RIP's Bear Trap 2 scores had been bad for three weeks running, and everyone had a different theory why. GhostRider's theory was blunt, as always: "manche können wohl nicht lesen" — some people apparently can't read the wave order. Pete The Great's theory was gentler. "I think we're all just launching whenever we feel ready," he offered, in the tone of a man who has never once said an unkind thing about anyone and wasn't about to start with a wave chart. Psycho's theory was the most alarming, mostly because Psycho's theory was correct: down to the second, Psycho had tracked every rally's launch time against the trap's actual window, and the data said the same thing every time — somebody kept jumping the line.
That somebody was Janco. Janco did not think of it as "jumping the line." Janco thought of it as "launching when the launch felt right," which in practice meant roughly ninety seconds before whatever wave he'd been assigned to, every single time, with the confidence of a man who has never once been wrong about anything in his life and isn't about to start being wrong about Bear Trap.
Lady Kara watched exactly one more collapsed wave — Janco's march colliding with GhostRider's, both of them arriving early and stacking into the same window while Pete The Great's rally sat there, perfectly on time, perfectly useless, launching into a trap that had already been triggered — and decided she'd seen enough.
"Nobody is doing anything until I finish a real schedule," she announced, in the voice she reserved for moments that required people to stop having opinions and start having assignments.
She built it that night: four names, four launch windows, a clean rotation with padding built in specifically to survive one Janco-shaped mistake without the whole thing collapsing. She sent it out personally — Janco, GhostRider, Psycho, Pete The Great, each with their exact slot, in order, no ambiguity. Psycho read it twice, said nothing, and quietly set an actual timer. GhostRider read it once and replied with a thumbs up, which for GhostRider counted as enthusiastic approval. Pete The Great thanked her by name. Janco read it and immediately asked if his slot could be "more of a suggestion."
It could not.
This was the exact moment Bob decided the operation needed him. Bob had not been assigned a wave. Bob had not been asked to help with the wave chart, the rotation, the timing, or anything adjacent to timing. Bob had, however, seen the word "wave" and concluded this was a surfing situation.
He showed up to the staging grounds wearing a whistle he'd found somewhere and a clipboard with Kara's chart taped to it upside down. "I AM THE WAVE COMMANDER NOW," he announced to four people who already had a wave commander. "KARA MADE THE SCHEDULE, I ENFORCE THE SCHEDULE. THAT IS HOW GOVERNMENT WORKS."
Kara did not look up from her own screen. "Bob, please don't help."
"I WILL HELP RESPONSIBLY," Bob said, already blowing the whistle at nobody in particular.
Off to the side, Miranda had set up what could only be described as a spectator's chair, a genuine bowl of popcorn, and zero intention of contributing anything except commentary. "This is the best content RIP has produced all week," she announced to no one, eating a handful. When Janco's countdown crept toward his slot and his thumb visibly hovered over the launch button ninety seconds early — old habits — Miranda didn't even look up. "Janco's gonna jump it. Called it in the group chat an hour ago."
He almost did. Bob, whistle still in his mouth, physically materialized behind Janco and blew it directly into his ear at the exact moment Janco's thumb twitched toward the button. Janco flinched, missed his own premature launch by pure reflex, and by the time he'd recovered, his real window had opened — and he launched on time, for possibly the first occasion in recorded RIP history.
"THAT WAS A TACTICAL WHISTLE," Bob declared, extremely proud of an accident.
GhostRider's wave went out clean, on his own initiative, no commentary needed. Pete The Great's launch landed so politely on schedule that Kara actually paused to note it out loud. And Psycho — who had spent the entire event with a private stopwatch running, silently correcting for a full ninety seconds of chaos that never should have needed correcting — hit the final window down to the second, closing the trap exactly as designed.
Miranda, watching all four rallies land clean for the first time in three weeks, slow-clapped from her chair. "A man in a stolen whistle accidentally fixed Bear Trap. Incredible season we're having."
Kara allowed herself one small exhale of relief before Bob turned to her, whistle still around his neck, clipboard still upside down.
"WAVE COMMANDER REQUESTS A PROMOTION," he said.
"Bob," said Kara, "give me back the whistle."
"THAT'S A NO ON THE PROMOTION, NOT A NO ON THE WHISTLE," Bob clarified, and kept it.