Ch. 2 - System Override

Later, Outside the Dorm

Rafael Morales arrived to find his three soaked friends sitting on the annex steps, staring at a fried robotic arm that was still smoking slightly. The chemical foam in their hair made them look like half-melted snowmen.

"So..." Raf said, dropping his structural analysis textbooks with a thud that sent a pigeon scrambling away, "which one of you dumbasses caused the fire alarm to go off this time? My money's on Miles."

Steven wiped foam from his face, leaving a clean streak across his soot-smudged cheek. "Technically, it was Miles since he's the last one who touched the stupid robo-arm."

"Bullshit!" Miles coughed, shaking his head like a wet dog and sending chemical droplets flying. "That was 100% Steven's haunted controller. I just pressed buttons - the demonic possession was pre-installed."

Mark hugged his laptop like a life preserver, though the device was currently making unhappy gurgling sounds from its ports. "We need to talk about the fact that Steven apparently built a ghost radar or maybe some bullshit device that the FBI has tracked, and fucking sent Steven a WARNING!!!" He held up his phone showing an actual email from the FCC about 'unlicensed spectrum interference.'

"But it worked though before chaos ensued," Miles interrupted, picking foam out of his ears. "For like... two whole minutes. Best two minutes of my life."

"AND that whatever it detected knew about R.E.P.O.," Steven finished, his voice cracking like he'd just hit puberty again.

Raf looked between them, then at the still-smoking lab visible through the windows. "I'm going to need more beer for this. Like, a brewery's worth."

"Count me in!" Miles said while scratching his head, dislodging another chunk of drying foam. "This has been a stressful day... and we also need to replace all our stuff in the dorm and file a report." His face fell as he realized the mountain of paperwork awaiting them.

Steven stared at his trembling hands. The controller's last reading still burned in his memory—a spike matching a signature he was familiar with. But that was impossible! Because he knew it had burned to the ground three weeks ago. With... with them still inside.

"Hey gloomy PDF file!" Mark suddenly barked, snapping Steven out of his thoughts. "Don't worry, you still have a week for that project, and as for the costs..." He looked at Raf while making exaggerated eyebrow wiggles.

"Alriiiiiiiight," Raf groaned like a man walking to his execution, "I'll cover the expenses for now but you guys got to pay up at least by next month. There's gonna be an expo, and I'm gonna need that money to get more figurines." His expression turned deadly serious. "I will actually die if I don't get the limited edition Starlight Magical Girl Miku this time."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN PDF FILE! UGHHH, I'm going to the library." Steven stormed off, needing to clear his head with some dry academic journals about automation advancements. Maybe the cold, clinical prose could scrub the memory of those glitching words from his brain.

As Steven left, the trio trudged toward the mall to replace their ruined dorm supplies. Miles kept glancing back at the retreating figure. "I really think Steven's hiding something from us, and it isn't his weird kinks."

"Well, he doesn't even talk about that weird modified controller he pulled out when the robotic arm went crazy." Mark added, shifting his still-dripping laptop bag. "Like, since when does our resident automation nerd do paranormal electronics?"

They turned the corner just as a streetlight above them flickered violently. None of them noticed the brief static distortion in the puddle at their feet... or how its reflection showed four figures walking instead of three.

Meanwhile in Hartwell University's Library...

The library's automatic doors hissed shut behind Steven, sealing him in the sterile silence of Hartwell University's academic vault. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a clinical glow over rows of deserted study carrels. His sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as he made his way to the back to the isolated computer terminals no one was using.

"Just need to think," he muttered, rubbing his temples. The chemical stink of the fire suppressant still clung to his clothes.

He dropped into a creaking chair and jiggled the mouse. The monitor flickered to life, displaying the university's outdated login screen. Steven typed his credentials with stiff fingers, his pulse still throbbing from the lab incident. The home screen loaded—blissfully normal.

Maybe I imagined it. Maybe the arm just overheated.

He pulled up a research portal, typing "anomalous electromagnetic interference in automation systems" with grim determination. If he could find a technical explanation, something grounded in IEEE papers and case studies, maybe he could...

PING.

A chat window popped up in the bottom-right corner.

Unknown User: [File Attached: HelloSteven.jpeg]

Steven's breath hitched. He hadn't opened any messaging apps.

His cursor hovered over the file.

Don't. Just shut it down.

He clicked.

The image loaded pixel by pixel, like a slow bleed.

Four children stood in a grainy, overexposed row. Three boys, one girl. Their faces were blurred, their postures stiff, too still, like mannequins arranged for a portrait. And in the center, clear as day:

Steven.

Wearing a shirt he remembered burning 2 years ago.

But he'd never met these kids.

He'd never posed for this or has he forgotten.

Unknown User: There is no escape, Player 1.

Steven recoiled, knocking his chair over. The library's lights flickered. The air turned thick like the whole room was buffering.

"What the fuck!"

His hands were glitching.

Fingers dissolving into jagged blocks of pixels. A creeping numbness crawled up his arms as his skin fragmented into streams of binary—1s and 0s spiraling into the keyboard.

No no no!

He grabbed the desk, but his palms phased through the wood. The monitor's glow intensified, a blinding white vortex sucking him forward.

Unknown User: THE HOUSE REMEMBERS.

Steven's last coherent thought was a familiar voice: "You're a player."

Then the screen swallowed him whole.

Silence

The library lights stabilized.

The computer sat idle, login screen restored.

No trace of Steven.

No trace of the file.

Somewhere, in the depths of the university's network, a corrupted log entry appeared:

[USER: ULTS] – SESSION TERMINATED

[REASON: TRANSFER TO NEW HOST]

Meanwhile, Outside...

Miles stopped mid-stride, a sudden chill crawling down his spine.

"You guys feel that?"

Mark and Raf turned. The streetlight above them died with a pop.

For half a second, the shadows at their feet twisted, forming four silhouettes instead of three.

Then their phones buzzed in unison.

Group Chat – Unknown Sender:

[Image: A glitched selfie of all four of them, Steven's face distorted beyond recognition.]

"Welcome New Players!!!"

And they were sucked in as well.