SPENCER’S POV

After our encounter in the Temple of the Chaos Serpent, one might think that nothing could startle me anymore. That the horde of snakes had been the scariest thing I’d encounter. That I’d been through the worst of the maze.

But no.

As it turned out, the most frightening parts of traveling throughout the Labyrinth were not the acute instances of danger where our lives were on the line. Rather, they were the long in-between times when we walked down tunnels without knowing where they led, or sat against the tunnel’s wall during short breaks.

The reason was simple: Anticipation was in many ways more painful than the actual fights - at least in the battles, you knew what the ceiling of danger was.

That’s not to say that we didn’t encounter numerous monsters along the way, because we did. Most of them just came out of nowhere as we worked our way through the giant, low-intensity brick oven, leaving us very little time to react.

Many of the encounters were fairly easy to dispatch, and none of us left with so much as a scratch. The same could not be said of the fourth or fifth fight we had in the maze (see, I’d lost count by this time.)

I’d felt a slight pain in my front left leg as I took down a pair of Zubat, but I wanted to think it was nothing. If I kept fighting, low on fuel yet high on adrenaline, the pain would cease to exist.

It didn’t.

As soon as the last Zubat had fainted, collapsing to the ground and giving us a sizable window to get away, I too collapsed to the ground. I realized that the pain in this leg was quickly growing in intensity.

“Spencer, it can’t be that bad, can it?” Enfield enquired. “It was just a little scratch, right?”

In response, I grimaced, the edges of my vision turning red and green. But the tunnel was not a Christmas tree, and I certainly didn’t feel festive.

“Enfield, you do realize that Zubat are highly poisonous, right?” Calvin chastised.

I frowned. “Like you needed to tell me that.”

A bit of white liquid was oozing from the bite wound on my leg, and it smelled pretty nasty. In the stale air of the mystery dungeon, infection had set in almost immediately.

“Now would be a great time to have an Antidote, then” Enfield muttered, rolling his eyes at Calvin.

Evidently determined not to relitigate the satchel situation, Calvin didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply beckoned for me to get up, which I eventually did with considerable assistance.

But from that point forward, every step felt like a knife was being stabbed right into my infected leg wound. Every few seconds, I gritted my fangs in an effort to remain upright.

“We’re in trouble,” Calvin admitted.

By this time it had been an hour or two since my injury (though who knew how long it had been outside the dungeon), but I could already feel the poison working its way deeper into my body. I’d heard of sepsis and how dangerous it could be, and I knew I wanted no part of it. If I didn’t get an Antidote soon, my condition would go from bad to worse.

Of all the enemies to let my guard down against, it had to be a Zubat! Just my luck, isn’t it?

By now, I was in enough agony that I could barely keep up with my teammates. This created a few arguments between us - perhaps I should set the pace since I had to move slowly, or maybe I should go in back because I couldn’t fight as effectively.

We settled in for the night after a few more hours, and I sighed in relief as soon as I could rest my injured leg. Of course, I also knew that the promise of sleep was deceptive; it would lure me in and never let me go if I wasn’t careful.

Not only did we lack any medicine, but we still didn’t have food or water either. There was no talk of dinner for obvious reasons, and none of us wanted to make small talk. Our only conversation was to delegate Enfield as our sentry for the first hour.

My dreams were pretty wild even by the “fever dream” standard, full of feral Pokémon who wanted food, then a set of humans with pitchforks threatening to hunt me down for daring to live on the land where they wanted to build a factory farm. (Their words, not mine.)

When Enfield woke me up, I yawned, feeling as though I’d barely slept a wink. In reality, according to the Emolga, it had been at least ninety minutes of maze-time.

Truth be told, Enfield might as well have stood guard all night, because I was about as useful as a sandbag. Every few minutes I felt myself nodding off, then forced myself to open my eyes wider. My limbs were also leaden weights, and I knew I’d be unable to defend myself, let alone my teammates, if danger came calling.

After what felt like about an hour I woke Calvin up, unable to stay awake any longer while doing nothing.

“You want me to guard you two now?” he asked.

I nodded. “Though I don’t know how much rest I can get. I just feel so weak even after sleeping.”

Calvin sighed. “I guess that’s your fever.”

“Fever” I mouthed. That word brought to mind having to hold the thermometer beneath your tongue and trying not to choke on it. It brought to mind lying in bed while shivering and sweating at the same time.

Calvin nodded. “It’s a symptom of the infection you got from that stupid Zubat yesterday. Or was it yesterday?”

“Who the hell cares?” I replied, trying not to let the worry enter my voice.

I can’t complain too much, because if I do, that’s all the reason Calvin and Enfield need to ditch me. And if they ditch me, I’m screwed.

The words I’m screwed ran through my mind so many times those first few days in the Labyrinth that I almost became numb to them. For better or worse, not once did I really ponder what being screwed meant down here.

“Let’s just get moving,” Calvin suggested. “If you don’t think more sleep will help - and I agree with you - let’s just hope we find some stray Antidotes.”

After about an hour of meandering through the tunnels, a miracle happened. Literally, what were the odds if Arceus Himself hadn’t decided to bless us with what we needed?

We ended up in a room that looked like a supply depot of sorts. A wooden counter, much like what you’d find at Whitehall’s marketplace, stood against the wall, and it was laden with so many provisions that I could barely believe my eyes.

“What luck!” I exclaimed, feeling dizzy. (Whether this was from the poison or the surprise, I still don’t know.)

We found a handbag that resembled one of those reusable grocery bags that my mother insisted on using whenever she went shopping. And we stuffed that handbag with bandages, a couple Antidotes, and more berries and bread rolls than you could shake a ski pole at. Oh, and several water bottles for each of us (several meaning seven, of course).

Yes, the handbag looked a bit corny with how colorful it was (as opposed to the nondescript shade the satchel had been), but I was in a place beyond caring. Once Calvin had sprayed that Antidote against my wound, I felt the medicine working so rapidly I couldn’t believe it. Within seconds, my leg muscles were no longer rigid, but instead more flexible than I could have ever imagined.

“How do you feel, Spencer?” Calvin asked me with a smile.

I grinned for the first time, as far as I could recall, since entering the maze. “Like I could leap over Mount Coronet in a single bound.”

“Well, don’t even think about trying.”

As the poison was cleansed from my system, my energy only grew. From that point forward, I had hope that we could make it through. Of course, I didn’t know what “making it through” meant.

Now, make no mistake: It was still a grim situation. For all I knew, Whitehall might have been totally wiped out by the fire. Frala might be hurt or even dead, same with the other villagers. My family and friends back in Pastoria had likely given up hope that I’d be found. And, judging by the fact that all the paths we took sloped downward, we were deep in the bowels of the Earth by now; in other words, my “back home” family might be right.

Still, there was at least hope present, even if I lacked faith that we would succeed. Over the next few “days” in the maze, all I tried to do was keep hope alive.

Because without hope, we had nothing.

----------------------------------------

On the third day after encountering the supply depot (again, we had no way of knowing how many days it had truly been), we reached a dark purple tunnel with what seemed like neon moss against the ground.

I frowned. Where have I seen this before?

A sign against the doorway welcomed us to “Lumine Hall”, a name that seemed achingly familiar yet frustratingly elusive at the same time. Neon lights kept pulsing against the walls, as though we were entering a psychedelic experience.

“Don’t do drugs, kids” I muttered.

“There’s something on the wall!” Enfield exclaimed.

Right away I tensed up into action. Because we somehow hadn’t had any enemy encounters in two days, the feeling of imminent danger already seemed to belong to a different time, a time I didn’t want to relive. But it took only a quick cue from my teammate to get me on edge once more.

“It’s not a spider, Spencer!” Calvin shouted.

I cowered on the ground, paws over my eyes. “Oh, please…don’t tell me it’s something worse!”

“Just open your eyes and look up, Spencer!” Enfield told me forcefully. “And don’t forget to breathe, too!”

Well, against my own instincts, I glanced up at the wall.

My name is Spencer…I’m here…wait, where am I?

I gasped. Why were my thoughts being projected in slime green on the wall? How did such a mechanism even work?

Why are my thoughts being projected here?

Calvin and I glanced at one another, our jaws hanging open.

Calvin: Spencer, your guess is as good as mine.

“Let’s get out of here before you guys see every embarrassing moment of my life” I grunted, making a beeline for the next doorway.

Enfield: Why is he so desperate to hide something?

Spencer: This room is messing with us! I don’t want them to see that time I dropped a plate at Christmas dinner!

My white, furry face must have turned red right there. Fortunately, that was the last thing I saw on the wall, for we were soon in the next room.

Unfortunately, it was completely dark. And I don’t mean that the lights were off, but rather that the place was pitch-black. It was just like being blind or having your eyes closed.

“Spencer!” I heard Calvin shout.

“Over here” I mumbled weakly, secretly grateful for the darkness so that they couldn’t see how red my face had become.

“That room’s so weird,” Calvin’s voice said. “It’s like, how can it sense our thoughts?”

“I don’t even want to know,” Enfield replied.

But my stomach now felt sour. One of the clumsiest moments of my life had just been broadcast to my teammates, and who knew what else they’d seen about me?

“I’m…sorry” I sighed eventually. “I didn’t…that must have been over-sharing, I apologize.”

“Why should you be sorry?” Calvin snapped. “That room is just…freaky, to say the least. Like…I don’t even know what else to say.”

After that, it seemed we all reached a tacit agreement not to discuss what we might have seen about each other on the wall. However, this agreement lasted all of ten seconds before the lights went on.

And by “lights”, I mean that there were literally hundreds of them. The cavern went from being far too dark to excessively bright, and I had to squint in order to make out where we were.

“What the hell just happened?” Enfield squealed.

We had found ourselves in a room that resembled a TV studio, the sort that’s used to film game shows of the quiz format. There were three podiums, shortened so that quadrupedal Pokémon could stand behind them, and a screen that I assumed would be used to display the questions.

The only thing this studio lacked was any cameras. It was just as well, really, because the last thing I needed was a national audience ridiculing me for my epic, endless wrong answers.

“Okay, this is the most stupid day ever” I muttered.

Calvin frowned at me. “I’d say unexpected would be a better word here.”

We didn’t have any more time to debate semantics, however, because it wasn’t more than five seconds later that the multicolored lights dimmed and a booming voice came over all of us.

“Ladies and gentle’mon! Hey, wait a minute! There’s no audience!”

Again, it’s just as well.

“Anyway, this…is…Firechasers! For the episode filmed May 23, 2024, we have Team Earthlink due to participate in the game!”

Right on cue, a Gengar wearing a top hat lumbered out from a nearby doorway. The Ghost-type wore a shit-eating grin as he took the stage, beyond which I saw a metallic door that looked totally impenetrable.

I frowned. “What game? This is no game, you know?”

The Gengar’s grin only grew. “Oh no no no, this is a game show. Firechasers is must-see TV for anyone who wants to see three friends quizzed about what they ought to know!”

“Well, what’s the prize for the winner?” Calvin enquired.

“Yeah, we need to get through that door” Enfield stated. “That’s the only way forward for us - at least, I think it is.”

The Gengar smiled even more broadly, to the point that it seemed his face might burst into pieces.

“That is what you need to do, yes! But why shouldn’t I let us have a little fun here?”

The word fun was emphasized, which made me believe that this “game” would be nothing of the sort. But unless we wanted to go back through Lumine Hall, we were the host’s captive audience. No, not the audience - we were the captive participants in whatever he wanted to do with us.

“Just cut to the chase,” Calvin snapped. “How does this game work?”

The Gengar’s grin now seemed to work its way halfway around his body. “Well, I’m MC Phoenix, and I host Firechasers. You three will be quizzed to see how well you know one another.”

After four months, I’d say we know one another pretty well. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

Those hopes were dashed within seconds, and they were wiped from my mind like I wanted to wipe that grin off MC Phoenix’s face.

“I will ask each of you in turn a question about one of your teammates. These will be multiple-choice questions, unlike all those game shows on the surface where you just have to know them. I’m merciful, aren’t I?”

“That’s one way of putting it” I muttered.

MC Phoenix narrowed his eyes, yet still smiled brightly. “If you answer correctly, you will move a space up on the tower. If you answer incorrectly, you will be forced to fight an enemy before being asked another question. This will continue until you have accumulated ten correct answers, or…”.

“Or what?” Enfield squeaked angrily.

“Or you die in battle. Those are the stakes. If you three explorers can persevere and answer ten questions correctly, you will be allowed to proceed to the Fire Spring! If not, I don’t have to go through the trouble of digging graves for you three, because this maze is a graveyard!”

Now, maybe this is just me, but I don’t think anyone mentally well should be able to exclaim those words with a smile on their face. I just don’t. But again, it’s not like we had any other option but to play MC Phoenix’s sadistic game.

“Now, you three shall take your places behind the podium, and let us begin this game of Firechasers!”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Dread filling my lungs like oil, I took my position at a podium; Calvin was one spot to my left, and Enfield one spot to Calvin’s left. And then the show began.

“One other thing: You are not permitted to ask your teammate for the answer. That should go without saying, but if there is any cheating on a question, it will count as an incorrect answer. Quite frankly, that’s rather lenient of me!

“Our first question goes to Enfield Emolga, and it concerns Spencer Litleo. What is Spencer’s favorite ice cream flavor?”

The blue screen suddenly flashed to life, as did the four possible answers. They were:

A: BUTTER PECAN

B: CHERRY VANILLA

C: GINGER

D: MINT CHIP

In the stuffy confines of the Labyrinth, biting into that fruity, sweet ice cream that had been dyed pink with its filling was an irresistible idea. At least, it would have been impossible to resist had the ice cream actually been present.

Please guess right. I want to make progress. Please.

“Well,” Enfield began, “I feel like Spencer’s a fan of simple food. That would seem to imply B. I know he hates mint anything, so…”.

MC Phoenix wiggled one of his eyebrows. “Is your answer B, cherry vanilla?”

“I think…yes, it is,” Enfield asserted. “I’m guessing B.”

A giant white O appeared on the screen, along with the sound effect of a bell ringing. “Correct!” MC Phoenix exclaimed. “That is one question down, nine to go!”

You know, if we’re just being quizzed about favorite ice cream flavors, this is going to be fine. Maybe after four months, these are things we should just know.

This relief, as tempting as it was to embrace, did not last forever. Indeed, it didn’t last very long at all.

“The next question…” MC Phoenix announced, “...is addressed to Spencer Litleo!”

Okay, I’m on deck. The pressure is on me.

“This question pertains to Calvin Litleo. What is the name of his adoptive mother’s adoptive father?”

Would that be…his adoptive grandfather?

The possible answers appeared on the screen, leaving me almost at a loss.

A: BORDEN

B: BOWDEN

C: BOWSER

D: BRODERICK

I was certain I’d heard the name before, yet I couldn’t place it. So I decided to try process of elimination - if I could strike out an answer, or two, or maybe even all but one, that would make my life easier.

Well, I’m pretty sure the second letter was an O, not an R. So it isn’t Broderick.

“Ten seconds.”

Shit, there’s a time limit! Well, “Bowser” sounds cartoonish, and I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone named Bowden…does that leave Option A?

“Five seconds.”

“Borden!” I exclaimed. “Option A!”

There was that brief, horrible second, during which I could barely breathe. I am referring, of course, to the second I spent waiting to see if I’d given the right answer.

The O appeared on the screen, along with the chime, and I heaved a great sigh. Two down, eight to go.

“This question is for Calvin, and it pertains to Enfield. What is the name of his birthplace?”

Calvin gave me a side-eyed glance. I’m dead meat, he seemed to say.

As always, the options showed up on the screen, clear as day, within seconds.

A: BESPIN

B: CLOUD CITY

C: COLONY

D: ETERNAL CITY

I’ll never forget just how uncomfortable my fellow Litleo appeared there. He leaned over his podium, clinging to it like a life raft after he’d fallen out of a boat in rough waters, and he squirmed as though he were having a certain kind of stomach trouble.

“Uh…” he trailed off eventually. “We never addressed this.”

Come to think of it, Enfield’s childhood had never come up in the last four months. Not once. And by this time, I had to believe there was a reason for that, because his evasiveness made little sense otherwise.

“Ten seconds.”

Which made it especially cruel that MC Phoenix, this grinning Gengar asshat, was going to dredge up Enfield’s past when he probably didn’t want that. Enfield’s expression looked almost as pained as Calvin’s at that moment.

“Five seconds.”

“This is going to be a wild guess,” Calvin began, clutching his stomach with his front right paw, “but is it Option D, the Eternal City?”

We waited for a couple seconds, the “drumroll” period, before an X appeared on the screen and a buzzer went off.

“You’re wrong!” MC Phoenix exclaimed, seeming to take an insane amount of joy out of pronouncing that Calvin had been incorrect. “And as punishment for being wrong, I have an enemy for you all to fight!”

MC Phoenix snapped his digits, and a Weezing appeared out of nowhere. My head spun as I realized just how out of place this noxious cloud was in a TV studio.

I’m not proud of what I did next: I ducked behind my podium, hoping that the Weezing would go after me last. This was pure appeasement, but sometimes the instinct for self-preservation is paramount whether it should be or not.

“Help us fight, Spence!” Enfield shouted in between wheezes.

“Calvin…should” I choked out, my eyes watering. “He…got it…wrong.”

“You idiot, that doesn’t matter!” Calvin bellowed. “The Weezing’s still going to attack all of us!”

Come on, isn’t collective punishment a war crime? I thought game shows were better than that…

Nonetheless, I used Ember to attack the Weezing, at which point MC Phoenix shouted “You can’t do that! There’s no fire allowed in the studio, ever!”

I was a little surprised by that, because if the host wanted us to fight back, he sure wasn’t making it easy. But, in the interest of obedience, I resorted to a Headbutt, allowing Calvin to land the fainting blow of Take Down.

“Well, that seemed pretty easy!” MC Phoenix exclaimed in a tone halfway between excited and frustrated. “Next time you get a question wrong, there will be two monsters to fight instead of three.”

My eyes still itching and watering, I glowered at our host again. “There won’t…be a…next time.”

“We will see about that,” the host replied. “The next question also goes to Calvin Litleo!”

Calvin rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. Double jeopardy, isn’t it?”

MC Phoenix did not frown, exactly, but he didn’t look as thrilled as he had before either. Instead he narrowed his eyes and muttered the following: “This is not double jeopardy, because there is no jeopardy to begin with.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You’re making us fight enemies with each incorrect answer, isn’t that dangerous?”

“Where is the fun without a small amount of risk?” the Gengar retorted. “In any case, Calvin, this question pertains to Spencer Litleo. What is his favorite sport starting with an S?”

A: SKIING

B: SKYDIVING

C: SLEDDING

D: SWIMMING

Calvin didn’t seem to have to think too long. Within a few seconds, he spat out what he felt was the answer.

“It’s skiing, isn’t it?” my fellow Litleo enquired, looking at me rather than at MC Phoenix. “I found you in the snow, and there was no sled there.”

“As a reminder, there is to be no helping. Spencer is not allowed to answer that question with either a nod or a dismissal.”

“Right” Calvin muttered. “But the answer is A. I firmly believe the answer is A, so that’s how I will guess.”

Obviously, he was right, and the O on the screen let him know that. We’d now gotten three of the ten successes we needed.

MC Phoenix chuckled. “Well then. Four questions, three correct answers. I have half a mind to make things more interesting as a result.”

I gulped, far from eager to find out what the Gengar found interesting. But we weren’t going anywhere, for better or worse.

“We have now entered the lightning round of Firechasers!” MC Phoenix exclaimed. “Here’s how it’s going to be: For each question, you will have twenty-five percent less time to provide an answer, reduced to fifteen seconds from the previous time limit of twenty.

“Additionally,” he continued, a deadly glint in his eyes, “an incorrect answer will not only force you to fight monsters, but will move you a step down on the ladder. It might take more than ten successes to reach what you seek! Isn’t that fun!”

No. It’s not fun, so you should go fuck off.

“The next question goes to Enfield Emolga, and it pertains to Calvin Litleo.”

The game show continued, and despite the absence of cameras in the studio, I couldn’t help but feel as though I were being watched. If Arceus were going to save us from this situation, though, He was missing in action. He had better hurry up.

We learned some details about one another’s lives. Calvin, for instance, had once been chased by a horde of Beedrill after an attempt to steal honey, stung so many times that Frala almost didn’t recognize him when he returned home. Enfield had once been friends with a fellow Emolga named Raine and played chess with her.

Of course, we had setbacks. Every so often, one of us would get a question wrong, and we’d have to fight a couple Poison-types. Calvin sustained a bite from a Zubat, but whatever, we had Antidotes now and could heal him later.

The battles grew more difficult each time, but I never felt as panicked as I had in that room with all the snakes. And on the whole, we were right more often than we were wrong. Slowly but surely, we were making progress on the leaderboard.

However, that didn’t mean I wasn’t worried at all. The questions asked seemed to become more intimate, more personal. Enfield had to guess Calvin’s most embarrassing story from elementary school (which I need not print here), and I had to guess Enfield’s first words (which were rather cute, honestly, at the risk of making him cringe.)

“Congratulations, Team Earthlink!” MC Phoenix announced eventually. “You have reached Level Eight, meaning that you need only answer two more questions before you can proceed to the Fire Spring! And we have a rule change now, which is regarding the previous rule change…”.

We waited with bated breath. The lights of the studio were suddenly unbearably warm, and I found myself sweating profusely as though I’d just gotten rid of a fever. Eventually, the Gengar laughed sadistically.

“That rule has been revoked” MC Phoenix stated happily. “We are no longer in the Lightning Round. We are now in the Touchy Subjects round.

“Here’s how it’s going to work: You will have a full twenty seconds to answer each question, and wrong answers will not cost you any progress. However, the questions asked will be even more personal. You shouldn’t feel nervous about divulging that information, though - you are all a team, and should conduct yourselves as such. Nothing is too personal to share with your teammates, is it?”

Suddenly, my stomach felt hollow. I wanted nothing more than to sink through the floor. Not because I had anything particularly embarrassing to divulge, but rather because I might learn something about Calvin or Enfield that I’d rather not know. Besides, I didn’t know what to expect other than to feel very uncomfortable indeed.

“The first question of this lightning round,” MC Phoenix began, “is directed at Calvin Litleo. It pertains to Spencer Litleo.”

I gulped. Is he going to ask him about my medical history? Or my blood type? Actually, the latter might be a good thing for him to know in case we get in even more trouble.

No. Knowing our luck, it’s going to be something far more intimate. Is he going to learn that I’ve never been kissed, or that I missed my chance to talk to Emaire at the village ball? Or maybe it’ll just be something MC Phoenix thinks is personal, like my favorite Billy Talonflame tune.

The Gengar licked his lips and widened his eyes as he read the question, like a predacious Pokémon sizing up its prey and going in for the kill.

“It has been said that Spencer Litleo’s brain works differently from that of most people. Some would even say it is wired differently. Which of these conditions does Spencer have?”

At that very moment, I experienced a hot flash, and I seized the podium as tightly as I could to keep from keeling over. I remembered something my mother had told me when I was a child: You don’t have to tell anyone you’re not comfortable knowing. If someone asks, it’s your decision what to disclose. Lots of people are a bit awkward, even those who aren’t like you.

Well, that had been a lie. At a minimum, it was a promise that couldn’t be kept, through no fault of my parents. But that wouldn’t make what was coming any easier.

As though in slow motion, the options spawned on the screen. They were:

A: ADHD (Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder)

B: ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder)

C: BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder)

D: Dyslexia

My white-knuckled grasp on the podium came damn close to crushing that thing in my fists. I gulped, then tried to suck in as much air as I could. So much air, in fact, that I might well inflate like a balloon and float away. That might be better than what would inevitably happen if I remained in this studio.

Calvin stood tall at his podium. He didn’t look confident exactly, but rather determined to get the question right. I could practically hear his thought process.

Well, he’s probably not dyslexic. The few times I’ve seen him read a book, he didn’t seem to have much trouble. And he’s not that jittery most of the time - I doubt he's ADHD. But maybe he is…

“Fifteen seconds.”

But that still leaves two options. And I feel like I shouldn’t try to eliminate these things one by one. I guess I just need to guess one and hope I’m lucky.

“Ten seconds.”

But do I even have to be lucky? I should think not - I just need to use common sense, and that’s what I’m going to use.

“Five seconds. Four, three…”.

These were my own thoughts: In a few seconds, he’ll guess it. Or he’ll guess wrong, and we’ll find out anyway. The moment of truth is in three seconds.

“I’m going with Option B” Calvin announced. Again, he was facing me rather than MC Phoenix. Then, more fully directed at me: “I think you’re autistic, Spencer.”

I think you’re autistic, Spencer.

I would have been perfectly fine sinking through the floor, but something about Calvin’s tone comforted me. It was not an accusatory one, but rather one almost of…understanding.

The O appeared on the screen, the chime sounded, and my face was bright pink. Suddenly nothing else mattered - not the potential for enemies (not that it existed right now), not the Gengar with the shit-eating grin on his face, nothing.

“You are correct!” MC Phoenix announced, rather unnecessarily. And yet he still seemed just as thrilled as ever; I swear, this show’s production value was ridiculously high for something I assumed nobody would be watching.

Enfield glanced over at me in a manner that almost seemed to be one of pity. But he resisted what must have been a powerful urge to say something.

“You three are now one correct answer away from being allowed to proceed!” MC Phoenix exclaimed. “The questions will only get more intense from here on out, so you’d best be on your toes!”

I don’t love the sound of that. I really don’t.

“Our next question is directed at Spencer Litleo. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be” I grunted. And I truly didn’t think I could be more prepared, even after MC Phoenix announced that the question pertained to Enfield.

“Very well. What were the names of Enfield Emolga’s parents?”

What were the names of Enfield’s parents? That sounds like the past tense - there has to be a reason for that.

I turned briefly to the Emolga, whose face was now an order of magnitude more pale than usual. Enfield visibly fidgeted, as though he were doing his best not to pay attention to the events unfolding before him.

As always, the options were swiftly projected onto the screen. They were:

A: MIKA AND CANAAN

B: STEVE AND ANNA LEIGH

C: TODD AND ASHLIE

D: ZACH AND RACHEL

Okay. Maybe this isn’t that personal after all. I just have to guess correctly out of these four. And if I get it wrong, we’ll have to fight enemies. Which sucks, but at least we won’t lose any progress on the leaderboard.

But how am I supposed to know which set of names it is? It could be any of these. Like, really.

“Ten seconds.”

I had to take a wild guess; that was the only way forward. “Mika and Canaan?” I inquired.

Silence. A very loud silence. And then…

A series of loud chimes sounded, followed by a copious amount of confetti falling from the ceiling. My heart rose, because I knew without even having to ask that this could only mean one thing.

An O appeared on the screen, followed by a giant green check mark.

“Congratulations, Team Earthlink!” MC Phoenix exclaimed. “You have passed the exam! You have won the grand prize of Firechasers, entrance to the Fire Spring!”

The name Fire Spring was far from inviting, but that was hardly the only cause for consternation in my mind. That last question had seemed too easy, almost suspiciously easy.

“There has to be a catch,” I muttered.

Calvin glared at me. Don’t ruin this for us. Victory is our ticket out of here - there’s no need to question that we won!

And yet, I felt the urge to do so. Something had gone too simply for us - I just knew it.

MC Phoenix snorted, maintaining that disgusting smile. “I promise you three, there is no catch. You are all free to walk through that door.”

“Please don’t question it any longer,” Calvin insisted. “Just go up to that door - let’s see if it lets us through.”

“It will,” the Gengar assured us. Though really, how could we know for sure?

We stepped out from behind our podiums, where MC Phoenix offered to shake each of our paws. Quite frankly, that was the last thing I wanted to do, but it’s not like I had a choice.

Of course you have a choice. You can refuse - he let you through.

The Gengar’s grip felt slimy in my own paw, and I did my best not to recoil at the sensation. Even as a human, I’d never liked to shake hands, especially not with strangers.

“That is all!” MC Phoenix exclaimed. “That door leads to a corridor that will take you to the Fire Spring. There, you will find what you seek.”

The door reacted instantly to the presence of Enfield, Calvin, and myself. Without even being touched, it retracted into the ground, beyond which there lay an area dark enough that I couldn’t make out the walls.

“Is that some sort of magic?” I asked.

“Possibly,” Calvin muttered. “But who cares? For crying out loud, Spence, don’t question it!”

“Fair enough,” I muttered.

As soon as we passed through the doorway, I heard it clank shut behind us. We would almost certainly never enter the studio again, and we surely wouldn’t come out the way we’d entered.

My heart sank. I hadn’t felt great about being so far underground to begin with, but I felt far worse now.

On top of that, both of my teammates now knew something about me that, admittedly, shouldn’t have seemed so personal. After so much time together, they’d probably guessed it anyway - some would say that I’d never been the best at masking.

And yet it was almost like they’d laid me down on an operating table, opened me up to examine all my organs, and then stitched me back together. They knew what I was.

“Guys,” I said, “we need to talk about what just happened.”

“What about it?” Calvin asked. “We got through it, and how many times do I have to tell you…”.

“It’s not that” I stated, trying to think of the best way to phrase this. “It’s about…the last question pertaining to me. I hope you don’t think any differently of me now that you know what I am.”

My fellow Litleo frowned. At least, I thought he frowned; it was still too dark to make out expressions, and for a moment I wondered if the grand prize had been a trap after all.

“Why would I think differently of you? You’re still a valuable teammate. You always were, and always will be.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. “But…you know that I’m pretty quick to say things I shouldn’t. And that…condition is a reason, not an excuse.”

“I get you,” Calvin replied. “I understand completely.”

I could have sworn there was something else Calvin wanted to say, but he seemed to stop himself at the last moment. So I turned to where I thought Enfield was, judging by the audible shivering.

And then I said something tactless. For this I have no excuse, especially not after how uncomfortable the Emolga had appeared after the last question.

“I don’t think you’ll be shivering for long, Enfield.”