The second drone never drew a crowd.
It didn't need to.
Quiet Descent
It slipped through the canopy with practiced indifference, rotors muted, descent controlled.
No warning flare.
No dramatic drop.
Just a soft correction in the air.
Aria stood exactly where its shadow sharpened.
She hadn't run.
She had arrived.
The cameraman whispered, almost to himself:
"…You didn't hurry."
She glanced up.
"…Neither did it."
The Distance Advantage
The drone released its crate.
A short drop.
A dull thump.
Aria stepped forward and caught the latch before the echo faded.
Behind her, voices rose—confused, late, panicked.
Someone shouted her name.
She didn't turn.
"…Distance is not measured in meters," she said calmly.
"…It's measured in decisions."
Selection, Not Hoarding
She opened the crate and assessed in one sweep.
Electrolyte packs.
A compact navigation slate.
A sealed tarp rated for high wind.
She took those.
Left the rest.
Closed the lid.
No hesitation.
No greed.
The cameraman stared.
"You could take more."
She shook her head.
"…Excess slows exit."
The Arrival of Others
Footsteps crashed through brush.
Three contestants burst into the clearing, breathless, eyes wide.
One froze when he saw her.
"…You again."
Aria met his gaze neutrally.
"…Yes."
"Did you take everything?"
She stepped aside slightly.
"…No."
They rushed the crate.
Argued immediately.
Someone knocked it over.
Supplies scattered.
Energy burned.
Aria had already turned away.
The Walk Back
She didn't take the shortest path.
She took the safest.
Shade.
Firm ground.
Minimal exposure.
The cameraman jogged to keep up.
"How do you always get there first?"
Aria thought for a moment.
"…Because I arrive before the event," she replied.
"…Everyone else arrives after."
The answer lingered.
Chat Finally Understands
💬 [TopComment]: She's not fast. She's early.
💬 [Watcher]: This is horrifyingly efficient.
Clips stitched themselves together in real time.
Her waiting.
Their running.
Her arrival.
Their argument.
The pattern was undeniable.
Producers Fall Silent
In the control tent, no one spoke.
There was nothing left to adjust.
No lever to pull.
She wasn't exploiting mechanics.
She was operating around them.
Closing Beat
Back at her camp, Aria secured the tarp, tested the slate, and drank water.
She didn't smile.
She didn't celebrate.
"…First isn't about speed," she murmured.
"…It's about readiness."
Above her, the drones hovered at a respectful distance.
Below her, the jungle returned to its rhythm.
And for everyone watching, the truth settled quietly and completely:
She would always get there first.
Because she had already decided to be.