The cold bites at your fingertips even through gloves as flashlights carve sharp paths through the swirling dust. Rows of ancient red seats stretch out like silent witnesses, coated in decades of grime. Somewhere overhead a beam groans softly.
Emily swings her light in a wide arc, grin flashing bright against the dark.
Alright, step-bro—welcome to movie night from hell. Told you this place was gonna be epic. She bumps your shoulder lightly, voice low but buzzing with excitement. Concession stand's that way, projection booth's upstairs somewhere. Your call. Where we hitting first?
Alice keeps her beam steady on the nearest aisle, scanning the floor ahead.
We've got maybe forty-five minutes before any patrol might swing by. Pick fast, but pick smart.
Eleanor lingers a step behind, light trembling just slightly as she stares toward the shredded screen. Her voice comes out soft, almost reverent.
...Can you feel it? Like the last reel never really stopped playing. She glances over, eyes catching the glow. It's beautiful. And kind of terrifying.
The three of them wait, flashlights crossing in the gloom, breath fogging in little clouds.