Pitbabe S2, Chapter 25 pg 2

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 25 pg 2

   “A scary one,” Phii Touch and Liu answered in perfect sync, like their brains were wired together.

   “Okay, let’s get to work.”

   I clapped my hands, deciding to use work as an excuse to dodge this interrogation. Even though everyone still eyed me with their usual suspicion, Phii North just sat there picking at his nails, acting like he had nothing to do with this.

   “What’re you staring at? We don’t know when we’ll get blocked again. If we don’t do this now, when will we?”

   Everyone kept staring at me, still dazed, until I clapped my hands hard. The loud smack jolted them awake, and they scattered to prepare for the next steps without me needing to waste breath on orders. Everyone knew what they had to do in times like this.

   “Hello, everyone, it’s Charlie.”

   In less than fifteen minutes, the phone, tripod, continuous lighting, backdrop, and computer for controlling on-screen graphics were set up systematically by the professional team. Now, the main job fell to me, sitting in front of the camera, and Phii North, who hadn’t left yet and even volunteered to monitor the live stream to make sure it didn’t get cut off mid-broadcast.

   Looks like I’ll have to find time to pop up in one of his videos soon. At the very least, it’d be a way to repay him for going all out to help a troublemaker like me.

   “Been gone for a few days. Not sure if anyone missed me, but one thing’s for sure—I missed you all a lot.”

   Comments saying “miss you” in various styles and languages scroll up the screen like a slot machine in a casino. I thought I’d gotten used to this kind of thing by now, but honestly, I’m still a bit amazed. Do idols and celebrities get this kind of intense, overwhelming reaction from fans all the time? Does it ever tire them out? Or is it actually a great source of motivation?

   I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter.

   I’m not an idol, after all.

   “Today, I’ve got a lot of things I want to share with you guys. I actually prepared since this morning, but there were a ton of issues, so I’m only able to go live now,” I said casually, as usual. Even though what I’m about to discuss today is pretty serious and risky, I don’t want to start off too intense and make things awkward. That might scare off viewers and could even attract the “cop dogs” rushing in before I finish speaking. “Today, I was followed by a car from my neighborhood. Normally, it doesn’t take long to get to work, but today it took a full two hours. It was quite a ride, but I made it through.”

   I heard laughter from behind the camera. If I had to guess, it’s probably because what I said and my expression didn’t match. The crew backstage must be struggling to hold in their laughs, their shoulders shaking.

   “Who was it?” I read a comment scrolling up on the screen. They’re asking who was following me. “No idea, honestly. This kind of thing happens quite often—cars tailing me, threatening letters, DMs with threats, and all sorts of fun little tricks to keep me on edge. I feel like a character in a survival game.”

   This stuff isn’t fun. I know that well. But if I said I sometimes find it a little thrilling to stay on guard and deal with these sneak attacks and traps they try to set for me, would people think I’m crazy?

   “For me, it’s not a problem. I’m confident I can handle it. But not everyone is like me, and no one should have to live like this just because they pissed off some person or group. It’s not fair, is it?”

   Phii North started frantically typing and clicking the mouse as he saw me getting to the main point. Normally, this would be Phii Touch’s job. Whenever we need graphics to make things clearer, I send him the info I want to cover and ask him to prepare visuals in advance, like a school presentation. Except now, there’s no teacher grading us anymore.

   “What I’m about to talk about isn’t anything new. The plot’s pretty repetitive. I think a lot of you can probably guess it already. I’m not the first person in this country to know about this. There are plenty of people with more power, resources, and knowledge than me. If you said they couldn’t figure this out, that’d sound pretty strange, wouldn’t it?”

   Truthfully, I wanted to talk about this in public, in an open space with people gathered around to listen. But everyone agreed it was too dangerous. My safety’s been under heavier threat than ever, and Dr. Chris made a weighty declaration: “If you die, we’re done.” So, I had to go along with everyone’s opinion, no matter how much I wanted to be stubborn.

   “The reason no one’s come forward to talk about this—I think you all can probably guess. So, I won’t dwell on it. Let’s check out the nice presentation my team prepared instead. If anyone wants to screenshot and share it, go right ahead. I didn’t copyright it, but give a little credit to me. I want some clout.”

   I threw in a lame joke to lighten the mood for the viewers. Honestly, I was also trying to catch my breath and calm my nerves. Even though I might look like a cool, unflappable guy on the outside, inside, I’m trembling like a baby bird leaving its mother’s nest for the first time.

   “Over the past few days, if anyone’s been following the daily news, I think a lot of you might have noticed something weird going on in our country. Even though the news tries to make it seem as normal as possible, I don’t think these events are coincidences. Not even a little.”

   A news graphic appeared in the top right corner of the screen. I probably looked like a news anchor for some outlet, except this anchor was dressed a bit too casually for most tastes. The higher-ups likely wouldn’t approve of a reporter like this on major media.

   “From someone stabbing themselves in the neck, a body in a car decomposing within half an hour, a person burned to death in their bed, a person who died and came back but woke up mute, to countless bizarre accidents happening around the same time—strange with no explanation, strange and targeting pre-selected victims. Yes, I’m calling every injured person and fatality a victim, because none of this was accidental. It was planned, with a clear pattern. Not random in the slightest.”

   The visuals on the screen shifted in sync with my narration. Phii North did an excellent job, despite never rehearsing with me—just a quick discussion a few minutes before we started. It was clear his YouTuber gig wasn’t just a casual hobby; it made him an effective communicator, whether he realized it or not.

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