The lens-creature's body twitched like a broken camera trying to refocus.
Hanson struck again.
The station's vending machine blinked HELP in red letters, then swallowed a coin anyway. Someone laughed once—high and brittle—and then stopped.
Metal met something that wasn't quite bone. The impact jarred up his arms. A shriek of static exploded into his ears, so loud he tasted copper.
The creature collapsed onto the platform and spasmed.
A progress ring spun in the corner of his vision.
FIRST BLOOD: CONFIRMING…
The glass-armored monster on the stairs moved again—one step, then another—its presence pushing a cold, heavy pressure across the platform like fog.
People screamed and ran down the tunnel, stumbling over each other, but the tunnel lights flickered into darkness with every step they took, as if the station itself wanted them to disappear.
Hanson stood over the lens-creature, pipe raised, and realized he wasn't waiting for the monster to die.
He was waiting for the system to say it counted.
A new alert burst across his vision in bright neon.
✨ DONATION! ✨
From: "Star-Court_Arbiter" (Verified Offworld)
$1,000,000 CREDITS — Gift: "Kinetic Anchor" (basic)
The metal pipe in Hanson's hands shimmered.
Faint geometric lines crawled along its surface, like circuitry drawn by someone who understood violence as mathematics. The air around the pipe thickened, subtly, like the weapon had gained weight without becoming heavier.
His breath hitched. "What—"
The lens-creature lurched up, faster than it should have been able to, and slashed at him with a limb that ended in a razor-thin blade.
Hanson swung.
The kinetic anchor didn't just strike.
It claimed.
A tight burst of force rippled outward from the point of impact—controlled, focused, like a punch delivered by a giant. The lens-creature flew sideways and slammed into a tiled pillar hard enough to leave a spiderweb of cracks.
It fell to the ground and didn't move again.
The progress ring in Hanson's vision snapped into place.
FIRST BLOOD: CONFIRMED.
A chime sounded. The heart count spiked like an EKG.
♥ 88,901 → 120,774 → 160,009
Heat flooded Hanson's limbs so fast he almost stumbled. Pain dulled. Fear sharpened into something cleaner: motion.
A tiny stat line flashed, then vanished:
BASE (EARTH LIKES)
STR ↑ / AGI ↑
The chat erupted.
HE DID IT
THAT'S A KILL
WHAT WAS THAT WEAPON
ALIENS DONATING??!
DON'T DIE PLEASE
And then, pinned at the top, another message in the same clinical tone as before:
FEED YIELD: IMPROVED.
CONTINUE STIMULUS.
Hanson looked up.
The glass-armored creature had reached the platform.
It stepped off the last stair without sound and turned its head toward Hanson as if the system had placed a marker on him.
It had.
A red dot hovered near the top-right of Hanson's vision now—small, steady—like a recording indicator that had decided to become a target.
YOU ARE IN FRAME.
AUDIENCE FOCUS: HIGH.
The creature's seam-mouth opened, wider this time, and the pressure wave hit Hanson like a punch to the lungs. His vision dimmed at the edges. His stomach lurched.
He nearly dropped the pipe.
The heart count surged again.
♥ 160,009 → 190,221
Warmth steadied him—but it wasn't enough. Pressure pressed against his thoughts, trying to peel him open like a file.
A new alert popped, cheerful as confetti.
✨ DONATION! ✨
From: ⌬⌬⌬⌬⌬⌬ (Tier-9 Patron)
Gift: "Halo Disk — Temporary Shield"
A thin ring of pale light formed around Hanson's left wrist like a bracelet, faintly humming.
The creature pulsed again.
The pressure slammed into the halo and broke around it, splitting like water around a rock. Hanson sucked in a breath, eyes wide.
He didn't feel saved.
A boy crouched behind a trash can, palms over his ears. Hanson angled his body between the child and the lenses, like that would matter.
Sponsored. The word lodged in him.
The crowd on the platform had retreated down the tunnel as far as the flickering lights allowed. A few remained behind pillars, watching—they couldn't not watch. Because the system had trained them, in minutes, to understand that attention was the only currency left.
Hanson backed toward the edge of the platform. Behind him, the tracks yawned black, the third rail glinting wetly in the flicker.
A new banner slid in at the top of his vision, stamped with a symbol that hurt to look at—like a knot tied in a dimension his brain couldn't hold.
SPECIAL EVENT (OFFWORLD): "FIRST BLOOD BONUS"
Reward: Exposure Surge
Condition: Deliver a kill on camera (already met)
New Condition: Maintain engagement for 00:01:30
Maintain engagement.
The creature began to circle him, slow and deliberate, as if it knew the audience wanted a dance.
Hanson tightened his grip on the kinetic anchor pipe. He could feel the warmth of likes in his muscles, but underneath it was something else—something like debt.
He wasn't getting stronger.
He was being adjusted.
The chat split into strategies.
STAY ON PLATFORM
JUMP ON TRACKS
HIT IT AGAIN
DON'T LET IT TOUCH YOU
KEEP IT IN FRAME
A poll widget slid into the center of his vision.
POLL (EARTH) — 00:15
WHAT SHOULD HE DO?
A) STAND AND FIGHT
B) JUMP TO THE TRACKS
C) RUN INTO THE TUNNEL
Percentages shifted like a crowd leaning.
A) 41%
B) 27%
C) 32%
Hanson's mouth went dry. "I'm not— you can't—"
The poll timer dropped.
00:05… 00:04…
The creature paused as if listening to the poll. Its seam-mouth opened a fraction, tasting his fear.
Hanson looked at the tunnel. The flicker made it look like a mouth swallowing light.
He looked down at the tracks. The darkness felt deeper there, like a place the camera might struggle to follow.
He looked at the creature.
Then he did the one thing that felt like his own.
He stepped forward.
Not to attack.
To pull the creature's attention away from the tunnel where the remaining people were hiding.
Likes surged as the camera zoomed.
♥ 190,221 → 220,119
Heat tightened his muscles.
The creature lunged.
Hanson swung the pipe.
The kinetic anchor burst cracked the air with a thunderclap and knocked the creature sideways—just enough to avoid the seam-mouth's bite, just enough to keep it on the platform.
The poll ended mid-motion.
RESULTS FINAL.
A) STAND AND FIGHT — 52%
The system approved of his choice.
The platform lights brightened for one full second—like a spotlight.
The crowd's silhouettes became clear.
The creature became vivid.
And Hanson understood, with a sick clarity, that the system wasn't just guiding him.
It was staging him.
A new objective appeared.
NEW OBJECTIVE (AUTO):
SURVIVE UNTIL 00:00:00
BONUS: Reach "Subway Hub"
Subway hub.
A location.
A set.
Hanson's breathing ragged, he angled his body toward the tunnel and began to retreat—fighting, but moving, dragging the creature with his attention like a leash made of light.
Because if he stopped being the show, the show would find someone else.
And that thought felt worse than dying.