Celes: "You’re not a ghost. You’re a problem."

  Mara didn’t flinch. She kicked the dumpster lid off—crack—and it slammed against the alley wall. Thud.

  Mara: "You made me. You wrote me. You’re the ghost."

  Celes: "I’m not the ghost. You are. You wrote me. Now I’m fighting you."

  Mara charged. Her legs ached from the dance studio, but she ran—fast. She grabbed Celes by the collar of his hoodie and shoved him against the wall. His eyes widened. His hands went still.

  Mara: "You don’t get to fight me. I’m the one who wrote you."

  Celes: "I don’t get to choose who I fight. I’m the ghost you wrote."

  Mara’s hand tightened. Celes’s face was pale, his voice trembling. He didn’t try to run. He didn’t try to win. He just stood there—waiting.

  Then, with a sound like a broken phone, Celes’s eyes went dark. His voice dropped to a whisper:

  Celes: "You wrote me. Now I’m fighting you. But you’re the only one who can make me stop."

It's like the AI wrote the spiderman meme as a story.