Chapter 9:
The cold, alien directive burned in Ellie's vision. [DIRECTIVE: ESCALATE. TARGET 'LINDA SMITH'...]
Rage, clean and sharp, cut through her panic. They were using the A-List? They were targeting her mother?
No.
She found Kael in the courtyard. "They're using the A-List. They're going after my mom," she said, her voice shock-steady.
Kael's grim confirmation was all she needed. "A direct confrontation is what they—"
"I'm not confronting them," Ellie interrupted, a dangerous glint in her eye. "I'm hacking their network."
Kael stared, a flicker of surprise breaking his icy demeanor. "What?"
"Maya is the router. Bianca is the server. We don't break the hardware; we corrupt the data." The plan formed in her mind as she spoke, a blend of her new power and old-fashioned high school politics. "We give them a bigger target."
An hour later, the school's anonymous gossip app exploded. But not with rumors about Ellie.
A meticulously crafted post, backed by "leaked" DMs (minor edits Ellie made to Maya's phone history), revealed that Bianca had been secretly mocking Sasha's family behind her back. It was perfectly plausible, exposing the fragile loyalty at the clique's core.
Ellie watched from a distance, her body aching from the cost of multiple small, precise edits. But it worked.
The script in the hallway became a warzone.
[SASHA]: "YOU SAID THAT ABOUT MY MOM?!" (Her script was a red-hot explosion of betrayal).
[BIANCA]: "It's a lie! Where did this even come from?!"(Her script flickered with genuine, unscripted panic).
The A-List was melting down, turning on itself. The Writers' perfect little tools were breaking in their hands.
A new, furious script flashed in Ellie's vision, scrawled in jagged, red text.
[THE EDITOR]: CHEAP TRICK. LET'S SEE HOW YOU HANDLE A REAL CRISIS.
The fire alarm blared, screeching through the school. But this was no drill. The sprinkler system activated, drenching everyone in ice-cold water. Chaos erupted—screams, shoving, slipping.
And through the chaos, a new, synchronized script appeared in the minds of dozens of students, their eyes glazing over as they turned towards Ellie.
[THE CROWD]: (Thinking) *It's her fault. Stop her.*
They began to advance, a zombie-like horde under the Editor's control.
Kael materialized at her side, his own silver light flaring as he shoved a water-logged student back. "They've escalated to crowd control! We can't edit them all!"
Ellie's mind raced. She couldn't patch dozens. But she could change one thing. One big thing.
She focused past the advancing students, past the screaming, on the blaring, shrieking fire alarm on the wall. It was a physical object. High stability. Changing it would cost her dearly.
She didn't care.
She poured every ounce of her will into it, not to silence it, but to change its purpose. She imagined the soundwaves not as noise, but as a command: SLEEP.
The pain was instant and blinding, a white-hot spike through her skull. She cried out, stumbling. But the alarm's shriek shifted, its frequency warping into a low, subsonic thrum that vibrated in the bones.
The advancing students slowed. They blinked, shook their heads. The synchronized script flickered and died as the compulsion broke. The crowd was just a confused, wet mob again.
The alarm died with a final, sputtering pop.
In the sudden, dripping silence, Ellie gasped for breath, supported by Kael. She had done it.
A new message appeared, this one not in red, but in a cold, intrigued blue.
[THE EDITOR]: ADMIRABLE. YOU'VE EARNED A PROMOTION FROM BACKGROUND CHARACTER. SEE YOU IN THE NEXT CHAPTER, PROTAGONIST.