The hub door caved inward with a deafening groan.
Everyone in the maintenance chamber surged backward, slamming into shelves and each other. Tools clattered. A wrench fell and echoed like a gunshot in a world where sound was supposed to be dampened.
The emergency strobe in the corner started flashing for no reason at all, turning panic into a cheap music video.
Hanson's Sound Dampener field shimmered—but it couldn't hide fear, and it couldn't hide the camera's hunger.
The red ● LIVE badge pulsed.
The progress bar over his vision still read 83%, frozen like a cruel joke.
VIEWING QUALITY REVIEW: CONTINUE PERFORMANCE.
Marcus snatched a fire axe off a wall mount with the speed of someone who had always known where props were kept. "So what— we fight a boss for the terminal to finish loading?"
Elena grabbed a metal hook from a toolbox. Her hands shook but she didn't drop it. "Why does it have to be here?"
Hanson stared at the door. "Because this is where the camera is."
The door bowed again.
A seam appeared in the metal—not a crack, but a line like a zipper being tugged from the other side. For one surreal second, Hanson saw the door behave like fabric.
Then the seam opened.
Something pushed through.
It wasn't the glass-armored creature.
It was worse.
It was smaller, faster, made of black plates that looked like wet stone, with limbs that ended in hooked claws designed for grabbing things that screamed. Its head was a cluster of lenses—but unlike the first lens-creature, these lenses were arranged in a crown, rotating and clicking as if trying to find the best angle.
A camera.
It stepped into the hub and paused, as if recognizing it had entered a set.
Then it turned its lens-crown toward Hanson.
A notification chirped.
SPONSORED EVENT (OFFWORLD): "THE CLOSE-UP"
Reward: +Exposure Surge
Condition: Maintain subject's face in frame during threat proximity.
Hanson's stomach lurched. "They want it… close."
The chat screamed.
THAT THING IS A CAMERA
IT'S FILMING HIM
NO WAY
ALIENS ARE INSANE
DON'T LET IT GET CLOSE
Marcus swung the fire axe and shouted, "Hey! Over here!"
The lens-crowned creature ignored him.
It moved toward Hanson with smooth, predatory focus, like it had been paid to.
Elena stepped between it and Hanson, hook raised. "Back off!"
Hanson grabbed her shoulder and shoved her aside—not gently. "No. It's locked on me."
As if to confirm, a small icon appeared beside the red ● LIVE badge:
🎯 SUBJECT LOCK
He couldn't shake it.
The creature lunged.
Hanson dodged to the side, using the warmth in his muscles like borrowed reflex. His shoulder clipped a shelf. Boxes fell. The crowd screamed.
The lens-crown snapped toward him mid-lunge, tracking.
The system chirped again, upbeat.
AUDIENCE ENGAGEMENT: RISING
♥ LIKES: +12,000
Heat surged through Hanson's legs. He moved faster—not superhero fast, just faster than he had ever been on his worst day. His body obeyed like a machine that had been serviced.
But the creature was faster too.
It slashed with a hooked limb and caught Hanson's jacket, tearing fabric. The hook tried to drag him closer.
Closer to the lenses.
Closer to the close-up.
Hanson slammed his fist into the creature's face out of panic more than strategy.
His knuckles met something hard, cold.
Pain lanced up his arm.
The creature didn't flinch.
It tilted its head, lens-crown clicking, and Hanson saw his own reflection in the glass—wide eyes, sweat, terror—perfect content.
Marcus barreled in from the side with the fire axe and brought it down on one of the creature's limbs.
The blade bit into black plate. Sparks flew. The creature screeched, a sound like corrupted audio.
It released Hanson.
Elena swung her hook into the creature's side, catching an edge and yanking.
The creature's lenses swiveled, annoyed.
Hanson's interface flashed.
FIRST BLOOD BONUS: MAINTAINING…
VIEWING QUALITY: +1
Elena's hook hand slipped on sweat. Hanson caught her wrist hard enough to bruise—then let go the second she found her footing.
The progress bar twitched to 84%.
A new poll popped into view.
POLL (EARTH) — 00:10
WHO GETS THE WEAPON DROP?
A) HANSON
B) MARCUS
C) ELENA
Hanson's breath caught. "Weapon drop?"
A small icon appeared above the creature's head as if the system had decided to make this a loot moment: a glowing tag labeled DROP.
Marcus saw it too—at least, he reacted as if he did, his eyes flicking to Hanson's face and then to the creature. He grinned through sweat. "Oh, come on. That's mine."
"Elena," Hanson snapped, "stay back—"
The creature lunged again, this time at Elena, as if the system had redirected it for variety.
Elena froze for half a heartbeat.
Hanson moved.
Not because the poll told him to. Because the moment Elena died, the crowd would become a wave and the hub would turn into a slaughterhouse.
He tackled Elena out of the way. The creature's hook slammed into the wall, sending concrete dust puffing into the air.
The poll timer hit zero.
RESULTS FINAL.
A) HANSON — 57%
Hanson's vision flashed.
A metallic chirp.
Something fell from the creature as it struck the wall: a small black capsule that rolled across the floor and stopped at Hanson's knee.
A tooltip hovered over it.
ITEM DROP: "Emergency Ping"
Effect: Boost exposure for 10 seconds.
The exact thing he'd seen in the Starter Pack menu.
The creature shrieked and ripped its hook free. It turned back to Hanson, lens-crown rotating, hungry.
Hanson grabbed the capsule.
A button hovered.
USE?
He pressed it.
The capsule cracked open and released a pulse of light—not blinding, but sharp, like a flare designed for cameras. The air vibrated. The red ● LIVE badge flared brighter.
The view count spiked.
The heart count surged.
♥ 289,110 → 330,442
Heat hit Hanson like a wave.
For ten seconds, his body felt like it belonged to someone better—stronger, steadier, more decisive.
The creature hesitated, lens-crown clicking as if the flare had confused its tracking.
Hanson grabbed Marcus's fallen fire axe—snatched it from where it had slipped in the struggle—and swung it into the creature's lens-crown.
The blade bit.
The lenses shattered.
The creature emitted a noise that sounded like a feed being cut.
It collapsed.
The system chimed.
KILL CONFIRMED (ON CAMERA)
VIEWING QUALITY: +5
The progress bar jumped.
83% → 91% → 98%
The obelisk hummed loudly. Its surface flashed.
VERIFICATION COMPLETE.
For one brief, intoxicating second, Hanson thought that meant he'd won something.
Then a new line appeared on the terminal's face, projected into the hub for everyone to see:
STATUS UPDATE: VERIFIED CONTESTANT
CONDITIONAL ELIGIBILITY: LOCKED
NEXT REQUIREMENT: "DELIVER INTACT"
Marcus stared, breathless. "Deliver… what?"
Elena's eyes widened in horror. "No. No, they can't—"
Hanson's interface added a smaller subtitle, visible only to him:
SUBJECT DELIVERY: PENDING.
OWNERSHIP INTEREST: INCREASING.
The applause wasn't audible.
But Hanson could feel it in the warmth of likes and the sparkle of offworld donations, like a crowd clapping behind glass.
The show had accepted his performance.
Now it wanted to ship him.