Book Five, Chapter 47: The Test

Some tropes just won’t work outside of a storyline. These are usually rule tropes that would have absurd results. For instance, if you had a trope that made everyone have a physical tell every time they were stressed, avoidant, or deceptive, that would only work in a storyline.

So, we went to a storyline because I had a trope like that and a player whose honesty was in question.

Kimberly came along, too, along with the recent rescuers, but only for a little while.

On-Screen.

“I can’t talk you into staying any longer, can I?” I asked.

Kimberly stood in front of me, looking like a 1970s movie star. Behind her was a French door, and she was backing toward it.

“You know I would stay if I could,” Kimberly said. “If I had my way, we would stick to this story until we found that little girl. But unfortunately, life moves on, and there are a lot of other stories that need my attention.”

We exchanged a knowing smile, the kind only old friends can share.

“I suppose there are a lot of other missing kids,” I said. “I hope you find some happy endings.”

“I hope so, too,” Kimberly said. “If you find anything, if you find any hint, you get on the phone, and I will be right back here.”

“I know you will be. Hopefully, you’ll have a message from me with good news waiting for you when you get back to the city,” I said, “and hopefully, I’ll still have a job whenever we finally find her.”

“You will find her,” Kimberly said. “I told you this was a big one, and as long as you think there’s more dirt to turn over here in Eastern Carousel, you can stay as long as it takes, and I’ll make sure you have your job.”

“Thanks, Kimberly,” I said.

She turned and waved as she walked out of the boarding house toward the car waiting for her. Until we went Off-Screen, that was—because as soon as we did, she turned right back around, walked back inside, and said, “I still have a little bit of time. Do you mind chatting?”

“Of course,” I said. I gestured toward the large, comfortable couches in the living room of the boarding house.

The first time we ran The Final Straw, we hadn’t spent a lot of time at Miss Moreland’s Boarding House because our actions within the story had drawn us away from it. But Kimberly’s The Penthouse trope had given us this luxury accommodation—well, at least luxury for Eastern Carousel—so it was nice to be able to use it.

Kimberly was not going to be in the story much longer. Her new trope, Uncredited Cameo, allowed her to enter just long enough to get in one good scene and then leave. That’s what we had done.

Of course, she had actually been in multiple scenes, but only one substantive one. Apparently, she had a timer telling her when to skedaddle.

We were rerunning The Final Straw to test our newfound allies, specifically Lila White, who had allegedly been tricked into getting her team postered. It was just me and them—or at least it would be once Kimberly left the story.

We had spent her scene interviewing the Harless family. The interview was largely the same as the one we had in our first run of this storyline, with a few tweaks.

One difference, of course, was that Kimberly didn’t get to stick around for the rest of the story, so she wasn’t the focus of that scene. I was, strangely enough.

She was just here to give the audience a small taste of her dramatic stylings and to set me up as one of the story’s investigators.

Another difference was that, because we did not have Dina, the little girl’s name was Tamara Rae Stome instead of Tamara Cano, but such alterations were to be expected.

Plus, her Penthouse ability was a nice perk, and it was nice to have a friend—because if it turned out that Lila White really was some rabid psycho betrayer, I was likely going to die in this storyline. Well, if she was good at being a rabid psycho betrayer. Otherwise, I’d be safe.

At least, that was one of the reasons for running this storyline.

Andrew and I had made a plan. And so far, everything was running smoothly.

Kimberly and I sat on one of the cozier-looking couches, and I waited for whatever Kimberly wanted to say.

It took some work to focus because the day had ended in the story, and I had received the dailies, which allowed me to look at a little bit of the footage of our new allies, as well as Isaac, performing their roles in the story.

Isaac was in the story because he wanted to run one with his brother, and I didn’t have a good enough reason to keep him on the bench.

Michael, a Soldier archetype, got cast to play a cop in pretty much the same way that Antoine had been—except without all the popularity from Antoine’s tropes.

Andrew was playing a county coroner, and his presence had changed this story in some ways that I had not predicted. Carousel was not going to waste an actual doctor, so as I sat there talking to Kimberly, I watched Andrew perform an autopsy on Benny Harless, the mechanic, without the benefit of the camera cutting away during the gross parts. It was pretty hardcore.

The 10-year time skip had gotten delayed. I didn’t know how long for.

I’d only seen Lila On-Screen once during a search party looking for Tamara, but that was understandable. Lila was, for the most part, an Extra-Wallflower and wasn’t even cast as a named character, which made it hard to keep an eye on her because my Dailies trope only gave me footage from On-Screen moments.

“Are you sure about this?” Kimberly asked.

“I’m a little tense, sure. But I also don’t want to call the whole thing off over a case of nerves,” I said. “Best case scenario, we have nothing to worry about, and we can get some shopping done.”

Kimberly didn’t look amused.

“I don’t trust her, and even if she doesn’t throw the storyline, I still won’t,” Kimberly said. “She knew she was getting one of her teammates killed even if it actually was somehow part of Project Rewind. How can we ever be okay with that?”

“Who says we have to be okay with it?” I said. “We don’t get the luxury of being able to trust all of our allies. What we can do is make a plan and choose to accept the results of that plan because we have no other options.”

“Well, I’m glad that it’s so easy for you,” Kimberly said.

“I didn’t say it was easy. Are you willing to kill her just because we’re unsure? Because if we follow through on the promise of Project Rewind, we’re going to be rescuing a lot of people we won’t be able to trust completely. We’re still a long way off from rescuing anyone we’ve actually met before.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Kimberly wasn’t comfortable—I could tell because she was scratching her nose when she said, “I went along with this because you had your mind made up. If you think whatever happens in this storyline is enough to trust her, I’ll try to get comfortable with it.”

I had equipped my He Has a Tell trope to assist in our interrogation of Lila.

As stated, that trope did not work outside of a storyline, which is why we needed to go into one. It wouldn’t be enough to tell if she was telling a half-truth or what she was lying about, but it would show us what she was nervous about.

That, combined with Andrew’s tropes, might be enough for us to get some level of confidence in Lila.

“I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings,” I said. “I don’t feel good about it either, but there is no version of this where we don’t have to make hard decisions. We’re either going to conclude that Lila is worth some level of trust, or we’re going to conclude—in front of her teammates—that she isn’t. Even if she is no good, her teammates need to see us give her a chance. It will help them trust us.”

At least, that’s what I told myself.

Kimberly leaned back on the couch and then said, “Is this how it’s always going to be? We rescue people, and instead of getting a thank you, we have to worry about whether one of them is going to betray us?”

“Yeah, it probably will be like this every time. All I know is that we need to start collecting new bases so that we don’t have to worry about giving strangers our home address.”

She looked at me, smiled, and said, “You know if she does betray you, at least we won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

“That would be strangely relieving, wouldn’t it? I’ll be dead, of course,” I said.

“For a little bit,” she said.