Chương 186: Book Five, Chapter 89: Preparations

~ Riley ~"I'm certain that we could accomplish this much more feasibly with a bit of string," Andrew said as we finished setting up one of our many traps incorporating our silver nitrate and copper purification method.

"Look, Antoine's rescue trope is supposed to be a test of Hustle, and I don't know if you noticed yet, but we haven't really had one—unless having a timer counts as Hustle-based, which I don't think it does." He continued messing with the finicky mechanism we had designed on the fly. Around us, the remaining mercenaries were being a big help. Their relatively high Hustle made light work of the meticulous traps we were building.

"Fair enough," Andrew said.

"I have just the trope for buffing my Hustle, but at the same time, I'm uncertain of how this fuse can possibly be lit by a bullet."

"Well, my friend, that is exactly what Savvy is designed for—making things that seem kind of plausible work when they wouldn't in real life," I said.

"In movies, a bullet can light a fuse if it strikes a rock at the same time and sends out a spark or put out a fuse if it just hits the dirt." Andrew already had a high Hustle stat. That, combined with his ability to buff his Hustle when performing a task that requires lots of focus, meant he would be ideal for meeting the requirement of passing a test of Hustle.

"Let's not forget," I said aloud to both Kimberly and Andrew, the only two other players around for the finale.

"Anytime you get a chance to show off on Hustle or to win using that stat, you need to do it. Whether it's running from one of the wolves, throwing something at it, or shooting it with a really accurate shot—we have to show off our Hustle. I'm not exactly sure what the consequences of not doing that are, but Antoine's trope was pretty clear." Andrew nodded. I'm not sure he liked me being so redundant, but I would rather be redundant than forget to say something.

Kimberly quickly walked away toward the staircase that would lead below the Fort.

"Is she okay?" I asked.

"You might need to go ask her," he said.

"I will," I said.

"Right when we finish up here." Finding a super-powerful weapon against an enemy was almost as important as finding ways to employ it. We needed to devise multiple different traps and tactics that would use our new and improved rolling silver to great effect. That was actually something Andrew was quite good at.

Sure, arguably the best way to take care of it was just to hold a container of silver nitrate that we had stocked up, drop copper in it, and wait for the wolves around you to start trying to tear their skin off—but that was one note. We needed a variety of traps. We needed the enemy confused and disoriented, and we needed to be able to mow through them. There could be a dozen wolves coming toward us. There could be two dozen. We were preparing for even more than that. The Dailies was being a bit weird.

It just showed me how many people were out and about in Southeastern Carousel. I didn't understand why it was focused on hikers and townsfolk, but it felt ominous. Better to be overprepared. What I was certain of is that Kimberly was at the center of it all. They would come for her. Everything pointed toward that. But only pointed. I was acutely aware that we were making a massive assumption in our plan by taking for granted that the wolves would come to us. It was one of the first things we were told by an NPC.

Were we foolish? I didn't know. I felt like the story had confirmed that idea. The presence of the Fort, the location of the catacombs and tombs underneath the Manor, the significance of the location, and the fact that the She-Wolf, the pack leader, had not yet come to this place confirmed for me that this was the setting for the finale. Moments earlier, we had seen Second Blood come and pass, and I had survived it thanks to Michael's sacrifice.

By all rights, I should have been sitting in the theater watching everything take place right at that moment. But it just so happened we had a convenient trap to walk into at the right time. Nevertheless, when the final battle started, I wasn't going to last long, and I knew it. Oblivious Bystander or not, I was next. I just had to make it count. Kimberly, wherever she was down underground, was so important in this story. The trope she had received with her Celebrity aspect was no joke.

So many things revolved around her character—not just because of her relationship with Antoine but because of her relationship with the history of this place and her connection with our enemy. Everything hinged on her, and all I could do was spout out plans and tactics. Andrew was diligent at work, setting up our various traps and contingencies. I knew I could be frustrating and a bit of a micromanager, but I was truly grateful to have another high-Savvy player around.

His plans would work as well as mine—or even better. Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators! It should have been me and Camden. He was more laid back than Andrew. I wondered what he would have done in this storyline. Heck, if he were here, we would have had Eureka. We wouldn't have spent our entire subplots trapped inside the library researching. He would have had it done in half an hour. It was going to be great if we could just get him back. Him and Anna.

She would know what to say to Kimberly. I had a feeling that if she were still here, our problem with Antoine wouldn't really be a problem, though I couldn't put my finger on why. We were so close to that moment where everything was going to be better I could almost taste it. The needle on the plot cycle moved so quickly, watching as we secured our traps. Only giving enough of a glimpse to the audience so that they could wonder what we were up to.

With every second of footage Carousel got, the mystery built, and our traps became more powerful because the audience wanted to see them. They wanted to believe that we were this smart, that we could actually solve this problem. And I hoped we actually were. But I didn't know. After I had secured the last little bit of dirt from all the holes we had dug up and swept the entire courtyard—just so that the wolves wouldn't be able to see where we had dug—we were finally finished. Now, I could double-check everything.

And when I was done with that, I could go find Kimberly and make sure she was ready. And she would be because she had to be. Because when we needed her, she stood up and became the main character, and she would do it again. I knocked the dust off my hands with a few claps and headed to the stairs, still working through lines and possibilities in my head as I walked. I found Kimberly in the underground beneath the Fort, sitting on a cot.

She was looking down, and I couldn't see her face, but her arms were wrapped around her stomach like she was sick. I approached her slowly. I didn't want to invade her space.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, like a hammer through a stained glass window. What kind of question was that? We were down to two Savvy-based players and her, and even though Kimberly was a Jack of all trades thanks to her tropes, having her as the primary melee was scary.

"I'm afraid," Kimberly said. She looked up at me. I could see tears in her eyes.

"Me too," I said.

"I'm not exactly sure how we're going to get to our end game here. We'll probably be able to take out her troops, but I don't know what we're doing against her. It's probably gonna come down to you." She took a deep breath.

"We've been over the plan," Kimberly said.

"I feel fear, but not just my own. It's the other woman—it's my character." Oh, that. Some veterans swore that they could connect on an emotional level with their characters. Others never reported feeling even the slightest bit of outside presence when playing a role. I didn't know what to think. I wasn't going to deny something that so many people claimed to feel, but when I hadn't felt it myself—not in any way I could be sure of, at least—it was difficult for me to empathize. And I really hated that.

"What is she afraid of?" I asked.

"Is this how the base story goes? How would your character be afraid of this moment unless this moment happened in the original story?" I just wanted to break down what she was feeling so I could understand it—maybe even use it.

"She's not afraid of the wolf," Kimberly said.

"I know it's crazy—that's what I thought at first, but she's not. She's afraid of something else." That was not the type of answer I was looking for.

"What else?" I asked. When I asked it, I was thinking she was going to say there was a twist villain or something like that—like maybe it turned out that Kirst was secretly a vampire or some ridiculous idea like that.

"The dark," Kimberly said.

"Lonesomeness. A door opening… I'm afraid of love. I don't trust it. This makes no sense. I don't understand." Kimberly was full-on crying. She had no trope that should be giving her this information, and I wasn't even sure that this was real insight that would be useful to us. If anything, it was a hindrance. And I wished that I knew the words to make her feel better or to make her understand what was happening.

I wished I could tell her that we were going to walk away from this and that my plans were definitely going to succeed. Instead, I had to ask about something else—something I understood better.

"Have you even used Convenient Backstory?" I asked. It had been bugging me for a while. I didn't see the stat bump that I recognized from that trope, but it was unusual for Kimberly to wait until the finale to use it—especially in a storyline like this, where she might need help all along the way.

"What?" she asked. She was so distracted she hadn't even heard me." Convenient Backstory," I said.

"I was wondering if you had used it because it doesn't look like you did." She looked down and thought for a moment. Then she shook her head.

"No," she said.

"I tried to use it earlier when I was talking with Antoine at the summer camp, but it didn't trigger. I think it's because the background that I made up turned out actually to be my character's background. I just wanted to have some fighting skills, maybe make myself a hunter, but I guess I already was."

"Interesting," I said. And it was. That would imply that Convenient Backstory only worked when the story you gave yourself was not already in the script. There was a pause in the conversation that I didn't know what to do with, so I turned to leave and head back upstairs to the courtyard to triple-check things.

"What do you think the end of my subplot is supposed to be?" she asked.

"What are we supposed to be doing on that? Because if it's just a fight, Riley, I don't think we're going to win. I just have this awful feeling." So did I. They say the best plans don't survive contact with the enemy, but we had barely contacted the enemy. I had no idea how things were going to go or if our chemical-based rolling silver was going to do anything at all in the long run.

"The silver necklace plays into it," I said.

"Should I go grab it?" she asked.

"It's just sitting there in the crypt." I thought for a moment.

"I'll tell you when," I said.

"I'll use The Insert Shot to give you the moment that you need to go get it. Because I think it's all about timing."

"And what will happen?" she asked.

"Do you understand what it does? Drawing out a curse—will that do what we need?" It could mean so many things. It could be the weapon for defeating the werewolves. It could be a trap. It could be useless. It could be a distraction—against the werewolves or against us. But it would be something. It would be important. And the longer we let the audience wait to find out what that was, the more potent it would be. I shook my head.

"Whatever happens, we have to play along. And that is something you are good at." She smiled, laughed, and wiped away a tear.

"Yeah, we'll see," she said. I left her there because I had to make sure everything was ready upstairs. And because the finale was moving faster than anything before it—as it almost always seemed to. Not five minutes later, Kimberly reemerged from the underground. And when she came back by me, we went On-Screen. We basically had the same conversation we had just had but in character. And this time, she wasn't crying—she was confident. When she asked me about the silver necklace, I had another answer.

"I don't know what it is," I said.

"But when we find out, I don't think we'll be ready." I had to play my character afraid of whatever power that necklace had. Diffusing a curse could mean so many things to a creative entity like Carousel. And if we set it up just right, I believed that Carousel would reward us. What else could I believe?