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🌗 DAY 9 — THE HIVE FAILS, THE TRUTH SPILLS, AND BLOOD ANSWERS ANGER

Dawn is thin and gray; everyone’s nerves are shredded from the infestation, the peel of Endgame on Tenna’s face, and last night’s arrivals. The forest is quieter than it looks — like a held breath before a thunderclap.

Zap has been a walking nest of twitching insects all night. At first the hive-controlled body was a terror; now, daylight reveals its weakness. The bugs inside him begin to suffocate on the metals he’s been carrying — cobalt and vanadium in tiny shards and residues from past sponsor prizes — and they start to die in droves. Zap’s attempt to strike becomes a twitching, pathetic thing. What follows is chaos, revelation, and a violent judgment that changes the field.

🔥 THE ATTEMPT — ZAP LUNGES, THE HIVE STUMBLES

A clearing near the stream. Steamton is checking a newly riveted joint; Scampton is practicing a tiny, gleeful prank with a Pipis that only half works; Goobert sits on a stump, lollipop in hand; Cassie is muttering a small warding phrase and winding thread into a bracelet.

From the treeline, a ragged silhouette staggers forward: Zap, transfigured, walking wrong — joints popping, a low buzzing between his teeth. The hive inside him convulses as it tries to coordinate attack.

Zap (voice a layered rasp): “E A T. E A T. E A T.”

Scampton (genuinely delighted at first): “[A PERFORMANCE—!!]”
Goobert (nervous): “:3 — zap— that’s not fun—”

Zap lunges toward Steamton first — claws like twig-splinters, noises like a broken synth.

Steamton (ALL-CAPS, serene): “HOSTILE MOTION DETECTED. INITIATE DEFENSIVE PROTOCOLS.”
Steamton lifts a welded armplate and deflects Zap’s swipes. The bugs inside Zap, new to the body’s biomechanics and failing to coordinate, scramble ineffectively.

Cassie (sharp): “Not coordinated—something’s wrong with the hive!”
Goobert (trying to stand): “:3 zap— stop it!”

Zap stumbles, attempts another lunge — to Scampton — but his limbs misfire; a gout of something black and squirming spills as the dying internal colony spasms and collapses. Tiny, twitching corpses fall from Zap’s cracked clothing like bad confetti. The smell of iron and rot is quick and nauseating.

Junkil (watching from a hidespot, whispering to himself): “I told you. I told—”
He sees Zap falter, seen only by a few.

Scampton (eyes wide, voice suddenly small): “[THIS—THIS ISN’T A SHOW ANYMORE—]”
Goobert (soft): “:3 he’s—he’s changing back?”

Zap keels over, gasps, then blinks into a very ordinary, very idiotic grin.

Zap (normal voice, dazed, petulant): “Ugh. That was… gross. Who put a nest in my pants?”
Gambler (nearby, horrified): “No—did you—did you just—”
Zap (scratching): “All the bugs ate my spleen or something. Yuk. Where’d they go?”

📺 THE REVEAL — TENNA PLAYS THE RECORDING

As people are catching their breath, Mr AntTenna’s TV-face flickers: a memory clip he’d recorded last night (he always records everything; his face-screen keeps auto-logs). The screen hums to life and an audio track plays — Parcelboy’s voice, raw and angry, handing a sealed parcel across a dim stump.

Projected Recording — Parcelboy (angry, on the clip):
“Take it. Take your stupid show. Take that box. Maybe it’ll make your pretty face stop singing.”

The clip clearly shows Parcelboy pushing a parcel toward Tenna and Tenna, puzzled, accepting it. Tenna’s face-screen zooms the moment, then plays the little hand-off in slow motion. You see the parcel wobble; you see Tenna glance inside — nothing immediate — the faint micro-capsule inside, unnoticed.

The clearing goes silent.

Mr AntTenna (voice flat, not his usual showman cadence): “This clip is from last night. I archived it automatically.”
Parcelboy (eyes going white): “No—no—no no no—”
Junkil (pointing, frantic): “SEE! I SAID—”

Parcelboy (voice breaking, finally): “I… I gave him a box. I— I was angry. I didn’t mean for— I meant for him to shut up. I didn’t—”
His hands shake so badly he can hardly form the words.

Parcelboy (sobbing): “I put a box down. I wanted him to be quiet. I didn’t think—”

The recorded clip continues: Parcelboy’s hand resting on the box, the small second of hesitation where he slams the lid — and then Tenna walking away. The recording doesn’t show the insects emerge, but the inference is obvious.

Scampton (hissing): “[YOU—YOU DID THIS?]”
Gambler (stunned, muttering): “I— I thought they were ants— I put them on Zap—”
Parcelboy (looking at Gambler, then Tenna): “I only wanted him to shut up. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

From a ridge, Stormy — who had been watching, rifle slung — hears the confession and the clip. His grin curdles into something cold and very fast. The assault rifle he was loaned scratches up through his hands like a promise.

Stormy (voice low, dangerous): “You tried to kill Tenna. You used insects. You lied when people asked. You let Zap become a monster.”

Parcelboy collapses to his knees, hands up, trying to plead.

Parcelboy (pleading): “Stormy— I’m sorry— I panicked— I didn’t think—”
Stormy (through clenched teeth): “Sorry doesn’t un-eat people, Parcelboy.”

He takes aim. The shots are not long, cinematic bursts — they are furious, mechanical, repeated. They echo in the clearing, sharp and final. People yell, some scramble to stop him. Cassie, already moving, steps forward with a ritual gesture — not to stop the act, but to hold a ward for what comes next.

Shouts:
Gambler: “NO— STORMY— DON’T—”
Scampton: “[NO NO NO—THIS ISN’T A MINI-GAME—]”
Tenna (screaming through his face speakers): “DON’T—! STOP—!”

But Stormy fires anyway, again and again.

We do not linger on gore. The shots connect; Packetboy’s body slumps, the life taken in the manner of a battlefield. He goes quiet. The clearing rings with the sound of falling leaves and a single, stunned whimper from Junkil.

Parcelboy (fading, gasping): “I— I was going to— I didn’t want—”
Parcelboy (whisper): “Tell them—tell them—”
He stops. He is gone.

☠️ AFTERMATH — SHOCK, RAGE, AND MORAL SPECTRUMS

Immediate reactions are raw and varied:

Stormy (breathing hard, voice flat): “He tried to kill someone. He engineered it. I won’t let him get away with hurting people.”
Scampton (hysterical, collapsing to his knees): “[YOU KILLED OUR PERFORMER— YOU—YOU—]”
Gambler (staring at his hands): “I put them on Zap… I thought they were ants… I—”
Mr AntTenna (face-screen flickering, voice small): “I… I remembered the box. The clip… I archived it. I didn’t think—”
Junkil (wild, half-crooning, half-crying): “I saw it! I SAW IT! THEY DIDN’T BELIEVE ME—”
Cassie (quiet, hands shaking): “We have to… we have to decide how to move forward.”
Oliver (arriving with Shovel Man and Wembry, voice measured): “We can mourn and we can act. But killing in cold blood… that will change the field. Make no mistake.”

Some call it justice — Parcelboy engineered the infestation and tried to murder a teammate — others call it vengeance and fear the new precedent: that one person can execute another without trial.

Goobert (small, as if to a lost friend): “:3 I liked him sometimes.”
Scampton (screaming at the sky): “[THE SHOW—RUINED—]”

Did ma boi Sasha die ?

No

He alive !!!