Chapter 2
by 
realrs
Who's our lucky master?
Romeo, 20 and trying to enjoy Spring Break
Otswego Beach, Spring Break!
Sand, surf, and 10,000 college kids with poor impulse control.
The perfect location for a blazing new season of --- HAREM HOTEL!!!
But even in this high density knot of beer pong, bikinis and sunscreen, a primal celebration of bouncing bodies baked to perfection under the merciless sun of Summer, you can still find a pair of dorks arguing nonsense.
"No no no," Romeo said from his lounge chair, doing his best to keep sand out of his virgin-mojito, ”the jail in Monopoly totally unbalances the end game. Think about it, you're done collecting properties, so where would you rather be? On the road dodging hotels, or chilling out in jail collecting rent risk free?"
"Guys, c’mon.” Marcus waved his frisbee at the two debaters.
"Ok," Chris said from his lounger, "yes the jail incentive definitely flips late game, but by that point you either have enough money and property to be virtually invincible, or you've already lost. Monopoly's tipping point happens about 60% through, after that it's a slow march to inevitability."
"GUYS"
"Well that's only if---" "GUYS!!!!!!" Marcus screamed. "Look around you"
Romeo and Chris were the kings of the loneliest party on the beach. All around them the party roared, a celebration of the endless moment.
And in the center sat our gentleman, having the same conversation they had every day.
Not that the guys weren't trying, they really were. They’d travelled 400 miles from Nordom University at Marcus’ encouragement, they'd left their hotel room, they'd even set up towels and folding chairs right at the heart of the beach party. But if the party were olive oil, Romeo and Chris were a dab of vinegar floating undisturbed at the center.
"Hmmm?" Romeo and Chris looked up, genuinely perplexed.
“I’m glad you guys came, I’m super proud of my two nerds for being out in the sun, but I swear to god Romeo. All around you there are girls, girls that voluntarily undressed to the legal limit, girls that are here to party and make bad decisions with new friends. And we’re not here so that I can listen to another argument about game theory.”
"Well…." Chris fiddled with his armrest. Except for an extra 80 pounds of chub, he and Romeo were two of a kind, math majors who could debate the finer mechanics behind hitting the piñata at a kids birthday, but didn't know the rules to joining a beach party.
"I mean…." Romeo was suddenly very distracted by a distant seagull. He was a decent enough looking guy, tall enough and square shouldered and all that typical guy stuff, he even looked alright with his shirt off, but just getting onto the beach was a huge victory for Romeo, and Marcus made it sound like it was only the opening gambit. "I guess we could…play some beer pong?"
"Good start!" Marcus pointed his frisbee at Romeo like he was giving 10 points to Hufflepuff. In contrast to the shy pugs avoiding eye contact, Marcus was a golden retriever. Bright and confident and not terribly sharp, he went to school on a volleyball scholarship and owed many of his passing grades to the two dorks before him. They weren’t exactly ride or die friends, but Marcus felt a certain responsibility for the two.
“It's not hard, we're just going to get up, leave behind your fortress of solitude, and we're gonna toss this frisbee around. You see those two girls over there, don’t stare, I told them I had two buddies who weren’t drunk jerks, and they are ready to have some fun. Trust me, you are on party beach, I am your party captain, and god as my witness you are going to party."
Romeo and Chris followed Marcus, taking anxious peeks at their folding chairs and towels as if their life raft would be swept away any moment.
"Guys, this is Amber and Beth. Ladies, these are my buds Romeo and Chris, I convinced them to try some fun. Can you help me convince them it was a good idea!?”
“Totally good idea,” Amber said with a little bounce that promised that everything in the world was sunshine was sugar. She was the perky blonde of college dreams wrapped up in a peach bikini. “Our friends are already wasted on dumb beer pong and shots, so boring, let’s have fun!”
And fun it was. Awkward scary fun for Romeo and Chris, but fun. The five of them stood about 10 feet apart and tossed the frisbee around, laughing at the misses and whooping at the catches. You know, frisbee!
While Beth focused her attention on Marcus, the sunbeam named Amber made a point to draw the new guys into the game with big smiles and bouncy encouragement. And so when Marcus tossed the frisbee Amber’s way with a sick arc that kissed the sand and planted right into her hands, she tried to copy the feet and hurled it toward Chris.
Instead it curved way left and for the first time in his semi-adult life Chris’ feet left the ground on purpose.
The big fella dived toward the errant frisbee like a pro, his friends silent as he entered slow motion and sailed through the air with the grace of an eagle and the mass of a pro-wrestler. He hit the beach with a detonation of sand and cheers. The fact that he never came close to catching the frisbee was barely noticed.
"Oh no I'm sorry!" Amber laughed and ran to help Chris up. "That was totally my fault, but nice dive, you flew!"
"Oh-uh-thanks!" Chris groaned and collected himself. Looking up he wiped the sand from his eyes (and nose, and mouth, basically his entire face) and was greeted by Amber's lime green bikini top, hugging her joyful breasts that jiggled as if to say 'Good job Chris, look at us and feel better!'
Chris regained his footing and sheepishly dug for the missed frisbee. "It wasn't so bad, I'm just not used to diving at things, I---hey what's that?"
The air buzzed an irritating hum from above. Then another, then a whole dissonant hive of something above. But nothing appeared in the sky to take responsibility.
Thousands of tanned partiers paused their revelry, turning back and forth trying to discern the interruption.
"Here, gimme that," Marcus said to Chris and took the frisbee. He spun and launched it into the sky. The disc sailed smoothly for about thirty feet until it cracked against an unseen , crashing to the ground as something leaving a black flicker in the sky. "A drone!" Romeo pointed as the object fully flickered into visibility, a sleek black unit a bit larger than the frisbee fighting to correct its balance after the impact.
Nearby another drone flickered into the visible spectrum, then two more, and soon an army of intruders hung above the party. Some were small, some were quite large, and all were spreading out to encircle the startled beach goers.
People fled in every direction, some hid under umbrellas or beer pong tables, some chucked their drinks at the intruders, but the universal reaction was the same.
"RUN"
Elsewhere
"Drone 5, give me a profile on that girl in the blue, the one with the wedgie!"
In a dark room filled with technicians and monitors Samson ran the operation with the grace of a cattle herder.
The big wall showed 77 simultaneous camera feeds, each one broadcasting an aerial view of college kids running in terror.
Every half second or so a blue overlay would snap over an individual, activating data feeds that flashed by filled with details like 'Name' 'Height' 'Childhood imaginary friend' 'favorite Spice Girl'.
"No," Samson barked. "No, pass, reject, god no look at his lactose intolerance he'd be a disaster! That one, give me a deep read on the ginger hiding behind the chubby girl, he looks---YES, HE'S A GO, MARK HIM FOR EXTRACTION! Her too!”
Samson and his of operators were about human sized, but if you tried to describe one of them you'd come up short for adjectives beyond 'present'. They were definitely life forms if that helps, and they basically occupied space, but that's as much detail as someone could get using human words. No worry, don't think about it.
"Allright that's a full count! I repeat our net is fully stocked! Bag em and let’s get this show rolling!”
Otswego Beach
"Oh god, they're everywhere!" Beth didn't specify whether she was talking about the drones above or the people frantically fleeing. Already bodies were hitting the sand from collisions as scared people ran in every direction, often straight into each other.
"It's going to be a stampede," Romeo yelled. The frisbee team was still together, but fear was rising.
"Let's get out of here, back to the hotel," Chris said and turned to leave.
Instead Romeo hooked his arm around Chris' to lock their elbows together. "We're safer here, we need to survive the panic phase! All of us! Amber, give me your elbow, yeah like that, and you---Yeah Marcus, Beth, perfect." Arms locked together the four of them faced inward, just in time as the crowd crashed against their backs. "That's---ow---we're harder to knock over like this, if we just wait a minute the crowd will calm down and we can get to safety. It’s the first phase of a —OW —“
"Ok," Marcus grunted and planted his knees against the swell of weight behind him. "But what if they don't —urrgghh— calm down?“
With nothing good to say, Romeo, Amber, Beth and Marcus held on tight against the stampede, absorbing impacts and holding each other up.
And that's when they all passed out.
A Beach
Regaining consciousness after a disaster one expects to be met by either the harsh but comforting sounds of a hospital or the scary quiet of ruin. One expects to at least be lying down.
The frisbee team stood together, arms no longer locked together, in a crowd. Not a surging crushing crowd, this one was nicely spaced out and nobody seemed in the mood to run anywhere, but everyone was definitely confused.
Some things were the same. They were still on a stunning beach under a brilliant sun, and there were even a few drones still buzzing around above, but most things weren't right. Romeo was pretty sure there hadn't been palm trees before, the sand beneath his feet was much finer than Otswego, and what happened to the hotels in the distance? Even the crowd itself looked much smaller, maybe 100 or so people.
And there definitely hadn't been a raised concert stage on which stood a man with a lion head, he absolutely would have noted that.
Samson surveyed the crowd conjuring into existence, populating the beach which itself had also just started being. Above him was a large Jumbotron screen that broadcast an image of himself, and in his hand he held an electronic tablet, buzzing with complex controls. It was showtime and everything had to be perfect down to the last detail.
"Why am I a lion man?" Samson roared into his earpiece. "This is a class A53 world, no non-primate animals evolved to show standards, I specifically said I wanted my friendly human suit. The dimensional adapter used the wrong setting? Damnit Orlop! No, they're already waking up I'll just…no I'll make it work, just…these are the details that matter!"
Idiots, Samson worked with idiots who couldn't tell the difference between a feline evolved dimension and a primate one. Although he was a very striking lion-man he had to admit, his golden mane billowing around the collar of his royal blue suit, his predator teeth shining white on the Jumbotron. Could be worse.
No time to waste, the contestants were coming to and starting to give him some very strange looks. Samson's clawed fingers danced across the tablet, activating a series of commands. If one had 5th dimensional vision (or 4th dimensional vision and a very keen understanding of post-labronian quantum echoes) they would see runes shine in the sky beneath individual drones, casting a group of spells typically labelled as 'The Contestant Package.'
Drone #12 radiated out a spell of acceptance, dulling the natural instinct to reject the irrational.
Drone #42 added a spell of competition, pushing forward an instinct to win.
Drone #19 carried trauma suppression, a cluster of mental tweaks that helped humans get over stress reactions to body dysmorphia, semi-consensual sexual activities, lack of agency, and the general emotional messiness that tended to ruin the fun.
This package had been tried and proven on countless shows to get contestants over the boring "What, how, what, oh my god noooooooo!!!!" phase of reality disruption and right into the "Well this is weird but I'm in" stage.
“ROOOOOOAAAAARRRRRRR” boomed across the beach, amplified by the Jumbotron speakers. 100 private mutterings and conversations were silenced and all attention locked onto Samson.
“Hellooooooooooo contestants! I know you all have questions aplenty, but for now let me be the first to welcome you to the time your life. My name is Samson and it is my great pleasure inform you that your Spring Break has been upgraded to the greatest party in the multiverse!