The poll's options hovered over the stairwell like a judge's gavel.
SAVE WHO?
Someone's flashlight app kept turning itself off, dimming the corridor in little humiliating blinks. The person shook the phone like it owed them light.
A) THE CHILDREN
B) THE INJURED
C) THE STRANGERS (UNKNOWN)
The timer ticked down.
00:06… 00:05…
Hanson looked back over his shoulder.
He saw a mother trying to hold two children behind her, eyes frantic. He saw an old man on the floor, unable to stand, his leg twisted wrong. He saw people pressed against the corridor walls—faces he didn't know, names he didn't have time to learn.
In the stairwell above, the swarm of tape-black creatures crawled down the steps like a spill of ink.
The Sound Dampener field shimmered uselessly; silence didn't matter when the threat was already inside the frame.
Elena clutched the door handle, knuckles white. "Hanson, tell me what to do."
Hanson's jaw clenched. The audience expected a choice that made a good clip.
But he refused to let strangers decide who deserved breathing.
He opened his mouth and spoke, not to the crowd, not to Elena—straight to the invisible camera.
"No."
The chat stuttered.
NO??
WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO
YOU HAVE TO PICK
Hanson raised his kinetic anchor pipe and slammed it into the stairwell wall instead of the swarm.
The burst of force hit concrete, rippling outward in a shockwave that traveled up the steps like a violent breath.
The swarm lost its footing.
Tape-black bodies peeled off the stairs and tumbled, flailing.
For half a second, the creatures were airborne.
For half a second, Hanson had space.
He shouted, "Children first! Then the injured! Everyone else moves like you're one body—no pushing!"
He didn't wait for a poll result. He created his own.
The timer hit zero.
RESULTS FINAL.
A) THE CHILDREN — 47%
B) THE INJURED — 41%
C) UNKNOWN — 12%
The audience agreed with the obvious.
Hanson didn't feel relieved. He went cold at how close the percentages had been.
He slammed his pipe again, sending another shockwave up the steps, forcing the swarm back.
Elena grabbed the nearest child and shoved them into the corridor behind her. People moved—messy, loud, but moving.
The heart count spiked.
♥ 401,009 → 430,550
Heat tightened Hanson's muscles. His ankle pain dulled. His breath steadied.
A small UI line flashed and vanished:
BASE (EARTH LIKES)
AGI ↑
The swarm recovered faster than physics should allow. It clung to the wall, to the ceiling, crawling down like living tape refusing to be removed.
Hanson backed down the steps, holding the pipe like a bat, using bursts to keep the swarm from touching flesh.
In his peripheral, the interface did something new.
It reframed.
The invisible camera zoomed in, cropping out the crowd.
Cutting away the consequences.
Focusing only on Hanson's face.
A tooltip floated in the corner like a helpful suggestion:
TIP: Close-up increases engagement.
Hanson's stomach turned. It wanted his fear. His sweat. His eyes.
It wanted to sell him as a protagonist.
He grit his teeth and did something deliberate.
He stepped aside—out of the center—so the camera would be forced to capture the crowd behind him.
The frame fought him, trying to drag him back.
A warning flashed:
FRAME LOCKED: REQUIRED.
The Sound Dampener's term sat on him like a leash.
Stay in frame.
No private zones.
"No," he whispered again, this time with anger.
He stepped back into center frame because he had to.
Then he did the only thing he could to punish the system with its own rule:
He made the crowd part of the frame by moving them.
He shouted, "Elena! Move them left! Get them under the lights!"
Elena blinked. "Why?"
"Because the camera follows light," Hanson said, voice hoarse. He didn't know if it was true, but he'd watched the frame behavior long enough to guess. "If we shift the brightest point, we shift the focus."
Elena swallowed and started barking orders, dragging people toward the emergency bulbs in the corridor. The crowd moved into a tighter cluster under the flickering lights.
The camera widened automatically.
It caught the terrified faces.
It caught the hands pulling children forward.
It caught the old man being carried.
The heart count surged.
♥ 430,550 → 470,009
The system rewarded "human drama" when it couldn't get blood.
Fine. Let it watch them survive.
Hanson tore a strip from his jacket hem and wrapped it around his bitten boot, yanking the knot tight until his fingers went numb.
The swarm surged again, faster now, angry at losing the kill.
Hanson struck the steps with the pipe, sending bursts in a rhythm—bang, bang, bang—like he was drumming an emergency alarm through the floor.
The swarm splattered, peeled, reformed.
One creature slipped through and latched onto Hanson's boot.
Pain flared.
The tape-black body bit through leather like it was paper.
Hanson screamed, stomped, and slammed the pipe down.
A burst hit the creature and tore it off his foot, throwing it into the wall where it stuck like gum.
Hanson's vision flashed.
A cheerful alert popped up.
ENGAGEMENT PEAK: +Likes Bonus
He wanted to vomit.
Elena shouted, "Door! The door's changing!"
Hanson glanced back.
The stairwell doorframe—still stuck open by the system—shimmered.
A thin black bar of "edit" material began to slide across it like a curtain.
Not closing it.
Cropping it.
Reducing the opening size.
Environmental constraints adjusted for viewing quality.
Hanson understood instantly.
The system wasn't allowing them to close the door.
But it might allow the door to become smaller—that made tension better.
Because that made it harder.
Because that made it watchable.
The swarm reached the door opening at the same time the opening shrank.
Creatures piled up against the narrowing gap, writhing, trying to squeeze through.
Hanson saw his chance.
He slammed the pipe into the threshold.
The kinetic burst didn't just hit the swarm.
It hit the opening.
It sent a shockwave that rippled through the black "edit" material.
For half a second, the crop stalled.
Elena shouted, "Now!"
Two men grabbed the old man and shoved him through the corridor.
A mother dragged her children away.
The last civilian stumbled past Hanson, eyes wide, whispering, "Thank you."
Hanson didn't look at them. He kept his eyes on the swarm and the shrinking doorway.
His heart count climbed.
♥ 470,009 → 500,114
The warmth in his limbs grew.
For a moment, he was capable.
Then the system hit him with the next truth like a knife wrapped in confetti.
✨ DONATION! ✨
From: "Helix_Bazaar"
Gift: "Camera Magnet"
Effect: Ensure subject remains center frame.
TERMS: Nonrefundable.
Hanson's stomach dropped.
"Nonrefundable," he whispered.
Elena stared at him. "What?"
Hanson didn't answer.
The camera lock tightened.
The spotlight became physical.
And he realized what the swarm had been.
Not a monster.
A tool.
A way to force him to learn the only lesson the show cared about:
You don't get to leave the frame.
Ever.
The doorway shrank to the width of a human torso.
Hanson stared at it.
He could slip through.
Barely.
But if he did, the swarm would push.
It would follow.
It would spill into the corridor and onto the crowd.
Hanson tightened his grip.
He stepped back into the stairwell.
Elena shouted, "No! Hanson!"
He didn't turn.
Because if the system wanted a close-up—
He would give it the most expensive close-up of its life.
He raised the pipe, stared into the darkness above the stairs, and whispered to the camera:
"Watch."
Then he charged upward into the swarm.