡± he said smoothly, ¡°we¡¯ve already got scouts lined up. They¡¯re expecting you. You don¡¯t get another chance like this. Come back before you ruin your entire future.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Christian said. ¡°You don¡¯t get it. I never wanted that future. Not the scouts. Not the games. Not any of it. I¡¯ve made my decision. I¡¯m noting back. Not now. Not ever.¡±


    Back On-Screen.


    The room went still. The silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating. The wolf wed at my mind, restless, but I kept it quiet.


    He didn¡¯t like this. If I had to see it, so did he.


    ¡°You¡¯re throwing your life away!¡± my father roared, his voice cracking. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever say you never wanted this life! We <em>gave</em> this to you!¡±


    Christian¡¯s voice on the phone didn¡¯t waver. It didn¡¯t crack. It was cold, unfeeling, the edge of something monstrous in its calmness. ¡°I don¡¯t want it. And I don¡¯t want to see you again. Any of you.¡±


    The room pulsed again, darker now, as though the shadows were swallowing it whole. My mother¡¯s sobs turned into static. My father¡¯s anger dissolved into smoke. My ¡°uncle¡± melted into a dark smear. Only the phone remained, the faint hum of the line echoing.


    And then there was silence.


    When the room returned, it was empty. Just the old, broken furniture and the faint hum of the television. No adults. No argument. Only young Antoine remained, sitting on the carpet, his small fingers fiddling with the phone. His wide eyes were determined now, focused as he pressed the buttons on the machine.


    He pressed the buttons for * 6 9.


    Last-call return. My parents didn¡¯t know about it or didn¡¯t remember. It was a way to dial the number of someone who called you before caller ID.


    The line clicked, and Christian¡¯s voice came through again. But this time, it wasn¡¯t an argument. It wasn¡¯t shouting.


    It was quiet. Too quiet.


    And I couldn¡¯t look away.


    The room was suffocating now, the air thick with something unspoken, unseen. The television¡¯s glow flickered weakly, the only light left in the shapeless void. Young Antoine sat cross-legged on the floor, the phone cradled in hisp. His small fingers gripped the receiver tightly as he leaned in, his voice barely a whisper.


    ¡°Chris?¡± he asked, his tone trembling with a mix of hope and fear.


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± Christian¡¯s voice replied, smooth and steady. But it wasn¡¯t Christian. It was never Chris. I had been tricked.


    The wolf growled inside me, restless.


    I knew the truth now. It was Carousel, imitating my brother¡¯s voice.


    ¡°I have a game next week,¡± young me said, his voice picking up energy. ¡°You shoulde. Mom and Dad haven¡¯t been going since you left.¡±


    The line crackled faintly. There was a pause, long enough to feel like a de about toe down. ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± Christian¡¯s voice finally said, soft but firm. ¡°I can¡¯t do that.¡±


    Young Antoine¡¯s small shoulders slumped, but he didn¡¯t give up. ¡°Then¡­ can Ie live with you? Please?¡±


    The wolf inside me bristled, pacing, growling.


    In my mind, I screamed, <em>No. Don¡¯t ask that. Don¡¯t say that!</em> But the boy on the floor didn¡¯t hear me. He leaned closer to the phone, his hope stubborn and unyielding.


    ¡°You don¡¯t mean that,¡± Christian said, his tone sharper now. There was something dark beneath it, slithering in the pauses. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re asking.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do,¡± young Antoine said, his voice firm, his little hands clutching the phone like a lifeline. ¡°I hate it here. I want toe with you.¡±


    A heavy silence followed. Even the forest seemed to hold its breath. The room around me flickered again, threatening to dissolve into the shadows, but the phone stayed solid, real.


    ¡°You¡¯re too young,¡± Christian finally said. ¡°Maybe when you¡¯re older.¡±


    Young Antoine¡¯s face fell, but he didn¡¯t let go of the phone. ¡°Promise me,¡± he said, his voice breaking just slightly. ¡°Promise you¡¯lle get me.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Christian asked, his tone softening as though he cared. As though there was still a piece of my brother somewhere in the voice. But I knew better.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± young Antoine said, nodding, though there was no one there to see it.


    The line hissed softly, and then Christian said, ¡°Okay. When you¡¯re older, I¡¯ll reach out to you. It is your choice, after all. I love you, buddy.¡±


    Young Antoine smiled, small and hesitant, and the room began to dissolve.


    The furniture faded first, turning to ash and smoke that swirled around the boy. The television blinked out, its glow reced by the cold silver light of the moon. The phone fell from his hands, disappearing before it hit the ground.


    The boy looked up, his wide eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, we stared at each other¡ªman and child, wolf and boy. His lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came. And then he, too, faded into the shadows, leaving me alone in the forest once more.


    The wolf surged forward, trying to take control again, but I shoved it back, snarling at the emptiness. The forest was still. The air was cold. And somewhere, deep in the darkness, Carousel wasughing.


    I ran.


    It was my fault. All of it. I had gotten everyone trapped here. I had asked for it.


    Then, the voice I had been suppressing for so long spoke to me in the night.


    <em>This, too, can be blown away in the wind</em>, the wolf said.


    I wanted it to be true. I wanted the wolf to eat through the guilt and the shame and the pressure and let me sink down into nothingness. I wanted to look up at the moon from the bottom of the pit and see nothing else, remember nothing else.


    Could it be possible?


    There were only bad memories in the Straggler Forest.


    But this was a different forest.


    I could just give in. No one would know. I would be free of it all.


    But even if freedom came, it would only be for a while. It would only be until we beat the storyline. The wolf would be gone. It couldn¡¯t protect me any longer once we got to The End.


    Victory would be a hard yank on the leash of a running dog.


    If we won the storyline, even the wolf couldn¡¯t save me.


    If we won.


    If.

 Book Five, Chapter 86: Familiar Fratricide

    The forest shifted again, the shapes of the trees melting into something both unfamiliar and known.


    The air was full of energy, heavy with memories that weren¡¯t mine¡ªor weren¡¯t <em>fully</em> mine. I stopped running, my massive chest heaving, and the wolf growled low in confusion. The world around me wasn¡¯t the woods anymore. It was... something else.


    I dug my ws into the dirt and put all my attention into what was before me.


    A payphone stood just ahead, glowing faintly in the moonlight like a beacon. Beside it stood <em>me</em>. Or the slightly younger man I used to be, years older than the one hiding on the stairs. My younger self clutched the receiver tightly, his breath misting in the cold air as he spoke into the phone.


    Strange. I almost remembered this as if it really happened, but this was all fiction.


    ¡°Christian?¡± Younger Me asked, his voice hesitant, hopeful. ¡°It¡¯s me.¡±


    The voice on the other end was warm, weing, too perfect to be real. ¡°It¡¯s good to hear from you, Antoine. I wasn¡¯t sure you¡¯d call.¡±


    Younger Me shuffled nervously, ncing over his shoulder like he expected someone to be watching. ¡°I didn¡¯t know if... you¡¯d want me to after all these years.¡±


    Christianughed softly, the sound smooth as silk. ¡°Of course I do. You¡¯re my brother. I¡¯ve missed you. Come out to the cabin on theke I told you about. We can talk in person.¡±The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Carousel was recreating how I was lured to Carousel to find my brother, but a version for this storyline. The parallels were eerie.


    The wolf inside me growled, restless and wary, but I couldn¡¯t move. I could only watch as my younger self nodded, his hand tightening around the receiver.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Younger Me said. ¡°I¡¯ll be there.¡±


    The scene blurred, the edges of the memory twisting and warping until I was standing outside a cabin deep in the woods. The younger version of me emerged from the shadows, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His movements were careful, deliberate.


    He didn¡¯t trust the ce, and neither did the wolf.


    The cabin was old and weathered, its wooden nks dark with moss. The windows were shattered, the ss glinting in the faint moonlight. The air smelled wrong¡ªmetallic and sharp, with the faintest undercurrent of decay. Younger Me paused at the door, his hand hovering over the handle.


    This was the restricted cabin from Camp Dyer. Carousel was having fun with this. It liked to reuse props.


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± the younger me called, his voice steady despite the tension in his posture. ¡°Christian?¡±


    The silence was deafening. Then, a low growl rumbled through the night. Younger Me turned just in time to see the first wolf emerge from the shadows. Its yellow eyes glinted, and its teeth gleamed like daggers.


    Younger Me was ready.


    He dropped the duffel and unzipped it in one swift motion, pulling out a long, gleaming knife. When the wolf lunged, he was already moving. His de shed, slicing through fur and flesh. The wolf yelped and fell, blood staining the dirt.


    The de stayed in the wolf. There were more des where it came from.


    More wolves came, too.


    They emerged from the shadows like specters, their growls filling the air. Younger Me fought with precision and fury, his movements sharp and calcted. He was prepared for this.


    This was my character. He had been raised as a monster hunter. He was ready.


    I watched, my ws digging into the earth as I fought the urge to intervene. The wolf inside me wanted to leap into the fray, to tear into the attackers, but I couldn¡¯t. This wasn¡¯t real. This wasn¡¯t <em>now</em>.


    It was a memory¡ªa memory that had been fabricated for the storyline. I was On-Screen.


    One by one, the wolves fell. Younger Me stood panting in the center of the clearing, blood dripping from his seventh de, smoke rising from the barrel of his gun.


    And then, from the shadows, came thest wolf. It wasrger than the others, its fur darker, its eyes brighter. It didn¡¯t attack right away. It circled, slow and deliberate, its gaze locked on my younger self. ??


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    The wolf lunged, and Younger Me moved on instinct. The knife plunged into its chest, and the wolf let out a pained howl before copsing to the ground. Younger Me staggered back, his breathing in ragged gasps. He dropped the knife, staring at the wolf¡¯s lifeless body.


    He called out for Christain in the darkness, not knowing where his brother was. Not knowing if the wolves had killed him.


    Hourster.


    The sun rose.


    The fur receded from the wolves, and there he was¡ªChristian. His eyes were open, empty, his face nk from death.


    This wasn''t my real brother. They copied me but not him. Strange. Carousel had him. Why not use his body for this sick charade?


    ¡°No,¡± Younger Me said, his voice breaking. ¡°No, no, no!¡±


    The air around me thickened, the memory copsing in on itself like smoke pulled into a void.


    The wolf in my mindughed, its voice sharp and cruel.


    ¡°You killed your own brother,¡± it said, the words echoing in my skull.


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t!¡± I tried to yell, but all that came out were roars.


    That was the parallel. My character killed his brother.


    I killed mine.


    It was an ident. It was Project Rewind.


    But I did it.


    True guilt is deaf to reason. I was always suspicious of people who forgave themselves too easily.


    I staggered backward, the forest returning around me. The cabin was gone, the payphone was gone, and the blood was gone. But the pain lingered, sharp and unforgiving. I turned and ran, tearing through the trees blindly, as if I could outrun the memory, the wolf, and the weight of what I¡¯d done.


    I had killed my brother. How could I live with that?


    I could save him. That was it. That was my one redemption, but it felt so impossible. How could I keep going long enough to rescue him? <em>How</em>!?


    And I had screwed that up. I couldn''t help anyone now.


    Something pulled at me, tugging me forward like a thread sewn into my chest. The wolf didn¡¯t fight it, and neither did I.


    I ran because it was the only thing I could do.


    The forest thinned, the trees growing sparse and scattered, their shadows no longer deep enough to hide in. There was a river. I jumped over it like it was a crack in the sidewalk.


    The pull in my chest was stronger now, dragging me forward, relentless and undeniable. The wolf inside me stirred, no longer fighting.


    It wanted this as much as I did, though neither of us could name what <em>this</em> was.


    The air shifted. The scent of pine and soil faded, reced by something else¡ªsomething sharp andyered. The acrid tang of asphalt, the faint musk of oil, and the unmistakable scent of wolves. My steps slowed as I reached the edge of the forest and saw it.


    The motel. The diner. The main street of Southeastern Carousel.


    The motel sat squat and unassuming on the side of the road, not too far from the river I had crossed moments earlier, its neon sign flickering weakly.


    It was familiar. Too familiar. I knew this ce. We had been here before, before the dinner, before the infection.


    The wolf in me growled softly, its nose twitching. I could feel them now. The wolves.


    They were everywhere. Their scents clung to the motel like a second skin, seeping into the cracks and shadows. But it wasn¡¯t just the motel. The scent carried on the wind, leading to the hills beyond, to the houses tucked into the woods, to the town itself.


    This was why we couldn¡¯t figure out where the wolves were hiding out.


    They weren¡¯t hiding in caves, abandoned buildings, or dens. They were here, living among the humans, blending in. Hiding in in sight.


    No¡­ there were so many of them.


    I took a step forward, my paws crunching softly against the gravel. The wolf strained against me, its instincts surging. It wanted something¡ªsomeone.


    Then I heard the voice.


    ¡°Easy now, child.¡±


    It was soft at first, just a whisper carried by the wind. I froze, my ears twitching, my muscles tensing.


    ¡°Everything is okay now.¡±


    The voice grew clearer, stronger. It wasn¡¯t in my head. It was real. I turned, my eyes locking onto a figure emerging from the shadows.


    A woman.


    She moved with the grace of a predator, her bare feet light and deliberate. Her dark hair framed her face, her expression calm butmanding. I knew her. I <em>knew</em> her.


    Sarah.


    On the red wallpaper, it said Serena, but this was Sarah, the same woman from Kimberly¡¯s photographs.


    I¡¯d seen her smile, seen her arm slung casually over Kimberly¡¯s shoulder, like an older sister or a trusted friend. But as she stepped closer, I felt it.


    She wasn¡¯t just Sarah. She was something more.


    The wolf in me surged forward, desperate to close the distance. My body moved without thought, my ws digging into the ground as I bounded toward her. There was no fight this time. I didn¡¯t hold it back. I couldn¡¯t.


    She was the reason I had run, the reason I was here.


    She didn¡¯t flinch as I stopped in front of her, panting and trembling. Her eyes locked onto mine, and I felt it like a tidal wave crashing over me. She could make the pain go away. Her presence was the wind. It was the moonlight. It was peace. It was freedom.


    She was overwhelming, her power radiating from her like heat from the sun.


    My legs buckled beneath me, and I copsed, the exhaustion hitting me all at once. My paw throbbed, the pain sharp and searing. I looked down and saw it¡ª<em>the silver caltrop.</em> It was still embedded in my flesh, burning, smoking, if only in my mind. I hadn¡¯t even remembered it was there.


    ¡°You¡¯ve run far enough,¡± Sarah said, her voice calm and soothing. She knelt beside me, her hands steady as they reached for my paw. ¡°You can rest now.¡±


    The other wolves emerged from the shadows; their forms were human, but their eyes gleamed with the same golden light. I could see it now with my wolf eyes. They surrounded me, silent and watchful, their presence bothforting and suffocating.


    There were so many. The yers were doomed.


    Sarah¡¯s fingers brushed against my paw, and I winced, a low whine escaping my throat. She worked quickly, her movements precise and deliberate. The caltrop slid free, and I let out a ragged breath as the burning pain faded.


    ¡°There,¡± she said softly. ¡°It¡¯s done. You¡¯re safe.¡±


    I wanted to say something, to ask her why, how, what this all meant¡ªbut the words wouldn¡¯te. My vision blurred, the exhaustion pulling at me like a weight I couldn¡¯t fight anymore.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Sarah said, her voice thest thing I heard before the darkness imed me. ¡°Sleep.¡±


    And I did.

 Book Five, Chapter 87: The Hunter

    Back home, monsters were simple.


    Ancient witches, sorcerers, and priests defeated beasts of unfathomable power using magic they didn¡¯t understand. The magic was mostly lost to time, but the monsters were not, not really.


    These creatures had their own ironic form of immortality. As the great beasts were scavenged and broken down, their gic code worked its way through the food cycle.


    The insects got their meal, then the birds, that sort of thing.


    Every living thing feeds off something else, passing this invasive gic material along. It eventually makes its way into humans or other animals, asionallytching on and binding itself to human DNA¡ªcreating a ticking time bomb.


    This process began eons ago.


    That¡¯s the theory, at least.


    Vampires, werewolves, heck, even those putrid ghouls called zombies could all be exined by this phenomenon. There was a good chance that I myself was walking around with somebination of ancient gic code that might one day result in a mutation in my descendants¡ªgrowing fangs or ws, being able to see in the dark, breathing underwater, or even lusting for blood.


    It was all in our DNA. My people were an interesting bunch. Our shadows had monsters in them.As time went on, the emergence of these phenomena slowed, and my world forgot about them.


    They became legends.


    Vampires? Those are just scary stories.


    Werewolves? It must have just been a bear.


    If you tried to discuss any of this in your thesis at university, your advisor would threaten to drop you.


    I would know.


    But if you were one of the unfortunate souls who discovered these weren¡¯t legends, that these monsters still crawled on the dirt, I was the type of person you wanted to know.


    I¡¯ve killed them all¡ªhunted them down. Vampires, werewolves, hags, all sorts of undead. I¡¯ve tracked and studied pretty much everything there is to study.


    In fact, there¡¯s only one thing I¡¯ve hunted that I didn¡¯t manage to kill. I tracked it all the way to Carousel.


    Once I¡¯ve killed my ultimate prey, then I can die for real.


    The werewolves of <em>Stray Dawn</em> were a popr breed in Carousel stories. They were smart enough, theoretically, to take part in evenplex plots.


    Most of the time, the werewolf virus in my world resulted in degenerative mental function. They were good at killing, but after a while, they stopped being good at anything else.


    Carousel didn¡¯t like that, so they were rarely used.


    But these <em>Stray Dawn</em> wolves? They were practically humans with superpowers. After a bit of practice, they could shift back and forth¡ªeven without the full moon. They could think, they could n¡ªassuming they had a pack leader who ordered them to.


    Fascinating creatures.


    Their mutation wasn¡¯t really a mutation at all; it was a curse. The magic of my homeworld worked differently and could never produce something like this. Unfortunately, I¡¯d never been in a position to study this type of magic. I always got cast as a monster hunter, not a magic schr. ?


    At least I could appreciate the exercise I get in this role.


    This was shaping up to be a good one.


    It was daytime. Antoine had shifted and run off into the woods, and I had a trope just for this situation, a perfect way of tracking him down¡ªby following his blood trail, disturbances in the leaves, whatever was there.


    It was all I was permitted to do. I wasn¡¯t allowed to lead the yers to victory, but that didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t help out.


    The other Paragons and I had devoted our eternal lives to helping the yers win the game, even if that meant ying demeaning roles or joining the likes of Ss Dyrkon or the Proprietor just to keep an eye on them.


    Because the yers were the key, it had to be them to beat Carousel.


    I leaned against one of the stone walls in the fort, watching as hundreds of gallons of nitric acid were hauled into the courtyard in stic jugs. Nitric acid, distilled water, copper scrap, and all the silver from every pawn shop within a hundred-mile radius, it seemed.


    Other yers had discovered rolling silver before, but none had taken the next step and realized that it was the act of purifying silver that hurt the wolves. Many assumed it was silver vapor, and that was a pretty good tactic, too, but purification won the blue ribbon.


    Here I was, thinking Andrew Hughes must be the smartest yer to ever run <em>Stray Dawn</em>. He certainly figured out the science part of it pretty quickly, but it turned out it was all the Film Buff¡¯s idea.


    Riley Lawrence.


    He wasn¡¯t much to look at.


    And yet, he was our best shot to beat the game¡ªif we even had a shot. He may not have been the man for the job, but he was the man <em>with </em>the job.


    What qualified him for this honor? Hell, if I knew.


    With fewer than a dozen yers left, they had to pick someone to hang their hopes on.


    As I saw him excitedly help sort supplies and bring in a load of empty ss bottles from a nearby soda factory, wearing that dumb smile on his face, I had to wonder how much he even knew.


    The kid was still wearing the suit from when he arrived at the dinner party. He had proper clothing to change into, but he liked his Luggage Tag so much that he would rather look like a fool.


    Why did that bother me so much?


    They were making bombs¡ªor something simr¡ªthat could purify silver chemically. I knew how powerful rolling silver was against these cursed werewolves.


    Carousel was going to love it.


    The werewolf curse wasn¡¯t a vague hand-wavy magic concept. Instead, it was literally in the air like radio waves, connecting them to the pack, to their pack leader, and maybe even further than that.


    I had no idea¡ªno one had ever gotten that far. I wondered how much Riley and Andrew understood.


    Purifying silver drew the curse out of the air and temporarily disconnected the wolf from the magic source that allowed it to exist. Without the magic of the curse, the werewolf¡¯s anatomy was notpatible with life¡ªor at least, afortable life.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the vition.


    Yep. If they could use that weapon well, they might just win.


    But they likely wouldn¡¯t. They were outgunned.


    I¡¯d seen so many yer wipes that I could almost call it before First Blood.


    Unfortunately, despite being a fine nner, Riley Lawrence had one major w: he was a sacrificial character. He must have already known this, but I could see it in as day on the red wallpaper. He was next on the list. He would die for Second Blood.


    That was his lot. That was his role.


    Damn shame.


    It didn¡¯t matter how good of a weapon he and Andrew were building. If he was next on the list, he was going to die, and no matter what he hid behind, the wolves would get through it¡ªbecause the script said they must.


    From what I¡¯d seen, he already knew this. He was likely prepared to sacrifice himself to ensure the survival of the group. I heard he''d done that before.


    We just had to hope they could get through the finale without his quick thinking. Who knew?


    They finally finished unloading the supplies and were meeting up for a group talk.


    The surviving yers were Kimberly, a fine actress; Michael, a great fighter who was unwilling to take initiative; Andrew, a brilliant mind but a poor healer and not exactly one to endear himself to the audience; and Riley, the only one of them who seemed excited about what was going to happen¡ªeven if he tried to hide it.


    I walked closer. I had to stay in character, but maybe I could find some way of nudging them in the right direction nheless.


    ¡°There¡¯s going to be a big fight,¡± Riley said. ¡°I don¡¯t know how many werewolves there are, but I expect Second Blood is going to save Kirst a lot of money on mercenaries¡­. Unless he paid upfront. We just have to find a way to control it¡ªto make sure that we don¡¯t lose our strongest pieces on the board.¡±


    They quieted their voices so the nearby NPCs couldn¡¯t hear. How cute.


    ¡°When you say strongest pieces, are you referring to yourself?¡± Andrew asked, not angry but amused.


    ¡°No,¡± Riley said. ¡°Right now, we have Kimberly because her plot is gaining a lot of momentum. And we also have rolling silver, and we¡¯ve devoted so much time to that, it¡¯s got to have a big impact. I¡¯d hate to waste it on Second Blood.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but sh a grin.


    He was right. You only got one shot with a weapon like that. If you repeated yourself, you¡¯d find that it just wouldn¡¯t work as well. It would be boring to the audience. You had to build up steam with something like this, and as soon as you let it out, it was gone.


    For maximum impact, this trap had to be saved for the finale.


    As a monster hunter, finding the secret weakness was literally sixty percent of what I did, and you had to be careful when you unveiled it.


    ¡°So, what are your suggestions?¡± Andrew asked.


    Riley started to speak, but then he looked up at me¡ªas if questioning whether he should talk about this in front of me.


    <em>Fuck it</em>, I thought.


    I winked at him. Made his day.


    He continued to speak, now a little more confidently. ¡°We need to set up a sacrifice,¡± he said. ¡°We need to lose this round so that we can win the final battle, and we need to do it without using rolling silver¡ªor whatever we¡¯re calling this chemical concoction¡­ sshing silver¡­ dissolving silver¡­ maybe.¡±


    Andrew looked around at the supplies they had gathered.


    ¡°How are we supposed to decide?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°Aren¡¯t we just going to get attacked no matter what? Speaking of that, what is the narrative exnation for why the werewolves would attack us directly instead of just running away?¡±


    Important questions to ask.


    ¡°Her,¡± Riley said, nodding toward Kimberly. ¡°Without her, we would have to go find them. But I¡¯m pretty sure the pack wants Kimberly, so we can trust that they will attack us eventually. I''m light on the exact details. For Second Blood, though, we need to keep the fight away from the fort.¡±


    They looked at each other, having their silent conversations.


    ¡°That still leaves the question of how,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°Well, look at my plot armor,¡± Riley said. ¡°We know where they¡¯re striking next.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°That¡¯s the n,¡± Riley said. ¡°That means you have to stick around, execute both the rolling silver n, and ensure that Kimberly¡¯s whole subplotes to fruition.¡±


    So, he did understand his role.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with you,¡± Michael said. ¡°I fucked everything up so far. I missed my subplot, and I didn¡¯t manage to catch the wolf. Wherever you¡¯re going for Second Blood, I¡¯ll go too.¡±


    Riley shook his head. ¡°We don¡¯t need to lose two yers,¡± he said. ¡°That would defeat the whole purpose of my sacrifice.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll go instead of you,¡± Michael said. ¡°Logan said it was possible.¡±


    ¡°That was a special circumstance,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Riley has low effective plot armor. He¡¯s going to be targeted next.¡±


    ¡°Well, not necessarily,¡± Riley said.


    Wait a second. Had he figured it out?


    ¡°Technically, Michael could set off Second Blood by himself,¡± Riley said.


    ¡°How?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°He could do something really, really stupid,¡± Riley answered, barely suppressing a grin. ¡°He could fall for a trap.¡±


    This was fun.


    ¡°Force Carousel¡¯s hand?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying he has to do this or that it¡¯s even a smart thing,¡± Riley said. ¡°But hypothetically, if he did want to take my ce, Hawk is about to take some mercenaries out and follow that blood trail with Antoine. But it¡¯s obviously a trap. It¡¯s too early to work.¡±


    This was getting interesting. How much did he know?


    ¡°How do you know it¡¯s a trap?¡± Kimberly asked.


    ¡°There¡¯s a big reveal that has to happen. You know how it turned out that Antoine was the werewolf? Well, that doesn¡¯t really make sense because we already established that the little needle of werewolf saliva couldn¡¯t possibly have caused him to shift so soon,¡± Riley said. ¡°So I think I know what happened.¡±


    Instead of going on, he waited for one of them to ask.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Kimberly asked.


    A rant ensued.


    ¡°We misunderstood how the werewolf trope works. We knew that any of us could be the werewolf, and we wouldn¡¯t know until the reveal, but we assumed that meant the werewolf would be a yer until they were revealed. But what if it didn¡¯t mean that? What if Antoine counted as infected and therefore counted as an enemy the entire time? If he were an enemy, then the normal rules of targeting and priority wouldn¡¯t apply anymore. So, even if L had to be First Blood, that didn¡¯t mean Antoine couldn¡¯t get attacked by another werewolf beforehand. Think about it. These werewolves are smart. If that blonde mercenary is a werewolf, as we think he is, I bet what he did was attack Antoine to help speed up the transformation. You know, he ate his heart. That''s the only exnation for how Antoine could have turned so fast. I got footage of Antoine on his little patrol duty. He kept going Off-Screen and getting distracted looking into the distance. Not quite disassociating, not On-Screen, not that my Dailies trope would tell me, at least. I bet the blonde merc did him in on patrol, making him shift sooner than he would have. I think that¡¯s the next big reveal because we still have to reveal that the blonde mercenary is a werewolf. It all fits together.¡±


    It seemed he even stumped Andrew for a moment with that one. Maybe he wasn''t half bad as a yer.


    Riley continued, ¡°Second Blood is a perfect time for that reveal. So if we sent Michael and a bunch of mercenaries out with the blonde mercenary to track down Antoine, I bet it¡¯s a ''mistake'' that could be avoided. Deliberately falling into a trap is one way to manipte targeting order since Carousel will punish you for that, and that will change the priority for an attack.¡±


    The others looked at each other and then at me as if I couldment. Michael looked ready to go for it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take out as many as I can,¡± he said.


    ¡°But we don¡¯t have to do that,¡± Riley said. ¡°It might be useful to have a fighter around for the finale without Antoine here.¡±


    I looked at the shaggy-haired young man before me.


    The truth was that this team was under-leveled and outmatched. Unfortunately, that was the way you had to y the game. It was the only way to ever escape.


    I looked around at the supplies they had gathered for their secret weapon against the wolves. Riley and Andrew had turned this story into a battle of wits. That was exactly what they needed to do with their meager muscle reserves.


    A battle of brawn was not going to be won by the yers. It never was. These werewolves were fine specimens.


    Even if Antoine hadn¡¯t been turned, fighting these wolves in a straight-up deathmatch was folly.


    No, what they needed to survive was to keep their nner around a little longer. He might actually have known what he was doing.


    As always, I couldn¡¯t win this storyline for them, but I could help.


    I cleared my throat. ¡°I can track him wherever he went. If we¡¯re going on an expedition, if we¡¯re going on a hunt, I will lead it. And I might need a strong fighting man at my side,¡± I said, looking at Michael. ¡°We should let you three stay here and work on your ns while the real men go get the job done.¡±


    To be clear, I had three PhDs, but this storyline demanded I be a testosterone-filled mega-man dumb enough to follow a werewolf back to its pack with out scouting things out first. When we were back On-Screen, I would y my part.


    They looked at me like I might be some sort of demon. They didn¡¯t trust Paragons. I couldn¡¯t me them.


    ¡°So that must be the right decision,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°If the paragon¡¯s going along with it.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Riley said. ¡°We don¡¯t know that,¡± he added, hesitant.


    I wasn¡¯t going to risk saying anymore. I walked forward and pped Michael on the back. If he was willing to be the Second Blood sacrifice, then it was probably the right call. I''d deliver him like a present at the winter solstice.


    <em>Stray Dawn</em> was a werewolf story, and there were dozens of variations that called for a Monster Hunter Paragon. I had yed this story hundreds of times.


    I had never seen its deep secrets, and I had never seen someone go this far with the rolling silver subplot.


    For a long time, yers would just try to hook up with Serena¡ªor Sarah, whatever she was calling herself nowadays. I used to get so annoyed.


    And here we were, possibly at the end¡ªthe real end¡ªand it all came down to this little story on the outskirts of Carousel.


    Onest hunt.


    Onest group of yers.


    And if they didn¡¯t seed, we were doomed.


    I might never survive to hunt again. I might never find the beast I tracked all the way to this godforsaken world.


    I had died thousands of times, and this might end up being the only one that mattered. If I could help them win, I would do it.


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Book Five, Chapter 88: The Soldier

    "You sure you''re up for this?" Riley asked.


    Was he talking down to me? Why wouldn''t he be? Everyone was doing that nowadays. Maybe they were patronizing. Maybe they were empathizing. All the same to me.


    "I know what to do," I said firmly.


    I should never have told them that I dropped my subplot. Riley exined it away¡ªhe said that because any one of us had the chance to be the main character in this story, our subplots wererger than usual, so they needed more time devoted to them. Normally, I would have had plenty of room to put off following my character''s plot, but not in this storyline.


    I didn''t want to hear that.


    Maybe somebody else would want to hear how nothing is ever their fault, but not me.


    I should have known. It was on me. Everybody joined in with him and cooed at me like I was a baby, telling me that they had things taken care of, telling me that being a blood sacrifice was as important as anything that could have happened in my subplot.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Yeah, right.


    I''ve never worked that way. I want somebody who tells me when I mess up and who holds me to the highest standard. Logan always did that. He would never let me settle for anything less than my best.Kimberly, Riley, Andrew¡ªthey didn''t get it, but Logan did.


    If a man can''t take responsibility for when he messes up, then he is no kind of man.


    "Remember," Andrew said, "you have to be the one to argue back against us. We''ll tell you how bad of an idea it is to run into the woods after Antoine, and you have to fire back about how urgent things are. You have to be confident, too."


    I nodded and looked at Hawk Kipling out of the corner of my eye.


    He looked right back.


    He couldn''t be the one to argue because he had too high of a Savvy stat. I never really understood how stats worked. It wasn''t that no one had told me. I could exin it backward and forward¡ªAdeline had forced me to memorize every part of it¡ªbut still, you''re telling me that because some character has a high Savvy stat, you need him to be quiet?


    Because if the dumb, suicidal idea is a smart person¡¯s idea, suddenly it won''t be dumb and suicidal?


    They needed someone who didn''t have high Savvy to be the one calling the shots when we fell into this trap.


    They talked like it was obvious. That was the system. <em>That was the game, don¡¯t you know that?</em>


    They thought that if they could understand the system, they could find a path to victory. I still felt they were too trusting.


    As long as you think there are rules and that the rules matter, you''ll be willing to give up your edge. You will walk to your death as long as you think the enemy will stick to the rules.


    That was something that Isaac understood, even though he always tried to put it in a joke.


    I couldn''t help but feel that this was all one big mousetrap, and we were slowly being convinced to put our necks right over the line. Not just this storyline, but everything.


    And I would have to go along with it, too¡ªbecause what other option did we have?


    I was the blood sacrifice. I had to keep the nerd alive. It all fell to me.


    On-Screen.


    "You are going into those woods unprepared," Riley said. "Why have we been nning this entire campaign if you''re just going to charge off without a thought?"


    He was following Hawk and me as we headed into the woods where most of the mercenaries waited for us.


    "This is how you kill werewolves," I said, turning back to him, defiant. "You track them, you find whatever cave or abandoned shack they''re holed up in, and then you shoot them. My people have been doing this for centuries."


    "You don''t even know how many of them there are," Andrew interjected. "None of our scouts have even been able to find the pack."


    I almostughed. I was arrogant. I was self-assured. That was my character now.


    "I have never known a werewolf pack to grow past a dozen wolves," I said. "Have any of you? My people have been taking care of thesends and keeping them safe. If there were dozens of wolves in the woods, we would know about it."


    We stood at the edge of the forest, our argument so loud that the birds were fleeing from the trees.


    "The trail is growing cold," I said. "If we catch these wolves, we want to catch them when the sun is up. That''s when we have the advantage. The immature wolves will be sitting ducks. The mature ones will be by themselves. We are burning daylight. You''ve got nearly two dozen guys already in the woods, ready to go. If we lose the trail, we''ll be back here to do it your way. But if we find them, we''re going to end this before it gets ugly."


    I nodded to Hawk Kipling, and we walked into the forest to join the group of mercenaries waiting for us.


    I could hear Riley behind me as I stopped being On-Screen, and they continued to be. He exined that if they just waited till nightfall, their little rolling silver trick could be used to suss out any werewolf in our group.


    This novel is published on a different tform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Of course, we couldn''t do that because we needed the reveal to be timed for Second Blood.


    That was the most I had spoken in the entire storyline so far, but somebody had to do it. I didn''t know how good my performance was, but if the goal was to make myself look dumb, I had probably seeded.


    Riley said that there was a chance they would still be attacked and that Hawk and I would go unscathed for Second Blood.


    If things went that way, it might juste down to me and whoever survived the attack at the fort.


    As much as I hated to admit it, I hoped that would be the case. I had to rescue Logan and Avery, and being nothing but a blood sacrifice felt so small and insignificant.


    It all came down to whether the film buff actually understood this so-called system. If he was wrong, it would alle down to me¡ªand I would not fail.


    But if he was right, and it was my time to go, I was going down swinging.


    The mercenaries clearly had training from somewhere, but they weren''t using it.


    At times, they would cluster up too close together and fall out of formation when we went On-Screen. Carousel needed its good shot, and that meant we couldn''t be stealthy¡ªnot really.


    Still, I tried.


    I directed them to spread out¡ªnot too thin¡ªbut to work our way through the brush quietly and methodically. There was a way to move through a forest to minimize your chances of being spotted and to maximize your chances of finding what you were looking for.


    Despite what Carousel had cast me as I wasn''t some "Indian tracker" or whatever nonsense you see in the movies. But I was a soldier, and I hadmon sense. And when Antoine had fled into the forest, he had been bleeding all over the ce from a wound that would never heal because it was kept open by a silver caltrop.


    Somehow, Hawk had figured out that Antoine was the werewolf before anyone else.


    Even though he didn¡¯t tell me what we were doing, I figured it out pretty quickly¡ªwe needed to set up traps around the manor property while Antoine was gone so he wouldn''t know where they were.


    Pretty clever. I caught on pretty quickly, too. It turned out that the film buff did as well, but his reasoning was something else.


    I kept hearing twigs snapping in the distance. I would signal for everyone to stop so I could listen, and they would obey.


    Carousel must have been angling for a very particr shot because it kept doing that. When it had gotten its shot of me takingmand of the mercenaries, finally, the twig snapping stopped. I didn¡¯t show it, but I was downright spooked.


    Was it trying to get to me?


    I knew what wasing. There was no avoiding it. And if I tried to avoid it, it would be worse for everyone.


    But I was going to do my best.


    I lost the trail twice, but Hawk had a trope for tracking monsters, and he never managed to lose it. He would point me toward it with his eyes when we were On-Screen, almost like he wanted me to get the credit¡ªbecause I needed charity.


    We walked forward, and those damn mercenaries kept bunching up again. This wasn¡¯t just them going against their training¡ªsomething was happening. I could see it in the way the Monster Hunter paragon kept looking at them like he knew what was going on. How much of the script could Paragons see?


    The wolves were about to attack. Second Blood was upon us, and the needle on the plot cycle confirmed it for me.


    Riley was right. He found a way to survive even with his pathetic Plot Armor. Hats off to him.


    I expected a roar. I expected screams. But what I heard instead was a loud bang.


    I looked behind me. All the mercenaries had been bunched up because, as it turns out, the wolves weren¡¯t attacking in wolf form.


    No. Someone had just let off a grenade. A shbang, from the sound¡ªbut that couldn¡¯t have been it. Body parts were flying. Movies never get ordnance right.


    I started screamingmands into the air¡ªinstincts at this point¡ªbut my words were falling on deaf ears. I couldn¡¯t even hear theming out of my own mouth. All I heard was a bright, piercing sound in my ear that seemed to grow like a balloon filling up until my head wanted to explode. And then there was nothing. No sound could get near me.


    I was nearly deaf at times; the sound wasing in and out.


    I dropped back into the woods, into the thick brush away from the clearing where the mercenaries had just been torn apart.


    I looked for my target, and it didn¡¯t take long to find him. The others were right¡ªit was the blonde mercenary. He stood there, not as a wolf, but as a man with a gun. He had been far away from the others. Then he pulled out his sidearm and started leveling it at the screaming mercenaries, silencing them one shot at a time with a devilish smile on his face¡ªlike he¡¯d tricked us.


    And I had to y along because I drew the short straw.


    Hell, I¡¯d volunteered for the short straw. And I always would.


    But I was gonna kill that damn wolf.


    I leveled my rifle at him, but before I could fire, I finally saw a sh of fur. But it wasn¡¯t from him. There was another wolf¡ªa big one with long arms.


    I screamed loudly and stupidly because I wasn¡¯t supposed to believe they¡¯de out in the daylight like this. That was only mature wolves¡ªone in a thousand, right?


    But here they were¡ªno less than a dozen.


    No less than two dozen.


    Three dozen.


    They were pulling in from all sides.


    I was going to die. And as the numbers increased, I realized the other yers would, too.


    How had we never talked about numbers when it came to the wolf pack? Why had we just assumed it would be twelve? Where did we even get that number from? A book? Some random lore insight?


    Important questions asked toote.


    I grabbed my side piece and dropped the wolf that had thrashed my rifle. He didn¡¯t even get a scratch on me. Another shot into another wolf. And it continued like that.


    Most of the mercenaries were shredded, but one of them¡ªwhose name I had never learned¡ªactually managed to kill a werewolf. It was almost funny. These NPCs were tough¡ªthey were supposed to be¡ªbut in this ughter, they were torn apart like toilet paper.


    Except for that one NPC with the big mustache, gunning down wolves left and right. Had he even had speaking parts? I couldn¡¯t remember.


    Still, I couldn¡¯t hear much. But I was on a swivel, gun in each hand, waiting for the wolves to charge, to get close. They dropped like y pigeons.


    I heard Hawk yelling, asking how there could be so many wolves during daylight hours. Couldn''t understand him exactly. He sounded like he was in disbelief, like the possibility that he misunderstood the enemy was nonexistent. And yet, here we were.


    He was ying dumb, and I was ying dumber.


    Where was that blonde mercenary? Had he already shifted?


    I shot wolf after wolf, and they all fell. I knew how to make a fight look good. I dropped to the ground and crawled. When a wolf came on top of me, I shot up, got it through the roof of the mouth, then another into the heart.


    These wolves could only be defeated in the zenith of battle during a climactic moment.


    That meant Carousel saw my death as a climactic moment. I wondered if Riley had understood that. The way he exined it, it sounded like the wolves had to be killed in a climactic way. But as I mowed down these sick dogs, I realized there was more than one way to make a climactic moment.


    Not just with some science experiment or a trap.


    But by giving it all.


    One wolf down, then another.


    I called out Hawk¡¯s name, but I couldn''t say if he responded. I jumped into the underbrush and climbed through to the other side of the vegetation, and there he was¡ªgetting hollowed out by a wolf with unusually light fur.


    I double-barreled into it, but I was toote.


    I didn¡¯t even see what it was that got me. I was out before the pain even came. But that was pretty normal with my Grit.


    The lights went out, and all I focused on was continuing to pull the triggers on my guns like some die-hard chicken with its head cut off. I¡¯d like to think I killed another wolf in those final moments, but I knew I couldn¡¯t get <em>the</em> one. Not the one I wanted.


    Everything went dark, and I wondered if it would be thest time.

 Book Five, Chapter 89: Preparations

    "I''m certain that we could aplish this much more feasibly with a bit of string," Andrew said as we finished setting up one of our many traps incorporating our silver nitrate and copper purification method.


    "Look, Antoine''s rescue trope is supposed to be a test of Hustle, and I don''t know if you noticed yet, but we haven''t really had one¡ªunless having a timer counts as Hustle-based, which I don''t think it does."


    He continued messing with the finicky mechanism we had designed on the fly. Around us, the remaining mercenaries were being a big help. Their rtively high Hustle made light work of the meticulous traps we were building.


    "Fair enough," Andrew said. "I have just the trope for buffing my Hustle, but at the same time, I''m uncertain of how this fuse can possibly be lit by a bullet."


    "Well, my friend, that is exactly what Savvy is designed for¡ªmaking things that seem kind of usible work when they wouldn''t in real life," I said. "In movies, a bullet can light a fuse if it strikes a rock at the same time and sends out a spark or put out a fuse if it just hits the dirt."


    Andrew already had a high Hustle stat. That,bined with his ability to buff his Hustle when performing a task that requires lots of focus, meant he would be ideal for meeting the requirement of passing a test of Hustle.


    "Let''s not forget," I said aloud to both Kimberly and Andrew, the only two other yers around for the finale. "Anytime you get a chance to show off on Hustle or to win using that stat, you need to do it. Whether it''s running from one of the wolves, throwing something at it, or shooting it with a really urate shot¡ªwe have to show off our Hustle. I''m not exactly sure what the consequences of not doing that are, but Antoine''s trope was pretty clear."


    Andrew nodded. I''m not sure he liked me being so redundant, but I would rather be redundant than forget to say something.


    Kimberly quickly walked away toward the staircase that would lead below the Fort."Is she okay?" I asked.


    "You might need to go ask her," he said.


    "I will," I said. "Right when we finish up here."


    Finding a super-powerful weapon against an enemy was almost as important as finding ways to employ it. We needed to devise multiple different traps and tactics that would use our new and improved rolling silver to great effect.


    That was actually something Andrew was quite good at.


    Sure, arguably the best way to take care of it was just to hold a container of silver nitrate that we had stocked up, drop copper in it, and wait for the wolves around you to start trying to tear their skin off¡ªbut that was one note.


    We needed a variety of traps. We needed the enemy confused and disoriented, and we needed to be able to mow through them.


    There could be a dozen wolvesing toward us. There could be two dozen. We were preparing for even more than that. <strong>The Dailies</strong> was being a bit weird. It just showed me how many people were out and about in Southeastern Carousel. I didn''t understand why it was focused on hikers and townsfolk, but it felt ominous. Better to be overprepared.


    What I was certain of is that Kimberly was at the center of it all.


    They woulde for her.


    Everything pointed toward that.


    But only <em>pointed</em>. I was acutely aware that we were making a massive assumption in our n by taking for granted that the wolves woulde to us.


    It was one of the first things we were told by an NPC. Were we foolish? I didn''t know. I felt like the story had confirmed that idea.


    The presence of the Fort, the location of the catbs and tombs underneath the Manor, the significance of the location, and the fact that the She-Wolf, the pack leader, had not yete to this ce confirmed for me that this was the setting for the finale. ????


    Moments earlier, we had seen <em>Second Blood</em>e and pass, and I had survived it thanks to Michael''s sacrifice.


    By all rights, I should have been sitting in the theater watching everything take ce right at that moment. But it just so happened we had a convenient trap to walk into at the right time.


    Nevertheless, when the final battle started, I wasn''t going tost long, and I knew it. Oblivious Bystander or not, I was next.


    I just had to make it count.


    Kimberly, wherever she was down underground, was so important in this story. The trope she had received with her Celebrity aspect was no joke. So many things revolved around her character¡ªnot just because of her rtionship with Antoine but because of her rtionship with the history of this ce and her connection with our enemy.


    Everything hinged on her, and all I could do was spout out ns and tactics.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Andrew was diligent at work, setting up our various traps and contingencies.


    I knew I could be frustrating and a bit of a micromanager, but I was truly grateful to have another high-Savvy yer around. His ns would work as well as mine¡ªor even better.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    It should have been me and Camden. He was moreid back than Andrew. I wondered what he would have done in this storyline.


    Heck, if he were here, we would have had <strong>Eureka</strong>. We wouldn''t have spent our entire subplots trapped inside the library researching. He would have had it done in half an hour.


    It was going to be great if we could just get him back. Him and Anna.


    She would know what to say to Kimberly.


    I had a feeling that if she were still here, our problem with Antoine wouldn''t really be a problem, though I couldn''t put my finger on why.


    We were so close to that moment where everything was going to be better I could almost taste it.


    The needle on the plot cycle moved so quickly, watching as we secured our traps. Only giving enough of a glimpse to the audience so that they could wonder what we were up to. With every second of footage Carousel got, the mystery built, and our traps became more powerful because the audience wanted to see them.


    They wanted to believe that we were this smart, that we could actually solve this problem.


    And I hoped we actually were. But I didn''t know.


    After I had secured thest little bit of dirt from all the holes we had dug up and swept the entire courtyard¡ªjust so that the wolves wouldn''t be able to see where we had dug¡ªwe were finally finished.


    Now, I could double-check everything.


    And when I was done with that, I could go find Kimberly and make sure she was ready.


    And she would be because she had to be. Because when we needed her, she stood up and became the main character, and she would do it again.


    I knocked the dust off my hands with a few ps and headed to the stairs, still working through lines and possibilities in my head as I walked.


    I found Kimberly in the underground beneath the Fort, sitting on a cot. She was looking down, and I couldn''t see her face, but her arms were wrapped around her stomach like she was sick.


    I approached her slowly. I didn''t want to invade her space.


    "How are you feeling?" I asked, like a hammer through a stained ss window.


    What kind of question was that? We were down to two Savvy-based yers and her, and even though Kimberly was a Jack of all trades thanks to her tropes, having her as the primary melee was scary.


    "I''m afraid," Kimberly said. She looked up at me. I could see tears in her eyes.


    "Me too," I said. "I''m not exactly sure how we''re going to get to our end game here. We''ll probably be able to take out her troops, but I don''t know what we''re doing against <em>her</em>. It¡¯s probably gonnae down to you."


    She took a deep breath.


    "We''ve been over the n," Kimberly said. "I feel fear, but not just my own. It¡¯s the other woman¡ªit¡¯s my character."


    Oh, <em>that</em>.


    Some veterans swore that they could connect on an emotional level with their characters. Others never reported feeling even the slightest bit of outside presence when ying a role.


    I didn¡¯t know what to think. I wasn¡¯t going to deny something that so many people imed to feel, but when I hadn¡¯t felt it myself¡ªnot in any way I could be sure of, at least¡ªit was difficult for me to empathize.


    And I really hated that.


    "What is she afraid of?" I asked. "Is this how the base story goes? How would your character be afraid of this moment unless this moment happened in the original story?"


    I just wanted to break down what she was feeling so I could understand it¡ªmaybe even use it.


    "She¡¯s not afraid of the wolf," Kimberly said. "I know it¡¯s crazy¡ªthat¡¯s what I thought at first, but she¡¯s not. She¡¯s afraid of something else."


    That was not the type of answer I was looking for.


    "What else?" I asked. When I asked it, I was thinking she was going to say there was a twist viin or something like that¡ªlike maybe it turned out that Kirst was secretly a vampire or some ridiculous idea like that.


    "The dark," Kimberly said. "Lonesomeness. A door opening¡­ I¡¯m afraid of love. I don¡¯t trust it. This makes no sense. I don¡¯t understand."


    Kimberly was full-on crying.


    She had no trope that should be giving her this information, and I wasn¡¯t even sure that this was real insight that would be useful to us. If anything, it was a hindrance.


    And I wished that I knew the words to make her feel better or to make her understand what was happening. I wished I could tell her that we were going to walk away from this and that my ns were definitely going to seed.


    Instead, I had to ask about something else¡ªsomething I understood better.


    "Have you even used <strong>Convenient Backstory</strong>?" I asked. It had been bugging me for a while. I didn¡¯t see the stat bump that I recognized from that trope, but it was unusual for Kimberly to wait until the finale to use it¡ªespecially in a storyline like this, where she might need help all along the way.


    "What?" she asked. She was so distracted she hadn¡¯t even heard me.


    "<strong>Convenient Backstory</strong>," I said. "I was wondering if you had used it because it doesn¡¯t look like you did."


    She looked down and thought for a moment. Then she shook her head.


    "No," she said. "I tried to use it earlier when I was talking with Antoine at the summer camp, but it didn¡¯t trigger. I think it¡¯s because the background that I made up turned out actually to be my character¡¯s background. I just wanted to have some fighting skills, maybe make myself a hunter, but I guess I already was."


    "Interesting," I said.


    And it was. That would imply that <strong>Convenient Backstory</strong> only worked when the story you gave yourself was <em>not</em> already in the script.


    There was a pause in the conversation that I didn¡¯t know what to do with, so I turned to leave and head back upstairs to the courtyard to triple-check things.


    "What do you think the end of my subplot is supposed to be?" she asked. "What are we supposed to be doing on that? Because if it¡¯s just a fight, Riley, I don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to win. I just have this awful feeling."


    So did I. They say the best ns don¡¯t survive contact with the enemy, but we had barely contacted the enemy. I had no idea how things were going to go or if our chemical-based rolling silver was going to do anything at all in the long run.


    "The silver ne ys into it," I said.


    "Should I go grab it?" she asked. "It¡¯s just sitting there in the crypt."


    I thought for a moment.


    "I¡¯ll tell you when," I said. "I¡¯ll use <strong>The Insert Shot</strong> to give you the moment that you need to go get it. Because I think it¡¯s all about timing."


    "And what will happen?" she asked. "Do you understand what it does? Drawing out a curse¡ªwill that do what we need?"


    It could mean so many things. It could be the weapon for defeating the werewolves. It could be a trap. It could be useless. It could be a distraction¡ªagainst the werewolves or against us.


    But it would be something.


    It would be important. And the longer we let the audience wait to find out what that was, the more potent it would be.


    I shook my head. "Whatever happens, we have to y along. And that is something you are good at."


    She smiled,ughed, and wiped away a tear. "Yeah, we¡¯ll see," she said.


    I left her there because I had to make sure everything was ready upstairs. And because the finale was moving faster than anything before it¡ªas it almost always seemed to.


    Not five minutester, Kimberly reemerged from the underground. And when she came back by me, we went On-Screen.


    We basically had the same conversation we had just had but in character. And this time, she wasn¡¯t crying¡ªshe was confident.


    When she asked me about the silver ne, I had another answer.


    "I don¡¯t know what it is," I said. "But when we find out, I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be ready."


    I had to y my character afraid of whatever power that ne had. Diffusing a curse could mean so many things to a creative entity like Carousel.


    And if we set it up just right, I believed that Carousel would reward us.


    What else could I believe?

 Book Five, Chapter 90: The Pack

    I woke to the faint hum of a refrigerator and the soft rustle of curtains moving in the breeze.


    My body ached to stretch, muscles tense but unfamiliar, like a coat that no longer fit quite right. When I opened my eyes, the room was bright with mid-day light.


    I went to move, bracing for soreness, for pain.


    And there was none.


    My body moved like a tightly wound spring.


    I looked around.


    No. I sniffed the air. My sense of sight was not dominant anymore. My sense of smell was.


    I wasn¡¯t in the woods anymore. The forest¡¯s damp, earthy smell had been reced by something cleaner¡ªfresh linen, faint soap, and... wolves. The scent was thick, clinging to the air like smoke,forting and unmistakable.


    It was in the walls, the furniture, and even me.The room was ordinary¡ªa small, cheaply furnished motel room¡ªa in bed with a thin, floral-patternedforter. A cheap table with a single chair pushed underneath. On it sat a stack of neatly folded clothes, jeans, a T-shirt, and boots.


    Like an invitation, like a reminder that I was a person again.


    The wolf understood.


    I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, testing my body. Everything felt whole. My hands, free of ws, flexed easily. My feet, no longer mangled by silver, met the carpet without pain. I felt... strong. Rested. Healed. But the undercurrent of power was still there, humming beneath my skin.


    The wolf wasn¡¯t gone. It was waiting. It called to me, singing a sweet moon melody that only my heart knew.


    I ignored it and pulled on the clothes.


    When I opened the door, the cool air rushed in. I stepped outside, and the motel¡¯s exterior stretched before me: chipped paint, rusty railings, and the faint hum of flickering neon. I was on the second floor, looking down onto the gravel lot below. It was nearly empty, save for a few parked cars.


    And then I felt it.


    The connection mmed into me like a wave, flooding my senses with an awareness I hadn¡¯t asked for.


    Wolves. Everywhere.


    I couldn¡¯t see them, but I could feel them, hundreds of them scattered throughout the town. Their presence tugged at me, faint but insistent, like an echo I couldn¡¯t quite hear.


    The motel wasn¡¯t just a stopping ce¡ªit was the center. The wolves were everywhere, their scentsyered into the streets, the buildings, the people.


    I leaned on the railing, staring out over the little town, and the pull became sharper, narrowing into a single thread that drew me forward.


    I followed it without thinking, moving down the stairs and across the street. The pavement was warm underfoot, the fading sunlight bathing the small diner ahead in gold. The neon sign above the door flickered weakly, its letters spelling out <em>OPEN.</em>


    Through the window, I saw her.


    Sarah. Serena. Her name was not letters or sounds. It was a feeling carved into my bones.


    She sat at a booth near the back, her head tilted as sheughed at something one of the human-form wolves around her had said. Her presence wasn¡¯t loud ormanding¡ªit was effortless, maic. My feet moved before I could stop them, the pull too strong, tooplete. I pushed the door open, the bell jingling softly as I stepped inside. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    The smell of coffee and grease hit me first, followed by the overwhelming scent of wolves. The town seemed to fade behind me as every head in the room turned, their eyes on me. Some watched with curiosity, others with recognition. I didn¡¯t know them, but they knew me.


    Sarah looked up, her dark eyes locking onto mine. She smiled¡ªa small, knowing smile that tugged at something deep inside me.


    ¡°Antoine,¡± she said, her voice low and steady, as though she¡¯d been waiting for me all along. ¡°Come. Sit.¡±


    I didn¡¯t question her. I couldn¡¯t. Her presence filled the room, pushing out everything else. Even as my human side bristled at the weight of her gaze, the wolf in me settled, pleased, its growl fading into something closer to a purr.


    The connection hummed between us, pulling me deeper into the current of her power. And I realized, with a sinking certainty, that I was no longer running from this ce. I was part of it now.


    My fingers drummed against the table as I tried to ignore the tension in the air. Every nce, every movement in the diner felt deliberate, like the room itself was holding its breath.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Sarah asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was calm, inviting, but it carried an undeniable weight. She leaned back in her seat, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the table, the other holding a mug of coffee.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ different,¡± I said, my voice low and scratchy. My eyes flicked to the waitress cleaning the counter, then to the grill cook flipping burgers behind her. Both of them carried the same scent¡ªa quiet, unmistakable power.


    Wolves, but calm.


    Wolves, but <em>human.</em>


    ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it. Not what you expected?¡± Sarah asked, amused.


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted. ¡°Wolves don¡¯t live like this.¡±


    Wolves clung to the outskirts of humanity and fed on vermin, nabbing a hiker here and there in their search for food. They drank and mated and wilted their lives away until someone like me stopped them.


    ¡°Don¡¯t they?¡± she replied, arching an eyebrow. She gestured to the window behind me, where the town bustled with life. People walked down the streets, carrying groceries,ughing with neighbors. ¡°There¡¯s nothing strange here, Antoine. Just people living their lives.¡±


    ¡°And wolves,¡± I said, my tone sharper than I intended.


    She tilted her head, studying me. ¡°And wolves,¡± she echoed. ¡°But why should that matter? You¡¯re one of us now.¡±


    I opened my mouth to argue, but the waitress appeared at the side of the table, a notepad in hand. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and she had a tired but genuine smile. ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡± she asked, her voice casual, but her gaze flicked to Sarah briefly, like she was checking for permission.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± I nced down at the menu Sarah had ced in front of me. It was greasy and worn, the corners fraying. My stomach twisted. I hadn¡¯t thought about food since¡ª<em>since when?</em> The wolf had taken so much from me. Hunger, fear, time.


    ¡°He¡¯ll have the special,¡± Sarah said smoothly, before I could respond. She sipped her coffee, then added, ¡°And bring him a coffee. ck.¡±


    The waitress nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t need to order for me,¡± I said, irritated.


    Her smile widened slightly. ¡°Didn¡¯t I?¡±


    The conversation shifted as our food arrived. Sarah¡¯s presence was overwhelming¡ªshe was too calm, too steady. Every question she asked felt like a hook, pulling me deeper into her world. She told me about the wolves here, about how they lived among humans without detection. ¡°Not everything has to be a battle,¡± she said at one point, slicing into a te of steak. ¡°Sometimes, we¡¯re just people. Sometimes, we¡¯re more.¡±


    But as she spoke, I couldn¡¯t shake the growing pull in my chest, the invisible thread that connected me to her, to this town, to something <em>bigger</em>. It wasforting and terrifying in equal measure.


    ¡°Why Carousel?¡± I asked finally, interrupting her. ¡°Why stay here? What makes this ce so special?¡±


    When I said Carousel, I almost scared myself. I had meant the fictional Carousel of this storyline, but hearing myself talk about Carousel the entity, I had almost forgotten about it. I was a wolf now, not a yer.


    Her fork paused midway to her mouth. For a moment, I thought she wouldn¡¯t answer. Then she ced the fork down gently and leaned forward, her expression softening.


    ¡°This ce holds something for me,¡± she said. ¡°Something I can¡¯t quite exin. A connection. To the past. To¡­¡± She trailed off, her eyes distant, like she was seeing something I couldn¡¯t. ¡°Someone.¡±


    ¡°ra,¡± I said, surprising myself. The name felt foreign and familiar at the same time. Her head snapped toward me, her eyes narrowing.


    ¡°So, how did you learn that name?¡±


    ¡°The others at the Manor have been researching,¡± I admitted. I couldn''t lie to her. ¡°They¡¯ve been learning about her. They found her body."


    For the first time, Sarah lost her cool demeanor, and for a moment, I thought she was going to transform.


    But she calmed down. She was silent for a moment, contemting.


    Her gaze softened again, and she nodded. ¡°ra was the first. The original wolf here. She was¡­ everything to me. She was stolen from me. It makes sense that they would seek her final resting ce. I can''t believe they found it. I think a piece of her lives on. It walks around, talks, slowly learning, remembering its old self. I think right now, that piece lives in our friend, Kimberly.¡±


    That name hit me like a p. Kimberly. My Kimberly. The pull to her was almost overwhelming, but it wasn¡¯t the same as before. It wasn¡¯t human anymore. It was primal, possessive. The wolf in me stirred, murmuring about siring her, making her part of the pack. I pushed it down, but the feeling lingered, sharp and dangerous.


    ¡°I need to protect her,¡± I said, my voice shaking. It just came out.


    ¡°From what?¡±


    ¡°From you. From me. From all of this.¡±


    Fear rose up in me. How could I say this? What would she do to me?


    Sarah chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down my spine. ¡°You already have, Antoine. You¡¯ve been protecting her since the attack at the summer camp. If it weren¡¯t for you, she wouldn¡¯t be alive today. I owe everything to you. You stopped me when I couldn''t stop myself. And now, I¡¯ve built all this. A pack to end all packs. A real future.¡±


    Her words hit something deep inside me, stirring memories I didn¡¯t want to revisit. But before I could respond, she stood, smoothing her jacket. ¡°Come. Walk with me.¡±


    The streets were quiet now, but the scents of wolves were stronger than ever. She led me down the sidewalk, pointing out houses, storefronts, and people.


    ¡°There are wolves everywhere,¡± she said casually. ¡°The waitress. The grill cook. Even the man who owns that hardware store down the block. They¡¯re part of this ce, just like everyone else. We¡¯ve been here for years, hiding in in sight.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked, ncing at her. ¡°Why not leave? Why not go where you wouldn¡¯t have to hide?¡±


    ¡°Because this is where the connection is,¡± she said simply. ¡°To ra. To the pack. To everything I¡¯ve built. Leaving here would mean severing that bond.¡± She paused, turning to face me. ¡°And I don¡¯t think I can.¡±


    Her words hung in the air as we reached the edge of town, the forest looming in the distance. The wolf in me stirred again, whispering about loyalty, power, submission. I ignored it, but my chest felt tight.


    ¡°What happens next?¡± I asked.


    She smiled, her teeth shing in the fading light. ¡°That depends on you, Antoine.¡±


    The forest loomed ahead, its shadows stretching toward us like hungry fingers as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The wolf in me stirred, hyper-aware but calm in Sarah¡¯s presence. I couldn¡¯t deny the pull anymore¡ªit wasn¡¯t just the pack, or the town, or even her. It was everything.


    The connection to her was woven into every scent, every sound, every part of Carousel.


    ¡°This ce,¡± Sarah said as we walked, her steps light and deliberate, ¡°is more than just a town. It¡¯s a tether. A ce where things started and where they¡¯re supposed to end.¡± Her voice was steady, but it carried an edge of something deeper. Grief? Hope? I couldn¡¯t tell.


    I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. ¡°Why do I feel this? This... pull?¡±


    She nced at me, her eyes sharp and knowing. ¡°Because you¡¯re one of us now. Because I¡¯ve shaped this curse for nearly two centuries, and the bond ties us all together. Even you.¡± She paused, her gaze piercing. ¡°But it¡¯s not just me, Antoine. It¡¯s ra. Her spirit lingers here, pulling at all of us. And through her... Kimberly.¡±


    ¡°Kimberly,¡± I said, the name heavy in my mouth. ¡°She doesn¡¯t belong in this. She doesn¡¯t belong <em>here.</em>¡±


    Sarah stopped, turning to face me. ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that? Do you think I haven¡¯t tried to understand why she¡¯s part of this?¡± Her voice softened, but the intensity remained. ¡°When I met her, I lost control. I nearly destroyed the only connection I had to ra. Again. That was my wake-up call, Antoine. Kimberly is here for a reason, and this time, I will find out why.¡±


    Sarah studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. ¡°You feel it too, don¡¯t you? The bond. The connection. That¡¯s what ties us all together. The pack, this ce, everything. It¡¯s what makes us stronger.¡± She took a step closer, her presence overwhelming. ¡°But it¡¯s also what makes us dangerous. This is the night we find her and we find out how she fits into all of this, how we fit into this. We find it all out tonight.¡±


    I clenched my fists, trying to drown out the wolf¡¯s growing need to obey her, to fall into step with her rhythm. ¡°There¡¯s something else,¡± I said. ¡°Something you don¡¯t know. They have rolling silver. It¡¯s this weapon they made. The wolves they tried it on¡­ it was terrible. If we move on them¡­¡±


    Why was I telling her this? Had I just betrayed Kimberly and the others?


    At that, Sarahughed¡ªa low, rich sound that sent a chill through me. ¡°You think I haven¡¯t seen rolling silver before? A monster hunter from the Far East once came here with the same weapon. Do you know what happened to him?¡± She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. ¡°I sent him back to the Far East with longer teeth.¡±


    Her confidence was maddening. The human part of me wanted to shake her, to tell her how dangerous Riley¡¯s preparations were. But the wolf purred with satisfaction, its growl low and pleased. <em>She is powerful. She is right.</em>


    ¡°They¡¯ll be ready,¡± I said, my voice faltering. ¡°Riley... the documentarian... he¡¯ll make sure of it.¡±


    Mypulsion to tell her was too strong.


    Had we been On-Screen this whole time? I could barely see the red wallpaper in the haze. Anytime I looked at it, I saw¡­ a script instead. I wasn''t a yer. I was living it. It was all real to me.


    Sarah tilted her head, a curious smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Riley?¡± she echoed. ¡°You seem sure of him.¡±


    I hesitated. ¡°He¡¯s... different. Psychic, maybe. He knows things he shouldn¡¯t. He has a connection to this curse.¡±


    Her smile widened, more wolf than human. ¡°Good. I don¡¯t want it to be easy. If he survives, perhaps I¡¯ll find use for him. Either way, we¡¯ll see who¡¯s more prepared. I¡¯ve waited for Kimberly to return for nearly a decade. I knew she would and we will meet our destinies together before she leaves. ra has a message for me, and I intend to find it.¡±


    Her calm confidence settled over me like a heavy nket, smothering my fears. The wolf within me hummed with agreement, pushing away the lingering worry for Kimberly and my friends. It was like cool water pouring over a burn, numbing the pain, leaving only rity.


    ¡°You¡¯ll join us tonight,¡± Sarah said, her tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°The full moon rises, and the pack will run together.¡±


    I felt a pang of guilt, sharp and fleeting. But then the wolf stirred, loud and insistent. It pushed past the fear, past the conflict, drowning it all in a wave of certainty. My lips moved before I could stop them, my voice not entirely my own.


    ¡°Whatever you tell me to do.¡±


    Sarah¡¯s smile was serene. ¡°Good.¡±


    As we walked back toward the motel that evening, Sarah¡¯s voice changed. It became deeper, resonant, carrying through the air like amand. ¡°Come to me.¡±


    The effect was instant. From all over town, people stopped what they were doing. A woman at the gas station let the nozzle fall from her hand. A man hauling lumber onto his truck froze mid-step. A child ying in the yard set down their toy. One by one, they began to walk¡ªtoward the forest, toward Sarah, their movements steady and unhurried but filled with purpose.


    I watched them go, hundreds of them, their faces glowing with excitement. Thrilled. Ready.


    The wolf in me growled its approval, and for the first time, I didn¡¯t try to silence it. I let it hum in time with the pack, with the current that bound us all together.


    The full moon was rising, and it was time.

 Book Five, Chapter 91: Moonlit Charge

    I felt like my heart was connected by live wires.


    The finale was moving forward so fast. As the day went by and the sun started to set, it was ourst day. We had to survive, and I didn''t even know if surviving through the night was enough or if we had to defeat all of the werewolves. Either way, if we didn''t find a way to beat the pack leader, we would fail our rescue, and everyone who had died or been turned into a werewolf would stay that way.


    I had to fight back tears. I wasn''t the precious, beautiful starlet¡ªI had to be a fighter. That''s who my character was in her own way. But she never fought with guns; she fought with something else, something more tender, and she had lost.


    In this dire moment, why was it I could only think of this woman I had never met? I could feel her tears running down my cheeks, her breath in my lungs, her solemn warning to run, to flee¡­


    But not from the wolf. The She-Wolf gave her mind no unease at all.


    I tried to lock those feelings away because they weren''t useful to me, but I couldn''t do that. Riley would have been able to. Antoine would have, too. Antoine could hide anything. But I couldn''t, so I had to make them useful. I had to be the one to protect that scared young woman who was so mysteriously connected to me.


    And I would have to do it soon.


    Riley, as he often was, was right about what would happen next.


    The fort was argeplex of old crumbling stone walls, but it was still just arge square with stone walls on all sides. There were lookout towers hastily bolted onto the walkways upon the walls so that we could get a good view of our surroundings as the night wore on.We waited hours without so much as a peep. The night grew darker and darker.


    But when the fight came, it came all at once. I gripped my rifle like it was part of me. We had practiced shooting. Since we all had high Hustle, we were all crack shots. That made sense for our characters, and it helped us gain the respect of the remaining mercenaries.


    From the top of the tower, one of those mercenaries who had stayed behind started screaming. Everyone inside became alert, picking up their weapons. None of us were going outside the fort; the main entrance was closed off.


    The werewolves could jump over any wall, but that was part of Riley and Andrew''s n.


    But the man on the top of the wall wasn''t screaming about wolves. He screamed, "Survivors!" at the top of his lungs. The cold wind jerked a tear from his eyes, and his scream broke his voice.


    Riley was up thedder onto the wall, and I followed.


    Breathe in. Breathe out. I had to be tough.


    We did have survivors, all right.


    In the distance, at the edge of the forest, I saw the blonde mercenary being hauled out by another mercenary. The second one was bald and had arge w mark on his chest. The blonde mercenary was limping like he''d been injured.


    "Help!" the blonde mercenary screamed.


    They were approaching the fort as fast as they could. The blonde mercenary kept screaming, "We were attacked! It was an ambush. There are more survivors. You need to send help!"


    He kept repeating that in exasperated cries like it took every ounce of his will to keep screaming.


    His cries echoed over the hollow field, and they were all I could hear outside of my own heartbeat.


    I had to look suspicious of him. I was On-Screen, and this was my time.


    The mercenary who had been on the wall with us, the one who had screamed, was calling for the others to go out and help them. But before anyone could follow along with that, I aimed my rifle and quickly pulled the trigger.


    My Hustle was high, so my aim was dead on. The silver bullet struck the kneecap of the blonde mercenary''s supposedly injured leg.


    He roared in pain.


    Roared<strong>.</strong>


    The mercenary who had been on the wall with us heard that beastly cry and went suddenly silent. He looked at me like I was a stone-cold killer¡ªor maybe like I was psychic. I couldn''t tell.


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    We were On-Screen, so I decided to give Riley''s exnation.


    "That little drop of werewolf saliva transformed Antoine into a werewolf in a day and a half.¡± I shook my head. ¡°I never believed it. It should have taken weeks. The only way someone transforms that fast is if they had help."


    Suddenly, I was Off-Screen again, and the blonde mercenary and his friend were back On-Screen.


    Riley was right. He was always right when it came to stuff like this, it seemed. After a few moments of trying to feign pain and confusion, the blonde mercenary began tough.


    And then the hair started to grow.


    The w marks on the bald mercenary who had been supporting him began to disappear, and he, too, transformed, one bit at a time.


    But they weren¡¯t alone.


    An army of wolves appeared from the forest beyond, and I didn¡¯t have to pretend to be choked up with fear because this was an amount we had never even considered.


    "Dozens," Riley said. "Hundreds. How is this possible?"


    Was he pretending, or was he afraid, too? Sometimes, it was hard to tell with him. I knew that part of him was excited for the reveal, as if he had been ying a game of chess with Carousel and finally figured out what it was up to.


    That part of him scared me, but it was also the part we needed to win.


    The werewolves charged.


    "Shots only!" Riley called as he directed me back down thedder.


    "Pick them off as theye," he said to the mercenary who remained. And the mercenary did. He was a good shot, and these NPCs were built for battle.


    He must have killed five werewolves¡ªor at least hit five¡ªbefore the first one jumped the height of the wall and tackled him into the courtyard below.


    The werewolf had the man pinned to the ground right beneath us as we descended thedder.


    The werewolf raised its sharp ws against the man, but as we climbed down, Riley drew out a long silver knife, almost long enough to be a sword. It had a trope attached¡ªsomething about des.


    It was the silver serving spoon. Riley must have had it melted down and reforged.


    He then fell off thedder¡ªmaybe on purpose¡ªonto the back of the werewolf, skewering it and quickly bringing forward his small sidearm to pop it in the head.


    As he drew his knife out, he looked up at me as if he wasn¡¯t quite sure he had actually managed to kill one.


    I wasn¡¯t sure it was on purpose.


    We were On-Screen for that, but it worked for his character too.


    We didn¡¯t have time to celebrate¡ªmore wolves wereing.


    We needed to get to the back wall, where the palisade walls were the highest, and the wolves would have the hardest time getting to us. If we could just get to the top, where a nice perch had been set up, and Andrew was waiting for us, we would be on our marks for the n.


    The mercenaries that remained¡ªhowever few there were¡ªfollowed the exact orders that Andrew and Riley had given them, taking out any wolf that tried to jump over the walls.


    Then, the phases of the battle started to march like clockwork, exactly as they had been nned, more or less. All I could do was get a few shots in and wait for my moment. Because as soon as the waves of wolves thinned out, the real fight would begin.


    <strong>Phase One: Firearms</strong>


    We were not conducting a battle against an experienced general. We never believed the werewolves would use advanced siege tactics.


    Their attack would be simple. A powerful full-frontal assault was expected, with a few twists to keep things interesting.


    Yet, when we designed our defenses, we did feel as if we were nning against a siege because Carousel was our true enemy. We had to cater our defense to its sensibilities.


    Riley was proficient at this part of the nning.


    Together, we developed a n of battle that would give Carousel premium footage and hopefully result in an optimal oue for us.


    When the assault started, we did not immediately activate the advanced rolling silver (A.R.S.). Riley suggested we start with old-fashioned silver bullets.


    The wolves attacked from all sides.


    The back wall, where we had set up our stand amongst the destroyed remains of some old lookout tower, was right up against a steep drop-off, providing extra security for us as the wolves could not clear the wall and the embankment.


    The wolves would pop up over the front and side walls one or two at a time, at speeds I could hardly fathom, and we would shoot them back.


    At first, it worked.


    ¡°Just keep on firing,¡± Riley said. ¡°Knock ¡®em down.¡±


    Except, of course, that couldn¡¯t work forever. Battle must ebb and flow, and soon, the enemy began to overwhelm us as the wolves started to pour over the side walls and into the courtyard below.


    We lost most of our remaining mercenaries one at a time. They fought bravely and managed to get several clean kills in their time. They proved quite useful.


    They, however, were not going to win this fight for us.


    I steeled my nerves and simply shot enemy after enemy until it seemed my shots began to lose their effectiveness. I couldn¡¯t describe why they were failing. I thought I was hitting my targets, but after the first handful, strikes became less effective.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    The werewolves could only be killed in climactic ways, and getting shot out of the air while jumping over the palisade walls satisfied this for a moment, but it couldn¡¯tst.


    The wolves were now gathering en masse on the side walls to enter.


    Riley predicted that silver bullets would be most effective at the beginning of the battle, but only as a prelude to our chemical concoction, so we needed to get as many hits in with them as possible before the audience saw what we had prepared.


    We were surprisingly sessful with this method. I estimated we killed nearly ten percent of the wolves this way before their trope started to protect them from it. No matter how many trick shots you made, a simple barrage of bullets could not remain climactic.


    I aimed my pistol a final time at a wolf that had leaped over the front wall of the palisade, and though I was certain I had hit it, reality begged to differ. They were practically immune to that attack now. We needed to escte.


    ¡°There are too many!¡± I screamed. ¡°We can¡¯t get them all!¡±


    Riley and I looked at each other. He was fighting harder to hold back a smile than he was to kill the wolves.


    It was time for Phase Two.


    Even I had to suppress a nervous smile for that.

 Book Five, Chapter 92: Blue Moon Rising

    <strong>~Andrew~</strong>


    <strong>Phase Two: The Funnel</strong>


    ¡°Light the fuses!¡± Riley cried as he fired another shot uselessly at a wolf bounding toward us.


    The wolves crowded the fields to the front and sides of the palisade walls. Some tried to climb the back wall with little sess.


    I aimed my pistol at a small ck string sticking up over the side of the left wall of the palisade. Focus. Control. Fire. The bullet struck the ck fuse against the stone of the wall, and a spark flew, igniting the fuse.


    The fuse started to burn down, down, down into the ground outside the wall, and out across the outside of the wall itself. To my surprise, the wolves seemed to understand what was going on¡ªor at least they thought they did¡ªas they braced for an explosion.


    Riley extolled the value of a fuse being lit On-Screen. He said everyone loves the shot of a fuse burning as it snakes along the ground. Great for tension, he said.


    On the right side, Riley had shot another fuse.


    The payoff was huge because the fuses were not connected to bombs.The design was based on an idea Riley had that I perfected. His idea came from videos involving Diet Coke and Mentos. I had seen them when I was younger, and I saw how scientists in white coats would rig up Diet Coke bottles so that Mentos would fall into them in a coordinated disy, causing the soda to spew into the air like a fountain.


    We created many containers of silver nitrate and distilled water. Weid them out strategically, burying some and hanging others on the outer walls. We affixed the fuse so that it ran over the top of the container¡ªmostly ss jars and bottles¡ªand then used copper wire to hang copper scraps from the fuse above the open mouth of the container.


    It was tricky finding a way to bury the containers and the fuse then, but we managed it with the help of the diligent mercenaries and some roofing shingles that could be used to stop dirt from falling into the silver nitrate.


    When the fuse burned, the copper wire would have nothing suspending it any longer, and the copper scraps would fall into the silver nitrate, beginning the process of precipitating pure silver.


    I would never sign off on this n in real life, but in a movie, it was practically guaranteed to work with our high Savvy. And, it was technically a feat of Hustle because of those urate shots we did. Riley wanted us to use Hustle.


    The fuses burned as nned, and as I watched over the left wall, a blue glow, artificially inserted by Carousel to match the natural hue of copper nitrate, started to light up the battlefield as the fuse ran from container to container, creating an intricate pattern of light that seemed toe from the dirt and grass itself.


    I could almost hear the reactions, even though they should have been silent. What I did hear momentster were the wolves.


    The wolves climbing the walls were immediately incapacitated and fell.


    Those standing in the fields to the left and right of the fort ran like they were on fire¡ªthose that could. Others dropped to the ground immediately.


    They were in excruciating pain as the jars we had buried began to react, purifying silver and, in some manner I didn¡¯t quite understand, causing immense pain to any nearby werewolf.


    The werewolves were smart. They learned their lesson quickly: if they were going to get to us, they¡¯d have to do it from the front wall. We were funneling them toward us.


    An ebb and flow.


    The funnel had been sessful.


    And yet, as I observed the wolves¡¯ reaction to the A.R.S., I noticed something odd.


    Several of the wolves began to flee.


    That might not have been unusual, but every scrap of literature I had found suggested that wolves were unflinchingly loyal to their pack leader. That was the reason so many were charging enthusiastically to their deaths.


    Why were some just now losing heart? Some of the wolves fleeing didn¡¯t even appear to be substantially damaged.


    As I watched, shooting any wolf that leaped over the front wall, I felt I could see a faint shimmer in the blue glow, a shimmer¡­ a line that shone over the wolves.


    I could have been imagining it, but either way, a hypothesis started to bubble into my mind.


    What if the connection the werewolves had wasn¡¯t metaphorical? What if it wasn¡¯t hand-wavy nonsense magic or some animalistic dominance behavior?


    After all, we never figured out why rolling silver worked. Perhaps there was some interaction inherent to rolling silver that we didn¡¯t understand. What if the reaction wasn¡¯t simply for the story, created by our dogged pursuit of the rolling silver subplot? Perhaps this reaction was a real observable phenomenon that Carousel was using. ?


    Stolen novel; please report.


    I had to think on it.


    <strong>Phase Three: The Frying Pan</strong>


    As the funnel seeded, we enjoyed a renewed effectiveness of silver bullets for a short time, but then they began to fail again.


    The courtyard below started to fill up with wolves that would soon be in the range of our tform.


    I carried a jar of silver nitrate in my hand, and as soon as the werewolves started threatening to jump up to us, I dropped copper bits into it and shook it gently.


    Oh, Carousel had fun with that.


    The wolves would leap¡ªtwenty feet into the air, almost reaching us¡ªand as they neared our chemical-rolling silver, they¡¯d go limp like fish and drop back to the ground, howling the whole way down.


    They wouldn¡¯t get back up. The mercenaries ced strategically around the courtyard made sure to shoot any wolf immobilized by the silver nitrate concoction.


    But they couldn¡¯t get most of them.


    The wolves were fleeing¡ªnot all of them, not enough of them, but many of them were fleeing as soon as they came in contact with the purification traps.


    If I wasn¡¯t mistaken, it looked like the wolves were pausing and thinking for a moment before they ran.


    Thirty, forty, fifty wolves¡­ the numbers were unfathomable. Fleeing into the night.


    Dozens died there, of course, and others took their moment of rity to decide to continue the fight.


    Time wore on in the courtyard below, which was filled with wolves. We went from fighting sessfully to being overwhelmed within moments.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    As nearly seventy wolves entered the courtyard, climbing and leaping, we realized we were at capacity.


    It was time.


    This time, we didn¡¯t use the fuses. Riley wasn¡¯t sure they¡¯d work again. He couldn¡¯t articte his reasoning well. Instead, we used a simple string method.


    Twentyrge jars of silver nitrate had been buried in the courtyard. They were fitted with lids and a unique mechanism that allowed me to thread a string through the lid and dangle bits of copper from it. When I pulled the string, the copper would drop into the silver nitrate.


    Simr to the fuse.


    So, I did.


    I pulled the string, and suddenly, the jars at the front of the courtyard started to activate, their unnatural blue glow filling the fort. I continued to pull as the string activated more and more jars until all that was left were the cries of wolves in a pain I wouldn¡¯t wish on anyone.


    ¡°It¡¯s time to go,¡± Riley said after we had activated it.


    And so it was.


    <strong>Phase Four: The Grenades</strong>


    We had also employed devices with a much simpler design. We took Mason jars and soda bottles, added silver nitrate, and glued bits of copper wiring to the tops inside. As they sat still, the copper didn¡¯t touch the silver nitrate. But when turned over, thrown, or rolled¡ªwell, the reaction was obvious.


    As we ran, these ¡°grenades¡± had beenid out for us along a path. All we had to do was knock them over, and they would activate, leaving any wolf that managed to follow us with a nasty surprise.


    During our experimentation, Riley and I had argued about different techniques and tactics to employ.


    This kind of peer review was invaluable in academics¡ªand, apparently, in setting traps for werewolves. We had developed some truly useful ideas, some only theoretical.


    ¡°You know those silver nitrate tests you wanted to do on the effectiveness of the solution itself against werewolves?¡± Riley cried out to me.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.


    ¡°Let the testing begin!¡± he shouted, throwing one of the jars of silver nitrate into the air toward a group of wolves standing in our path to the next phase of our n.


    I knew what he wanted. I grabbed my sidearm, aimed at the bottle, and fired as it sailed over the wolves.


    It turned out that silver nitrate was quite effective as an acidic solution against these creatures. Even though it wasn¡¯t pure silver and the effect wasn¡¯t as extreme, it was clear the acid was doing tremendous damage¡ªmelting their fur right off. It almost appeared as if parts of them were turning human again, but they never fully did.


    ¡°Where is the pack leader?¡± Riley screamed.


    How prophetic. He had to have seen her.


    Across the ground, by the light of the moon, and surrounded by thergest wolves of the bunch, was a gigantic wolf whose title on the red wallpaper read, ¡°Serena, the Cursed Lover.¡± She had other character posters on the red wallpaper that were not lit.


    She probably had many different versions of herself, depending on which subplot won out. One for Michael''s subplot involving his people, another for my medical research subplot, another for Riley''s documentary, and another for Antoine''s brother subplot.


    Riley exined that all of those possibilities had fallen away, some by neglect or bad luck, others by intention, as Kimberly''s story came to the forefront. Now, Serena, or Sarah, or whatever other name she had, was the Cursed Lover.


    Beside her was a ratherrge wolf whose entry on the red wallpaper differed from the rest.


    It was Antoine.


    Now, a full enemy.


    Kimberly and Riley seemed to have noticed this, and even the three surviving mercenaries looked on in awe.


    We had drawn out the big bad.


    Riley said we needed to give the pack leader and Kimberly an opportunity to interact for story reasons. That would surely happen now.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got one right here for them!¡± he said, holding a jar in his hands, ready to throw when the time came.


    So far, we had used Riley to great effect.


    Him being the target in the meta and Kimberly being the target in the story made the werewolves predictable.


    But it couldn¡¯tst forever.


    The jar Riley was holding shattered, and he quickly dropped to the ground, clutching his gut.


    We looked around, trying to figure out where the shot hade from. In the distance, I saw the blonde mercenary holding a rifle.


    It was so easy to forget that humans were weak to silver bullets, too.


    The blonde mercenary quickly fled out of sight.


    Rileyy on the ground, still alive, but barely. This was a wound someone with higher Grit might have survived, but he was bleeding fast.


    I thought about stopping to help him as the resident healer, but he sent me away, screaming for me to run. So, I followed Kimberly as she raced toward the field where the next part of our n was to take ce.


    I looked back at Riley and was surprised to see him sitting up. I didn¡¯t understand how he could survive that wound.


    But I noticed many wolves¡ªtwenty, maybe more¡ªgathering around him. Their acid burns enraged them, their human parts seeping through their wet, burnt fur.


    He looked up at them and, in a tired, defiant voice, said, ¡°You fes ever seen a mummy movie?¡±


    And with that, his stats jumped. He gained Grit, Hustle, and Moxie.


    What was his n?


    He stood to his feet and started to run¡ªnot toward the field, but toward the manor itself. The wolves didn¡¯t care about me. They followed him.


    After all, he did have the lowest effective plot armor, even with his buff.


    Was he really going for it?

 Book Five, Chapter 93: The Introduction of Chaos

    Book Five, Chapter 93: The Introduction of Chaos


    Ever since we had unearthed ra Withers, there had been this lingering question: what were we going to do with her?


    The answer couldn¡¯t be to leave her underground and ignore her. There were just too many possibilities.


    We could have tried to set things up so that, when we removed the ne from her desated body, the werewolf curse itself would fail. But I had no faith in that n.


    We could have tried to lead the pack leader to ra in hopes that she would suddenly lose the will to fight when she found the corpse. Unfortunately, I had never been able to confirm the exact rtionship between those two parties. Just guesses. I suspected their rtionship changed with the story.


    I mean, I wasn¡¯t an idiot¡ªI knew this was a tragic romance situation. But there were all sorts of things that could happen in a tragic romance. We knew going in, thanks to Cassie and her prediction, that there were two women¡ªtwo lovers¡ªfighting.


    Was that fight still happening? I had no idea.


    In the end, we were going to have to y it by ear.


    I had it all pictured: I could take the ne off the body, magically reviving ra and putting an end to the violence all at once. As the two of them finally embraced each other after so many years¡ªassuming that was the thing they were inclined to do¡ªKimberly would pop the pack leader in the head with a silver bullet.


    Yes, it would be tragic.But at the end of the day, our goal wasn¡¯t just to put a stop to the violence. We had to kill the pack leader or otherwise save ourselves from the werewolf curse, and it wasn¡¯t clear how we were going to do that.


    But suddenly, as Iy bleeding out in the dirt with werewolves running toward me, I realized¡ªand I thought that Andrew also realized¡ªthat this werewolf curse wasn¡¯t just a metaphor for a disease or some hand-wavy magic.


    There was something physically in the air, even if we couldn¡¯t sense it easily.


    Werewolves didn¡¯t just obey the pack leader¡ªthey were controlled. We watched in amazement as some wolves¡ªI¡¯d go so far as to say half of them¡ªsimply gave up the moment rolling silver seemed to disconnect them from the pack.


    It was a remarkable thing to see.


    I started thinking about what we knew about werewolf hierarchies. These were things we hadrgely taken for granted because they seemed so basic. These werewolf packs were not based on physical dominance. The literature didn¡¯t even use the words alpha or beta to describe these rtionships, and none of the other yers understood how funny that was.


    No, it seemed to be the other way around¡ªthe werewolves became more powerful depending on where they were in the hierarchy rather than the reverse. New wolves were sopletely submissive that the humans within them basically had no control.


    With the revtion that this was all some sort of quasi-mind control, I realized there was an extra option¡ªsomething we could do with ra Withers that I had not considered before. If it was true that the werewolves seemed to obey the oldest wolf with the greatest connection to the magical curse, what if we were to find one even older? What if we could introduce a little chaos?


    I didn¡¯t like to be ying things on the fly like that, but in the blue glow of the advanced rolling silver concoction, I had seen something; I had seen the magical force that made those wolves tick.


    We all had.


    I couldn¡¯t ignore it.


    My body was losing vitality, so I decided to activate my <strong>Raised By Television</strong> trope in hopes that it might give me just enough Grit and Hustle to get down into the underground crypt.


    And it had. That trope had seemed so unwieldy when I first received it, but now it fit like an old pair of jeans.


    With a few extra points of Grit, I could barely even feel my body shutting down. But since I was still alive, those wolves¡ªor at least many of them¡ªwere still after me.


    I ran as fast as I could, suddenly regretting that I had given my silver trope knife to Kimberly in anticipation of my imminent demise.


    I just needed to run as fast as I could to the Manor. It was only a football field or two away. I could run that. I just had to put one foot in front of the other, crunching the leaves underneath as I made a beeline for the Manor.


    The issue was that Carousel likes to create a variety among its mobs when creating monsters. You¡¯ll have enemies that have the same tropes but different arrangements of stats.


    We didn¡¯t need the As to know that. It was obvious if you ever had a bunch of monsters running after you.


    Some of these wolves had their physical stats ced into Grit; others had it ced into Mettle. But unfortunately, about a third of them had most of their stats in Hustle, and I could not outrun them. I quickly realized this as I looked over my shoulder and saw a dozen wolves gaining on me.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Luckily, Carousel had given me plenty of time to think ahead.


    We had ced a bunch of advanced rolling silver grenades along the path to the Manor, and as I ran by them, all I had to do was kick them over for them to activate.


    Those wolves were scared to death of whatever the process of purifying silver was doing to them. They would give the grenades a wide berth, effectively nullifying their Hustle advantage.


    I managed to get to the Manor doors with a ten-yard advantage and quickly headed down the stairs into the basement, where I found two werewolves quietly whimpering in their cages. They had be mere scenery by that point in my mind. They were only there to remind us of why we hade¡ªbecause we needed to rescue allies.


    I ran deeper into the tunnels.


    This time, I didn¡¯t run around in circles trying to make the path look longer than it was. I could feel myself growing cold.


    Even with a few points of extra Grit, I didn¡¯t have long. And although I was not technically Hobbled from the gunshot wound I had received, I was holding my gut, unable to get a full sprint.


    Through the tunnels to the little hole that would lead to the crypt, it didn¡¯t take long for the wolves to catch up.


    As I rounded a corner and found a straightaway that would lead me to the crypt, a wolf came right behind me. It could easily have grabbed me¡ªexcept for the fact that it suddenlycked coordination.


    It kept going instead of banking and crashed into the wall. Two more wolves did the same, crashing into each other.


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    It was the silver in the walls.


    I knew we should have tested what effect that had on the wolves¡ªit had kept Logan and Avery sickly. Perhaps we should have had the final battle down here. But I didn¡¯t have time for regrets.


    As the wolves seemed to have be incredibly clumsy underground, I could hear them sniffing rapidly, as if their senses were suddenly dulled so greatly that they could barely make out where they were going. Unfortunately, the underground wasn¡¯t really thatplicated, and I needed a light to see where I was going, so they could surely find me.


    The hole leading to ra¡¯s grave was too small for the wolves, so it would buy me some time.


    As soon as I jumped through the hole into the crypt, I turned on one of thenterns we had left down there. I also set my shlight up so that I could get a good view of the mausoleum. Then, I took out the little handheld camera Carousel had given me¡ªbecause my character was a documentarian.


    I was probably doing a terrible job filming myself, and I wasn¡¯t even sure if this outdated camera could pick up visuals from the meager lighting sources I had. But I had a feeling it wouldn¡¯t matter. The camera was just a prop.


    I just had to find the right words and say them with conviction.


    I turned the camera at myself as best as possible and began my rant.


    "How long have we sought to understand the hierarchical structures of a werewolf pack?" I asked, tired, panicked. "They defy anything else seen in nature. But again, they are not natural¡ªthey are supernatural. It has urred to me that werewolves need a dominant leader, but that leader is not chosen based on physical prowess, as it seems their physical prowess is arbitrarily assigned¡ªand without rtion to the original body of the host."


    I paused, my thoughts racing. "No, I believe there is some measurable magical connection between these wolves."


    I was interrupted as the wolves started digging into the hole to get into the crypt. The sound of their ws against the stone sent a chill down my spine, but I pressed on with my speech.


    "It appears to me," I continued, "that there is one solution to disrupt these wolves'' devotion to the she-wolf, to this pack leader that would have them kill me and the others. I need to introduce another wolf, one with a stronger connection to this ancient curse. Something to disrupt their absolute obedience, if only for a moment. It was clear to me that the rolling silver process was curing them of some sort of maniption or supernatural suggestion that the pack leader had over them. I believe that introducing another werewolf¡ªan older werewolf¡ªmight be exactly what we need."


    I entered the mausoleum and shined my shlight down into the coffin of ra Withers, onto her corpse.


    I breathed a sigh of relief that she was still there; I was half expecting it to be empty again. Luckily, I was On-Screen, and Carousel didn¡¯t feel like ying any pranks on me this time.


    "This may be too much to suggest," I said, "but if the werewolf curse is indeed a curse and is inherently magical¡ªand if it is true that the only way to kill a werewolf is to pierce its heart or organs with a silver object like a bullet or knife, undoubtedly disrupting this magical power¡ªthen I have to ask: how is it possible that ra Withers, reportedly the most notable werewolf of her time, is dead?"


    I paused for dramatic effect, letting my voice falter with emotion as I heard the werewolves breaking into the crypt. I filmed down into the coffin. I pointed the camera at the ne.


    "I can feel its malignant presence," I said, my voice shaking. "I can feel it continuously fighting something, continuously draining. Why would it need to do that unless there was something within this coffin to fight? I confess that these matters are beyond my understanding."


    I didn¡¯t have to pretend to be nervous¡ªI could almost puke at that moment. I was on the edge of passing out. Heck, I was on the edge of dying. But I didn¡¯t stop.


    "I don¡¯t have much time left," I said, "but if I can disrupt these wolves long enough for my associates to survive, then I must."


    I reached down into the coffin, grasped the silver ne, and tugged.


    In movies, nese off by tugging. You don¡¯t have to lift them over your head or undo the sp¡ªsomehow, they just rip right off without breaking permanently. This silver ne was no different.


    At first, it felt normal, like a piece of jewelry. But then I suppressed a smile as I realized that not only was it a piece of jewelry¡ªit was costume jewelry. It was stic. It was another prop.


    The real one¡ªif it existed¡ªwas still out there.


    But I, among many other things, was an actor. The power of a psychic¡ªor the grandson of a psychic¡ªis determined by how hard they sell it. Anyone who had seen <em>Thirteen Ghosts </em>(dumbly stylized as<em> THIR13EN GHOSTS</em>) would know that.


    I acted like pulling that ne off her corpse was the hardest thing I¡¯d ever done, as if it weighed ten thousand pounds, as if it had needles sticking out of every edge. In truth, it was just a small stic vial filled with some silver liquid. But I pretended it was the sum of all evil.


    I didn¡¯t have to work hard to pretend to be in pain.


    Eventually, I got the ne off. I fell back against the wall, sliding down to the ground, and hoped I was right.


    There was silence.


    Nothing happened.


    Not at first.


    And Carousel, as I was getting used to, had its own tempo.


    Something started to move in the coffin. I couldn¡¯t see it from my position on the ground¡ªmy strength had left me¡ªbut I looked up, intent on seeing whatever it was.


    The werewolves had gotten to the mausoleum and were about to enter, ready to tear me to pieces. But right before they did, they stopped. They seemed to see something in front of them, something rising out of the coffin. Something that scared even the wolves.


    A body rose up. No¡ªit sat up.


    Desated, dry, and dead, yet shaking as if possessed. I could see her blonde hair, her empty eye sockets. I could see the gaunt look on her dried face. Then those thin, bony limbs started to get thicker, and her arms began to grow longer.


    Silver light washed over the mausoleum, lighting everything. Wind blew from nowhere, making it hard to breathe it was so powerful.


    My shlight flickered, and every time it did, the corpse of ra Withers became bigger and hairier. What started as a scratchy gasp became a growl, then a roar, as the dead rose and transformed into thergest werewolf I had seen outside of the pack leader.


    By the time it had finished, the creature before me¡ªonce dead¡ªwas alive again.


    I had to look at it, stare straight into its eyes, and not flinch. I could not let the audience think I regretted my decision. I had to show them my conviction, my psychic intuition¡ªeven through all my doubts.


    It was all down to Kimberly now. She was the one who might be able to take this lupine resurrection and turn it into a victory.


    I had to trust her. She had trusted me.


    I fully expected the resurrected wolf to attack me. But it didn¡¯t.


    It just stared back at me until it heard a whimper outside the mausoleum. The wolves began to howl, bark, and cower. They were running. They were fighting each other.


    I had wanted to inject a little chaos. As the wolf jumped from the coffin it had sat in for nearly two hundred years and out the exit of the mausoleum, I hoped that I had done a good thing. That the others would figure out what to do.


    It gave me onest look before leaving.


    And while the wolf didn¡¯t kill me, it didn¡¯t need to.


    I was <strong>Raised By Television</strong>, and I died by it, too, bleeding out in a crypt.


    In the blink of an eye, I was sitting in the theater again.


    It had been a long time since I had gone there. This time, something strange was happening. To my left and right, I could see people leaving the rows of seats as if they had been sitting in this very theater until the moment I showed up and were now being ushered out.


    I could hear them behind me, whispering. I could hear the sound of their clothes swaying and rubbing against each other. I could hear their steps.


    I could feel them staring at the back of my head as I sat frozen, my eyes locked on the movie screen at the front of the room.


    After a few moments, the room fell silent. No more whispers. No more footsteps.


    I was helpless now.


    All I could do was watch and hope that Kimberly and Andrew might be able to finish what we had started.


    On the screen, I saw Kimberly standing in the clearing.


    Most of the wolves had fled. There were fifty or so left¡ªmaybe up to seventy. It was hard to tell.


    The smaller wolves were freaking out, no doubt due to the introduction of a new potential pack leader¡ªone older and more connected to the curse than the one before.


    Kimberly and Andrew stood next to the one remaining mercenary. They had just activated the next phase of the fight.


    The one we called <em>Christmas Lights.</em>


    We had no shortage of ss containers, silver nitrate, or copper bits, and plenty of nimble fingers to assemble our ns. Now, as the fight started to close in and the pack leader got closer to Kimberly, she began to transform back into a human.


    Bottles hanging from the trees all around started to glow. They had been rigged so that, with a pull of a string, they would flip and swing down from the branches. The branches,bined with the wind, agitated the contents¡ªcreating a perfect battlefield where werewolves would be at their weakest.


    The trees all around glowed with that brilliant Windex blue.


    Kimberly was making herst stand.


    Ourst stand, perhaps.


    The pack leader¡ªwho turned out to indeed be Sarah, from Kimberly''s photos¡ªstared at her with¡­ respect.


    She wore a smile¡ªand nothing else. It looked like we were going to lose that PG-13 rating. If we ever had it.


    I sat and did nothing else because I could do nothing else and watched my fate unfold.

 Book Five, Chapter 94: A Wolfs Howl

    Book Five, Chapter 94: A Wolf''s Howl


    I had pulled every thread. I knocked on every door.


    It had all led me here to a field glowing beautiful and blue under the full moon with monsters approaching from the darkness.


    We had guns. We had bullets, all left here for our final stand, for ourst moments, ourst chance to save each other.


    Riley said we needed a showdown, and now we had one.


    Were we ready?


    Was I?


    The wolves howled. I could feel the sounds in my chest they were so loud. The blue jars and bottles hanging from the trees were doing their job all around us. The wolves wouldn¡¯t go near them.


    There was one wide opening that the remaining pack members could walk through to reach us, and in the center of it all was thergest wolf, the pack leader. On the red wallpaper, she was called Serena, but I knew this was Sarah.


    My character knew who this was, and I believed her.Suddenly, the howling changed. It became more¡­ frantic, confused.


    The wolves started acting weird. They weren¡¯t closing in for an attack; no, they were panicking. Some ran in circles, others scratched at each other, and others howled a pained, lonely cry.


    Many ran away into the forest.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± I asked. These wolves were not close enough to the rolling silver for that to be the culprit.


    ¡°Riley,¡± Andrew answered.


    We were On-Screen. His answers were limited.


    ¡°The ne,¡± I said. ¡°He got to the ne. Is that what¡¯s doing this?¡±


    We watched as more wolves ran to the woods while others ran toward the manor.


    ¡°He awoke the original,¡± Andrew said. ¡°That crazy son of a bitch. Perhaps he was right about all of this. The wolves are connected by magic. The rolling silver¡­ has a magical function beyond our understanding. He told me he thought that ra was alive in some way, that her curse remained. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps the power that gives the pack leader control has been diminished.¡±


    He was trying to exin what was happening to the audience in case Riley hadn''t been able to. The sleeping wolf, the original, had awoken to im her pack again.


    We had no idea how that would turn out when she arrived, but it seemed to be helping now. Sarah was losing wolves rapidly.


    ¡°The wolves are conflicted,¡± I said. ¡°They feel another power.¡±


    Riley might have had a better way to put it. I was trying. I delivered the line with awe and amazement. That was the best I could do.


    ¡°The remaining wolves appear loyal to the pack leader,¡± Andrew said as he watched those that remained. ¡°When we use advanced rolling silver, many get disconnected from the pack. What if, instead of disconnecting the individual wolves, we use it on her?¡±


    ¡°Disconnect her?¡± I asked.


    ¡°If they are linked to her and their loyalty really is the result of some magical connection, then disconnecting her should be far more potent than attaching the other wolves individually. I wish I understood this phenomenon better; I really do, but given what we know, it is our best line of attack. Disconnect the pack, and in the chaos, take out the pack leader.¡±


    I watched as more wolves fled, as more ran to the manor, called by some unseen force.


    We would never have a better shot than this. Andrew had to be the one to state the n. He was high Savvy, after all.


    ¡°You get the pack leader¡¯s attention; I will look for an opening to get one of these rolling silver jars near her,¡± he said.


    That was a n. The trouble was we couldn¡¯t just attack. We needed the viin to have a scene with me for the finale. We had yet to speak to each other. It was time.


    Andrew moved away, closer to the stores of weapons we had left her near one of the blue trees.


    As if waiting her turn, the pack leader, Serena, approached; several of her guard wolves trailed behind her, including Antoine. He was one of them now. I had to ignore that. My character wouldn¡¯t know it was him.


    She slowly began to transform back into a human. She was beautiful. Carousel was sure to show that.


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    ¡°What do you want from me, Sarah?¡± I asked, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.


    She chuckled softly, almost yfully, as though my question amused her.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    ¡°Sarah,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°Sarah is just one of my names. A mask I wear for convenience. My real name... the one that I was born with, the one I can still bear to hear, is Serena.¡± Her eyes lit with excitement. ¡°But even that is just one of many. I¡¯ve had names in every tongue, in every ce I¡¯ve wandered. None of them mean anything. Only ra¡¯s name means anything to me.¡±


    I quietly repeated ra¡¯s name like I was taking in a magical spell.


    ra, whose fate led to all of this.


    ¡°ra, mine but taken from me,¡± Serena said, her voice softening. For a moment, she seemed far away, lost in a memory. ¡°She was my light. My love. My beginning and my end. She was everything to me. And then... she was gone.¡± She looked at me then, her expression almost fragile. ¡°Do you know what it¡¯s like to lose someone like that? To feel their absence like a gaping wound in your chest that never heals for decades, centuries?¡±


    Her words hung in the air, and I didn¡¯t know how to respond. I didn¡¯t know if she even wanted me to.


    ¡°She gave me this curse, you know,¡± Serena continued, her voice quiet and steady. ¡°With a kiss. I thought it was a sign, a gift. That we were bound by something greater, something eternal. But I was wrong. She was taken from me, and I felt her go. The connection between us frayed and snapped like a thread torn by a dull knife. I knew she was dead. I <em>felt</em> it.¡± Her jaw tightened, and her tone shifted, sharp with barely contained anger. ¡°And yet¡­ something remained. A ghost of her soul. A piece that never left. It... clings.¡±


    ¡°Clings to what?¡± I asked, the question barely more than a whisper. I was afraid of the answer.


    ¡°To you,¡± she said, her voice cold and pointed. ¡°To girls like you. It isn¡¯t natural. It¡¯s a cruel, twisted joke. ra should be free, but instead, her soul is bound, scattered, like shards of ss lodged in the world. And every so often, one of those shards finds its way back here, just as you have always found your way back here.¡±


    I took a step back, but her gaze pinned me in ce.


    ¡°I tried everything,¡± Serena said, her tone shifting to something more distant like she was reciting a painful story. ¡°I spent decades searching for answers, chasing whispers across continents, begging soothsayers and sorcerers to tell me how to put her soul back together. They all told me the same thing: ¡®The shard must be freed. The host must die.¡¯¡±


    Her words sank in, cold and heavy. My breath caught in my throat. ¡°So... so you killed them?¡±


    She nodded slowly, her eyes heavy with guilt. ¡°I or mine did. Every one of them. I told myself it was mercy. I told myself ra would be whole again. That her undying body was still cursed, still capable of life. But she never revealed herself to me. The shard, or whatever it was, would disappear, only to resurface yearster in someone else. And I would begin all over again.¡±


    I stared at her, horrified. ¡°And now you think killing me will work?¡±


    Her voice snapped, desperate and raw. ¡°No! Don¡¯t you understand? I don¡¯t want to kill you. That¡¯s why <em>this time</em> is different. With you... I see another way. You don¡¯t have to die. Not yet. Not ever, perhaps.¡±


    She stepped closer, and I froze. There was something in her voice¡ªpleading, yet unrelenting.


    ¡°I can feel ra¡¯s soul near you,¡± she said, her tone softening again. ¡°I¡¯ve felt it since the day we crossed paths. It¡¯s in your shadow, in the air around you. You¡¯re a prison for her. An abomination.¡±


    I flinched, and she seemed to notice. Her expression softened slightly, and she exhaled. ¡°It isn¡¯t your fault. You didn¡¯t choose this. But ra doesn¡¯t belong to you, Kimberly. She doesn¡¯t belong anywhere but here. With me. As she was meant to be.¡±


    ¡°What are you going to do to me?¡± I asked, my voice shaking.


    Her gaze locked onto mine, sharp and unwavering. ¡°I¡¯m going to free her. But not by killing you. Not this time. Killing you would be another failure, another wasted chance. This time, I¡¯m going to give you what ra gave me¡ªa gift. Though it won¡¯t be with a kiss. I¡¯m going to curse you, Kimberly. Into one of us. Into a wolf. The curse will bind you to the pack, to <em>me.</em> And through that bond, ra¡¯s soul might be able to reconnect to her, as we are connected to her.¡±


    My chest tightened as her words sank in. I shook my head, a tear slipping down my cheek. ¡°You think that will bring her back?¡±


    Her expression flickered with something close to pain. ¡°You don¡¯t understand what this curse is. It¡¯s more than power. More than pain. It¡¯s connection. It¡¯s eternity. I¡¯ve spent years gathering a pack strong enough to bear this burden, wolves who won¡¯t falter, who will stand with me no matter what it takes. And with you, with ra¡¯s soul alive in you, we may finally see my life¡¯s workplete.¡±


    She turned away, her shoulders slumping slightly as her voice dropped to a near-whisper. ¡°I know how it sounds. I know it¡¯s madness. But what else am I supposed to do? Run? Hide? I¡¯ve tried that, Kimberly. For over a century, I¡¯ve tried. And every time, I end up here. Back in Carousel. Back where it started. Where ra¡¯s heart stopped beating. Where mine should have stopped, too. The wolf in me told me to rest, to stay in the shadows, but now I know that won¡¯t work. It never has.¡±


    Her words hummed in the air, heavy and final. When she looked back at me, there was no malice in her gaze¡ªonly desperation. ¡°I won¡¯t lose her again. Not this time. You¡¯re the key, Kimberly. Whether you like it or not, you¡¯re part of this. And I¡¯ll do whatever it takes to make sure ra regains the life that was taken from her. I''ll reconnect her to the curse through you. Already, I can feel her waking in the distance. Tonight is the night.¡±


    I stared at her, my heart pounding. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this.¡±


    Her voice softened, a sad, almost apologetic note creeping in. ¡°Don¡¯t you see? I don¡¯t have a choice. If you live long enough, you start to realize that some decisions are inevitable. I can¡¯t put this off any longer.¡±


    Her tone dropped, her eyes hardening. ¡°This isn¡¯t just about you. It never was.¡±


    Riley had said she would have some emotional justification for chasing me, that this viin wouldn¡¯t just be pure evil. She would have some reason for all she had done. He said Carousel could take it in a dozen different directions so her motivation would fit the story that hade before.


    It took all of my self-control not to just shoot at her. It wouldn''t work, I knew, but I was afraid, and I didn''t want to die just so the viin could monologue, but that''s how it worked. We were here to tell a story.


    As I stared at Serena, I saw truth in her eyes. She was so desperate she would do anything. Carousel might have given her some lines to speak, but that didn¡¯t mean that parts weren¡¯t true.


    After all, so many in Carousel were here out of pure desperation.


    I felt her sorrow. I felt her mourning. I felt that she just wanted this to be over.


    Soon, it would be.

 Book Five, Chapter 95: A Test of Hustle

    ~Antoine~


    The wind carried away my shame, my weakness.


    It whispered through the trees, filling me with the strength and joy of the pack. The wolf reveled in it, delighted to belong, to run, to protect. I felt the pull of Serena¡ªno, the <em>pack leader</em>¡ªlike a thread in my chest, binding me to her will.


    There was another force in the distance, but Serena shielded me from it. I hardly noticed as other wolves fled or defected. They were weak. I was not.


    She was the storm, and I was a part of it. A vital part.


    <em>She leads, and we follow.</em>


    The pack surged around Kimberly, and my wolf heart soared at the sight of her. <em>She will join us,</em> it thought. Serena¡¯s jaws would mark her, and Kimberly would belong to the pack, just as I did. Just as we all did. It was exhrating.


    It was perfect.


    It could be this way forever.But beneath that joy, a pang of something else stirred. A shadow of pain, guilt, fear. It wasn¡¯t the wolf¡¯s. It was <em>mine.</em>


    It was my weakness, and the wind couldn¡¯t take it all. <em>Please, please take it all</em>, I prayed to the wolf god, to the packleader.


    For a moment, I hesitated.


    I looked at Kimberly¡ªbleeding, defiant¡ªand the pang grew sharper. I was supposed to protect her, wasn¡¯t I? That was what I had always done.


    I was the <strong>Knight in Shining Armor</strong>, wasn¡¯t I?


    My ws twitched in the dirt, and the wolf growled, restless and annoyed. <em>Protect her? She doesn¡¯t need protection. She needs the pack. She needs this.</em>


    The pang faded, swallowed by the wind and the wolf¡¯s certainty. It was easier that way. Easier to let go. Easier to belong. Easier to forget.


    Isn¡¯t that what I always did? Forget?


    All of the bad things were <em>just a nightmare</em>, right? The endless wandering in the trees, the sickly certainty that I could find the exit at any moment, and then the abject terror as all I ever found were more trees.


    Just a nightmare. Don¡¯t think about it.


    The wolf ran, leaping across the field, its muscles thrumming with energy. Around me, the pack howled, their voices weaving into the night. Everything was as it should be. Everything except...


    The blue orbs.


    They hung in the trees like unholy stars, their glow pulsing faintly, painfully. The wolf recoiled at the sight of them, instincts screaming a warning I couldn¡¯t fully understand. I tried to focus on them, to make sense of the blur, but my vision faltered, twisting and dimming. The light wasn¡¯t natural. It wasn¡¯t right. I veered away, skirting the edges of their reach. ????¦¢???


    The wolf pushed the fear aside, its focus narrowing. The orbs didn¡¯t matter. Kimberly mattered. The pack leader mattered. The pack mattered.


    Serena shifted back into her wolf form, her powerful body sleek and dark beneath the moonlight.


    She was magnificent.


    She moved like a force of nature, bashing away Kimberly''s gun in a sh, her jaws mping down on Kimberly¡¯s leg. Kimberly screamed, her voice slicing through the air.


    A small choked voice from the shadows deep inside screamed, <em>Help Kimberly, you idiot. Help her. Save her</em>!


    The wind became stronger until I couldn¡¯t hear that voice. I was the wolf. The weak voice was gone.


    And then, the man appeared.


    He charged through the chaos, his military gear dark and angr. A mercenary. The pack descended on him before he could aim his rifle, and he went down in a blur of fur and blood. But behind him came another¡ªa tall, intelligent man carrying one of the glowing blue orbs. His face was sharp, familiar.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    <em>Andrew,</em> the name came to me, a memory wing its way through the haze. <em>Andrew, please save Kimberly!</em>


    Andrew¡¯s gaze locked on Serena, his expression calm but determined. The orb pulsed in his hand, its light searing through the air, through me. He was going to throw the orb at her.


    The wolf¡¯s growl deepened, low and guttural. <em>Danger. Protect the pack leader.</em>


    I didn¡¯t hesitate.


    I, a loyal wolf, leapt, ws slicing through the air, and tackled Andrew to the ground. My ws tore into his side, hot blood spilling across the dirt. But the blue orb¡ªit reacted. Its light red, burning through my chest like fire.


    Pain erupted, sudden and overwhelming.


    It wasn¡¯t the sharp sting of a wound or the ache of exhaustion. It was deeper, heavier. The light pulled at me, draining something vital. The wind, the power, the joy¡ªit was all being sucked into the orb, leaving nothing but raw, empty me.


    The wolf whimpered, retreating into the shadows of my mind. And suddenly, I was <em>me. </em>I was Antoine again<em>.</em>


    My ws twitched against the ground, and I staggered back, breathless. The connection was gone. The thread tying me to the pack, to Serena, had snapped. The air felt cold, hollow, and wrong. I could still feel Serena, but I also felt the call of another, a stronger wolf.


    Where was thating from? As much as the wolf in me wanted to reconnect with Serena, the wolf also wanted to heed this other call, this other wolf. It was confused.


    Kimberly¡¯s screams cut through the numbness, raw and desperate.


    I turned, my hind legs trembling beneath me.


    Serena was on her, biting, wing, teasing, her massive jaws nipping into Kimberly¡¯s arm. She wasn''t supposed to kill her; that wasn''t the n. She was supposed to curse her. She couldn''t risk eating Kimberly''s heart; no, the curse must be applied delicately, or Kimberly might die uncursed.


    Gentle bites, that was the way to do it.


    But she wasn''t being gentle. Not anymore. Her bites were getting deeper; she was losing control, tearing flesh.


    The pack leader¡¯s movements were bing more wild and unhinged. She had promised to pass the curse to Kimberly, but her wolf only wanted to eat.


    She was going to kill her.


    ¡°Stop!¡± I tried to scream, but my jaws only emitted a pained bark.


    Serena didn¡¯t stop. She didn¡¯t even hear me. Kimberly writhed beneath her, blood pooling around them. My ws dug into the ground, and I clenched my teeth, fighting the urge to sink back into the wolf.


    The wolf whispered, coaxing me. <em>Wait. Just wait. The light will fade. The connection will return. Everything will be fine again. Just wait.</em>


    The wolf was too distracted to take control. He kept thinking about this other powerful wolf in the distance.


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    <em>Just wait</em>, he whispered,<em> just wait, and it will all be okay.</em>


    But Kimberly¡¯s screams shattered that lie.


    I couldn¡¯t wait. Not this time.


    The embrace of the wind, the wonderful nothingness of all my ws disappearing, all my pain fading. It was so tempting.


    The loss of my sense of self and my very sense of reality. Surviving something no man was meant to, surviving so many things. The pressure, the shame.


    They really were a nightmare.


    But I couldn¡¯t forget them.


    Tears rolled down my wolf face, wetting my fur as I watched Kimberly fighting, trying to stab Serena with a long silver knife.


    <em>Just wait, </em>the wolf sang to me from his hiding ce in the dark. <em>It will all go away. The nightmare will fade, and the wind will take us freely.</em>


    I wanted to listen.


    I wanted the Game at Carousel to end. I wanted the wolf to take back over and let me hide.


    ¡°Save her,¡± a voice whispered too quiet for any but my wolf ears to hear.


    It was the man. Andrew.


    I looked down at the evil my wolf had done to his broken and shredded body.


    Andrew.


    The wolfughed at him.


    Itughed at me.


    The wind seemed to join in.


    Laughing at one man¡¯s pathetic, dying attempt.


    <em>If I win, </em>the wolf promised, <em>we will win forever</em>. <em>Just a few more minutes</em>.


    Minutes.


    I suddenly remembered the timer that ticked down in my mind.


    At sunrise, we would lose forever. Minutes. Eternity would be here in a few minutes.


    Suddenly, the wolf¡¯s words took a new meaning.


    If the wolf won, it would win forever.


    If the wolf won <em>at all,</em> it would win forever.


    If the wolf won <em>at all</em>, it would win forever.


    If the wolf won <em>at all</em>, it would win forever.


    I couldn¡¯t.


    I couldn¡¯t let it win.


    I didn¡¯t want to live forever, hiding from what I had done or what had been done to me.


    Forever was a long time in or out of the forest.


    The wolf was afraid of the glowing blue light. I didn¡¯t have the strength to fight the wolf or the wind, but the light did.


    Where was it?


    The little jar of blue light had rolled a distance.


    With every fiber of my strength, I jumped on it and let the light peel the very hide off the wolf inside, to force the wolf deep inside the shadows it had built for me.


    The pain was beyond anything I had felt before, and soon, I had to run from it or I risked copsing.


    But when I ran, I ran as myself. A wolf body, but a man inside.


    My body lurched forward, clumsy and desperate. I didn¡¯t run with the wind anymore. I ran into it.


    I mmed into Serena, tackling her off Kimberly with a snarl.


    For the first time, I felt nothing¡ªno connection, no bond, no joy. Only defiance. Only the faint, flickering remnants of what was still <em>me.</em>


    ¡°Get off her!¡± I roared in a voice only a fellow monster could understand.


    Serena¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. Her lips curled into a snarl, and sheughed as well as a werewolf could¡ªa low, guttural sound that made my stomach turn.


    Her stance, her teeth. She didn¡¯t think much of me or my chances.


    She might have been right. She had been a wolf longer than me. But Kimberly needed me, and I wasn¡¯t going to wait any longer.


    Serena lunged, her ws slicing through the air. I barely dodged, the tips raking across my shoulder. The pain red, but I ignored it. My focus was on Kimberly, on her bloodied body lying in the dirt. She was looking at me now.


    Serena saw where my gaze lingered and bared her teeth.


    As my body weakened, strength anew flowed into me. Grit. Mettle.


    I didn¡¯t know where it wasing from at first, but then I remembered.


    I was the <strong>Knight in Shining Armor</strong> again. Maybe for thest time. I was getting buffed for protecting Kimberly.


    I snarled, leaping forward with all the strength I had left. I collided with Serena, driving her back a few steps. My ws found her fur, and I ripped at her side, but it wasn¡¯t enough. She twisted, her jaws snapping inches from my throat, forcing me to back away.


    The wolf inside me growled, frustrated. <em>Let me back in,</em> it whispered. <em>You can¡¯t be happy without me. Let me take the pain. Let me take the fear.</em>


    I could barely hear it.


    The wolf snarled. <em>Kimberly is almost already gone. Wait, and it will all disappear.</em>


    But I couldn¡¯t. I wouldn¡¯t.


    With a roar, I lunged at Serena again, mming into her with everything I had. My teeth found her shoulder, and I bit down hard, tasting blood. She howled, her body twisting as she threw me off.


    The fight blurred into a frantic rhythm of snarls, shes, and blood.


    Serena was faster, stronger, and impossibly precise.


    Each time I lunged, she was already gone, her ws tearing into me before I could react. Pain ripped through my sides, my legs, my arms, but I kept moving. Kept trying.


    The wolves that remained watched from the edges of the clearing, their eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Some howled, their cries echoing through the fields. Others stood frozen, uncertain. The pack was crumbling without the connection, without Serena¡¯s control.


    But she didn¡¯t care. She was focused entirely on me.


    She could attack and retreat before I had time to strike. She was too fast.


    She had too much Hustle.


    Her ws raked across my side again, and I stumbled, blood dripping into the dirt. My breath came in gasps, my vision swimming.


    I turned and ran, my paws kicking up the blood-soaked earth as I bolted across the field.


    Serena followed; her enthusiastic breaths rang asughter rang in my ears.


    She was running around me, teasing, readying a strike, her body a blur of dark fur and shining teeth. I veered toward the edge of the clearing, toward a patch of fallen leaves under arge oak.


    As I leapt over the leaves, she followed me with ease.


    And then I heard her.


    The howls. The sharps screams of a dog in pain.


    I ran a distance and then turned to lock eyes with her.


    She was on the ground, silver objects poking out of her wolfish paws and her torso.


    I had been here before.


    I had been caught in a trap under this very tree, a trap of rope and silver spikes.


    The rope was gone, but the silver caltrops remained, waiting for an unsuspecting wolf to wander into them.


    She had picked up several as she fell.


    A silver spike in the paw had the result I wanted. After all, enemies could get Hobbled, too.


    Now, I was the faster wolf, and I had to take advantage of it.


    I lunged, shing at her side with my ws. She yelped, her body twisting as she tried to evade me. For the first time, Inded blow after blow, my teeth and ws tearing into her flesh. But it wasn¡¯t enough. It would never be enough.


    We ran across the fields again, lunging, biting, shing. I was faster. I was winning, but my ws were not designed to kill other wolves.


    I needed more.


    I needed silver.


    We were now back in the clearing where Kimberly was now facing down a dozen wolves or more, alone and bleeding, Serena and I had our final bout.


    I tackled her to the ground.


    With a guttural snarl, I pushed the wolf down, forcing the shift.


    My body twisted and cracked, fur receding as the beast inside me gave way to the man one bit at a time. The pain of the transformation was sharp, but it was nothingpared to the fire burning in my chest.


    One of her ws had found its mark and cut deep.


    I didn¡¯t care. I wasn¡¯t looking to survive this. I didn¡¯t deserve it.


    My hands¡ª<em>human hands again</em>¡ªreached for one of the silver caltrops embedded in her torso. The metal bit into my palm, but I gripped it tightly, ignoring the searing pain as the sharp edges burned my skin.


    Serena lunged at me, her jaws wide, her eyes filled with fury. I dodged, barely.


    With everything I had left, I drove the thin silver spike into her chest, between her ribs, forcing it further than it could easily go.


    She howled, a sound so loud and guttural it shook the air around us. Her body convulsed, her ws raking at me as she tried to pull away. But the caltrop was in deep, its silver bite searing through her.


    The silver found her beating heart.


    The air changed. The night seemed to shudder.


    I could feel the wind blowing toward us, the power of her connection to it fading destructively.


    I could feel it¡ªthe wolf inside me, the connection to the pack, the strength that had shielded me from my pain¡ªall of it slipping away.


    Serena copsed, her body heavy and still. Blood pooled beneath her, the dark fur around the wound matted and slick. I fell beside her, my hands trembling, the scent of silver and blood overwhelming my senses.


    The wolves scattered, their howls fading into the distance. Some fled into the woods, others stood frozen, watching as the pack leader¡ªtheir leader¡ªdied.


    Or so I thought.


    She was bing human. She was moving.


    <em>No!</em> I thought.


    She needed to die!


    My body was bleeding from her w marks, and the curse that had been able to heal me before was gone. I was dying.


    She was still moving.


    I had failed. I must have.


    I looked at her face. For the first time, it wasn¡¯t filled with rage or dominance. Her features softened, her breathing shallow. There was a peace there, a quiet I hadn¡¯t expected.


    ¡°ra,¡± she murmured, the name barely a whisper. Her lips curved into the faintest smile.


    She wasn¡¯t dead. She should have been dead.


    I exhaled, the weight of everything crashing down on me. My wolf was gone. The curse was gone. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I was truly just... me.


    My body ached, the wounds burning with every breath. Iy back, trying with all my might to keep my eyes open. The stars blurred as my vision dimmed, my strength fading.


    I didn¡¯t need to survive. I needed to protect Kimberly.


    Serena wasn¡¯t dead. <em>How was she not dead?</em> She must have had a trope to help her, but I had seen her tropes when I was her ally, and she had several unique tropes, but I didn¡¯t remember one that would help her here.


    I hadn¡¯t paid enough attention then. I was ap dog, not a yer.


    I had to finish the job but my health stats were going crazy. I was almost gone.


    Serena, though, she was crawling, moving toward Kimberly, toward another wolf, a bigger one.


    A wolf whose name was on the red wallpaper was ra Withers. That was the other wolf, the one that had distracted <em>my</em> wolf.


    Serena was alive. ra was alive. Kimberly was alive.


    For now.


    Kimberly was struggling, fighting wolves and staring at the big ra wolf in the distance.


    I had to help her, but I couldn¡¯t.


    I tried to fight it. I tried, but I knew there was noing back from my wounds.


    I sank into a darkness, a different darkness than the one the wolf made for me, a darkness that was the end.


    Silently, I prayed Serena was defeated and that her desperate crawling didn''t mean Kimberly was still in danger.


    But then, as the reality of my potential failure overcame my other thoughts, I heard a familiar voice and a familiar line.


    ¡°Congrattions, you¡¯ve won a ticket!¡±

 Book Five, Chapter 96: The Athlete

    "You''re here?" I asked, but it was more of an usation. My heart was beating, my muscles tensed.


    I was standing. I wasn¡¯t lying on the ground bleeding out anymore. I wasn¡¯t gored by the ws of a wolf.


    I was wearing my cardigan again. Jeans. I was me.


    What a disappointment¡ªto die after exerting every ounce of my will, to finally be done, only to be reminded that this was all a sick game.


    Ss, the mechanical showman, stood about fifteen feet away, the front of his box pointed directly at me in the clearing.


    There were no wolves. Kimberly was gone. Sarah¡ªor Serena, whatever her name was¡ªwas gone too.


    It was just me and Ss. The expressionless puppet.


    Suddenly, I remembered our time in the forest so long ago, when he appeared to me, offering me my prize.


    And when I pressed the button, I sealed my fate: acquiring Bad Luck Ma and beginning my hundred years of torment.Of nothing.


    Of hunger.


    Of sleeplessness.


    Of that little dribble of hope that somehow tricked me into believing that if I just walked a little further, I would make it out of the forest.


    He looked at me nkly¡ªbecause that was the only way he could look at you. His paint was chipped, and his lights crackled like they were ready to burst, ready to dim. He didn¡¯t care whether you were gaining your aspect or being punished for the bad luck of being alone in the forest when a scapegoat was needed.


    And I knew I couldn¡¯t escape him. I had to press the button because this was a game. That was the truth.


    I felt sick to my stomach. I was sweating. How long did I stand there, staring at him?


    Who came and decided that I had to have this reaction? That this had to be me? That I had to stare at some little carnival machine and wonder if I was going to spend another hundred years in purgatory?


    And I would have to stand there staring until I pressed that button. That red button that could ruin your life¡ªand had ruined mine more than once.


    As I walked toward Ss, I listened to see if the wolf inside was still there. He wasn¡¯t.


    I had killed his master, and I was now alone.


    "Congrattions, you¡¯ve won a ticket," Ss said again in his eerie mechanical voice that somehow sounded so intentional, so sarcastic¡ªeven though it was a recording, yed every time he showed up.


    I had no choice. I pressed the button.


    He started reciting a poem¡ªthe same one he had when Kimberly had gotten her aspect. He was slow and deliberate.<blockquote>


    ¡°You can pick one from three, what will it be?


    No matter the choice, no room to rejoice.


    All three can save your skin or tear it off again,


    The question remains, you must choose your pains,


    In this game of dread, you can choose well and still be dead.¡±</blockquote>


    Ss, the Mechanical Showman,ughed¡ªjust like he was programmed to.


    He ejected a small ticket. I grabbed it quickly and read it.


    You¡¯ve reached a level where the game starts to get more difficult. Luckily, you are about to get the tools to fight back.


    Having achieved Plot Armor 21 and having afterward aplished the requisite feat of [<em>besting a significant physical-based enemy in a contest of Mettle, Hustle, or Grit in the Finale</em>], you have now unlocked your choice of aspect.


    Choosing an aspect allows you to decide what type of [<em>Athlete</em>] you wish to be. Good luck!


    "Bested a physical-based enemy¡­" I said, "I did beat her, right? I beat her in that fight. I killed her. Then why was she still moving? Why was she still crawling toward Kimberly? If she''s dead¡ªif I actually bested her inbat¡ªwhy was she still alive?"


    If it was a trope, I wished he could just tell me, but that wasn¡¯t in the cards.


    I must have beaten her. I must have. Otherwise, he wouldn''t be here.


    Ss had no answers.


    Ss had tickets.


    He ejected four more, one of which listed my three aspect choices¡ªmy potential rewards.


    I read it carefully.<blockquote>


    ¡°As an Athlete, you represent the pinnacle of human health, spirit, and physicality. However, what you represent matters little in Carousel. What you do with your gifts is all that counts. You must choose among the different paths: the Sport, the Stud, and the Health Nut. The choice of aspect will shape your abilities and influence your journey in significant ways.


    <strong>Sport</strong>: This aspect emphasizes the Athlete''s physical prowess andpetitive spirit, represented by participation in various sports. A character embodying this aspect leverages their athletic skills and teamwork mindset to tackle physical challenges and outmaneuver adversaries. Their defining stats are high Mettle and Hustle, showcasing their physical strength and agility derived from sports training.


    Sport has tropes like <strong>Buzzer Beater</strong>, which boosts sess inst-second efforts; <strong>Dirty y</strong>, enhancing effectiveness with underhanded tactics; and <strong>Workout Montage</strong>, providing stat buffs and healing through training sequences.


    <strong>Stud</strong>: This aspect highlights the Athlete''s confidence, charisma, and natural ability to inspire and lead others. A Stud uses their self-assured demeanor and leadership skills to motivate their team, win over authority figures, and navigate social situations with ease. Their high Moxie reflects their charm and ability to gain favor with potential love interests, allies, and even the audience itself.


    Tropes like <strong>The</strong><strong>Show Off</strong>, which boosts physical stats when trying to impress, <strong>Not Such a Bad Guy</strong>, which offers narrative redemption for earlier jerk-like behavior, and <strong>Be Cool</strong>, which enhances sess through confident actions, make this aspect a perfect blend of athletic prowess and social dominance.


    <strong>Health Nut</strong>: This aspect underscores the Athlete''s dedication to maintaining peak physical, mental, and spiritual health, highlighting their wisdom and their intelligent approach to fitness and wellbeing. Health Nuts use their high Savvy to make strategic decisions, enhancing their overall endurance and adaptability in challenging situations. Their healthy lifestyle is reflected in their elevated Grit, showcasing their resilience and ability to bounce back from setbacks.


    Health Nut has tropes like <strong>I Don''t Drink</strong>, which boosts Grit through visible health-conscious choices; <strong>Deep Breathing</strong>, which enhances focus and Hustle by simting slowed time; and <strong>Keep Your Eyes Peeled</strong>, which allows Savvy to reinforce Hustle in dodging, making this aspect a strong blend of inner strength, tactical thinking, and physical endurance.


    Choosing your aspect is a crucial decision. It not only determines your abilities but also sets you on a unique path. Whether you''re a Sport, a Stud, or a Health Nut, your athleticism will make you powerful, but your approach to it will define your journey. Choose wisely.¡±</blockquote>


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    I had been preparing for this choice for so long¡ªever since Camp Dyer. I had met yers of all three aspects.


    I read over the aspect trope for the Sport.


    Practice Makes Perfect


    Type: Rule/Buff


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Sport


    Stat Used: Mettle or Hustle


    In sports movies, repetition is thenguage of growth, a visual shorthand that speaks directly to the audience about dedication, struggle, and triumph and justifies even the most unbelievable of physical performances. Each deliberate motion refines your skill, turning practice into precision and consistency into greatness.


    <strong>Torchbearer</strong>: the yer will represent the virtues of their aspect, providing boosts to saving throws and causing all tied stat matchups to favor the yers.


    As a Sport, you are the <strong>Torchbearer</strong> of Mettle and Hustle. With you in the story, Mettle and Hustle checks and saving throws will weigh more in favor of the yers, and even lost rolls may result in less severe penalties.


    Repeatedly performing the same physical action¡ªsuch as scaling walls, throwing punches, wielding a specific weapon, or sprinting¡ªacross multiple scenes grants a powerful stacking buff to Mettle or Hustle, making you increasingly skilled and efficient at that exact act. Only scenes that will make the final cut will provide a buff.


    This ticket is granted after the yer bests a significant physical-based enemy in a test of Mettle, Hustle, or Grit in the finale following the achievement of Plot Armor 21. Selecting this ticket aligns you with the Sport aspect.


    ¡°Mastery isn¡¯t born in a moment; it¡¯s carved out by every repeated attempt.¡±


    My brother was a Sport. Christian needed to be powerful on his team because he was their main fighter. Still, he had to work hard to break out of that role and often used backgrounds instead of his aspect trope.


    I was the main fighter on our team, too, but somehow that rang hollow. What use was I as a fighter if I couldn¡¯t even control myself? If walking through a forest was like walking into a rut in my mind, where I never knew if one train of thought could derail me and turn me back into Straggler-Antoine?


    Pure buffs to physical stats could be useful, but we rarely chose storylines that were straight-up fistfights.


    No, I couldn¡¯t be a Sport.


    The Crown of Confidence


    Type: Rule/Buff


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Stud


    Stat Used: Moxie


    In movies, you can always pick out the main character¡ªthe leader¡ªat a nce, radiating confidence and charisma that draws everyone in. When ites time to put up or shut up, you best hope that confidence isn¡¯t unearned.


    <strong>Torchbearer</strong>: the yer will represent the virtues of their aspect, providing boosts to saving throws and causing all tied stat matchups to favor the yers.


    As a Stud, you are the <strong>Torchbearer</strong> of Moxie and Plot Armor itself. With you in the story, Moxie and Plot Armor checks and saving throws will weigh more in favor of the yers, and even lost rolls may result in less severe penalties.


    Your lowest physical stat is added to your Moxie stat.


    This ticket is granted after the yer bests a significant physical-based enemy in a test of Mettle, Hustle, or Grit in the finale following the achievement of Plot Armor 21. Selecting this ticket aligns you with the Stud aspect.


    ¡°Everyone will be looking to you now. Whether you seed or fail, you¡¯ll do it with all eyes on you.¡±


    The Crown of Confidence. What a joke.


    I had tried so hard to inspire my teammates, to hide the straggler within me. But I hid that about as well as I hid the wolf.


    Adding my lowest physical stat to my Moxie¡ªnow that was quite the buff. It would be incredibly powerful to have high Moxie, like Riley or Kimberly, who seemed to be able to mold the story to their desire.


    I could use it to power up my <strong>You Were Having a Nightmare</strong> trope. It might even be powerful enough to make me forget about the Straggler Forest. Powerful enough to make me the old Antoine again.


    The guy who could take it all in stride.


    Who had nothing to regret.


    Who had no shame.


    Who could do it all so effortlessly.


    I could make it all go away if I had enough Moxie. But I could never put enough points into that stat before because I was the fighter. I needed my stats to be in Mettle, Hustle, or Grit. Moxie was a luxury.


    But with this trope, I could get extra Moxie for free. I could end my troubles, and I could just forget all the bad things.


    Like I had been.


    Like the wolf promised me.


    I could be the old Antoine. I¡¯d never even remember being the new, lesser version of me.


    Could I do that? Could I truly forget?


    Just thinking about it sent electricity through my gut¡ªan excitement I could hardly contain.


    I could forget this.


    I could forget Wolf-Antoine.


    I could forget Straggler-Antoine.


    I could be everything I was pretending to be. All my time since the Straggler Woods could be gone.


    When Kimberly looked at me, it wouldn¡¯t be out of pity. She wouldn¡¯t have to protect me. She could look up to me¡ªat my Crown of Confidence¡ªand I could be the man I always wanted to be again.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    But what if it didn¡¯t work?


    What if I tried and tried, and that damn trope could never let me forget? Because you can¡¯t really forget when you know the nightmare isn¡¯t just a nightmare. It can¡¯t fade into your memory; it bes a ghost, a specter staring over your shoulder, whispering in your ear.


    Going days praying not to remember the truth. Hoping I wouldn¡¯t get lost in thought and end up back in the forest. Seeing people in the distance and having a visceral fear that they might be one of the other stragglers.


    What if all of this was a hallucination? What if I might still be in the woods?


    Could I deal with that? Would I even know that fear? Would I remember it?


    Forgetting only works if you can forget absolutely.


    But I couldn¡¯t do that.


    So much of what I had be¡ªand what we were attempting to achieve¡ªhade to involve my w. My memories were tainted.


    Could Carousel rebuild my broken mind so well that I forgot it was ever broken?


    I didn¡¯t know.


    I didn¡¯t know.


    I didn¡¯t know.


    Finally, I read the third trope. If I picked this one, it would give me the aspect of Health Nut.


    The Mountain as a Metaphor


    Type: Rule/Healing/Buff


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Health Nut


    Stat Used: Grit


    In movies, physical trials represent mental or spiritual obstacles, turning something that is literally a challenge of the body into a metaphorical achievement as well.


    <strong>Torchbearer</strong>: the yer will represent the virtues of their aspect, providing boosts to saving throws and causing all tied stat matchups to favor the yers.


    As a Health Nut, you are the <strong>Torchbearer</strong> of Grit and Savvy. With you in the story, Grit and Savvy checks and saving throws will weigh more in favor of the yers, and even lost rolls may result in less severe penalties.


    Physical challenges, particrly those in climactic moments, will serve as concrete representations of the yer¡¯s physical, mental, or spiritual struggles or as manifestations ofplex intellectual obstacles they face. Oveing these physical challenges will aid in resolving those struggles, even healing physical, mental, or spiritual injuries, and provide a boost to <strong>Grit</strong> or <strong>Savvy</strong>, depending on the context.


    This ticket is granted after the yer bests a significant physical-based enemy in a test of Mettle, Hustle, or Grit in the finale following the achievement of Plot Armor 21. Selecting this ticket aligns you with the Health Nut aspect.


    ¡°You spend your life climbing the mountain until the climb bes your life. Every stone beneath your feet carries the weight of your bing.¡±


    Health Nuts back at Camp Dyer did yoga. They did breathing exercises.


    Could that be me?


    I read over the trope. I found myself reading it multiple times, making sure I understood it. Controlling my mental health problems with physical challenges?


    I wanted to make sure I understood that correctly.


    Could this really work? How would I know if this was any different than just making me forget?


    <em>"Oveing these physical challenges will aid in resolving those struggles¡­ even healing injuries..."</em>


    A cure? I looked at Ss and asked him¡ªbecause who else was I supposed to ask?


    "Will this actually fix me, or will it just be more of the same? Hiding in the shadow of the wolf, forgetting but not forever?"


    Ss didn¡¯t answer.


    But I knew the answer.


    If I picked Stud, sure, it would be helpful. The extra Moxie, the ability to be like Kimberly¡ªa crowd favorite. I would be able to use my Nightmare trope to just forget.


    But forgetting wasn¡¯t a solution.


    I <em>was</em> the man with the bad memories. I was the man lost in the forest.


    To forget would be to kill myself in some small way. It would be to give in to the wolf again, to his promises of peace and happiness.


    I stood there before Ss, just thinking.


    What if this was a real cure and not just some cheat?


    And then, as I thought about it, a beautiful vision spread out before me in my mind.


    What if I could be the man who beat this problem? What if I could remember the forest, and the wolf, and all my mistakes¡ªand not shudder, and not desire to hide in the shadows?


    What if there was a future where I remembered, and I was still okay?


    If that future existed, I could never get it with all the Moxie in the world. That future required Grit¡ªnot just the stat. It required me to tough it out, to stop hiding.


    I took the aspect tropes for Stud and Sport, and I put them into Ss¡¯ slot. They were sucked back in.


    And then, in an instant, I was lying on the ground again. The blue lights in the trees lit up the sky, but they didn''t bother me anymore.


    The gashes were back in my chest, and yet somehow I felt like the lights on all of my statuses were blinking less often¡ªthat my <em>dead</em> status specifically was barely lit at all, and not for long.


    I had lost one of my tropes. It hade unequipped. But now <strong>The Mountain as a Metaphor</strong> was equipped.


    Was this it? The faint assistance that trope promised in healing and Grit?


    It didn¡¯t matter. I was alive enough to see Kimberly¡ªor what had be of her¡ªeven if I wasn¡¯t strong enough to get to her. I could at least see it.


    I saw her standing tall amongst the wolves. She was On-Screen.


    Next to no time had passed while I got my aspect.


    I couldn¡¯t protect her¡ªnot from all the way over here. Not bleeding out. Not now that I had lost the wolf.


    She was the only one of us left.


    The timer in my head had disappeared. If I had beaten the pack leader, then all she had to do was survive, to end the movie on a high note.


    It would have toe down to her.


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Book Five, Chapter 97: Not Quite The End

    For a moment, I panicked as I watched the big silver screen.


    We had not nned on Antoine recovering.


    Sure, we had hoped for it when we used his nightmare trope to try and ease some of his trauma so he might stand a fighting chance against the wolf, but that was a pipe dream.


    It was uninformed. It was¡­ meant to make Kimberly feel better.


    Somehow, he had beaten the curse. I couldn¡¯t be sure, but I assumed it was because our advanced rolling silver disconnected him from the pack. Maybe it was even the emergence of ra wolf.


    Whatever the case, it did create a dilemma. With the pack leader defeated and essentially out of the picture¡ªexcept for some cheesy little dramatic final words¡ªit meant we had an undead werewolf running around with nothing to do.


    We had relied on this being our endgame, on using the wolf ra as a key to beating Serena. We had talked through several scenarios for this. But now that Serena was out of the picture, how did ra fit in?


    The good news was that we had beaten the rescue. Our only win condition was beating the clock, and we had certainly done that. Points to Antoine.


    What mattered now was our final score, and it was up to Kimberly to bring things home.I watched as she stared down therge undead wolf with rugged determination, tears streaming down her face.


    The screen cut to a pitiful sight at the edge of the scene.


    ¡°ra,¡± Serena called from where she had crawled after Antoine defeated her.


    ¡°ra!¡± she screamed out. She had silver in her heart; there was no way she was going tost for much longer. But the script insisted. It was possible she had a trope for it. Heck, the undead ra wolf might have had a trope that caused this to happen.


    It could also have been the result of our improvisation altering the script.


    I had no idea.


    ¡°That¡¯s not her,¡± Kimberly said, her voice cracking, tears held back. ¡°That¡¯s not ra. Not really.¡±


    She was confident.


    Serena crawled across the grass, and the ra wolf did nothing; it seemed confused.


    No. It was waiting. It was waiting to see what Kimberly had to say.


    ra-wolf looked at Serena. It saw her. It took in her scent. Still, it didn¡¯t move.


    It¡ªand the wolves that had decided to follow it¡ªjust stared down Kimberly with possible ill intent. They growled, they howled, they filled the air with terror and wind.


    These remaining wolves were oneplicating thing with this storyline. Even if you beat the pack leader, there would still be a bunch of hungry wolves around who wanted to eat humans. Now, Kimberly had to find a way to defend herself against the rogue wolves, the wolves loyal to ra, and ra-wolf herself.


    Kimberly held my Silver Spoon Knife, ready for a fight. She had a gun in her other hand.


    And then she lowered them.


    ¡°I remember everything,¡± she said, her voice strained but resolute. ¡°It came to me in dreams. I remember the darkness, the loneliness.¡± She paused as if suddenly struck by another memory. ¡°Mother¡­¡±


    She said ¡°Mother¡± like she was saying a demon¡¯s name.


    Was she using <strong>Convenient Backstory</strong>? That wasn¡¯t the normal use of that trope. Normally, it was for changing your backstory to get skills, but she had used it to gain ¡°psychic¡± powers before, and it would seem that adding a reincarnation backstory to your character was fully within the power of that trope.


    ¡°I remember your mother¡­ my mother,¡± she said faintly, unsure of whether those were the right words.


    She seemed¡­ afraid, more than she had before, and not of the wolf in front of her. Where was this fearing from? Her character?


    Frankly, I didn¡¯t know, but we did discover that ra¡¯s mother may have been involved in her death. After all, ¡°Amadeus Sing¡± was convinced ra''s parents had murdered her.


    How any of this tied together, I didn¡¯t know just yet. Secret lore really did live up to its name and Kimberly was ying fast and loose here.


    Serena continued to scream for ra but she grew quieter and quieter. She eventually died without the wolf looking at her.


    It was truly sad. The details of her story were a mix of fiction and truth, but the feeling was real enough that I couldn¡¯t deny it. It was a tragic death.


    The wolf¡ªra¡ªgot closer to Kimberly.


    Kimberly dropped the knife and the gun.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to hurt me,¡± she said. She was giving this moment her all. ¡°Because you¡­ you protect me, don¡¯t you? In life¡­ and after. You¡¯re not ra. You¡¯re her wolf. My wolf. I know you... I¡¯m her. Aren¡¯t I? Not just a piece of her. I am ra. I remember this ce. I remember you¡­ What happened here?¡±


    Kimberly looked absolutely emotionally wrecked as she prayed for answers.


    And Carousel took it from there. shes and memories started to y rapidly on the screen. I was watching an edited cut of the film in the theater, so this was how Carousel chose to wrap things up: with one of those vague shback exnations.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Kimberly¡¯s voice yed over the shbacks.


    They were simple. A woman crying over a young, pale, beautiful ra, whoid deathly still, her eyes open.


    ¡°My mother tried to cure me,¡± Kimberly said. ¡°She couldn¡¯t. She was trying to kill you, to kill the wolf, but she killed me instead. It was an ident.¡±


    She was crying. I could hear it in her voice.


    The shback supported Kimberly¡¯s story.


    ¡°Serena wanted me to run away with her, but I didn¡¯t. I couldn¡¯t leave my family. They entombed me in that crypt and didn¡¯t know I was still there, that I lingered as a spirit, unable to truly die. You were there with me, waiting too. And even when I was called away, I still came back over and over again.¡±


    The shback cut to Kimberly as a teen approaching the manor with her friends. Then, it showed a simr scene with a different young blonde woman. Then another.


    The shback ended.


    Kimberly looked at the ancient wolf and at Serena, lying dead in the grass.


    There was silence for a moment. Then the ra wolf howled. With that howl, all of the rogue wolves yelped and ran into the forest. Even those wolves that had decided to follow ra backed down, fleeing.


    Kimberly and the wolf locked eyes and stared as the first ray of dawn reached over the horizon.


    The night was over.


    The wolf began to revert to human form¡ªor something resembling it. Its hulking frame began to shrink, the thick fur receding like shadows pulling away from the light. Its massive head diminished, the sharp, feral features softening, copsing into the delicate proportions of a young woman. But this was no vibrant, healthy figure.


    What emerged was a grotesque, withered shell¡ªa desated, mummified corpse, its skin stretched taut over fragile bones as though the curse could not return life to the human form.


    The camera cut in and out along with the transformation. When the camera returned, the hollow remains toppled forward, crumpling to the ground in a brittle, lifeless heap, a mere shadow of what had been before.


    Kimberly fell, too.


    The needle on the <strong>Plot Cycle</strong> switched to The End, and I heard people pping behind me. I heard them cheering. I heard sniffling. I didn¡¯t know if the movie deserved that kind of attention, but apparently, whoever it was that stood behind me thought so.


    The movie ended with a few scenes where Kimberly found Antoine dying of his injuries as a helicopternded in the clearing next to ra¡¯s body. Egan Kirst stepped out and ran into the Manor, momentster exiting with his son and his son¡¯s girlfriend. They were covered in nkets, human again.


    Kirst was crying tears of joy, hugging Logan as his son as they walked back to the helicopter. More helicopters arrived with more mercenaries, no doubt here to clean up the carnage. All of the dead werewolves were turning back into dead people.


    Kirst made eye contact with Kimberly as he boarded the helicopter. There was an acknowledgment in his eyes, maybe even a thank you.


    His butler¡ªor servant, or whatever he was¡ªwalked up to Kimberly and gave her a check. She stared at it and looked down at Antoine as more of Kirst¡¯s men arrived to help take Antoine away for medical services.


    Kimberly mostly just stared at Kirst¡¯s helicopter as it flew away, doing that thing where the survivor takes everything in and contemtes what had just happened.


    Any minute, the credits would roll, and it would all be over.


    A sessful rescue.


    And while it had its ws, we had done spectacrly. Messy lore and strange character decisions aside, I could feel we were in for great rewards.


    But then the movie just didn¡¯t end.


    Instead of going to the credits, the image on the screen divided into several smaller screens, all rolling at the same time. They weren¡¯t even On-Screen; they were Off-Screen, like surveince footage.


    I had no idea what was happening.


    Suddenly, there was a shuffle behind me. Someone burst into the theater and said, ¡°She triggered secret lore!¡±


    People¡ªthere must have been at least a dozen of them behind me now¡ªgasped at the revtion. They didn¡¯t seem to understand how that had happened.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t even talk to the maid at the tavern. How could they have triggered secret lore?¡± a man asked.


    What maid? What tavern?


    ¡°Upstairs is saying that she had a vision of the real family, and that was enough to trigger it,¡± the person who had run in said again.


    Suddenly, I heard footsteps again as people tried to leave. They weren¡¯t even being quiet about it.


    ¡°What do we do with him?¡± a woman asked, and I had a feeling she was talking about me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t send him back until the story is over,¡± a man answered.


    The woman who asked the question was standing behind me¡ªdirectly behind me¡ªgrabbing onto something. I could feel the hair on my neck being moved.


    When I was a ghost in <em>The Die Cast</em>, I had seen my body from above in the theater. Whatever magic it was that these people¡ªthese behind-the-scenes helpers¡ªused, it involved a strange ticket on the end of anyard I was wearing.


    The woman was grabbing onto mynyard.


    I strained to see what was going on, but I couldn¡¯t move. I couldn¡¯t interact with the world in any way.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    I watched the screen as suddenly the footage of the Manor we hade to know transitioned. No longer the old decrepit building¡ªno, it was beautiful and new, filled with people. It was a party of some kind, being held two hundred years ago.


    I didn¡¯t get a good view of it. If this was a secret lore scene, it would happen Off-Screen, so it wouldn¡¯t be cut together nicely for me to view. I would have to just watch the pieces and hope to understand what was going on.


    All of the little screens flickered and changed, moving away from the story we had just run to another story¡ªsomething older, something less cinematic.


    Finally, I saw Kimberly at the party. She looked terrified. She was scared.


    I was helpless.


    Could she die in the secret lore scene? What would that entail? Surely, it would be the same as a normal death. We had already won the storyline, right? We were fine.


    Then why was everyone behind me acting nervous?


    Out of the corner of my eye, I got a single glimpse of something silver. I knew what it was, so out of desperation, I used <strong>The</strong><strong>Insert Shot</strong> on it.


    That was my sole means of interacting with the world.


    I couldn¡¯t do anything else, and I was truly panicking, unable to move, not knowing what was going to happen.


    And the trope worked.


    Suddenly, I got an image in my mind of a hole punch being held in the hands of a woman. The woman was staring straight ahead, with tears in her eyes, and she was wearing clothes that felt familiar to the 1890s but also a little to the 1950s.


    She held the hole punch in one hand and the ticket on the end of mynyard in the other, staring forward at the screen.


    I realized this image wasn¡¯t just in my mind. Kimberly saw it, too, because the look on her face changed from fear to shock, if only for a moment.


    More than that, one of the screens disyed that image¡ªif only for a few seconds¡ªbefore it was reced, like all the others, with footage from the secret lore scene.


    Then I heard whispering as I struggled to get my bearings.


    ¡°You¡¯re still in there, aren¡¯t you?¡± It was the woman standing behind me.


    I couldn¡¯t answer, of course.


    Had she seen the image of herself in the small corner of the screen? Did she know I had used the <strong>Insert</strong><strong>Shot </strong>trope on her and on that little silver hole punch?


    ¡°Riley, you¡¯re running out of time,¡± the woman whispered. ¡°If you can hear me, if you can understand me, you need to hurry. You¡¯re losing momentum. Carousel runs on narrative momentum, don''t you understand?¡±


    My blood chilled.


    Whoever this woman was, whatever she was¡ªwas she trying to help?


    ¡°You must move forward. You must attempt a throughline. There¡¯s talk about abandoning you and your people to Carousel¡¯s wrath if the situation bes more dire. And if that happens¡­ I don¡¯t know if you can possibly survive. You must y the game more aggressively¡­ Oh, folly¡­ Can you even hear me?¡±


    I could hear her. But I couldn¡¯tmunicate with her.


    All I could do was sit and watch Kimberly try to survive the reveal of secret lore and hope that, whatever it was, she woulde out okay and not be scarred in the way Antoine had been.


    As I sat and watched, I contemted the fact that my trope had somehow sessfully worked in the theater on one of the mysterious strangers.


    It worked on <em>Them</em>.


    But what could I do with that information?


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 Book Five, Chapter 98: Clara- Part One

    I waited for the storyline to end, but it never did. The needle on the plot cycle said <em>The End</em>, but unlike normal, the needle never reset back to the beginning.


    So there I stood, bleeding from my wounds, watching as the sun rose higher.


    I was Off-Screen. Everything was Off-Screen.


    In my heart, I knew what that meant.


    Secret Lore.


    When nothing started happening¡ªwhen Ss never arrived with his red button¡ªall I could do was begin to wander around. That was when I realized, from a distance, that there were no vehicles parked in front of the Manor house. There had been enough vehicles for each of us. I had a convertible, Antoine had a truck, and then there were several others, but none of them were there now.


    The fountain, too, was gone. There had been a beautiful water feature of some kind¡ªa statue of a woman¡ªbut it was also not there. As I observed that, my eye was drawn to the Manor house itself.


    It was beautiful.


    It was no longer the decrepit, dying ce that teenagers would call haunted. It was new. None of the windows were smashed or boarded up.With no other path clear to me, the only thing I could do was walk toward the Manor. As I did, I began to hear music¡ªbut not the type of music I would expect to hear from a Manor like this. Instead, it was abination of drums and singing in anguage I had never heard before.


    I stepped closer to the Manor and, determined to end the movie, I opened the door.


    The inside of the house was missing.


    It wasn''t as though it had been stripped or burned out¡ªno. When I opened the front door to the Manor, I was opening a door to another worldpletely¡ªa world of bright colors and beautiful smells, of people dressed in a way I had never seen anyone dress.


    They wore lively shades of orange and blue, along with brass chains and jewelry.


    There were booths set up and people trading fish, clothing, and dozens of other different goods, some of which I couldn''t even describe. I was in the middle of a bazaar¡ªa magical market from a ce unlike anything back on Earth.


    As soon as I walked through the doorway, the door disappeared, and it was just me.


    The people didn''t seem to notice me¡ªnot at first. They shopped and told each other jokes, and went about their day. But then I heard a voice, a voice that sounded familiar to me but that I had never physically heard before.


    "This is Susan," the voice said, and it took me a moment to realize that the voice wasn''t inside my mind¡ªthat it was literally right behind me.


    I turned, and I saw two young girls, maybe 15 years old. They did not dress in the style of the people of the bazaar. No, they had much more European or American sensibilities¡ªor that was the closest I couldpare them to.


    One of them¡ªthe one who spoke¡ªwas smiling at me when I finally locked eyes with her. I knew who she was, even though I had never actually seen a proper picture of her.


    It was ra Woolsey. She had blonde hair, but otherwise, she didn''t actually look that much like me. That was all for the storyline.


    She smiled.


    ¡°This is Susan,¡± she repeated. ¡°She was my first crush, but I didn¡¯t know that back then.¡±


    Susan talked to her energetically, but I couldn''t hear what she was saying¡ªit was muted. I could tell it was the type of talk that all 15-year-old girls were known for throughout time: secrets and dreams and so many exciting things.


    "Come on, quick!¡± ra said to me again, with Susan not hearing. ¡°We have to go before my mother notices. Father is busy speaking with the sharecroppers about a business deal. Hurry!"


    Though she was dressed like she was from 200 years ago, she spoke in a much more modern manner¡ªalmost as if she had been reincarnated many times.


    She and Susan began to run through the bazaar, stopping at stalls and trying on scarves and jewelry. No one got in their way. There were guards posted around the bazaar¡ªguards that did not belong to whatever culture or country we were currently in.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    This was upied territory.


    The girls ran,ughed, and bought food that looked delicious. It took everything from me to keep up. They were young; they were free in a farawaynd. I would have been the same at their age.


    They continued to run until they ran out of market to run through and found themselves in a ce within the city that I didn''t think they should be. But I knew better than to warn them¡ªI was just a passenger in this story.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    We were in a ce like a cemetery or some type of churchyard from a religion that I could not understand.


    As they turned a corner, they stopped suddenly, their eyes locked on something. I walked up behind them to get a better look.


    It was the strangest sight I had ever seen, even in Carousel.


    Before us was arge stone table of some kind, with a man chained to it, lying down with his arms and legs outspread, facing the heavens.


    People were surrounding the man, grabbing onto his arms and legs, holding him still despite how much he struggled and spat and screamed at them in a foreign tongue¡ªin many foreign tongues all at once. Making sounds that no one person should ever be able to make.


    His screams sounded like stadiums of people screaming, and sometimes they sounded like a monster''s roar.


    At the head of the table was an ornately dressed woman who was clearly highly revered from the way that people looked at her.


    She was speaking anguage I didn''t understand, but I could tell she was praying from the way she held her hands on high. She was sprinkling the man with some strange red dust as she said the words.


    This was an exorcism, I realized.


    She was trying to expel demons or whatever this ce had instead of demons.


    Somehow, the woman knew that ra and Susan were there. She turned her head and simply said, "You should not be here, young ones."


    And she was right, because the man on the table seemed to notice the girls too. He stared at them, and after that one look, Susan ran, shoving me out of the way.


    ra, though¡ªra couldn''t take her eyes off the man.


    "I had never seen anything like it before," she said to me. "A man possessed¡ªa man going through true suffering. I lived a sheltered life, and that was the first time I had ever seen something so horrifying. But not thest."


    The man continued to struggle against his chains and against the people holding him down while screaming profanities into the air.


    Somehow, through a great burst of strength, the man managed to get one of his arms free from the chain, breaking it away from the stone table and pointing directly at ra. He said some arcane words that seemed to travel through the air and wrap around ra''s throat.


    She fell back onto the ground.


    Out of instinct, I dropped down to try to help her, but the moment I did, all the sounds of the market in the distance disappeared. The sounds of the man on the table with his obscene tongue were gone in an instant.


    We were back in the Manor house.


    ra was lying in bed, sickly ill, chunks of her hair missing.


    A man stood over her, checking her eyes and skin. Behind him, a man and a woman stood holding each other. On the red wallpaper, they were known as Thomas and Agnes Woolsey¡ªra''s mother and father.


    The man had good news.


    "This is far less dangerous than it seems. It is a simple curse, as it were, and a simple herbal remedy is all that is required as a cure."


    He took out a notebook and began writing down a list of ingredients. Then he went over to Agnes Woolsey and began describing to her how to administer the herbal treatment.


    I still stood next to ra.


    "Father was ashamed," she whispered to me, "of himself, of having brought us to that foreignnd. Whenever I was sick, he couldn''t stand to look at me. Mother began to treat my curse herself. She became such an attentive mother."


    In an instant, the room I was standing in was empty, and I could hear talking out in the main room of the Manor house.


    I followed the sound and found a group of high-society women sitting around arge collection of chairs. ra was among them, seated in arge chair that towered over her. She was washed and dressed in her best clothing, but it was still clear she was under the effects of the curse that the possessed man had given her.


    "You poor young child," one of the women said. "You are so blessed to have a mother who could take care of you."


    "Oh yes," another added. "Most would not be so knowledgeable. My family has long forgotten our traditional remedies."


    The women continued to talk until one asked why the curse had been cast upon ra. ra stayed silent. She waspletely out of it, an empty shell.


    "Well," Agnes Woolsey said in a sickly whisper, "one of the local tribeswomen caught her husband staring at ra and cast a curse upon her."


    "Oh goodness!" one of the women said.


    The other women reacted simrly, telling Agnes how they would never bring their children to anothernd, to an uncivilized ce like that. Agnes assured them that she had fought against it, but her husband had overruled her¡ªand he never would again.


    The women continued to talk and to cast praise upon Agnes for her ability to keep her daughter alive.


    Agnes liked that praise¡ªit was so clear.


    She reached out to hold ra''s hand, summoning the closest thing to a tear that she could, and confessed to them, "It is a mother¡¯s purpose, after all, isn¡¯t it? To care for her children?"


    ~


    Suddenly, an image of a woman holding a one-hole punch filled my mind. I wasn¡¯t sure what that meant. I didn¡¯t have time to give it thought.


    ~


    Once again, the people in the room disappeared. Instinctually, I ran back into ra¡¯s room, where I found Thomas, Agnes, and ra together again.


    "I bought you this from overseas. It is a powerful relic¡ªan amulet that is said to have the capacity to contain any curse," Thomas said as he wrapped a silver ne around ra¡¯s neck.


    She wasn¡¯t an empty shell on this day, so she thanked him and admired her beautiful ne.


    From the look of it, it was a ss vial filled with clear water on a silver chain. It was not quite how it looked in the picture or when ra¡¯s corpse wore it. There was no silver liquid inside; it was just clear.


    "Now," Thomas said, "I trust that this illness will end. Can you promise me that?"


    ra looked at him, confused, but she said that she promised.


    Then she turned to me and said, "I didn¡¯t realize it at the time, but looking back, I think my father doubted that I was still sick. He thought I was faking it. Maybe that¡¯s what he had to think¡ªthat this curse wasn¡¯t continuing to haunt me over a year after I had contracted it. That my poor state of health wasn¡¯t his fault."


    As I watched, the ss vial on the ne¡ªthe crystal-clear water¡ªstarted to darken just a little bit as ra wore it.


    "She will wear the ne every day until this wretched curse is gone. Is that clear?" Thomas said. "I''ve spent a small fortune on it, and I expect it will cure what ails her."


    "Yes," Agnes said, clearly bothered by it. "I suppose that when she¡¯s cured of it, we will have you to thank."


    "Darling," Thomas said, "I know that it is your healing hands that have kept our daughter from oblivion, but this amulet is said to be very powerful. There¡¯s only one like it. The water inside is from a holy spring. Surely, it will only help in your efforts."


    Agnes pursed her lips.


    I couldn''t ce the look on her face. The way she stared at that ne, was it anger she felt?


    And then things began to get weirder.

 Book Five, Chapter 98: Clara- Part I

    I waited for the storyline to end, but it never did. The needle on the plot cycle said <em>The End</em>, but unlike normal, the needle never reset back to the beginning.


    So there I stood, bleeding from my wounds, watching as the sun rose higher.


    I was Off-Screen. Everything was Off-Screen.


    In my heart, I knew what that meant.


    Secret Lore.


    When nothing started happening¡ªwhen Ss never arrived with his red button¡ªall I could do was begin to wander around. That was when I realized, from a distance, that there were no vehicles parked in front of the Manor house. There had been enough vehicles for each of us. I had a convertible, Antoine had a truck, and then there were several others, but none of them were there now.


    The fountain, too, was gone. There had been a beautiful water feature of some kind¡ªa statue of a woman¡ªbut it was also not there. As I observed that, my eye was drawn to the Manor house itself.


    It was beautiful.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    It was no longer the decrepit, dying ce that teenagers would call haunted. It was new. None of the windows were smashed or boarded up.With no other path clear to me, the only thing I could do was walk toward the Manor. As I did, I began to hear music¡ªbut not the type of music I would expect to hear from a Manor like this. Instead, it was abination of drums and singing in anguage I had never heard before.


    I stepped closer to the Manor and, determined to end the movie, I opened the door.


    The inside of the house was missing.


    It wasn''t as though it had been stripped or burned out¡ªno. When I opened the front door to the Manor, I was opening a door to another worldpletely¡ªa world of bright colors and beautiful smells, of people dressed in a way I had never seen anyone dress.


    They wore lively shades of orange and blue, along with brass chains and jewelry.


    There were booths set up and people trading fish, clothing, and dozens of other different goods, some of which I couldn''t even describe. I was in the middle of a bazaar¡ªa magical market from a ce unlike anything back on Earth.


    As soon as I walked through the doorway, the door disappeared, and it was just me.


    The people didn''t seem to notice me¡ªnot at first. They shopped and told each other jokes, and went about their day. But then I heard a voice, a voice that sounded familiar to me but that I had never physically heard before.


    "This is Susan," the voice said, and it took me a moment to realize that the voice wasn''t inside my mind¡ªthat it was literally right behind me.


    I turned, and I saw two young girls, maybe 15 years old. They did not dress in the style of the people of the bazaar. No, they had much more European or American sensibilities¡ªor that was the closest I couldpare them to.


    One of them¡ªthe one who spoke¡ªwas smiling at me when I finally locked eyes with her. I knew who she was, even though I had never actually seen a proper picture of her.


    It was ra Woolsey. She had blonde hair, but otherwise, she didn''t actually look that much like me. That was all for the storyline.


    She smiled.


    ¡°This is Susan,¡± she repeated. ¡°She was my first crush, but I didn¡¯t know that back then.¡±


    Susan talked to her energetically, but I couldn''t hear what she was saying¡ªit was muted. I could tell it was the type of talk that all 15-year-old girls were known for throughout time: secrets and dreams and so many exciting things.


    "Come on, quick!¡± ra said to me again, with Susan not hearing. ¡°We have to go before my mother notices. Father is busy speaking with the sharecroppers about a business deal. Hurry!"


    Though she was dressed like she was from 200 years ago, she spoke in a much more modern manner¡ªalmost as if she had been reincarnated many times.


    She and Susan began to run through the bazaar, stopping at stalls and trying on scarves and jewelry. No one got in their way. There were guards posted around the bazaar¡ªguards that did not belong to whatever culture or country we were currently in.


    This was upied territory.


    The girls ran,ughed, and bought food that looked delicious. It took everything from me to keep up. They were young; they were free in a farawaynd. I would have been the same at their age.


    They continued to run until they ran out of market to run through and found themselves in a ce within the city that I didn''t think they should be. But I knew better than to warn them¡ªI was just a passenger in this story.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    We were in a ce like a cemetery or some type of churchyard from a religion that I could not understand.


    As they turned a corner, they stopped suddenly, their eyes locked on something. I walked up behind them to get a better look.


    It was the strangest sight I had ever seen, even in Carousel.


    Before us was arge stone table of some kind, with a man chained to it, lying down with his arms and legs outspread, facing the heavens.


    People were surrounding the man, grabbing onto his arms and legs, holding him still despite how much he struggled and spat and screamed at them in a foreign tongue¡ªin many foreign tongues all at once. Making sounds that no one person should ever be able to make.


    His screams sounded like stadiums of people screaming, and sometimes they sounded like a monster''s roar.


    At the head of the table was an ornately dressed woman who was clearly highly revered from the way that people looked at her.


    She was speaking anguage I didn''t understand, but I could tell she was praying from the way she held her hands on high. She was sprinkling the man with some strange red dust as she said the words.


    This was an exorcism, I realized.


    She was trying to expel demons or whatever this ce had instead of demons.


    Somehow, the woman knew that ra and Susan were there. She turned her head and simply said, "You should not be here, young ones."


    And she was right, because the man on the table seemed to notice the girls too. He stared at them, and after that one look, Susan ran, shoving me out of the way.


    ra, though¡ªra couldn''t take her eyes off the man.


    "I had never seen anything like it before," she said to me. "A man possessed¡ªa man going through true suffering. I lived a sheltered life, and that was the first time I had ever seen something so horrifying. But not thest."


    The man continued to struggle against his chains and against the people holding him down while screaming profanities into the air.


    Somehow, through a great burst of strength, the man managed to get one of his arms free from the chain, breaking it away from the stone table and pointing directly at ra. He said some arcane words that seemed to travel through the air and wrap around ra''s throat.


    She fell back onto the ground.


    Out of instinct, I dropped down to try to help her, but the moment I did, all the sounds of the market in the distance disappeared. The sounds of the man on the table with his obscene tongue were gone in an instant.


    We were back in the Manor house.


    ra was lying in bed, sickly ill, chunks of her hair missing.


    A man stood over her, checking her eyes and skin. Behind him, a man and a woman stood holding each other. On the red wallpaper, they were known as Thomas and Agnes Woolsey¡ªra''s mother and father.


    The man had good news.


    "This is far less dangerous than it seems. It is a simple curse, as it were, and a simple herbal remedy is all that is required as a cure."


    He took out a notebook and began writing down a list of ingredients. Then he went over to Agnes Woolsey and began describing to her how to administer the herbal treatment.


    I still stood next to ra.


    "Father was ashamed," she whispered to me, "of himself, of having brought us to that foreignnd. Whenever I was sick, he couldn''t stand to look at me. Mother began to treat my curse herself. She became such an attentive mother."


    In an instant, the room I was standing in was empty, and I could hear talking out in the main room of the Manor house.


    I followed the sound and found a group of high-society women sitting around arge collection of chairs. ra was among them, seated in arge chair that towered over her. She was washed and dressed in her best clothing, but it was still clear she was under the effects of the curse that the possessed man had given her.


    "You poor young child," one of the women said. "You are so blessed to have a mother who could take care of you."


    "Oh yes," another added. "Most would not be so knowledgeable. My family has long forgotten our traditional remedies."


    The women continued to talk until one asked why the curse had been cast upon ra. ra stayed silent. She waspletely out of it, an empty shell.


    "Well," Agnes Woolsey said in a sickly whisper, "one of the local tribeswomen caught her husband staring at ra and cast a curse upon her."


    "Oh goodness!" one of the women said.


    The other women reacted simrly, telling Agnes how they would never bring their children to anothernd, to an uncivilized ce like that. Agnes assured them that she had fought against it, but her husband had overruled her¡ªand he never would again.


    The women continued to talk and to cast praise upon Agnes for her ability to keep her daughter alive.


    Agnes liked that praise¡ªit was so clear.


    She reached out to hold ra''s hand, summoning the closest thing to a tear that she could, and confessed to them, "It is a mother¡¯s purpose, after all, isn¡¯t it? To care for her children?"


    ~


    Suddenly, an image of a woman holding a one-hole punch filled my mind. I wasn¡¯t sure what that meant. I didn¡¯t have time to give it thought.


    ~


    Once again, the people in the room disappeared. Instinctually, I ran back into ra¡¯s room, where I found Thomas, Agnes, and ra together again.


    "I bought you this from overseas. It is a powerful relic¡ªan amulet that is said to have the capacity to contain any curse," Thomas said as he wrapped a silver ne around ra¡¯s neck.


    She wasn¡¯t an empty shell on this day, so she thanked him and admired her beautiful ne.


    From the look of it, it was a ss vial filled with clear water on a silver chain. It was not quite how it looked in the picture or when ra¡¯s corpse wore it. There was no silver liquid inside; it was just clear.


    "Now," Thomas said, "I trust that this illness will end. Can you promise me that?"


    ra looked at him, confused, but she said that she promised.


    Then she turned to me and said, "I didn¡¯t realize it at the time, but looking back, I think my father doubted that I was still sick. He thought I was faking it. Maybe that¡¯s what he had to think¡ªthat this curse wasn¡¯t continuing to haunt me over a year after I had contracted it. That my poor state of health wasn¡¯t his fault."


    As I watched, the ss vial on the ne¡ªthe crystal-clear water¡ªstarted to darken just a little bit as ra wore it.


    "She will wear the ne every day until this wretched curse is gone. Is that clear?" Thomas said. "I''ve spent a small fortune on it, and I expect it will cure what ails her."


    "Yes," Agnes said, clearly bothered by it. "I suppose that when she¡¯s cured of it, we will have you to thank."


    "Darling," Thomas said, "I know that it is your healing hands that have kept our daughter from oblivion, but this amulet is said to be very powerful. There¡¯s only one like it. The water inside is from a holy spring. Surely, it will only help in your efforts."


    Agnes pursed her lips.


    I couldn''t ce the look on her face. The way she stared at that ne, was it anger she felt?


    And then things began to get weirder.

 Book Five, Chapter 99: Clara- Part II

    I heard speaking in the next room, so I quickly left, but I didn''t find myself in the main hallway like I expected. It was another version of ra¡¯s room. I had simply walked from one version to another.


    Inside of the second room, ra sat staring forward as if she were in aa with her eyes open.


    With nothing else to see, I continued moving forward out the other door, and I was yet again inside another version of ra¡¯s room. This time, she had lost a lot of hair and looked terrible. Agnes stood over her, spooning some strange concoction into her mouth.


    "There, there, darling," Agnes said. "This will make you feel stronger. Mother¡¯s love is the best cure."


    I left the room again, and in the next room, ra was stronger. She was practically radiating youth and beauty.


    In the next room, she was sickly again but notatose.


    The next room was once again filled with women who cried and apuded as Agnes detailed the level of care she had to give her daughter.


    Agnes worked up a tear and told them again it was just a mother¡¯s duty¡ªthat she came from a long line of healers, truth be told, and that she always intended to pass her craft down to her daughter. "But I never prayed for these horrible circumstances in which to teach her."


    In the next room, ra was lying in bed, and a young woman sat at her side, reading a book to her. The young woman continued to read as ra looked at me and said, "Mother and Father have always provided me with one of the servant girls to help me when I was sick. I¡¯d gone through half a dozen by this point until, eventually, they picked her.""You¡¯re not even paying attention," the young woman reading said with a smile.


    And I recognized the woman.


    It was Serena.


    Her long ck hair, her striking eyes. I was never going to forget that face.


    Serena reached out a hand and grasped ra¡¯s. Even though neither said anything, I could see that they were in love. They stared at each other as if they were dying to say those words.


    Then they disappeared, and I went on to the next room to find ra alone, painting a picture of the tree that stood outside her window.


    "I never knew how I would feel the next day," she said as she saw me. "Some days, I was as healthy as a normal woman, healthier, even. Other days, it was only my mother¡¯s medicine that kept me alive."


    I heard shouting from the next room, and when I walked through the door, I was yet again in ra¡¯s room. This time, she and Agnes were having an argument.


    "You¡¯re not making me better!" ra said. She looked older now, maybe even an adult. ¡°You must be getting something wrong!¡±


    "Who do you have to thank for being alive right now?" Agnes asked. "I have been toiling over you incessantly. And this is the thanks I get?"


    The argument ended as the two disappeared, and I wandered into the next room to see Agnes blowing strange ck smoke from an incense burner into ra¡¯s face.


    "This will help your treatment," Agnes said. "Breathe it in."


    And strangely, ra did breathe it in without argument. Her eyes were nk, dull, lifeless.


    In the next room, ra wasatose again. In the one after that, she was bright and beautiful, doing her studies at a desk.


    I heard yelling from beyond that, and when I left, I wasn¡¯t in ra¡¯s room again. I was in an office of some sort¡ªperhaps it was Thomas¡¯.


    "She¡¯s going to the Mondale Sanatorium, and that is it!" Thomas yelled at Agnes. "She needs sea air and a second opinion! She is a woman now and she is losing her best years to this."


    As soon as they were done speaking, I left the room and found myself walking out onto a vast green field next to the ocean. ra was there in the distance, sitting under a tree on a pic nket. Serena was with her. I walked out to see them.


    ra didn¡¯t speak to me directly this time. She and Serena were engaged in a conversation that was muted, like many others¡ªa secret between themselves that wasn¡¯t mine to hear.


    When I closed my eyes and opened them again, I was standing in the main room of the Manor house. ra was walking through the door, home from the sanatorium, looking radiant and beautiful.


    Her father greeted her with a sincere hug, running his finger over the silver ne, which was now filled not with clear water, but with the inky silver that I was used to seeing. Agnes was not nearly as warm but did greet her daughter.


    I blinked again, and the room was empty, but I heard screaming outside.


    I went to the front door and saw Agnes calling for help in the distance. Serena must have heard her from the other side of the house and ran out to greet her, as did many other servants and eventually Thomas himself.


    I followed along until I was close enough to hear what Agnes was saying.


    ¡°She¡¯s been bit! One of those vile wolves I told you to have killed bit poor ra!¡± she dered.


    The entire group ran in the direction Agnes pointed. There, we found ra lying on the ground with a strange mark on her leg. ra was asleep, having lost the radiant beauty she had attained at the sanatorium.


    ¡°Why was she out in the woods?¡± Serena screamed. ¡°She wasn¡¯t feeling well! Why did you not have me attend to her?¡±


    Agnes was having none of it. ¡°My daughter wanted to go on a walk to regain her health. Is a mother not allowed to assist her daughter on a stroll through the woods?¡±


    Serena stared at her, clearly suspicious.


    But more suspicious than Serena¡¯s look was the strange mark on ra¡¯s leg. It wasn¡¯t a bite. If anything, it looked like a scratch¡ªlike a scratch that was almostpletely healed.


    Agnes looked on with disbelief.


    ¡°No, there was a bite,¡± Agnes insisted as she saw the faded wound. ¡°It was clear teeth marks. A wolf came from nowhere and bit her¡ªtook a gash out of her leg.¡±


    She genuinely looked confused. All I could notice was the ne¡ªthe silver liquid inside the vial.


    It was bubbling.


    ¡°We need to have a doctor called,¡± Agnes said. ¡°A wolf bite can be dangerous. They say wolf madness can be found in these woods¡ªthere was a case justst year.¡±


    I blinked and found myself back in ra¡¯s room.


    Another doctor of some sort was standing there, speaking to Agnes and Thomas.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Again, I must say that the risk of exposure to wolf madness is extremely low. The bite has to break the skin in order to spread the disease, and I¡¯m not seeing any piercing here on her leg. In fact, I can¡¯t tell where she was wounded at all. Perhaps you¡¯re being a bit overcautious because of ra¡¯s medical history.¡±


    Agnes was still terribly confused and refused to believe what was happening.


    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°She has wolf madness. I¡¯m sure of it. I need you to begin a course of treatment, or otherwise instruct me how to do it myself.¡±


    The doctor looked at Thomas, and Thomas wrapped his wife in a hug and said, ¡°My dear, ra is in good health. She will recover. She merely had a fainting spell again.¡±


    Then he continued speaking to her in a muted volume.


    I blinked again, and it was night. I was alone in the room with ra when Agnes walked in carrying antern and a small book.


    She walked right past me after closing the door and immediately grabbed the nkets, ripping them off ra.


    ra started to wake.


    Agnes then retrieved something from a pouch hidden on her person.


    ¡°Go back to sleep,¡± Agnes said before ra could tell what was happening.


    And ra did go back to sleep almost immediately.


    Agnes held thentern up to ra¡¯s leg,pletely unable to believe that there was no bite mark or gash¡ªor whatever it was that she expected to be there.


    She took the object she had retrieved¡ªa small cloth wrapped up in a bundle¡ªand unraveled it, revealing a mixture that looked like seeds or spices.


    She grabbed a pinch of it, held it over ra¡¯s leg in the exact same spot where she had imed there was a gash, and started to sprinkle it while chanting strange words.


    As the dust fell on ra¡¯s leg, a gash began to form¡ªa bite.


    I peeked over Agnes¡¯s shoulder to look at the book she had carried, to see the title of the page she was on. I couldn¡¯t read the words¡ªthey weren¡¯t in English¡ªand Carousel wasn¡¯t tranting them for me.


    But there was a drawing on the page.


    A drawing of a wolf.


    As I watched this, a voice I had never heard before began speaking in a way that only I could hear. It was a man¡¯s voice. He had some kind of ent I couldn¡¯t ce, but I could tell he was educated and intelligent.<blockquote>


    <em>The werewolves of my youth were nothing like the creatures I encounter today. Then, the affliction¡ªwhat we called wolf fever¡ªwas a pitiable illness, akin to leprosy or rabies. Victims suffered unnatural hair growth, feverish aggression, and madness during the full moon. They were unmistakably human, suffering from a disease, not transforming into monsters.</em>


    <em>Now, I see something far darker. These modern werewolves abandon humanity entirely, their bodies reshaping into beasts under some unholyw. What caused this evolution? Has the curse itself grown and adapted, or has humanity changed in ways we do not yet understand? I cannot reconcile this shift, and the truth behind it feels more elusive with every passing year.</em>


    <em>Yet my thoughts keep returning to ra Woolsey, whose illness began not as lycanthropy but as a simple demonic jinx. Her symptoms defy exnation¡ªemotional hollowness like the victims of voodoo zombification, an aversion to sunlight reminiscent of hexes from the ck Mountains, and a profound lethargy akin to the physiological rebound observed following the application of potent restorativepounds. These irregrities suggest something far moreplex at work.</em>


    <em>Rumors abound that ra was the first of these new wolves, the origin point of this unsettling transformation. If true, her case is more than unique¡ªit is pivotal. I must ascertain the connection between her affliction and the monstrous evolution of lycanthropy. In her story may lie the key to understanding, perhaps even undoing, this terrible curse.</em></blockquote>


    The voice stopped speaking. ra was the first of the modern werewolves. We knew something like that.


    ¡°How is this happening?¡± Agnes cried to the heavens. ¡°What magic is this?¡±


    The wound she had just created on ra¡¯s leg was healing again. Agnes could not believe her eyes.


    At that moment, she noticed¡ªas I did¡ªthat the silver inky liquid inside the ss vial around ra¡¯s neck was bubbling gently.


    ¡°That wretched thing,¡± she said under her breath, "I thought its power was long spent."


    Agnes reached up to the ne and swiftly yanked it off ra¡¯s neck.


    That was a huge mistake.


    ¡°Come here,¡± a voice called from behind me, and I turned to see the younger ra standing there in the doorway while the adult ray in the bed.


    The adult ra didn¡¯t quite look human anymore. She was beginning to look like a werewolf. Agnes took note and screamed.


    I listened to the younger ra and followed her out of the room.


    ¡°We have to hide from Mother,¡± ra said. She took me by the hand and ran with me until we were upstairs. She ran further down the hall to the bookcase that I knew slid out to reveal a hidden room.


    ¡°Come on,¡± she said.


    I followed her and helped her move the bookcase out of the way.


    Inside, there weren¡¯t stacks of books like there had been in the storyline. Instead, it was a little girl¡¯s yroom filled with dolls and toys.


    "Come on, hurry! I don''t want my mother to see," young ra said.


    I followed her inside, and we closed the bookcase behind us. We sat there in the darkness while roaring and screamingmenced downstairs.


    "What''s happening?" I asked. "This is secret lore, right? This is what really happened."


    ra didn¡¯t answer. She just shushed me.


    So I waited and waited in the darkness until, in a moment, I wasn¡¯t in the darkness anymore.


    I was back in ra¡¯s room. Much of it had been destroyed, but she was lying back in bed, wearing her ne again, with her father and mother looking at her in disgust and fear.


    I couldn¡¯t hear what they were saying, but I understood enough¡ªthey were terrified of her.


    And then things began to speed up.


    Serena broke into her room while ra was inside alone, alone. She begged ra to run away with her, but ra was clearly terrified of herself and told her no, that she was only a danger to Serena.


    Then ra turned to me and said, "And that was the moment that changed my world."


    Because that was the moment Serena grabbed ra and kissed her.


    I watched with tears in my eyes.


    Still, ra would not go with Serena, though it clearly pained her. She wanted to protect Serena from the wolf.


    From there, all I got were shes:


    ra being hauled underground and stuck in a room in full darkness, hardly fighting it at all.


    Serena, on the next full moon, transforming. After all, we knew she had gotten the curse from a kiss¡ªjust as Kirst had tried to curse us with one little prick of werewolf saliva.


    Serena ran, and if I understood, she ran and didn¡¯t return for months. The seasons had changed. She couldn¡¯t find ra.


    ray still, night after night shing before me. I could see her there in her underground chamber, all alone.


    Serena searched and searched, both as a wolf and as a woman, but she could never discover where ra had been put.


    The nights shed by as ra went from a beautiful, if cursed, young woman to nothing but the dried-up body I had seen in the fake crypt from the storyline. ra¡¯s body remained lying on the bed in an underground room.


    Forever.


    And then it was all over.


    ~-~


    I wasn¡¯t at the Manor anymore. I was standing in front of the diner in southeastern Carousel.


    People were around. This wasn¡¯t the 1980s version¡ªit was the modern one, a more real one that didn¡¯t feel so rural or out of the way. There were crowds of people and all kinds of tacky tourist shops lining the streets next to the motel, the diner, and all the other locations I recognized.


    I was in Carousel proper again, and yet the plot cycle had not reset.


    Was the secret lore story over?


    ¡°Kimberly,¡± a woman called out behind me, and I turned to see her.


    I recognized her.


    ¡°ra,¡± I said. She was all grown up. She was beautiful and dressed like a normal modern woman.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s over. I was supposed to chase you around as a wolf, but I couldn''t really do that since you were technically <em>me</em>, right? Isn''t that what you said?" Sheughed. "You said you would protect me during the storyline, so I protected you.¡±


    I had felt fear during the storyline--her fear--and I had said I would protect her, but that was impossible. I couldn''t do anything to help her. I couldn¡¯t help myself¡ªI was crying at seeing what she had gone through.


    ¡°Your mother cursed you,¡± I said. ¡°She was the one that kept you sick.¡±n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    ra nodded. ¡°She never quite let my curse go away, and sometimes she would add something to it¡ªsomething to make me more obedient, to make me less emotional, more dependent on her. Sometimes she would go too far and have to heal me¡ªto make me beautiful again, to restore my youth. And then, in the end, when she saw that I was outside of her grasp, she tried to give me wolf fever.¡±


    ¡°It was the amulet, wasn¡¯t it?¡± I asked. ¡°It created a new kind of werewolf. A true werewolf.¡±


    She smiled, but more tofort me than anything else.


    ¡°The ne took in all the magic that my mother had used on me, and itbined it into one thing. The wolf fever was thest straw. All the good spells and the bad spellsbined and created something new.¡±


    That was the secret. Why did it matter to the game at Carousel? I had no idea.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry that happened to you. And now that you¡¯re here, it¡¯s just going to keep happening over and over again,¡± I said.


    She didn''t speak for a while, but she did smile in an odd way, like she knew something I didn''t.


    ¡°Yes, it might,¡± she said. ¡°But I think things are looking up.¡±


    How could she think something like that?


    ¡°How? How can anything get better? There are no happy endings in Carousel,¡± I said.


    She smiled again and hugged me, then started stepping away down the street.


    ¡°You''re right. There are no happy endings here; you are absolutely right,¡± she said with a small smile as she stared around the street, looking at the people and, the stores, and the sky. ¡°There are no endings at all in Carousel. Not really.¡±


    She turned and kept walking until I saw where she was headed. A tall, ck-haired woman, Serena, was down the street waiting for her. When ra caught up to her, they sped hands.


    They walked away together, fading into the crowd.


    At that moment, the plot cycle reset.


    The story had ended, and I dropped to my knees. I was back in the field by the Manor.


    It was over.


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Book Five, Chapter 100: The Bounty

    I awoke in the darkness.


    In one hand, I held the stic, fake version of the silver ne that ra had been wearing. In the other, I held a shlight¡ªone of the ones we had brought into the crypt.


    As I clicked the light on and looked around, I realized there was no crypt anymore.


    I was underground, and I could hear the earth around me shifting. I quickly crawled toward the exit.


    No sooner had I pulled myself out of the hole and into the hallway of the underground passages than I heard the earth copse behind me.


    I found my way out of the tunnels to therge room where the caged werewolves had been, but they were gone. Logan and Avery had been cured and taken away.


    I bounded up the steps and found myself in a version of the Manor house I hadn¡¯t seen before¡ªa version converted into a museum. None of the artifacts or exhibits had been ced yet. All I saw were empty ss disy cases and cards with nothing on them.


    Carousel really did reuse everything.


    I left the Manor house behind and ran to the field where I hadst seen Kimberly¡ªthe ce she had been returned to after surviving the secret lore sequence. It had been a surreal experience to observe from my view in the theater.Kimberly had been ushered through a bizarre maze of scenes from ra Woolsey¡¯s life.


    Throughout her journey, a werewolf lurked just out of sight, but it never approached her. I couldn¡¯t discern its purpose¡ªperhaps a deadly obstacle, but it merely observed.


    Kimberly had made it through, learning the truth about the werewolf curse.


    The words of the faceless person in the theater echoed in my mind: how could we have found secret lore when we hadn¡¯t spoken to the maid at the tavern?


    What did that even mean? What tavern? What maid?


    I dropped this train of thought as I found Kimberly kneeling in the field, tears streaming down her face. Taking a chance, I approached and hugged her. She hugged me back. After a moment, she asked something strange.


    Wiping her tears, she looked at me and asked, ¡°Do you think you do so well here in Carousel because it offers something that real life didn''t?¡±


    The question seemed toe out of nowhere.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said, unsure. I wasn¡¯t finished sorting out those feelings myself.


    She looked at me strangely and then said, ¡°Never mind.¡±


    I began pacing, watching the blue lights of our chemical traps go out around us.


    ¡°We did it,¡± I said after contemting her words.


    She nodded. ¡°We did it.¡±


    I tried to strike up a conversation about the ending¡ªhow we¡¯d handled things when Serena was killed by Antoine¡ªbut the conversation was cut short when Antoine himself appeared in the distance.


    Something was different about him. I couldn¡¯t pinpoint what, but his smile and the joy on his face made it clear something had changed.


    He had an aspect now¡ªhe was a Health Nut. It came with a new trope already equipped: <strong>The Mountain as a Metaphor</strong>. It would be an asset, though I couldn¡¯t help but wish I¡¯d seen his other aspect trope choices.


    He and Kimberly embraced and whispered to each other while I stood awkwardly nearby.


    The next to appear was Andrew. As he approached, I extended my hand.


    ¡°Good work, doctor,¡± I said.


    ¡°Yes, and you too,¡± he replied.


    All our nning had paid off. We¡¯d made mistakes, but we¡¯d ovee them.


    I was certain we¡¯d given Carousel enough footage to construct a good film.


    Andrew and I talked about the silver purification n¡ªhow well we executed it and what adjustments we might have made had we better predicted how the weapon interacted with the werewolf curse.


    It was idle chit-chat for us.


    Finally, the people we hade there for¡ªLogan and Avery¡ªarrived, wearing the clothes they must have been lured into the monster¡¯sir in.


    Though I had technically met them while they were caged, it was clear that wasn¡¯t really them. They¡¯d been exhausted and said very little, both On-Screen and Off-Screen.


    Logan looked like he was heading to a casual beach wedding¡ªtall, tan, with dirty blonde hair just long enough to brush off his forehead. He might have been in his mid-thirties, which led me to believe he had been de-aged to y Kirst¡¯s son. He approached Andrew with a half-hug and several pats on the back.


    ¡°Did you understand what I was saying?¡± Andrew asked hurriedly. ¡°Was it you in the cage? You didn¡¯t respond.¡±


    ¡°I was in there,¡± Logan said, ¡°but the script was in control.¡±


    ¡°So you heard about¡­¡± Andrew began.


    ¡°I heard everything,¡± Logan said. ¡°L came to apologize during the storyline. Gave us a whole speech.¡±


    ¡°She does seem genuinely remorseful,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°Well, it would be best for her to seem that way, given our circumstances,¡± Logan replied with a half-smile.


    Avery, still shaken from the whole being-dead thing, smiled despite the tears in her eyes. She wore an oversized red sweater that wrapped around her fashionably, her red hair held back with a headband.


    She was an <strong>Eye Candy</strong> with the Beauty aspect and her aspect choice made sense at a nce. She put a lot into her presentation.


    Kimberly greeted her, and they talked for a while. Antoine introduced himself, putting his people skills to good use. I stood by, watching as our group of survivors grew a littlerger.


    Time passed. We waited.


    ¡°That makes you the Film Buff,¡± Logan said after a lull in the conversation.


    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I replied, shaking his hand.


    ¡°So you¡¯re the one who knows what¡¯s going on, huh?¡± he asked.


    I shrugged. ¡°Nah, that''s somebody else.¡±


    Heughed¡ªa sardonicugh, not joyous.


    ¡°I look forward to stumbling through hell with you,¡± he said.


    ¡°You as well,¡± I replied, but my response was cut off as L appeared.


    She didn¡¯t say anything at first, and eventually, someone noticed her standing at a distance, afraid to approach. Her porcin face was red with tears.


    The next part? Antoine, Kimberly, and I didn¡¯t listen. This was a group moment for them.


    I couldn''t hear what they were saying, but there wasn¡¯t anger¡ªat least not from Logan. Avery, however, did seem to have some lingering resentment, which was more than understandable after having been lured into the jaws of the werewolves.


    Logan, though, didn¡¯t seem to care. I couldn¡¯t see it anyway. He acted like all she had done was spill milk on his pizza.


    <em>Getting him and his friends killed? Don¡¯t let it happen again.</em>


    An interesting attitude.


    When their little group came back over to us, I heard him saying, ¡°Next time you revive me, wait until the game is almost over.¡±


    He had that little bit of darkness in him that made this ce survivable. Dina had the same thing.


    So did I, I supposed.


    Finally, Michael arrived. He and Logan shared a big bear hug,plete with more of those pping pats on the back. I didn¡¯t get where that wasing from, but it must have been their group¡¯s thing.


    Good for them¡ªtheir group was back together. Ours was still fractured, but not for long.


    What happened next was no surprise. There was a small crack in the air, and suddenly, a mechanical man appeared, informing us that we had won a ticket.


    Oh boy, had we won tickets.


    Most of the time, I waited for others to go first, but I just had to know whether everything we had risked was worth it.


    We had been down to one viable yer in this storyline. If Antoine hadn¡¯t regained his sense, if our ns hadn''t worked, if Kimberly had died before she could get to the end, that would have been it¡ªwe would all have been gone.


    I wondered if I would have been stuck in the theater, watching random camera angles for eternity.


    I pped that red button on Ss¡¯s front before anyone else.


    I got a handful¡ªnot as many tropes as I had anticipated, but not a small amount either. I got three.


    It wasn¡¯t really the tropes I was after, though.


    It was the stat tickets because they would determine whether or not this whole ¡°using rescues to grind levels when needed¡± thing was going to work.


    And it did.


    I got six stat tickets.


    Six.


    That was more than I had gotten when I was dragged along on <em>The Grotesque</em>¡ªgrossly under-leveled, at that. Of course, <em>The Grotesque</em> wasn¡¯t exactly our best performance. It was a functional, clean victory¡ªnot designed to be fancy or to score high, but just to survive. Didn¡¯t even really tell much of a story.


    Six stat tickets exined why all those former yers had been willing to risk it all to exploit the rescue mechanic. Why they had spent months scouting out rescue opportunities where they might find an edge.


    It exined everything.


    Our average level was around 27, and this storyline¡¯s level had to be in the mid-30s. Most of the vets would never do something like that unless they had no other option.


    We would have to do this over and over again, pressing our luck. Because when we got closer to level 40, things were going to slow down, and even running rescues would only get us a few stat tickets.


    But we would have to do it.


    We would have to keep pushing forward. And if the woman who stood behind me in the theater was correct, we would have to start doing more.


    We might even have to do Carousel¡¯s Throughline.


    After all, the reward for that was supposed to be escape.


    The stat tickets and the tropes weren¡¯t all I got. We all also got fresh Luggage Tags with higher weight capacities. We got a couple of coupons to restaurants around Carousel that were supposed to allow us to eat there without risk of danger¡ªbut I would have to consult the As to make sure those were what they seemed to be.


    And finally, the biggest card in the lot:


    We got secret lore.


    <strong>Congrattions!</strong>


    You found secret lore: Secrets of Carousel #14: A Mother¡¯s Love


    Bring this ticket to the Carousel Public Library to collect your prize. Collect ten for a huge reward!


    ¡°Well, well, my curious friend, you¡¯ve pried open the lid of a dark and tragic tale. Let me introduce you to ra Woolsey¡ªa beauty of her time, pale as moonlight, with a life so fragile it seemed to sway with the slightest breeze. One ill-fated day, she wandered too far while abroad and stumbled into something she should never have seen: an exorcism, fierce and fiery, with curses flying like arrows. One of those wicked darts found her,tching onto her with cruel precision.


    But do not pity her, not yet¡ªfor ra¡¯s fate was not sealed by the curse alone. No, it was her mother, dear Agnes Woolsey, who twisted that curse into something monstrous. Oh, Agnes was devoted, but not to ra¡¯s salvation¡ªno, her devotion was to the attention, the sympathy, the reverence she gained as ra¡¯s endlessly suffering caretaker. To keep her daughter weak,pliant, and dependent, she became a mistress of dark arts,yering spells like stones upon a grave.


    Here is what Agnes wrought, one cruel enchantment after another:<ul><li><strong>A voodoo hex</strong> to bend ra¡¯s will, burying her emotions in the dark and leaving her pliant.</li><li><strong>A ghoul¡¯s curse</strong> to keep her within the house, avoidant of the light of day.</li><li><strong>A beauty tonic</strong> to preserve her delicate, wless features, like a doll in a ss case.</li><li><strong>A powder for youth </strong>to ensure she always looked the perfect age, no more, no less.</li><li><strong>A love charm</strong> to bind her to her family¡¯s affections¡ªthough it never quite touched her mother.</li><li><strong>Health potions</strong> to stave off death and prolong her suffering, ensuring she stayed alive just long enough.</li><li><strong>An infusion of hardiness</strong> to make her endure the strain of this wretched life.</li><li>And finally, <strong>wolf fever</strong>¡ªan illness of madness and hair, a rabid curse of the body and mind, a disease of desperation meant to drive ra back to her mother¡¯s arms, broken and dependent.</li></ul>


    A silver vial on a silver chain, a simple gift from ra¡¯s father containing what he believed to be holy water, became the anchor for all the curses, binding them together into an unholy amalgamation.


    Oh, but Agnes, in her greedy desire for control, overlooked the most potent curse of all: <strong>true love.</strong> The bond between ra and Serena, her lover, broke through theyered magic like sunlight through storm clouds. A single kiss spread the amalgamation of curses, twisting wolf fever into something new, something primal, something enduring. From that moment, the first real werewolves were born¡ªnot mindless beasts, but creatures of strength, passion, and sorrow, cursed to walk the earth in ra¡¯s tragic shadow.


    All werewolves are in love, they say, and for good reason.


    Even now, the echoes of ra¡¯s tale linger in the moonlight, her fate carved into the wilderness and woven into the howls of the cursed. Do you feel it, dear seeker? That chill on the air? Perhaps it¡¯s ra herself, watching from the trees. Or perhaps... it¡¯s only your imagination.¡±


    ¡°In Carousel, families are the heart of ourmunity. Whether by blood or by bond, it¡¯s the ties we share that make this town special.¡± - Bartholomew Geist, Founder of Carousel


    I read through the secret lore ticket before I even looked at my tropes. I just had to try to find the pattern in what secret lore was, in hopes that we could uncover more of it. I also hoped to figure out why we needed it in the first ce.


    The werewolf curse had been the result of a woman with Munchausen by proxy in a world where magical curses existed. She had used those spells on a child who was wearing some sort of magic amulet thatbined them all.


    That was interesting. In fact, that could have been a storyline in and of itself. But instead, it ended up as secret lore. I would have to figure out why.


    After reading the secret lore card twice, I turned to my tropes.


    I saw it in a movie¡­


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Filmmaker


    Stat Used: Moxie


    The ultimate meta move is to exin to the audience how movies work. Movies are another world. It¡¯s different there.


    The yer can bolster their specific ns or improvisations by referencing a movie they allegedly saw such endeavors working sessfully in.


    ¡°Sometimes, you just need to remind the audience of what medium they are watching.¡±


    Essentially, this trope made it easier for me to aplish tasks that might otherwise require proper nning and setup. Not a bad choice, but it would need to be a real time-saver for me to consider equipping it.


    I Had a Feeling About You Two¡­


    Type: Action


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Aspect: Beauty


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Love is a force in and of itself, a power that can be greater than any magic and more destructive than any curse.


    The yer can see any potential romance subplots and learn how to activate them.


    ¡°Any story could be a love story, but don¡¯t count on a happy ending.¡±


    This was one of the tropes my psychic grandmother background allowed me to equip. I wasn¡¯t sure I would ever use it. In fact, it came across more as a joke.


    Either way, it was out of my wheelhouse.


    <strong>No Stab in the Dark</strong>


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Film Buff


    Aspect: Filmmaker


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Cinema goes through phases. Sometimes, dark phases, but none so dark as when every scary movie suddenly started making scenes so dark the audience couldn¡¯t even see them.


    The lower the visibility in a scene, the less likely for any meaningful event to ur there. Deaths be injuries, injuries be tussles, and tussles be strange noises.


    ¡°At least you don¡¯t have to cover your eyes during the scary parts.¡±


    I could see myself using a trope like this. Being able to trust the darkness and use it as a shield could be a genuine lifesaver.


    I had to wonder, though, if its benefits could be ruined by using a shlight.


    <strong>Callum Vex</strong>


    ursed Werewolf


    Callum Vex was a man of secrets, always lurking on the edges, watching, waiting. But secrets have a way of slipping into the wrong shadows, and one fateful night, they led him to Serena¡¯s pack. That night, his secrets were swallowed by the curse, leaving him bound to the will of another.


    Now, Callum moves silently within the pack, his cunning eyes scanning the horizon, but never straying far from Serena. The joy of the pack hums within him, a cruelfort that dulls the ache of his lost independence. And yet, he would follow Serena, step for step, into the deepest darkness, for the curse demands no less.


    Apparently, the first wolf I killed was a guy named Callum. I was confident my self-defense im would hold up in court. He must have been the one I skewered with my silver spoon-turned-knife¡ªthe only one I managed to kill with it.


    That was neat.


    I got to keep the knife. In fact, aside from a few silver bullets, that was the only silver we got to loot. Everything else was gone. Some silver and a few guns. Who couldin?


    L was next. She was ushered forward by her group.


    She got four stat tickets. Her low level,bined with her sacrifice for first blood and the huge buff she provided with <strong>Bad Luck Ma</strong>, countered her very small amount of screen time.


    <strong>Stowaway</strong>


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Extra


    Stat Used: Hustle


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The background actors and crew may not arrive in fancy limousines, but they still have to arrive somehow.


    The yer can hitch a ride on any NPC-driven vehicle where there is room to get around the shooting location.


    ¡°It may be cramped, it may be slow, but it sure beats walking.¡±


    She hadined that she had a difficult time getting to the manor house, and this was her reward. The real benefit would be outside of a storyline.


    <strong>Run for your death</strong>


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: --


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Hustle


    A chase sequence before death is practically in the cheesy horror Bill of Rights.


    When death is imminent, the user is guaranteed a chase sequence before being killed for First Blood. This chase can never save them in itself, but it can buy time and create a great scene for the movie.


    ¡°If you have to run around the block to get a little extra screentime, so be it.¡±


    This exact trope would have allowed her to escape from Wolfie Antoine and sessfullyunch her death scream trope. It could have saved her.


    It was a solid trope. While it wasn¡¯t fancy, it made things predictable¡ªand that was always a good thing.


    ce Your Bets


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: Wallflower


    Aspect: Underdog


    Stat Used: Plot Armor


    Some characters never stand a chance. Their death is sealed from the moment they appear On-Screen. asionally, though, even the humblest of characters can surprise you.


    If the yer remains first in targeting priority from their first appearance in the Party Phase to theirst after the Final Battle, the entire team will get bonus rewards.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t even know he was still alive.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been here the whole time!¡±


    That was interesting. Having another way to boost our rewards was always an asset, though I wasn¡¯t sure if it would evere into y.


    Andrew was next.


    He got six stats, just like me. He ended up being very important to the story, if only for his super scientist scenes and, from what I could tell, his clutch use of purification to snap Antoine out of it so he could save the day.


    I couldn¡¯tin. After all, we were basically always On-Screen together until the end. It made sense that we got the same amount of stat tickets.


    <strong>Polymath</strong>


    Type: Perk


    Archetype: --


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Savvy


    In real life, being an expert in one field doesn¡¯t prevent you from being an idiot in another. In movies, however, thebel of genius means you could be good at anything.


    The yer may use any Savvy-based Perk trope.


    ¡°I¡¯m a doctor, not a rocket scientist!¡±


    I didn''t know enough about Savvy-based perks to be sure, but this sounded like a potentially broken trope. I was happy for him.


    <strong>Mental Mathematician</strong>


    Type: Perk/Buff


    Archetype: Schr


    Aspect: Researcher


    Stat Used: Savvy


    There is no greater parlor trick to prove one¡¯s intelligence in a single line than doing mental math in an instant.


    The yer will see the results of any math, chemistry, or physics problem they imagine on the red wallpaper instantly. Doing so On-Screen will buff the yer¡¯s Savvy.


    ¡°It¡¯s a lot shorter than reading them your thesis and slightly less obnoxious than listing out your resume.¡±


    He had taken a while to do all the math needed for our chemical concoction, but most of that was him recalling things he hadn¡¯t thought about since undergrad. Still, being able to do all the math instantly would be very helpful in some scenarios.


    That said, I wasn¡¯t sure you¡¯d ever use something like this unless you knew there was going to be science involved.


    The Bone Detective


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Doctor


    Aspect: Coroner


    Stat Used: Savvy


    The corpses of those long-dead keep their secrets from the living, but when they speak, they speak loudly.


    The yer will be able to gain insight into how skeletons and highly dposed remains died by examining them closely. Vivid spoken descriptions will trigger small shbacks to their actual death on both the red wallpaper and to the audience.


    ¡°Knowing what happened isn¡¯t enough. You have to paint a picture.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure what information a trope like this could have gotten Andrew in <em>Stray Dawn</em>, but in some storylines, it would probably be crucial.


    A good autopsy scene was always cool to watch, and whenever an archaeologist or anthropologist managed to uncover insights from bodies that had been dead for centuries, it was always fascinating¡ªgreat content for a scene.


    <strong>Jonas Falk</strong>


    ursed Werewolf


    Jonas Falk was once a man of fiery passion, his voice carrying through every tavern and rally in his small, bustling town. But on a night thick with mist, his path crossed Serena¡¯s, and his fate was sealed. The man he once was faded with the rising moon.


    Now, as one of the pack, Jonas is quiet, his fire subdued but never extinguished. The joy of the pack sustains him, yet it feels like an echo of something lost. Still, Jonas would follow Serena without hesitation, the curse pulling him onward, even as his heart mourns the life left behind.


    Andrew had bagged many a werewolf in this story. This was his first.


    Kimberly got seven stat tickets.


    We had all contributed to the final story, but she won the "main character"petition and steered the story''s narrative, and with that victory came the spoils.


    If she could keep up this momentum, she wasn¡¯t going to teau nearly as hard as the vets when we hit level 40. Apparently, at level 50, things slowed to such a crawl that you¡¯d be lucky to get one stat ticket in six months of solid storylines.


    For now, we could celebrate. We could take onest squeeze of the lemon before leveling became a slog.


    They Said The Thing


    Type: Buff


    Archetype: Eye Candy


    Aspect: Celebrity


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Fans wait with bated breath for their favorite stars to reference their iconic roles from yesteryear. If you deliver them well, they will reward you greatly.


    If the yer repeats an iconic line from one of their past storylines, they will be evaluated more favorably by the audience for a short period in all endeavors. They will win most rolls and all saving throws for a short time.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what just happened. The character said some non sequitur and then the whole theater cheered for no reason.¡±


    This seems like a trope with some potential growing pains. Trying not to sound cringy was going to be a priority. If she could pull it off, that would be really useful.


    Obsessed Survivor


    Type: Background


    Archetype: --


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: --


    You¡¯ve seen and fought things that no one would believe. You know the dark truth that evil exists and walks the earth and it¡¯s all you can think about. You are certain evil will strike again, and next time, you will be ready.


    The yer may now equip:


    ¡¤ Compulsive Vetting (Final Girl-Scream Queen)


    ¡¤ The Quiet Witness (Wallflower-Underdog)


    ¡¤ Bat Out of Hell (Hysteric-Craven)


    ¡¤ Strength Through Scars (Bruiser-Brute)


    ¡¤ The Joke is on Me (Comedian-Cynic)


    ¡¤ Experience as a Teacher (Schr-Strategist)


    ¡¤ Go Bag (Doomsday Prepper)


    ¡¤ I¡¯m Still Here (Final Girl-Girl Next Door)


    ¡¤ Rally Point (Final Girl-Team Leader)


    Kimberly obtained her first background, and it was a good one at that. The strength of backgrounds didn¡¯t juste from being able to equip tropes you normally couldn¡¯t¡ªthe real strength was in having a history you could leverage for the story. This background would be amazing.


    Being able to say you had survived a simr situation could be incredibly useful, especially whenbined with something like <strong>Convenient Backstory</strong>. Kimberly was going to continue to be a powerhouse.


    I¡¯m Still Here


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Final Girl


    Aspect: Girl Next Door


    Stat Used: Moxie


    They thought she was a flower. Everyone did. Then disaster struck and somehow, she made it through. She¡¯s not a flower anymore, but she doesn¡¯t know what she is. All she knows is that she¡¯s still here, and she¡¯s still fighting.


    The yer¡¯s presence boosts morale in hopeless situations. In the Finale, a speech about conquering the Big Bad that references the group¡¯s survival against incredible odds will debuff the Big Bad and all underlings in their offensive stat and Grit.


    ¡°People may first notice the petals, but what they will remember are the roots.¡±


    A solid Final Girl trope for team cohesion. We wouldn''t need Kimberly to be doing that job much longer, but it was good that she had something for when we needed her.


    <strong>Eliza Crain</strong>


    ursed Werewolf


    Ah, poor Eliza Crain... once a soul so easily overlooked, she wandered life unseen, unnoticed. But under the light of the full moon, her fate was rewritten. Drawn into Serena¡¯s pack, she found the connection she never knew she craved.


    Bound to the pack¡¯s shared joy, Eliza no longer belongs to herself. She follows Serena, her pack leader, with unshakable devotion. A shadow she was, and a shadow she remains¡ªforever cursed to find joy in belonging, even as it leads her to her own end.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how many wolves Kimberly had killed. The number had been high. After Serena was killed, it looked like Kimberly might have to fight through dozens more. Luckily, her improvisation¡ªtying together all the little pieces of narrative surrounding ra¡ªdid the job for her.


    <strong>ra Withers</strong>


    The Wolf in the Rhymes


    ra Withers¡ªa name bound to nursery rhymes and ghostly tales. Once a sickly child, the curse gave her the strength shecked in life... at a terrible cost.


    Her death remains a mystery. Did her parents end her suffering, or was she hunted by fearful vigers? Legends im her wolf form still roams the woods, her howl echoing through the night.


    Children still whisper her name, warning of the cursed girl who became a wolf. Does ra still run beneath the moon, or is she just a story now? Who can say?


    And ra Withers, n¨¦e Woolsey.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if what Kimberly had done counted as killing an enemy, but maybe you really do destroy an enemy when you make them your friend.


    Ibex didn¡¯t seem to think that was enough.


    Antoine got six stat tickets for a phenomenal climactic final battle. It was really something to watch, though I spent most of the fight worrying about how he had ruined literally everything we had nned bying back from the dark side.


    Still, it all worked out.


    I had seen a lot of things On-Screen that I hadn¡¯t told the others. I had seen him hallucinating shortly after fleeing. If those scenes made it into the final cut¡ªwhich I was starting to believe they would because of his role in the finale¡ªI might talk about them. Otherwise, I wouldn¡¯t bring them up.


    If I understood correctly, Antoine had agreed toe to Carousel all the way back when he was just a kid, 13 or 14. He had always been so ashamed of being tricked intoing to Carousel, and I always thought he was too hard on himself. After all, his brother had seemingly FaceTimed him.


    But being warned and asking toe anyway? That, I could see being different¡ªthough I didn¡¯t me him, and I didn¡¯t think anyone would.


    Pound of Flesh


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: --


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: --


    What¡¯s owed is owed.


    The yer will lose in any matchup against an ally they killed in a previous storyline. This effect only works once per death.


    ¡°It¡¯s only fair.¡±


    He must have gotten this for slightly murdering L and Andrew. At first, it seemed more like a punishment or some sort of snide mockery, but the trope could be truly powerful if used correctly; we would have to think on it.


    Willpower is Magic


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: --


    Aspect: --


    Stat Used: Grit


    The human spirit may not amount to much in life, but in movies, it can ovee all things.


    All applicable enemy technology or magic is now resistible through sheer effort. Results vary. Effects vary. This will hurt.


    ¡°It may be thest thing you ever do, but it must be done.¡±


    One of the best tropes in the game. Antoine¡¯s brother, Chris, had that trope, and it was what allowed me to break through possession in <em>The</em><em>Strings Attached</em> storyline.


    It was so useful that I couldn¡¯t imagine him ever going into a storyline without it again.


    Blood to the Brain


    Type: Buff/Perk


    Archetype: Athlete


    Aspect: Health Nut


    Stat Used: Grit


    Healthy body, healthy mind. Running body, running mind.


    The yer will gain a passive Savvy buff from regr exercise. In a storyline, the yer¡¯s Savvy will be highly buffed during strenuous, meaningful activity.


    ¡°I get my best ideas while running from zombies.¡±


    Who knew that Athletes also catered to brain health?


    <strong>Serena rke</strong>


    The Lovesick Werewolf


    For two centuries, Serena rke has searched the world for ra, her sire and the love she can never forget. Through forests, ruins, and endless shadows, her journey has yielded only heartbreak, carving a hollow in her soul that no time or distance can fill.


    In her despair, Serena built a pack¡ªnot out of malice, but need. Bound to her, they are a bittersweet echo of the connection she longs for. She leads them with quiet resolve, her every step driven by the faint hope that somewhere, ra waits. Until then, Serena¡¯s search continues, an eternal wanderer carrying the weight of love lost.


    Now, that was a real trophy. Serena had been a big cor.


    ~-~


    Michael had been torn up about having dropped his subplot. That was why he was willing to sacrifice himself for Second Blood. Personally, I didn¡¯t me him much¡ªthe rules had been a little weird in that storyline. Frankly, he was there to be a big gun, and I wasn¡¯t even sure what we¡¯d lost with his subplot anyway.


    He sure med himself, though.


    He did well enough to earn four stat tickets. Being a blood sacrifice and putting on a great shooting disy easily earned him that. Combined with hisparatively low level, it all made sense.


    Now, if he would just focus a little more on his character, he could be a real contender.


    Take a few with me...


    Type: Rule/Buff


    Archetype: Soldier


    Aspect: Commando


    Stat Used: Mettle


    A glorious death is mostly a myth, a rare, fleeting thing, especially in horror films. If you want a glorious death in horror, you need to take some enemies with you.


    The yer will die for Second Blood. Any injury they receive or any debuff to Grit in that fight will buff Mettle. Each enemy they kill will extend their life for a short time.


    ¡°Glory can be found under a pile of enemy bodies.¡±


    A great sacrifice trope. Ideally, everyone on your team should have one.


    <strong>Bush Scout</strong>


    Type: Insight


    Archetype: Soldier


    Aspect: GI


    Stat Used: Moxie


    Remember those fateful orders in a horror film, ¡°Go scout ahead.¡±


    The yer can see the enemy¡¯s tracks through the wilderness on the red wallpaper. They must act out their detection.


    ¡°He crumpled a lead, licked a de of grass, and then started running in that direction.¡±


    Of all of the various enemy tracking tropes, this was one of them.


    5¡­4¡­3¡­2¡­


    Type: Rule


    Archetype: Soldier


    Aspect: Commando


    Stat Used: Moxie


    If movies are any indication, grenades cannot detonate until after the hero throws them back.


    The yer can see how long it is until any explosive or simr detonates. The timer will slow while the yer is handling the explosive.


    ¡°When the clock strikes zero, someone loses. Make sure it isn¡¯t you.¡±


    This was a really cool trope, actually, but it highlighted the w with mostbat tropes, especially those of the Soldier or Bruiser archetype¡ªthey were so specific. If your enemy didn¡¯t have something grenade-like, you just wasted a trope slot.


    What you really needed was some type of trope that would let you know what weapons your enemies had.


    That could make a soldier unstoppable in storylines that emphasizedbat.


    <strong>Mara Lorne</strong>


    ursed Werewolf


    Mara Lorne once danced through life withughter on her lips and mischief in her heart. A free spirit, they called her, until the night she strayed too far into the woods and Serena found her. That night, herughter was silenced, reced by the low growl of something... other.


    Now, bound to the pack, Mara runs with the others, her joy entwined with theirs. But in the quiet moments, when the moon wanes and the forest grows still, a flicker of sorrow lingers in her amber eyes. She would follow Serena¡¯s will to the ends of the earth, though the curse¡¯s joy has turned her freedom into a haunting, bittersweet memory.


    All of these werewolf cards were so sad. Monster tickets were generally sad.


    Eventually, we were going to encounter a bunch of pure evil monsters. Those were usually reserved for the higher levels.


    After everyone had hit the red button, we noticed that Ss didn¡¯t leave. Instead, he started to sing a little poem that only rhymed because of how strangely he delivered the lines. I had heard the poem when I got my aspect, and apparently, everyone else had too.


    The Cliff¡¯s Notes version? There was no right aspect choice but you still needed to choose wisely.


    But who was this poem for?


    It was for Michael¡ªour Soldier¡ªwho could only unlock his aspect after participating in a rescue. He had made himself an asset in this storyline, and now he was being rewarded for it.


    Best of all, I would actually get to read all the cards Ss gave him, unlike with Antoine.


    ¡°Go ahead, big guy,¡± Logan said.


    Michael pressed the red button, and he got all the normal, expected stuff.


    You¡¯ve reached a level where the game starts to get more difficult. Luckily, you are about to get the tools to fight back.


    Having achieved Plot Armor 21 and having afterward aplished the requisite feat of [<em>contributing meaningfully to a sessful rescue</em>], you have now unlocked your choice of aspect.


    Choosing an aspect allows you to decide what type of [<em>Soldier</em>] you wish to be. Good luck!


    He also got a ticket exining all of the different Soldier aspects.


    Come to think of it, because rescues were required for a soldier to get their aspect, and rescues had been off the board for over a decade, Michael was the first soldier to get an aspect in quite a long time.


    When the stakes are highest, when the odds are stacked against you, and when your party is outmatched or outleveled, the Soldier is the one you turn to. Disciplined, resourceful, and unwavering under pressure, Soldiers thrive in crises. They are built for high-stakes fights and desperate situations, bringing a mix of strength, strategy, and resilience to turn the tide when survival seems impossible. Whether it¡¯s leading the charge into danger or executing a daring rescue to pull injuredrades from harm¡¯s way, the Soldier¡¯s readiness to act makes them an invaluable force in the most perilous of scenarios. The Soldier''s journey branches into three distinct aspects: <strong>Agent</strong>, <strong>GI</strong>, and <strong>Commando</strong>. Each of these aspects offers specialized strengths and unique abilities that will shape the course of your narrative.


    <strong>Agent</strong>: The <strong>Agent</strong> is a specialist in investigation and tactical operations, excelling at uncovering the truth, navigatingplex systems, and executing stealthy maneuvers. Whether working as part of an investigative agency,w enforcement team, or private mercenary group, the Agent is skilled at using institutional resources and field expertise to gain the upper hand. Their ability to analyze situations, secure valuable intel, and bring order to chaos makes them indispensable in high-stakes scenarios. With strong <strong>Savvy</strong> and <strong>Moxie</strong>, Agents can navigate bureaucracies, interrogate suspects, and coordinate efforts to expose hidden dangers and secure vital resources.


    Example tropes for an <strong>Agent</strong> include <strong>Undercover Ops</strong>, which grants bonuses when working in disguise or blending in with NPCs, <strong>Red Tape Specialist</strong>, enabling them to cut through administrative obstacles to secure critical assets or information, and <strong>Interrogation Tactics</strong>, which provides insightful information from characters through diligent questioning.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    <strong>GI</strong>: The <strong>GI</strong> embodies the everyman soldier¡ªversatile, grounded, and profoundly human. They are the backbone of any operation, using a wide array of skills to adapt to the challenges they face. With a focus on <strong>Mettle</strong>, <strong>Moxie</strong>, and <strong>Grit</strong>, the GI shines in bothbat and survival situations, often serving emotional anchor for a group of warriors or the frontline defense for nobatants. Their bnced skill set allows them to adapt to practical and emotional challenges.


    Example tropes for a <strong>GI</strong> include <strong>Field Repairs</strong>, which allows them to improvise fixes for equipment,<strong> Ammo Hound</strong>, abat-focused perk that helps find ammo in crucial moments, and <strong>Why Do We Fight?</strong>, a humanizing trope that bolsters group morale and grants Grit buffs to allies when reminded of those they defend.


    <strong>Commando</strong>: The <strong>Commando</strong> is the quintessential frontline warrior¡ªfearless, powerful, and adept in directbat. First to charge into the fray, their skills revolve around raw strength and unyielding resolve. With high <strong>Mettle</strong> and <strong>Hustle</strong>, the Commando is both a devastating attacker and a quick responder to emergent threats. Their determination and courage make them an invaluable force in critical moments. They may or may not be seen, but they will surely be heard.


    Example tropes for a <strong>Commando</strong> include <strong>Shock and Awe</strong>, an overwhelming disy of force that makes enemies seek cover and stop attacking, <strong>Fight or Fight</strong>, a burst of speed and strength in critical moments, and <strong>No Man Left Behind</strong>, which lets them shield or extract injured allies under heavy duress.


    Choosing your aspect is a defining moment. It determines not only how you confront the horrors of the narrative but also what role you will y in the unfolding drama. Whether you excel at subterfuge as an <strong>Agent</strong>, adapt as a <strong>GI</strong>, or dominate the battlefield as a <strong>Commando</strong>, your skills as a Soldier will be instrumental. Choose wisely.


    Dear lord, all this information was so long. Whoever designed this system must have been really proud of it to force us to read all of this. I had to imagine there was a setting in the <em>Carousel</em> game menu where you could make all the text abridged.


    Like always, he got three aspect tropes to choose from, and whichever one he chose would set his aspect.


    Crisis Authority


    Type: Rule/Buff/Rescue


    Archetype: Soldier


    Aspect: Agent


    Stat Used: Moxie*


    ¡°Why don¡¯t they call the cops?¡± a critic asks, as horror movie characters face deadly situations. Well, sometimes they actually do contact the authorities. It can even be the thing that saves them.


    <strong>Emergency Transmission</strong>: the yer can be called into an active storyline as a lifeline. As long as the transmission is sent, the yer can enter the story andplete it even if all allies are already dead. Narrativepatibility is strictly construed. Performance scores will be judged with intense scrutiny.


    As an Agent, you can be called into a storyline as a member of aw enforcement organization, military apparatus, intelligence agency, or simr to assist in ways those organizations normally would in a movie.


    The yer will get narrative weight in scenes involving stealth, bureaucracy, or information gathering. Their insight tropes will work better in those contexts.


    This ticket is granted after the yer participates meaningfully in a sessful rescue following the achievement of Plot Armor 21. Selecting this ticket aligns you with the Agent aspect.


    ¡°The nameless, faceless enforcers of the bureaucracy sure look friendly after the killing starts.¡±


    The Citizen Soldier


    Type: Rule/Buff/Rescue


    Archetype: Soldier


    Aspect: GI


    Stat Used: Moxie*


    A single soldier, retired or otherwise can be a vital lifeline to a group of scared civilian survivors. Even simple skills can make a big difference. So a can a single gun.


    <strong>Emergency Transmission</strong>: the yer can be called into an active storyline as a lifeline. As long as the transmission is sent, the yer can enter the story andplete it even if all allies are already dead. Narrativepatibility is strictly construed. Performance scores will be judged with intense scrutiny.


    As a GI, you can be called into a storyline when civilians¡ªparticrly those hypothetically tied to your character personally¡ªare facing a threat and require your leadership or practical expertise.


    The yer will get narrative weight when protecting nobatants or supportingbatants. Their support tropes will work better.


    This ticket is granted after the yer participates meaningfully in a sessful rescue following the achievement of Plot Armor 21. Selecting this ticket aligns you with the GI aspect.


    ¡°Everyone¡¯s scared. Someone has to act anyway..¡±


    Guns A¡¯ zing


    Type: Rule/Buff/Aspect


    Archetype: Soldier


    Aspect: Commando


    Stat Used: Mettle or Hustle


    In action films, the Commando charges in as the ultimate esction, armed and ready to turn the tide of battle. Their explosive entrance marks the moment chaos meets unstoppable force.


    <strong>Emergency Transmission</strong>: the yer can be called into an active storyline as a lifeline. As long as the transmission is sent, the yer can enter the story andplete it even if all allies are already dead. Narrativepatibility is strictly construed. Performance scores will be judged with intense scrutiny.


    As a Commando, you can be called into a storyline during or in anticipation of an imminent fierce battle as the narrative allows. You can bring any weapons your tropes or the narrative will allow.


    The yer will get narrative weight in all fights, especially solo fights. Their battle tropes will work better.


    This ticket is granted after the yer participates in a sessful rescue following the achievement of Plot Armor 21. Selecting this ticket aligns you with the Commando aspect.


    ¡°Subtlety¡¯s not my thing, but destruction? I¡¯m great at that.¡±


    By far, <strong>Emergency Transmission</strong> was likely the most impactful archetype ability I had ever seen. All I got was <strong>Death Watch</strong>. Kimberly got <strong>Center of Attention</strong>, and Antoine had something called <strong>Torchbearer</strong>.


    All of those were really cool, but <strong>Emergency Transmission</strong> was something else.


    If I understood it correctly, it allowed a soldier archetype yer who was not yet participating in the storyline to be called in for a rescue during the storyline. This worked even if you hadn¡¯t wiped out yet. If you realized you needed extra muscle, you could get it.


    yers would have to judge whether it made more sense to call in a Soldier or just wait for another team to rescue them after they died, but it was still an incredible option.


    The <em>As</em> mentioned this ability was really hard to pull off because it required a strong narrative framework to work. But if you could manage it, it was like starting a rescue before the original storyline was even over.


    With an ability like that, it was no surprise there were so few soldiers.


    With a nce at Logan, Michael chose Commando. He was the only fighter on this team, really, so he needed to be the best.


    I wasn¡¯t sure who noticed it first, but someone pointed out that the advanced archetype tracker had been updated¡ªfor all of us.


    Michael, Antoine, Kimberly, Andrew, and I had all gained at least one point in the <strong>Monster Hunter</strong> advanced archetype. Everyone but Antoine had gotten two points in it. Ironic, since his character was literally a monster hunter. Though, he hadn¡¯t spent most of the story that way.


    To make up for it, he got the <strong>Afflicted</strong> advanced archetype with three points. The <strong>Afflicted</strong> dealt with transformative curses or diseases like Jekyll and Hyde, vampires, or, of course, werewolves. It was actually a fairlymon advanced archetype for yers back at Dyer¡¯s Lodge, though they almost never used it.


    Andrew and I earned points for <strong>Mad Scientist</strong>, with Andrew getting two and me getting one.


    Finally, Kimberly and I each got a point in the hidden advanced archetype marked only as ¡°???¡± on the red wallpaper.


    I had to wonder why we weren¡¯t allowed to know the name of this advanced archetype.


    It was good nheless. I had six points in that AA. I would find out eventually.


    The mood was light and happy. We had won, and we would celebrate as winners. Eventer, when our momentum slowed down, we¡¯d have to remember these days and hold onto these feelings.


    ¡°L, do you want to lead us home?¡± I asked.


    I didn¡¯t know why I¡¯d been so touchy about letting her open up Sound Stages to lead us around before, but I was tired, and I could sure use a break.


    She almost smiled when she epted.


    Following her was like following the White Rabbit through the rabbit hole¡ªan entirely unreal experience.


    We went through a back door of the manor and into one of the bedrooms. We climbed out the window.


    Suddenly, I realized we weren¡¯t in the middle of nowhere anymore. The manor house had been moved to a neighborhood¡ªan old, expensive one withrge trees.


    And so it continued.


    We¡¯d turn corners intopletely different ces, climbing through windows, doorways, alleys, and, in one instance, a subway (yes, subway) grate, as she folded space around us. Finally, we came out two blocks away from Kimberly¡¯s loft.


    I took it from there.


    That was an experience¡ªanother one to add to the pile.


    And it was time to go find more of them.


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    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!