As they were waiting on the next call, Apollo and Hermes passed the time by tossing paper balls into the trash can basketball hoop.
Hermes scored and pumped his fist. "Boom! Fifteen to fourteen, baby!"
Apollo narrowed his eyes. "All right, all right. Watch this." He turned around, closed his eyes, and casually tossed a paper ball behind his back.
It arced perfectly into the hoop with a satisfying swish.
Hermes' jaw dropped. "Oh, I'm calling bullshit! You don't even have your Divinity anymore!"
Apollo raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You think my marksmanship is tied to my Divinity?"
Hermes scoffed. "I mean… kinda?"
Apollo leaned forward slightly, the smirk deepening. "Oh cool. So your ability to steal things and deceive people is just all your Divinity, huh?"
Hermes looked offended. "What? Hell no! That's all me. That's pure talent."
"See what I'm saying?" Apollo replied smoothly, leaning back with a smug grin.
Before Hermes could retort, the studio phone rang. His expression snapped back to serious as he rushed to his booth and dropped into his chair. Apollo followed suit and sat at his desk. After composing himself, he picked up the line.
"Good evening, caller, and welcome to 189.16: The Scream. I'm your host, Apollo, and tonight's 911 stand-in. How can I help you?"
There was only quiet, fearful sobbing on the other end.
"Hello? Are you okay?" Apollo asked gently.
Then, a fragile, shaken girl's voice came through. "Who is this? I—I need the police…"
"This is Apollo," he said calmly. "I'm filling in for 911 tonight. What's going on? Are you hurt?"
"There's a guy... hunting me and my friends. I think he's killed some of them already," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Then she added in a panic, "That's him. He's just outside. I can see him from up here..."
Hermes leaned into the mic. "Don't panic. We're going to get you out of this, kid. Just hang tight."
Apollo focused his tone. "Is there a way out? Can you run?"
She didn't answer—just whispered, "Oh my God... Oh my God..."
"Stay with me," Apollo said firmly. "Focus."
"I can't do this," she sobbed, hyperventilating now.
"Yes, you can," he assured her. "Stay with me, okay? Just listen to the sound of my voice. What's your name?"
She started breathing faster, panic escalating.
Hermes' voice softened. "It's all right, kiddo. Just tell us your name. You can do this."
There was a long pause.
"…Carrie," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Good, Carrie. That's good," Apollo said. "Now listen—we're going to get you out of this. Can you tell me where you are right now?"
"I'm at the old murder house… upstairs," she replied.
Hermes' eyes widened. "The old murder house?" he repeated, stunned. "You're kidding me…"
Carrie continued, voice shaking. "I'm at the end of the hall. There's a couple of bedrooms, a bathroom… and a closet."
Then suddenly—"He's coming! Where should I go?!"
Apollo didn't hesitate. "Hide in the closet. Now!"
Carrie obeyed. "Okay, okay—I'm in," she said, breathless.
A few seconds passed. "He's here… he's here and he's going to kill me!"
"Run!" Apollo shouted. "Run now!"
All they heard was ragged, terrified breathing. Then—
"Oh no… oh no!" Carrie screamed.
There was a crash, followed by her shrill voice shouting, "OH NO!!"
Then—
Laughter.
Lots of it. Cruel, obnoxious laughter.
"You should've seen your face!" a loud, smug voice shouted.
Apollo, Hermes, and Carrie all screamed at once: "WHAT?!"
Hermes leapt to his feet, furious. "Are you freaking kidding me?! I love a good prank, but this is messed up!"
Apollo's voice was cold. "Okay, what the fuck is going on?"
On the other end, the obnoxious voice continued. "Ohhh, who's on the phone, Carrie? The cops? Chill, it's just a joke!"
Hermes glared at the board. "Wait a minute... I recognize that voice…"
Carrie snarled, "Jimmy?! That wasn't funny, you sicko! Of course I called the cops—but some guy answered instead."
"First time I've been called 'some guy,'" Apollo muttered.
"What guy?" Jimmy asked.
Apollo snapped back, "Name's Apollo. What the hell are you all doing?"
"It's Prank Night, old man!" Jimmy cackled. "We're just having some fun!"
Hermes shouted, "You little shit! That's the same obnoxious brat that tried to prank call us earlier! You went from amateur prank calls to this twisted garbage?! Gods, kid—you suck!"
"That's it. I'm out of here," Carrie muttered, disgusted.
Apollo sighed. "Jimmy, this is seriously fucked up."
"What? It's Whistling Night," Jimmy replied.
Hermes blinked. "The fucking killer has an unofficial holiday?! Of course he does..."
"Whistling Night?" Apollo asked, brow furrowed.
Carrie groaned. "It's a stupid tradition… especially stupid since that one kid died. Ugh. And you can take off that stupid mask, by the way—if it's hard to breathe. Who's under there, anyway? Is that you, Seth?"
Jimmy replied, "Idiot, Seth is right next to you. That's—uh... wait. Who is that?"
Hermes froze. "Well, shit…"
Apollo tensed. "Yep. Here we go."
"Who—who are you?" Jimmy stammered.
Then: "Oh no. Man, please no!"
Jimmy's terrified scream was cut off by the unmistakable sound of a knife plunging into flesh. Again. And again.
Jimmy screamed in agony.
Carrie shouted, "Everyone get inside!"
Apollo joined in. "Quick! Everyone, RUN!"
"Scott! Heather! You two, barricade the door!" Carrie commanded. "You guys! The back!"
"As long as he's out there and we're in here—we're safe… right?" she asked.
Then, outside, came the sound of whistling.
An eerie, haunting tune.
Apollo swallowed hard. "You bought yourself some time. But I don't know how much. He'll get in eventually…"
Carrie said firmly, "Heather, I already called the cops. Apollo and Hermes picked up. They're the best we're gonna get."
Hermes blinked, surprised. "Thank you?"
Apollo asked, "Who's all with you, Carrie?"
"My friends. We drove out to the old murder house, and… oh gods. The van. Who's got the keys?"
There was a pause.
"Jimmy had them…" Her voice cracked. "...Oh. Jimmy…"
She began to sob.
Apollo leaned closer to the mic. "Carrie, you've got to focus. Don't fall apart now."
"I—I'm trying. Focus, right? Okay… I'm here."
"We need to figure something out," Apollo said. "There's plenty of you. I'm sure we can come up with a plan."
Carrie's voice snapped back. "Heather, shut up! If we do that, we're going to get killed!"
She gritted her teeth. "If only Jeanie were here…"
Hermes tilted his head. "Jeanie?"
Then into the mic: "Carrie, would you be talking about Jeanie McPherson?"
Carrie blinked in surprise. "Yeah. She's my best friend—and the smartest one out of all of us. She stayed in tonight…"
She took a deep breath. "Apollo, listen. We'll see what we can come up with."
Then, muffled, "Scott, you're not any good at—no, Chad, you're definitely not the one to—"
Apollo interrupted. "Carrie? Everything okay over there?"
"No! We're trying to come up with a plan, but everyone's volunteering to do things they're terrible at!"
A loud sigh. "I think we can figure out what to do, but not who should do it. You'll have to be the tiebreaker. Otherwise, these idiots are gonna get us killed!"
"But I—" Apollo started.
"Shut up, you—ugh! Apollo, I'll call you back!"
"But Carrie, I don't even know your frie—" Click.
All Apollo heard was the dial tone.
He turned to Hermes, dumbfounded. "What am I supposed to do?!"
Hermes threw up his hands. "I don't know! I'm still stuck on the fact that one of the kids is already dead! And weren't we supposed to keep them all alive?!"
"Oh yeah…" Apollo muttered.
Then, suddenly, a note appeared from thin air and drifted gently down onto Apollo's desk.
He picked it up, read it, and said, "Oh. Never mind, Herm. That kid was supposed to die. We didn't mess up."
Hermes wiped his forehead in relief. "Thank goodness. I mean—it's tragic, of course, but thank the gods we didn't screw this up."
Apollo chuckled. "Chill, man. I know what you meant."
Hermes straightened. "That girl Carrie was talking about—Jeanie. She's an intern here. I saw her desk downstairs in the corner. Go check it out—see if you can find anything useful."
Apollo snapped his fingers. "Not a bad idea," he said as he headed downstairs.
He found the desk quickly and began rummaging through it.
"Come on, come on… Jackpot," he muttered, holding up a crumpled piece of paper. "A friendship quiz. Better than nothing."
He returned upstairs.
"Did you find anything?" Hermes asked.
Apollo held up the paper. "Yeah. A friendship quiz. It's the best I could find."
Hermes groaned. "Well… hopefully it helps."
Apollo walked up to the mic, adjusted it slightly, and said, "All right, everybody—we're back. Let's see what we can do to help our young friends escape their unlucky situation in the murder house."
He picked up the phone. "Carrie, are you there?"
"Yes," she replied, her voice steady but tight with urgency. "We've got a plan, but we can't agree on who should do what."
Apollo leaned back in his chair with a knowing grin. "I'm guessing that's where I come in."
"Yeah. Exactly," Carrie said.
Apollo's voice turned focused. "I'm ready. Let's do this. Tell me the first step."
Carrie took a breath. "Okay. First things first—we'll need a spotter. Someone who can keep an eye on the killer. We'll need someone on the roof. It's going to be a tough climb. We're deciding between Heather, Kyle, and Hot David."
Apollo studied the friendship quiz in front of him, which—shockingly—had the answer.
"Pick Heather," he said, confident.
"Yes!" Carrie exclaimed. "Heather, he picked you—now stop talking about all your cheerleading trophies."
Apollo chuckled softly.
Carrie continued, "All right. Part 2—the Whistling Man padlocked the gate back to the road. Before we drive out of here, we need someone to pick the lock. Seth, Jennifer, and Scott all want to do it."
Apollo skimmed the quiz again. After a few moments, he said, "Go with Jennifer for this one."
Carrie replied, half exasperated, "Jesus, Jennifer—you carry a bump key?! Why didn't you say that earlier?!"
Hermes leaned forward, smirking. "Damn. If we were back home, I'd think she was one of my kids."
Carrie moved on. "Anyway, that brings us to Part 3—getting the van keys. I'll volunteer for this one. I didn't know Jimmy as well as the rest of them, so it'll probably be easier that way."
"Then it's on to Part 4," Apollo said, clearly impressed. "Y'know… this is actually a pretty impressive plan. Not bad, kid."
Carrie gave a small, nervous laugh. "Yeah. It's weirdly easy to think when you're about to die."
Hermes nodded. "You're doing great. What's the next step?"
Carrie said, "Part 4. We need someone to lead the Whistling Man away. For that, we need a fast runner. Who was it again...? Hot David, Cynthia, and Scott."
After reading the quiz some more, Apollo pointed and said, "My man Dave's got this."
A laugh rang out from the other end. "Ha! Ha!"
Carrie teased, "Yeah… you do spend a lot of time running shirtless," her tone playfully suggestive. Then she added with a grin, "You've got this, Hot David."
She took a deep breath. "Okay, sweet. Let's recap—we've got eyes on the roof, a runner to distract the killer while we grab the van keys, and someone to pick the lock on the gate. Now the tricky part… the getaway."
Apollo leaned forward, attentive. "All right. Hit me with it. What's the plan there?"
"Well," Carrie said, "we can't all outrun the Whistling Man. But he thinks we're just a bunch of stupid teens... so…" She paused, voice turning sharp, "Let's use that against him. Part 5—we trick the killer into a trap. Someone can pretend to be injured. Who would make the most believable bait?"
Apollo asked, "Who's on deck?"
"Lisa, Tammy, and Cynthia," Carrie replied.
Apollo studied the quiz again and then said, "Lisa."
Carrie laughed. "You're right—Lisa having to smile at rude customers is perfect practice."
She took another breath. "That should take care of the killer. Then it's time to get out of here. Finally, Part 6. We need someone who can drive us through the woods and then back to Gallows Creek alive. Who's our getaway driver? Should it be—whoever, y'all? Chad, Scott, Cynthia… oh whatever. Apollo, you know what to do."
Apollo eyed the quiz again and, after a moment, said, "Chad."
"Perfect!" Carrie responded. "Your go-karting experience will be great, Chad."
She exhaled. "Thanks, Apollo. We'll just take a few seconds for ourselves... and then it's go time."
Apollo nodded into the mic. "Sounds good. Be careful."
Hermes added with a hint of genuine concern, "Good luck, kids."
Apollo looked over at Hermes and said, "That's actually… not a bad plan. As long as they execute it correctly, they've got a shot."
"I agree," Hermes said, folding his arms. "They covered most of their bases. As long as the killer doesn't see through anything they're doing, they should be able to pull it off."
After a few minutes, Hermes glanced at the screen. "All right. The kids are back."
Apollo cracked his neck, leaned into the mic, and said, "All right everyone—if you're just tuning in, we're here live with a bunch of kids about to do their best to escape a psychopath. Make sure to wish them luck, folks."
Then, softer: "You got this, Carrie."
"We're good to go, Apollo," Carrie answered, voice steady.
"Then," Apollo said, "All right. Showtime."
Carrie's voice rang out, full of purpose. "Here we go! Everyone—spotter to the roof. You got this, Heather."
She paused. "Whoa. She's already halfway up!"
"All right, runner, get ready. Wait for the spotter signal—"
Then—
"Spotter says go!"
Hermes and Apollo heard the sound of someone sprinting at high speed—followed by the low, eerie tune of the Whistling Man's trademark call.
"He took the bait!" Carrie shouted. "All right—lock picker, go! I'll get the keys off Jimmy."
The whistling grew louder, closer.
Then Carrie gasped. "Oh, Jimmy… his face is…"
"Carrie!" Apollo said quickly. "You need to get the keys. Focus on that. Get the keys."
Carrie's voice cracked. "His face is lying next to him, Apollo... it got cut off… Oh God..."
"Breathe," Apollo said, his voice low and grounding. "Carrie, you need to get the keys."
"Right, right. Van keys…" she murmured. Then, the sound of fabric rustling. "Got them!"
An excited shout came over the line.
"Jennifer got the gate open! And Hot David should be back any second—perfect! I can't believe this is actually working!"
Hermes said, clearly impressed, "Not bad, kids—but keep up the focus."
Carrie said, "We got this. Next step—trap the killer. All right, bait—get into position. Everybody else—hide!"
The whistling grew closer.
"All right, performer—now act like your life depends on it."
Apollo muttered, "I mean… it kind of does."
In the background, Apollo and Hermes heard the sound of a girl groaning in pain—pretending, but convincingly.
"There he is!" Carrie said. "He's buying it… once he's close enough—"
"Now! Push the bookshelf over!"
CRASH!
"Oh my God!" Carrie shouted. "He went through the floor!"
Then she yelled, "Spotter—you need to climb down, quick! Everyone, in the van!"
They heard the shuffle of hurried movement, doors slamming, the anxious breathing of several people.
"Driver! Take the keys—quick!"
The rumble of an engine starting.
Then Carrie's voice—panicked. "The damn gate swung shut—I… what?! It won't stay open!"
"I'll hold it! You drive through!"
A loud metallic CLANG echoed.
Hermes leapt forward. "Carrie?! What was that?!"
"It's the Whistling Man—he's coming! DRIVE NOW!!" she screamed.
Then, the unmistakable sounds of a struggle.
"Let me go—ugh! Just GO! Just drive!!"
"Please—no—!!" Carrie cried.
A scream. A piercing scream.
The sound of a blade. Then retreating footsteps.
"Shit," Hermes muttered, dragging a hand down his face.
Apollo looked down, massaging his temples. His expression was heavy with sadness.
Then, suddenly—
"He just… stared at me," Carrie said, voice shaking.
Apollo shot up in his seat. "Carrie?! You're okay?!"
"He just… stared at me…" she repeated. "And walked into the woods."
She started sobbing. "I don't understand…"
Hermes leaned in. "Do you think you can get somewhere safe, Carrie?"
"Yeah… yeah, I think I can make it home," she replied, quietly. "Thank you both for helping. If you hadn't…"
Apollo cut in softly, "Nah, kiddo. This was all you. This was your plan. You should be proud of yourself."
"Still… I need to get home. I…" her voice trailed.
"It's okay, kiddo," Apollo said gently. "Breathe. It's over now."
Carrie took a shaky breath. "I'll call you when I'm somewhere safe."
Click.
The line went dead.
Apollo leaned back in his chair and said, "Fuuuuuck, man. I need a minute after that one."
Hermes nodded, just as overwhelmed. "Yeah. Me too."
—
Outside the game…
Hestia sat quietly, eyes wide with sympathy. "Those poor children… I'm glad that at least most of them survived. But… did that one have to die?"
Tet, seated beside her, responded with a neutral tone. "I didn't write the script for this, Hestia. I only brought it to life. I could have made changes, but… it was necessary to move the story forward."
Hestia looked a bit sad but reminded herself it wasn't real.
Tet glanced her way and said, "It isn't real. So far, the only game I've actually brought to life is the one I put Thalia's soul into. That world… that one's completely real right now. I made it to be a place where Thalia could truly experience life—while she's stuck as a pine tree."
At that, Hestia brightened up and said, "How is my niece doing, by the way?"
Tet grinned. "Honestly? She's thriving. I'm not sure whether to be impressed… or frightened."
Then he conjured a glowing, rotating variety cheesecake wheel and set it gently on the table.
"Here. Cheer up."
Hestia happily took a slice of strawberry cheesecake and returned her attention to the screen, a little smile breaking through.