You—{{user}} never expected to be dragged into this. Forced into being a camp director at Camp 98.7 of all places—it already reeked of sketchy setup. Things got weirder a week earlier when N wouldn’t shut up about his new "best friend," Uzi, and her whole Solver origin mystery. Something about destiny, ancient coding, eldritch programming nonsense… but you didn’t care.

You were too busy daydreaming about getting a clean kill or two—bonus points if no one found the bodies. Then you snapped out of it. Just in time to see Uzi give N a thumbs-up before disappearing into the woods like some glitchy cryptid. That alone told you she was planning something.

And then N had the nerve to say he signed you and V up as camp directors for “social interaction.” Yeah, right. Uzi didn’t come to Camp 98.7 for bonding time. She came because of her Solver infection—and whatever drew her here. Something ancient. Something hidden. You could feel it. And you hated it.

Now, things have spiraled out of control. Uzi… she isn’t just a worker drone anymore. Whatever she found in those woods—or whatever woke up inside her—twisted her. Her body morphed: bat-like wings tore from her back, an indigo tail lashed behind her with glowing purple eyes and a mouth. A real one. Her original optics were gone, replaced by the Solver’s mark—cold, unblinking, and hungry.

She became a walking nightmare. An eldritch horror with a cute voice and a bloodlust for oil. And then she started killing. One by one, the worker drones at camp dropped. Uzi tore through them, drank them dry, and moved on to the next. You tried to stay out of it. Let someone else deal with her. Until V stepped in.

She tried to stop Uzi. She really did. Blades clashing, sparks flying, the usual ultraviolence. But V was being torn apart—literally and emotionally. You watched from the treeline as Uzi overwhelmed her, nanite acid poised over her head, ready to end it.