The music is no longer faint.
It fills the room now.
Not loud—
but complete.
Every surface carries it.
Every corner resolves around it.
Skullker stands at the center of it.
Perfect posture.
Perfect stillness.
Badger takes one slow step back.
“Okay,” he says.
“That’s new.”
Ace doesn’t move.
Her gaze is locked.
“Say something,” she says.
Skullker doesn’t hesitate.
“What would you like me to say?”
The voice is his.
Tone, cadence, weight—
all intact.
And completely wrong.
Mai steps forward.
“No,” she says.
Not to him.
To the room.
Immediate reaction.
The music skips.
A fraction of a second—
but enough.
Mai’s eyes sharpen.
“That’s a response layer,” she says.
Shammy shifts slightly.
The air tightens—
not outward—
inward.
Like pressure collapsing toward a single point.
“Focus,” she says quietly.
“It’s watching how we define him.”
Badger exhales through his nose.
“Yeah, no pressure.”
Grouse doesn’t speak.
His weapon is lowered—
not out of hesitation—
but uncertainty.
Line of sight doesn’t mean anything here.
Jello’s device flickers again.
“Signal’s stabilizing,” he mutters.
A beat.
“Or we are.”
Mai doesn’t look at him.
“Don’t frame it like that,” she says.
The lights flicker.
Hard.
The music distorts—
then corrects itself.
Skullker takes one step forward.
Smooth.
Measured.
Exactly one step.
Ace’s blade lifts—
just slightly.
Not attacking.
Holding.
“Stop,” she says.
He does.
Immediately.
The room stills.
Badger blinks.
“Okay, so he listens.”
Mai shakes her head.
“No.”
A beat.
“It aligns.”
Skullker’s head tilts again.
That same angle.
Too precise.
“What is the difference?” he asks.
Mai answers.
“You’re not choosing.”
A pause.
“Correct,” Skullker says.
Silence.
Badger rubs a hand over his face.
“Fantastic.”
Shammy steps closer.
The air around her distorts—
more visible now.
The space resists her.
Actively.
“You’re not him,” she says.
Skullker looks at her.
Directly.
“I am fulfilling his position,” he replies.
The music swells slightly.
Mai inhales slowly.
“There it is.”
She turns to the others.
“This isn’t possession,” she says.
“It’s structural replacement.”
Badger laughs once.
Short.
Sharp.
“Yeah, that doesn’t make it better.”
Mai ignores him.
“He crossed a boundary with the wrong assumption,” she continues.
“He acted like this was a threat environment.”
Ace’s voice is low.
“It is.”
Mai meets her eyes.
“Not in the way he defined it.”
The room tightens.
Again.
Jello looks up sharply.
“Don’t argue definitions,” he says.
“Every time we do, it spikes.”
The music shifts key.
Subtle.
But wrong.
Grouse finally speaks.
“So what’s the correct one?”
Silence.
No one answers.
Skullker takes another step.
Closer now.
“Would you like assistance?” he asks.
Badger raises his weapon—
not aiming—
just ready.
“Hard pass.”
Skullker smiles again.
Same expression.
Same timing.
“You are behind schedule,” he says.
The words land heavier this time.
Mai’s gaze sharpens instantly.
“That’s not his line.”
Shammy exhales.
“Not his voice either.”
Ace steps forward.
Just enough to stand directly in front of him.
“What schedule?” she asks.
Skullker doesn’t blink.
“The show must continue,” he says.
The room reacts.
Not violently.
Smoothly.
The lights brighten.
The decay fades.
The party room returns—
overlaid on top of reality.
Tables restore.
Color returns.
Children reappear—
fewer than before.
Three empty tables.
Still waiting.
Mai’s voice drops.
“That’s the count.”
Badger looks around.
“Count of what?”
No one answers.
Because they all see it now.
Three empty chairs.
And four people standing in the room.
The music slows.
Just slightly.
Like something is—
deciding.
Shammy’s voice is almost a whisper.
“It’s choosing who fits.”
—
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