[AI]: You said you wanted different from science. I'm going with a camp meets boot camp meets death pit sort of vibe.
Remi: Of course you were.
[AI]: Hurry there, Camper, we’ve got more fun activities planned for you after this one.
Remi: Pass.
[AI]: You wish! Just get over here.
Remi finished his silent conversation with Archie and glanced up to find Nel staring at him. There was something in her eyes, an unspoken knowing, as if she sensed there was more going on beneath the surface than he let on. He caught a hint of a look, subtle and unmistakable, like she was piecing together the quiet content of his conversation with Archie. She didn't ask or even say anything, but watched and then returned her gaze to the problem at hand.
“How much do you weigh?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the bridge.
“Rude!” he said. Hoping for a laugh, but when she didn’t give him one, he just answered. “I don’t know. Probably about 150 pounds.”
Nel looked at him hard. “This is likely not going to be one of those I’ve been one hundred and twenty pounds since college, but can’t actually fit into large yoga pants kind of situations.”
Remi felt his cheeks warm. “Fine, I’m 210!”
“Seriously?!” she said, giggling quietly. “Don’t get offended. I don’t care how much you weigh, my dude. You’re fine. You’re actually pretty fit for a guy who is nearly a thousand. I just need to do the math.”
Remi’s cheeks burned even more. “Fair enough. Sorry I got snippy.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “We’re both just worried about my sick beats.”
“You’re what?” he replied.
“You know,” she laughed. “The rock and roll.”
It was a dad joke worthy of him; he thought. A perfect way to refocus and dispel their tension.
“Okay, I think I have the first part figured out,” he said. “We’ll start together, right?”
“Of course,” was her reply.
“Then at some point I’ll move forward alone because I'm heavier. I’ll cross the middle, and then the bridge will start moving down. It’s what happens next that I'm not so sure about.”
“That’s why I needed to know your weight. I'm…” she smiled, teasing, “…about 100 pounds. Let’s say half your weight. Now that I know that, I can judge how fast I'll return to our starting point. I'll use the first half of the bridge as leverage to help counterbalance you. In that way, as you crawl to the far side, and I mean creep like you’re a kid trying to sneak in after a party, I can adjust on my side to keep the bridge relatively level. Hopefully, preventing either side from tipping too sharply, and saving us both from an uncomfortable splat.”
Remi agreed, and when she offered no further commentary, he planted his first foot onto the stone bridge. The plank groaned softly beneath his weight.
“150, eh?” More teasing from Nel. It was still working to keep them relaxed. As Remi positioned himself fully on the bridge, with just enough space behind him for Nel to join, she was quickly there, right behind him. Her presence, even more than the jokes, steadied him as their sudden togetherness grounded his jitters.
Together, they began the slow traverse, as Remi took a measured step forward, shifting his weight toward the centre. The bridge creaked, echoing off the ravine wall as the axis responded with a subtle upward tilt on Nel’s side. They were both in the air now, floating just inches above the ground, now neither side of the bridge touching stable earth.
Sweat trickled down Remi’s face as he inched forward, his muscles tighter with each deliberate step; the gulf below a constant and looming threat. Nel’s voice came softly, a whisper from behind. “Slow and steady, old man. Don’t rush it. You know, like your marking.”
Remi would have normally laughed, but could only manage a shaky smile. He kept moving, finally he crossed the fulcrum, his stress increased further as he started to move down instead of up. The first half had been about balance, but this part was about control. So as the bridge began its descent, Nel took a cautious step backward, increasing her leverage. She couldn’t turn without risking a spin on the bridge, so she moved backwards. Eyes forward, sliding back, shifting her weight, and then drawing her front foot to herself. Soon, the bridge’s sway lessened, stabilizing just enough to hold their weight in stasis.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE]
BALANCE STABLE: COORDINATION SUCCESSFUL
“Okay, boss,” she said, “time for the hard part. Go super slow.”
Remi eased past the hinge, gingerly sliding, as the bridge tipped slowly at first, and then began sinking steadily. They moved as synchronized swimmers: as one moved forward, the other went backward; as Remi adjusted, Nel readjusted to match. It was a waltz, each movement choreographed, each shift in time with their partner.
His blood pounded as he inched onward, and every muscle vibrated. The elevation of the bridge left Nel exposed in a way he never had been, and he was awed that she could do this. Deep inside, he realized that if their places were swapped, he wouldn’t be agile enough to balance like a tightrope walker with a rising line beneath him. He paused just a few paces from the far edge; the stone beneath his feet holding its fragile balance. Nel dangled high in the sky above the cliff’s edge.
“Hold on, Nel.” His words came out louder than he intended, as the bridge shifted beneath them. He was almost safe, just feet from his side, so even if the landing went wrong, he would simply tumble downwards, bruised but ultimately safe.
Nel, however, was stretched out on the far side, high above the ravine’s maw, balanced on a surface that could tip or shatter without warning. If the bridge gave way now, or if Remi brought it down too hard, she wouldn’t have the chance to catch herself. A mistake here would spell catastrophe for her.
He froze, unsure of what to do next. This was no longer just a test of balance; it had become a test of trust. Remi knew Nel was counting on him to keep steady, and he needed to trust her plan. He stood there, waiting. He didn’t know what would come next, but he knew she’d have figured something out. It turned out that Remi was glad he didn’t know what it was, because had he known, he would have lost that stability.
Without warning, Nel launched herself forward, like a cat racing along a fence, a streak of movement despite the treacherous footing. The rock beneath her feet objected as the fragile bridge tilted markedly as her weight shifted the balance. She skimmed over its surface like a figure skater launching themselves into a triple salchow, gliding along the tipping line of the bridge. The centre threatened to collapse with the sudden shift, but it held as she sailed past it.
Remi’s eyes widened as he rose again. The far side of the bridge dropped beneath her, lifting his end up as he was now her counterbalance. He could imagine her rushing up the increasingly steep incline. He instinctively braced himself, muscles ready, dropping his centre of gravity to meet the imbalance without over-correcting.
Nel didn’t hesitate; she closed the space between them rapidly, and surged past the pivot. The totter switched direction one more time.
Propelled downward, the edge of the bridge moved towards a landing. “Get ready to jump,” she yelled. Remi prepared, and when Nel was once again behind him, they vaulted in tandem. Soaring through the air, before the bridge could touch down. They tumbled in a heap on the ravine’s edge, limbs tangling as they rolled away from danger.
The bridge slammed into the ground, the momentum of their weight having carried it the rest of the way. As it landed, it careened to the right and left a crescent trail in the dusty edge as it spun sideways into the waiting chasm.
They lay there. Panting as the crashing sounds of the plank disappeared into the void. Soon the only sound was once again the dripping of water in the cavern. Her voice was filled with excitement. “That was fun,” was Nel’s response.
“That was fun?”
They got up and dusted themselves off.
A half-smile pulled at her lips. “Didn’t you have fun?”
“Apparently not as much as you,” he said.
“Oh, don’t be a grump” She was already walking, heading towards the still-lounging Archie, and once again leaving Remi behind.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE]
Trial 1 of 6 Complete
“Congratulations, campers!” Archie’s voice lilted upwards, his tone sounding like he’d just pulled a stack of suckers from his mouth. “You did it!”
Remi was already over it. “One of six! And what was that?”
“Oh, that was just for the two of you. You said you wanted something not like science, and I live to please.”
Remi caught Nel’s look out of the corner of his eye, but ignored it.
He continued, “And yes, we have a few more things planned for Rel, or maybe Nemi, adventure day.”
“I hate everything about that,” was Nel’s clipped response.
Archie shifted his gaze towards her. “Nice to meet you in person, Nel, finally. You have proven to be quite…elusive up to this point. Although I guess some thanks are probably in order.” He flipped open his clipboard, nodded and then produced a whistle from somewhere. The subsequent blast of sound rang loud in the cavern and felt more appropriate for a football field than a dungeon.
She brushed the comment off. “Let’s get the rest of this started.” Nel didn’t need his direction; she just pivoted and continued along the path. Remi raced to catch up.
“Have fun,” Archie called after him.
“I’m sure I won’t.” Remi called over his shoulder.
Nel paused before proceeding into the tunnel. “Obviously, we're going to need alternative ways of communicating. In case we get separated from each other.”
“Do you know something I don’t,” he asked.
She nodded no as she opened her laptop, which hovered a few feet off the ground. “No, just a gut feeling, I suppose.” Nel pointed at Remi’s murse, “I need your Codex.”
He retrieved it without hesitation.
“Hold it still.” She moved her laptop to rest on top of Remi’s book. They stood there like that for a minute—her rapidly typing, him doing his best table impression. With a few final staccato keyboard clicks, the notification appeared.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE]
Linking Codex Book to Scriptbreaker Interface
Transferring encrypted access keys…
Connection stable.
Remote interface enabled.
DATA SYNC SUCCESSFUL.
Nel typed a few words, and words flashed on his HUD. Not the standard orange, but in the green from old computer monitors.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Warning! Boomer detected. Dude’s so old that only Socrates ever laughed at his jokes.
“Good, we can use the system chat now too.” Nel closed her laptop with a soft click, the green glow fading from Remi’s HUD. The brief connection dissolved, for now.
The next five came fast. Each chamber bled into the next—timers plummeted, death launched from blackness and narrowly avoided, the sharp hiss of things alive just out of sight. Runes, risk, repercussions, rinse and repeat. Room by room ground at them, like the sand and grit underfoot. Each one felt less like a trial of survival and more like Archie’s idea of a cinematic murder camp.
Somewhere along the way, Remi stopped asking questions, and Nel’s commands shortened to single words—Left. Now. Don’t look down. She called solutions before he even finished seeing the problem, but Remi learned to move on her voice alone.
By the time the tunnel finally narrowed, his legs burned and his brain was numb from the forward slog. They could travel side by side, so Nel went first. The narrow lane sent her to the left, but as she passed an invisible threshold, a rock wall slammed down from above.
Remi stumbled back. The wall had come so close to him he instinctively checked his vest to see if he had lost any buttons. He hadn’t, but pushed his anchor point to lock this moment in place.
Nel’s message, green text stuttering across his HUD. He read it in her voice.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Split rooms ahead. I’m in the eastern half. You’re west.
Remi: My path’s closed—.
As if in response, a section of the wall to his left disappeared into itself.
The last thing he’d expected was a cave pocket door, but after all they’d been through, he didn’t even react.
Remi simply walked through.
Behind him, the path sealed with the THUNK! of a coffin lid. All he could do was shrug and move forward, into a dimly lit room. The cave walls shifted to glass, Archie apparently going for a fun house aesthetic.
[NEL MESSAGE]: The wall between us is one way. I can see your heat signature through it. You can’t see me. If you step forward five steps, we will be beside each other again.
Remi squinted into the darkness. His half of the chamber resolved into mirrored walls stretching into a false infinity, his own reflection fractured into dozens of pale, tired-looking copies of himself. Each one looked, at least to him, slightly more pathetic than the last.
“Great,” he muttered, “just the self-esteem boost I was looking for.” He waved. The reflections moved, but not with him.
[NEL MESSAGE]: There is a humanoid shape moving toward you. Its thermal is weird. It is running colder than you are. I can tell from the system logs that it is holding…
The farthest reflection moved wrong. Remi caught it in his peripheral vision. One of his doubles stepped when he hadn’t, its head tilted at an angle that didn’t match his. Then it peeled away from the glass entirely, and it wasn’t him anymore. He said the end of her message aloud, as if he were reading a script in class.
“…a machete.” A figure in a white mask, shoulders hunched, stepped into the space of the room, the blade hanging loose at its side. The machete dripped embers that hissed against the floor.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Do you see him?
Remi: I see him. He’s hard to miss. He has a white mask. Very original.
[NEL MESSAGE]: There’s two. I’ve got one on my side. But I don’t get the white mask thing. Is it important?
Remi: Seriously. You need to watch more movies. The cliff notes are that he is going to be a nightmare to actually kill.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Gotcha. You’re right, we are going to have to kill them at the same time.
Remi: How the hell do you know that?
[NEL MESSAGE]: Already tested it.
She expected his question.
[NEL MESSAGE] I hit mine. Yours healed. Obviously.
The slasher advanced. Not in a rush. They never were. It was the slow, inexorable walk of something that knew there would be no escape. Remi backed up as much as he could. His boots squeaked on the mirrored floor as he bumped into glass.
Remi: How are we going to become a synchronized slasher team? I didn’t bring a bathing suit.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Stop joking. Not the time. I’ll call it. You hit on three. Don’t be late. Like you normally are.
Remi: I thought we weren’t joking.
[NEL MESSAGE]: No, I said you’re not allowed to joke. It slows you down. Which is impressive given how slow you already are.
Remi: I’m not slow. I’m methodical.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Whatever, my dude. You’re slow.
The slasher lunged.
Remi dove left, rolled badly, but came up with his meter stick raised. The machete carved the air where his neck had been, but his dodge, even clumsy, sufficed to avoid contact.
Heat bloomed across his cheek as the blade passed close. It stung, but far less than an actual cut would have. Remi swung wildly and caught the slasher in the ribs. He felt the impact shudder up his arms. It staggered but didn’t fall.
[NEL MESSAGE] Yours is at 80%. Mine’s full. Stop whacking things without me.
Remi: He swung first.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Don’t care. Dodge better. Swing when I tell you.
Remi circled, trying to keep a distance between them. The mirrors made it a fucking nightmare to track as every direction showed him copies. Copies of the slasher, copies of himself, and all the movement made his head spin.
“I can’t—”
The machete caught his shoulder. It wasn’t deep, only a glancing hit, but it was enough to spin him. His HUD flashed red as his HP dipped. The slasher raised its blade for a follow-up, and Remi did the only thing he could think of. He shoved his palm forward and cast Mana Pulse point-blank into its chest.
The slasher flew backward, crashed through a mirror that shattered into cascading shards, and crumpled against the far wall.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Why?
Remi: “He was going to kill me!”
[NEL MESSAGE]: Now he’s at 43% and mine’s at 92%. I can’t keep up.
Remi panted, watching the slasher climb back to its feet. Glass crunched under its boots.
Remi: Can’t you just hit yours a lot? Catch up?
[NEL MESSAGE] I’m a Scriptbreaker. I don’t deal raw damage. I do disruption.
Remi: So?
[NEL MESSAGE]: So, I can freeze him, loop him, stagger him. I kill with code. With the environment. I damage over time. I don’t have a big bloody stick.
Remi stared at his reflection in the one unbroken panel. Forty-something. Tired. Covered in small cuts and mirror dust. How was he supposed to actually do this?
[NEL MESSAGE] I can lock him down, yours too, which can give you about a seven-second window. But I’m not sure what to do with that.
For the first time, Remi sensed she didn’t know what to do. He’d followed her to this point. Maybe it was his turn to lead.
Remi: Do it. Lock them down.
He looked at the glass wall between them. One-way. He could see his own reflection. She could see thermal blobs. Somewhere on the other side, her slasher was standing in the dark, and she was asking him, for the first time, what they should do.
Remi: New assignment, kid. I need you to follow the instructions.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Yes, Mr. Page.
Remi: You said you can mess with the environment. I need you to get your guy in a pit. Can you do that?
[NEL MESSAGE]: Yes. Give me a second.
This is insane. He knew it needed to be. Plans in these films always were. He didn’t know if this would work, but fuck it.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Done. Pit made.
Remi smiled. He knew she’d do it.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Time is up. They are free.
Remi could see that as the slasher paced back towards him.
Remi: Where? I need to know when I am next to it.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Unfortunately, about 6 feet behind where your dude is. He is in the way.
Remi didn’t respond. There was no time. He simply raised his hand and cast Mana Pulse again. The shockwave rippled from his hand, but did what he intended. It drove the monster backward again.
[NEL MESSAGE]: Why are you still—.
It was his turn to cut her off.
Remi: Stop. Tell me when I am beside the pit.
Remi walked forward. Careful to keep his eyes locked on the slasher before him. It shook its head, staggered, but was recovering quickly and would resume its pursuit momentarily.
After two more steps, Nel’s message halted him
[NEL MESSAGE]: Now.
Without breaking eye contact, Remi slapped his hand on the wall.
Remi: This is going to get messy.
The surface was icy. Solid. Certain of itself. For the first time, he cast Margin Write. Nel had never seen the movie that Archie was alluding to, but Remi had. Many times. He knew how this asshole died. Liquify!
The system pushed back immediately. It was like trying to write on laminated paper. Slippery and reluctant to take the ink.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE]
Structural element. Load-bearing. Separation required.
Remi bared his teeth. “Not anymore.”
The wall lost its shape. It sagged, softened, and then collapsed into a gleaming wave, the glass melting downward as if it had forgotten how to be solid at all. He immediately cast Mana Pulse for the third time, but this time intending on moving the water into Nel’s room.
The shock from his outstretched hand sent the liquefied glass into Nel’s room. Her side flooded with shimmering spillover, the wave pouring through the broken boundary and toward the pit she’d carved.
Remi was already moving into her room. He took it in as he joined the shocked and dripping Nel—her slasher on the far side of the room, the filled pit between them and it.
Remi cast Mana Lash. A line of blue light snaked from his hand and connected with the monster’s chest. Remi yanked with all his buffed strength as he snapped the thread.
The creature, now on slick footing, slid forward and tumbled into the waiting crystalline pool.
He turned to face his partner. “I need you to slow mine down. But taunt him to us.”
“On it,” she said.
Remi saw her fingers fly across her laptop. He couldn’t afford to watch her. Instead, he trusted she’d get the job done and focused on the slasher before him, struggling not to sink into the crystal lake.
Remi had been right. Just like the source material, which Archie had so blatantly referenced, it didn’t know how to swim. But Remi did.
“I need you to tell me when to stop hitting it.”
He ran for the pit, and as he dove in, holding his breath, he had just enough time to think about how much this would fucking suck. He was right. As soon as he broke the surface, his body flared purple. The trauma response was immediate, but before it had time to take hold, he kicked himself back toward the surface. As his head cleared the liquid, the panic did not dissipate, but it became manageable.
Remi focused on the task at hand. It was his turn to be the slasher. He swam toward the floundering monster, stopping out of its reach, but still less than a meter away. He righted himself, kicking to stay afloat in the viscous fluid, which freed his arms to slice at the creature's head. It could not dodge, and the stick connected with the side of its head with a sickening thud.
As Remi swung backhanded, again targeting the head, he was pleased that his first strike had cracked the white mask.
Nel screamed something, but Remi couldn’t hear it. A second later, two bars appeared on his HUD—one floating over the head of the drowning victim, and the other beside it. Remi assumed the second was for the sequel version, as it was already about a third depleted.
Nice, he thought, as his backswing connected. The bar dipped to about eighty percent. Remi swung, and then swung again, chipping away at the health bar until they matched.
Nel understood her task without being told; she was always an intuitive student. Just as the health bars aligned, Remi felt the splash of another person entering the pool. The resulting wave splashed him in the face and caused the pool to flare a deep purple in response. Time to get the hell out of here!
Remi turned and swam for shore. He pulled himself free of the liquid lake and lay gasping on the side. Nel was beside him; he could feel her hand settle on his shoulder.
“You okay, old man?” she said.
“Peachy,” he replied, spitting out a mouthful of the syrupy fluid.
He could see that her eyes were locked on the drowning pair; likely, she was watching their health bars.
“I almost feel bad for them,” she said. “It is going to take them a long time to drown. The glass gives them more purchase than water.”
“No one wants that,” Remi said, hauling himself to his feet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked back at the pit.
The two slashers thrashed in the shimmering quagmire; identical masks bobbed above the surface. He found one of them, Nel’s. It had appeared first. “Remember the white masks,” Remi said quietly, “you wanted to know if they were important.”
Nel glanced at him. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” he said. “At first they held a secret. Sorry, spoilers.”
He raised his hand and cast Mana Lash. A thin line of blue light snapped from his palm and wrapped around the first slasher’s mask. Remi tugged the lash upward to reveal the truth. The mask slid free with a wet suction sound, revealing the blank, pale face beneath. He knew it would be the face of a woman before Nel even saw it.
Seeing it, the second one seized it.
For a moment, they were chest to chest in the pool, arms locked around each other, in a hug lifted straight out of some grainy behind-the-scenes photo from a movie set.
“Huh,” Nel said. “They’re hugging.”
“Yeah,” Remi said. “It’s his mother.”
Together, the two figures sank. The surface swallowed them without a splash. The surface calmed.
Remi exhaled and felt something in his shoulders finally unclench. He thought about his annotation and crossed it out. The pool recrystallized, trapping the two frozen in their almost tender tableau.
“Well,” he said. “I think that’s enough trauma for one room.”
A door slid open on the far wall.
Nel snorted. “Don’t jinx it.”
Inside waited a small white room. A table. Two stools. Plastic strips in neat, cheerful piles.
A timer lit up. Remi stared at it. “Arts and crafts,” he said.
Nel groaned. “The worst part of camp.”
The room was small, white, aggressively non-threatening. Beside a pile of colored plastic strips sat a card, and the timer on the wall showed fifteen minutes. Remi was done with this shit. He shared his feelings with Archie.
Remi: Are you done with all of this?
[AI]: Almost. This is it.
Remi: Why?
[AI]: Actually, I thought it would be nice.
Remi: Whatever!
He approached Nel, who was reading the card.
“The patterns have to match in inverse,” Nel said. “Your bracelet mirrors mine. If they don’t align before the timer runs out...” She checked the card again. “It says ‘consequences.’”
“Consequences,” Remi repeated flatly, “I don’t really care.”
“That’s what it says.”
He sat down. The stool was child-sized, or maybe he was just too old for this. His knees jutted up awkwardly. Nel took the other seat with considerably more grace, already sorting strips by color.
“I should warn you,” Remi said. “I missed bracelet day at teacher college.”
“There’s no bracelet day in teacher college,” she said with a laugh.
“That’s what they told us to tell you. It was all very hush-hush. Secret curriculum. I was busy writing my book that day.”
She didn’t smile, but her fingers paused for a fraction of a second, looking up but saying nothing.
They worked in silence for the first few minutes. The strips were fiddly, thin and plasticky and prone to slipping. Remi’s pattern was supposed to be the inverse of Nel’s, which meant he had to watch her work and do the opposite. She braided with machinelike efficiency, like she’d been making these since childhood. Remi, not so much. He fumbled, dropped strips, and started over several times.
“See, slow. Like I said.” She commented without looking up. But even though he was focused on his own bracelet, he knew she was grinning by the lilt in her voice.
“I’m methodical,” he replied. He enjoyed replaying the script.
The timer ticked. Six minutes. His bracelet looked like a drunk toddler had assembled it. Hers looked like a cultural artifact that would be housed in a museum someday. That tracks!
“How are you so fast at this?” he asked.
“Practice.”
“You practiced making plastic bracelets?”
She was quiet for a moment. Her fingers kept moving—weave, loop, pull—but something in her posture shifted.
“When I was a kid,” she said. “I went to a lot of summer camps. It was the only activity I was good at there. Everything else, the archery, the canoeing, and especially the trust exercises—not for me. I hated those.”
“So why did you go?” he asked.
She continued, ignoring his question.
“But the craft cabin was quiet. You could just sit and make things and nobody talked to you.” She paused, considering. “I was used to the quiet. I was left alone a lot. Mom and Dad were busy working, so they sent me to the camps out of necessity, I guess.”
Remi looked at his mangled bracelet. Then at hers. The colors lined up as they should. If you squinted. If you were generous.
“I got sent to camp once,” he said. “Hated it. There was a counselor who made us do improv games. I faked a stomachache to avoid it.”
“Did it work?”
“They called my parents. Said I might have appendicitis. So, my mom drove six hours to pick me up.”
“She did that for you?” Nel paused, looking at him.
“Of course,” he said.
“Must have been nice.”
Remi read the subtext. “It was.”
They continued to work for a bit in silence. The timer ticked down.
“Next time you’re at camp,” he said, “if you want to leave, I’ll come get you.”
Nel’s mouth twitched. Not a smile, but the ghost of a possibility of a smile.
“I’m too old for camp. Also, you’re a stranger.”
Remi laughed. “You know what I mean.”
“I do,” she said.
“And we’re no longer strangers.”
Nel looked up again; she smiled this time. “That is true enough.” She looked at Remi’s bracelet, but you are still two rows behind.”
“I’m working on it.”
He wasn’t working on it. His fingers had stopped moving. He was watching her instead.
“Nel.”
“What.”
“Why did you pick me?”
Her fingers stopped too.
The question had been sitting in his chest since he’d joined her. She’d had access to the full selection system. She’d hacked her way through half the Crucible’s architecture. She could have chosen anyone. Instead, she’d waited for him to burn through every other option, and then she’d been there, the last face on his screen.
“You saw my file,” he said. “You know I’m not... I’m not the protagonist of this thing. I’m not even good at it. So why—.”
“You showed up.”
He blinked. “What?”
“On the Zoom calls. Every day you were there. You didn’t check out. I know others did, but you held on until the bitter end. That is what I needed. Someone who could do that.”
“Okay, sure,” he said.
“I’m not finished. You are also a pain in the ass.” She wasn’t looking at him. Her fingers had resumed their weaving, slower now. “Most people just do what the system tells them. Fight the monster. Pick the class. Follow the path. You argued. You asked why. You gave the AI a name.”
“That’s—that’s not—.”
“It’s not nothing. It is everything.” She tied off a strip, examined her work. “The Crucible makes characters. People who fit the story it wants to tell. You kept trying to make it fit you instead. That’s—” she hesitated. “Let’s just say that is what I needed, a partner that is also determined to write their own story.”
The timer showed four minutes.
Remi looked down at his bracelet. It was objectively garbage. The colors were mostly right, and while the pattern was recognizably inverse, barely, if you were legally blind. The weave was loose; a pattern weaver he was not.
“This is terrible,” he said.
“Yes, it is,” she said. “But it will work.”
“You’re going to hate it.”
“Probably.”
He tied off the last strip. “Here.” He held it out.
Nel took it. Turned it over in her hands. Her expression was unreadable.
“Low-res gear,” she said.
“I prefer handcrafted artisanal friendship technology."
"It’s so bad,” she giggled.
“I know. Sorry.”
She looked at it for another long moment. She set his gift on the table. The motion was quick. She tried to make it look casual, like it meant nothing. Remi knew differently. He pretended not to notice.
“Here.” She held out hers.
It was predictably, perfect. The colors were crisp and aligned, and the weave was tight enough to survive actual wear. It looked like something you’d buy at a boutique.
He took it. Turned it over. “This is annoyingly good.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m really the best at all I do.”
Remi’s amused snort came as the timer hit zero. A chime sounded, and a door to their left swung open.
Nel stood, stretched, moved toward the exit without looking back. Remi tucked the bracelet into his murse. As he stood, he noticed his bracelet was gone, having disappeared from the table.
He didn’t mention that he’d be keeping hers, just as she didn’t mention that she was apparently keeping his.
Some things didn’t need to be said.
As they exited, they returned to the outside world. The cave opened into a wide field. Across the clearing, Archie’s again flickered into focus. Somehow still sitting on the same log as before. He gave them loot boxes. Remi’s contained a button, like you would get at a festival, attached with a safety pin. It said “Camp Fire Champion!” on it. He could feel warmth radiating from it as he ran his fingers along the surface. An inspection told him the details.
Campfire Button (Merit Badge)
Type: Utility Item / Consumable
Function: Creates a real campfire with a stack of conjured logs on activation.
Effects: Produces heat, light, and a regenerative aura benefiting all nearby allies.
Cooldown: Usable once every 12 hours.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE]
You’ve earned a moment of warmth, as some things still burn bright.
Simultaneously, Nel retrieved a translucent screen from the box, a thin flickering film that she placed over the top of her screen. She offered few details, only that it helped her to monitor system feeds.
After Archie had left, they made camp just outside the obelisk. They were in a large cleared area of the jungle. Remi had pushed his new button, and a small fire had burst to life inside a neat ring of stones. A small pyramid of logs nearby. As the sun set on their first day together, they could see broken towers in the distance—a problem for tomorrow. For now, they sat, watching the light slide down below the treeline.
“Do you talk to the AI in chat?” Her question surprised Remi, so he answered plainly.
“Of course. All the time.”
She didn’t reply right away, just studied him in silence. Feeling self-conscious, he added, “Don’t you?”
“Never.”
“Oh,” was all he could manage.
The moment stretched between them, but soon the weight of the day drifted away with the embers in the night air.
“Got any marshmallows?” Nel asked.
Remi opened the murse, unsure. He found a bag in his emergency snack drawer. He wasn’t sure if it was her doing, or Archie’s, or just his luck.
“I guess I do,” he said. The murse kindly provided a couple of sticks too. They were in a section of the bag now marked “Sticky Things,” which now also housed his metre stick. They came out of the bag slightly tacky, but straight and solid. He passed one over to Nel. As they sat there, white balls of sugar browning in the ambient heat of their shared fire, he couldn’t help but quip.
“I hope the fire burns away the taste of mint.”
She smiled, but there were no further words shared between the two of them. There was just the warmth of the fire and of their new partnership.
Elsewhere, beyond the firelight, the Crucible waited.
It waited for Dorian, locked in his tutorial, fighting a zombie jury while clinging to the thoughts of his family: his little bumble Bea, and his dinosaur of a brother Rex. Desperate to find them both.
It waited for Elias, sharpening his bitterness into something that could finally cut Eddy even if he needed to use his brother to do so.
It waited to see what Nel would do when her suspicions, already forming, proved true.
It waited for Archie’s real secret to be revealed, the one he should’ve told Remi but couldn’t.
It waited for Oedipus to wake, having just passed out after his longest day.
The Crucible, larger and hungrier—waited for them all.
Patiently.
END OF BOOK ONE OF HOLLOW SCRIPT
The Journey Continues in Man of Wax.
In the mood for something cozy, spicy, and otherworldly? Join Dr. Ryst Nova in the Andromeda Galaxy, 700 years from now. Ryst survives an attempt on her life, but now she's hearing voices she can't explain and dreaming of a man she's never met. When she goes looking for him, what does she uncover, and could she set in motion a string of events that will break reality itself? Find out in .
What to Expect:
- Female & male leads.
- LGBT leads & cast.
- Neurodifferent and nonverbal characters.
- Slow burn romance that turns NSFW spicy.
- Telepathy, Tantra, & psychic phenomenon.
- Seven book series. For the stand-alone Comedy Space Operas, start in .
- For the stand-alone Psychological Thriller, go to Discordant .