Greer's eyes widened at the number pulsing out of her hand. Everybody in the room looked at her with varying degrees of pity and relief, but Saheel's expression had to be the darkest of all — his normally patient smile crumpled up like a plastic bag.

"Ohhhhh boy," she said, dripping with sweat. "Somebody just welded a nail bomb to my hand. Can we... can we disarm it, pretty please?"

"That was always the plan, dear," said Tarquin, letting Faust go. "Don't worry, everything's going to be just fine."

Haralda tore a sheet of paper off her clipboard. "It doesn't look like we can pass any motions without a quorum. You need to get your team member here."

"Yes ma'am." Greer saluted. "Consider it better done than your favourite steak."

"As for everyone else," said Haralda, "I'd like us to pool together ideas for how to save Greer's life. I have pens and paper — if we have everything written down beforehand, we can rapidly pass motions in the hope that one of them works."

Greer's non-teammates gathered by the door labelled 70,000 and muttered while Haralda transcribed what they said. In reality, Beck and Kari hung back while the stinky team came out with idea after idea.

Saheel put an arm around Greer as she rang Eirlys on speaker phone — he couldn’t keep himself steady. As soon as she picked up, the phone let out a cacophony of windy noises, the kind Greer always got when she tried to film birds on the beach.

Practically inhaling the phone, Greer said, "Hellooo? Eiiiiiirlys? Where did you get to? I have a volunteering opportunity for you!"

Only distortion replied. Greer tried again, then jammed the speaker of her phone right up in her ear and began to make out words.

She heard "...so cold...", and then "...still falling...".

"Eirlys," pleaded Saheel. "Can you hear us? Can you vote?"

"Help..."

"Attention, company," shouted Greer, turning several heads, "Eirlys fell off the tower in our valiant battle against the beast, just like Gandalf or maybe the dad in The Lion King! Can we vote her back to headquarters, stat?"

"She fell off the tower?" said Beck. "Heh, we could nominate that one for a Darwin— OW! What the fuck was that for?"

"Now is not the time," growled Haralda, clipboard ready for another whack. "All those in favour of the motion 'Bring Eirlys to the central chamber?"

"Vote yes to this one, Eirlys!" Greer shouted into the phone. "Put your thumb up!"

The thumbs did their glowy thing again. The group put them up.

9 👍

Eirlys popped into the centre of the circle and immediately collapsed. Her skin had turned pale to the point of being blue. Greer rushed to her and held her — it was like plunging her hands into an ice box. Eirlys struggled away and awkwardly brought her hoodie over her head before peeling it away from her skin.

"Too hot," mumbled Eirlys, her eyes narrowing, before trying to take off her DnD t-shirt.

"This is not an appropriate moment for fanservice," wailed Greer, shoving her back in her hoodie.

"It looks severe," said Faust, taking off his leather jacket and draping it over her. "She needs CPR, and we need to get her warm as soon as possible."

"...Stinks," said Eirlys.

"Nice," said Connie, clapping. "I'm impressed, Fausty."

Faust cringed at her pronunciation. "Of course, we could just vote everybody back to perfect health and cleanliness."

"There's no time," said Saheel, pointing to the number — less than 100 words. "Look, she can vote. Greer’s the priority."

"All those in favour of abolishing the rule that one of us dies at 10,000 words?" asked Haralda.

Greer was shaking, heart pumping blood through her body on overdrive. She launched her thumb towards the ceiling.

8 👍 1 👎 — INSUFFICIENT MAJORITY

"Nani?" she gasped, and her heart gave out, and she doubled over, spasming on the floor next to Eirlys.

"What?" cried Saheel. "Who?"

Beck cocked his rifle, taking the safety off.

The last thing Greer ever heard was him saying "Every interesting story needs a villain."