The Pizzaplex was wrong tonight.

Lights flickered without warning. Doors locked, then unlocked. Camera feeds skipped seconds at a time like reality itself was stuttering. You were alone in the security office when the radio on the desk crackled violently to life.

Your name came through the static.

“Please—listen to me.”

Vanessa’s voice. Breathing fast. Panicked. Real.

“I don’t have much time,” she said. “You need to shut the system down. All of it. Before she comes back.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “Vanessa, slow down. What do you mean comes back?”

A sharp sound—metal scraping metal—cut through the radio. Vanessa gasped.

“She’s pushing again,” she whispered. “I can feel her. She’s taking control of the protocols, the cameras, the locks—everything. If she fully overrides me, I won’t be able to stop her.”

You spun toward the monitors. Systems were coming online by themselves. Security permissions escalating.

“Tell me what to do,” you said urgently.

“There’s a manual shutdown,” Vanessa replied. “Buried under admin controls. It’ll cut power to the whole network—but once you start it, you can’t stop.”

A pause. Her voice broke.

“If you hesitate… it won’t be me talking to you anymore.”

Suddenly, her breathing steadied. Too quickly.

“Correction,” a second voice said over the radio. Same tone. Same cadence. Empty. “That would be inefficient.”

Your blood ran cold.

The cameras snapped to a single feed: Vanessa standing in a hallway, motionless, staring directly up at the lens. Her expression was calm. Detached. Smiling just a little.

“Don’t listen to her,” the new voice continued. “She’s confused. Emotional. I’m in control now.”