“You may need that gadget after all because there is no way in hell I’m swallowing that thing,” I said, I said, staring at the wiggling tadpole.

Dr. Halle was none too pleased. He didn’t grab for the bolus gun. Instead, he grabbed a tool from the table that a demented dentist might use to hold my jaw apart.

It was only at that moment that I realized I was restrained. Whatever sedative he had used before had dulled my perception and made it so I didn’t even try to escape.

I struggled against my restraints, but there was nothing I could do.

Halle held the tadpole out toward my lips. I butted my head against it, causing the wiggling creature to fall to the floor.

The needle on the Plot Cycle was standing still. That meant one thing. Carousel wanted me to swallow the creature.

It needed the shot, the disgust, the revulsion. It didn’t take any acting skills for me to supply that. The tadpole was gross.

Halle simply grabbed another tadpole and the whole thing started over again. He wasn’t going to use the bolus gun, with its long tube to force the thing down my throat because that wasn’t the shot Carousel wanted.

I wasn’t getting out of this, no matter how I tried. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

After two attempts, Halle started a monologue. I was relieved. It had been a few days since I had gotten one of those.

“Years ago, I was working to perfect the very sedative that you recently sampled. The perfect surgical tranquilizer. Needless to say, I succeeded. I created the perfect formula. In high doses, the patient was safely sedated. In low doses, the concoction could even treat shellshock, depression, and mania.”

He grabbed a large brass syringe like the one Bobby had used on me and held it out for me to see.

“It was only after I examined the cerebral spinal fluid of my test subjects that I found the true miracle this sedative could provide. A substance formed in the spine of those who had taken the sedative, the likes of which had never been dreamt of. A substance composed of altered white blood cells and other unidentifiable ingredients. This substance promoted healing in a way I had never seen before. I called it Ichor, the blood of the gods. Alas, it was not enough. The process used to create it was... barbaric. I needed human subjects to farm it. I could never get approval for that.”

He looked into the distance as he spoke.

“My attempts to repeat the process in animals were not successful, but they too led to a discovery. The healing properties that Ichor had on human subjects were impressive, but when introduced to foreign DNA, the substance was absolutely magnificent. I realized that I could use it to transplant animal tissue into humans, revolutionizing reconstructive surgery as the world knew it. My research has led to this,” he said, holding up one of the tadpoles, “My most momentous achievement yet. This creature has lived its whole life in Ichor. When it swims through your digestive tract, it will multiply the impact of the treatment. The research thus far is compelling. Swallow this creature and I will fix your hand just like new. Ingesting it is harmless. Refusing it, not so much. Choose now.”

Carousel had decided to appeal to my mind, to let me know what the tadpole was in hopes that I might then be able to stomach swallowing it. Now I understood. The sedative helped produce the magic Ichor, which helped make the magic polliwog which would help heal my destroyed hand.

It was all very scientific.

I was glad to know it wasn’t a mind-controlling slug. I detected no deception from Dr. Halle with my Moxie. I believed he was telling the truth. Still, I did not want to swallow the tadpole.

But I had to. The story needed to move forward.

I looked back at Bobby, hoping that he might give some hint of what I was supposed to do. He looked me in the eye. He winked.

Was he telling me it was safe? He didn’t have the Infected status. That meant he wasn’t under mind control. How was I supposed to square that with his actions from before? As best I knew, he had caused or been complicit in Isaac’s injuries. If so, that would explain why my original plan failed. A player had interfered with them.

I didn’t have any choice. Bobby forced me to be still and Halle forced the wiggling science experiment to its destination. I resisted, but at that point, it was just for show.

I could feel it crawling downward. I just hoped no one I knew was going to watch this movie.

My stomach convulsed. I wrenched against my constraints once more. It was over.

Off-Screen.

Dr. Halle went to another part of the building. Isaac was still on the sedative.

Bobby, however, came around so I could see him, limping harshly.

He held out his hands, pointed to Isaac, and said, “Sllooooolhhy,” which, judging from his facial expression, was dog-man speak for, “Sorry”.

“You interrupted my plan. You caused Isaac to be attacked,” I said. I wasn’t trying to sound accusatory. I just wanted to know why.

He grabbed a slip of paper off a shelf along with a pen. He was familiar with the lab; I could tell. I wondered how long he had been down there. Carousel liked to play with time, or at least our perception of it. Who knew how long he had been down here as Halle’s assistant?

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

He wrote on the paper, “I didn’t want them to hurt him. He did anyway. I’m sorry. Needed to take the story in a different direction. Needed to bring you here.”

I read it over.

If my plan had worked, we might never have come down to Halle’s lab, at least not as soon. Bobby must have known some reason why we had to be there.

“The script told you we needed someone down here?” I asked.

He nodded.

“True ending,” he wrote on the paper. “Knew you would follow.”

I nodded. That made sense. A Wallflower got a limited view of the script when they used some of their tropes. Bobby must have been able to see where different versions of the script diverged and knew which one we needed to be on.

“No wonder it gave you the dog tongue,” I said. Couldn’t have him explaining things to us. That would make it too easy.

He nodded.

“Still,” I said, “Isaac is really messed up.”

Bobby looked ashamed.

“By the way, is that tadpole going to kill me or what?” I asked. “That whole scene was terrible.”

He shook his head.

So when was the other shoe going to drop? Dr. Halle was a bad guy, but so far it looked like he wasn’t Jed Geist’s murderer and he wasn’t trying to kill me. How did he fit into this story?

I noticed that Bobby had an extra trope on the red wallpaper. It was an enemy trope.

Far Gone: This character has lost their humanity, but not all at once: Mostly Intact.

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

I was still Off-Screen when Halle returned. Bobby started doing random tasks around the room.

When we finally went back On-Screen, it was only for a brief moment.

“Dr. Gill,” Halle said, “Go collect the tissue needed for the operations. The pre-checklist has a list of what is needed.”

Bobby looked over at him and I could see an overwhelming look of fear in his eyes, but he took a clipboard and left.

Off-Screen.

Minutes later, we went On-Screen again when a rumble echoed through the building. It was the same sound we had heard under City Hall. That was over soon. Back Off-Screen.

Then, it was just me and Dr. Halle as he and a feathery tall woman worked to prep Isaac for surgery.

I decided not to just sit there.

“You have family here in Carousel?” I asked.

Halle didn’t answer. I needed to be more direct.

“Do you know a Simon Halle?” I asked. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Carousel had two mad scientists with the last name Halle. Howard would have been about the same age as Simon, the Astralist. They could have been brothers. Maybe cousins.

Dr. Howard Halle paused.

He looked back at me curiously as if lost in thought. It looked like he was genuinely confused.

“Simon... Perhaps,” he said. Then he went back to work. That was that. I noticed he would pause sometimes afterward. My suspicions were as good as proven. They were related.

After an hour or so of boredom and pain, we went On-Screen. Bobby returned with a large tray covered with a towel.

“What are you doing?” I asked, not because I didn’t know but more because that’s what my character would do.

“Sedate that one,” Halle said. “He doesn’t need to see our proprietary processes.”

Bobby nodded. He grabbed the brass syringe once more and drove it into my neck. He looked almost apologetic when he did it.

By the time I felt the cool liquid hit my bloodstream, I passed out.

~-~

I awoke many hours later to the roar of the water in the sewers. It had picked up its pace. That could only mean one thing.

It had started to rain.

I knew that success or failure was determined by how far into the Tutorial we had gotten before the rain came. It had been signaled to us so intentionally. I had to hope we had come far enough.

I eventually noticed that my hand was not wrapped in gauze anymore. My missing fingers had been replaced by four, long, thin gray fingers. They were waxy-looking. I felt no pain from them. I wasn’t as sedated as I had previously been.

I tried to move them. They obeyed. Other than the mismatch in skin color and the stitches, the hand felt fully integrated into my body.

I noticed that I had gained the same enemy trope as Bobby.

Far Gone: This character has lost their humanity, but not all at once: Mostly Intact.

I couldn’t see any negative effects of the trope so far. I wasn’t Infected. I didn’t hunger for flesh. My Mutilated status was still lit, but that was already like that.

Then I took a look over at Isaac.

Half of his face was covered with a surgical dressing of some kind. His good half.

His bad half was horrifying.

The skin was a pale gray-green. His eye was black and the pupil was oddly shaped. His surgery had been far more comprehensive. That half didn’t look human at all.

It was a relief that he was Unconscious.

Worse than anything, he had the enemy trope too, but his was different.

Far Gone: This character has lost their humanity, but not all at once: Something remains.

Something remains. That was the same level of degradation as the strange man who had bitten me. This was bad news.

On-Screen.

The sedative still had some hold over me, but not enough to make me forget how bad of shape I was in. The needle on the Plot Cycle was past Rebirth and was making its way to Second Blood. I needed to find a way to get out of the lab, rescue Isaac, and meet up with the others.

Dr. Halle reappeared. He didn’t look me in the eye once. He focused on my hand.

“Do you have sensation in your hand?” he asked.

I tried to speak. My tongue was asleep and hard to control because of the sedative.

Halle reached back into his pocket and retrieved the little needle apparatus he had used on me earlier. He stuck the small needle in my arm and suddenly, I was lucid and sober.

As he placed the wake-up gun back into his pocket, I made a decision.

I used The Insert Shot on it.

That device was useful for bringing us out of sedation. The effectiveness of Halle’s sedative was scary. One shot and a player would be useless. We needed that anti-sedative, whatever it was. There were several potential targets for the trope in the room. It was between that and the sedative syringe itself. I had to pick one. I hoped I chose wisely.

The Insert Shot would make the object more narratively powerful. I had some ideas for how that might be useful.

I also needed the rest of the team to know I was alive. The Insert Shot would make them aware of the object on the red wallpaper. It would show them what it was and where. There was even a possibility it would help lead them to the underground lab.

“Do you have sensation in your hand?” Halle repeated.

I nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Your surgery was a profound success. Your friend’s was not as perfect. I can’t figure out why that would be. Perhaps his Ichor agent was less potent. More research is required.”

“Are you going to let us go?” I asked.

Halle shook his head. “I will keep you here for observation.”

He left afterward. His bedside manner was below par.

I didn’t go Off-Screen though. I had a visitor.

The woman dressed from head to toe in black approached my bed from the side. She stared at first.

I couldn’t see her face or eyes under her veil, but I could tell she was looking at my hand.

Then, she spoke.

“That woman you were with earlier, Kimberly Madison. She is quite beautiful, isn’t she?” Cecilia asked, closing in on me.

“Yep,” I said cautiously.

Cecilia giggled. “Miss Carousel. When Howard perfects his procedure. I wonder if he could make me look like her.”

She lifted her head as the water picked up its pace outside.

For a brief moment, her veil moved out of the way and I could see under it.

I saw her skin.

It was squirming.