The tunnel swallowed Hanson like a mouth.
He ran backward at first—eyes locked on the glass-armored creature—until he clipped a trash can and nearly fell. The halo disk on his wrist hummed louder with every pulse of pressure from the seam-mouth.
Elena's key ring snagged on her sleeve and she swore under her breath—small, human, furious—before yanking it free.
The crowd behind him moved as one organism, retreating deeper into the station's dark arteries. Hanson kept himself between them and the creature because there was no heroism in it—only a brutal calculation:
If the monster reached the crowd, the camera would follow the blood.
And if the camera left him, the warmth in his limbs would drain.
His heart count climbed when his face stayed centered.
His strength was a spotlight.
The tunnel lights flickered. Each dark beat felt longer.
The chat on the right blurred into a storm of fear and instructions.
KEEP IT ON YOU
DON'T TURN YOUR BACK
WE'RE LIKING WE'RE LIKING
OH MY GOD OH MY GOD
A new pinned message appeared, this one from a human account with a blue check mark that did not belong on Earth:
NYC_EMT: LISTEN. FIND THE MAINTENANCE DOOR AT THE END. IT LEADS TO SERVICE CORRIDORS.
Hanson's eyes snapped to the tunnel walls.
Maintenance doors. Fire signage. Old posters peeling away like skin.
A woman stumbled out from behind a pillar ahead, clutching a yellow MTA vest to her chest. Her eyes were wide, face smeared with soot.
"Hey!" she shouted over the noise. "You— you're him. The one on the boards."
Hanson didn't slow. "Move!"
"I know where the emergency corridors are," she said, voice shaking but stubborn. "If you keep going this way, you'll hit a dead end."
The camera pulled wider for a second, capturing both of them. The heart count ticked up.
♥ 220,119 → 231,005
Warmth steadied Hanson's legs. "Who are you?"
"Elena," she snapped. "Station supervisor. Don't ask me how I'm talking to a million people right now. Just—" Her gaze flicked over his shoulder. She went pale. "Just trust me."
The creature advanced down the tunnel with slow precision, dragging cold behind it. The seam-mouth opened and pulsed.
Hanson's halo disk flashed, catching the pressure and splitting it, but the shield thinned with every hit. He could feel it like a headache building behind his eyes.
Elena pointed to a green door half-hidden by a pillar.
"Maintenance," she said. "Go!"
A poll widget snapped into the center of Hanson's vision before he could move.
POLL (EARTH) — 00:10
OPEN THE DOOR?
A) YES
B) NO
Hanson's jaw clenched. "It's a door," he muttered. "Why is that—"
The timer ticked down. Percentages surged.
A) 89%
B) 11%
He didn't wait for the result. He grabbed the handle and yanked.
The door didn't move.
Locked.
The creature's pressure thickened. Hanson's vision dimmed at the corners.
Elena shoved him aside and produced a ring of keys on a lanyard. Her hands shook. She jammed a key into the lock.
The poll ended.
RESULTS FINAL.
A) YES — 92%
The lock clicked open at the exact moment the system declared it should.
Hanson shoved the door wide and pulled Elena through. The crowd behind them surged toward the opening.
The system chirped again, too cheerful.
SYSTEM NOTE:
Environmental constraints adjusted for viewing quality.
Door width: LIMITED.
The doorframe narrowed.
Not physically—visibly.
Then physically.
The edges of the doorway pinched inward like the world was squeezing a choke point, forcing people to funnel one at a time.
A man slammed his shoulder against the narrowing gap. He screamed. Others pushed behind him.
"Elena!" Hanson shouted. "Help them!"
Elena's eyes widened. "It's— it's moving," she whispered, horrified. "That's not—"
"MOVE!" Hanson roared, then turned back.
When the doorway pinched, Hanson shoved a stranger's shoulder through first, taking the scrape on his own ribs so the gap wouldn't take theirs.
The creature had reached the door.
It didn't charge. It didn't rush.
It waited on the other side of the narrowing frame, head tilted, seam-mouth slightly open, as if listening to a director's count.
And Hanson realized the worst part: the system wanted the door to be narrow.
It wanted the crowd to panic.
It wanted to see how many would die in the bottleneck.
Hanson slammed his kinetic anchor pipe into the doorframe.
The burst of force cracked the air, rippling through the metal. The doorway shuddered but did not widen. Reality didn't care about his physics.
The halo disk on his wrist flickered.
Elena grabbed his arm. "It's going to kill them."
Hanson's heart count surged as the camera zoomed in on his face—capturing the moment the audience could taste his choice.
♥ 231,005 → 260,889
Heat flooded his muscles. Not enough to save everyone.
Enough to do something brutal.
Hanson turned, ran back into the tunnel mouth, and stepped directly into the creature's path—putting himself on the wrong side of the narrowing door.
Elena screamed his name.
The crowd behind the door screamed louder.
The chat erupted.
NO NO NO
WHY WOULD YOU GO BACK
HE'S CRAZY
HERO MOMENT
LIKE HIM MORE
Hanson raised the pipe. "Come on," he hissed, not to the creature, but to the camera. "If you want a show—look at me."
The creature's seam-mouth opened wide.
The pressure hit.
The halo disk shattered into a spray of pale light.
Pain slammed into Hanson's skull like a fist.
He staggered, bile rising, vision tunneling.
In the tunnel behind the creature, the lights went black for a full beat.
A notification slid into view through the haze.
HALO DISK: EXPIRED.
RECOMMENDATION: DONATION MODIFIER (PSI-SHIELD)
A new donation alert popped as if in response.
✨ DONATION! ✨
From: "Star-Court_Arbiter"
Gift: "Psi-Filter (30 seconds)"
Terms: Remain in frame.
Hanson didn't have time to consider.
He accepted.
Cold clarity snapped into his mind. The pressure wave broke around him, muted.
He swung the kinetic anchor pipe into the creature's shoulder.
The burst slammed the monster backward, away from the door.
The crowd pushed through the narrowing gap, one by one, squeezing into the maintenance corridor.
Elena, on the other side, stared at Hanson through the shrinking frame, face white with terror.
"Hanson!" she shouted. "Move!"
The doorframe continued to pinch.
Hanson backed toward it, timing his steps with the creature's slow advance.
The world narrowed to three things:
The red ● LIVE badge.
The creature's seam-mouth opening and closing.
And the doorframe shrinking like a deadline.
The camera stayed on his face.
The heart count climbed.
And Hanson understood, in the marrow of his bones, that the audience would love a good bottleneck.
They always had.
The poll refreshed.
POLL (EARTH) — 00:08
WHO GETS THROUGH?
A) HANSON
B) THE CROWD
C) CLOSE IT NOW
Hanson stared at the options.
And felt the first true taste of what Earth Online meant.
It wasn't just survival.
It was selection.