INT. SPECTRA FANTASIA THEATRE — NIGHT

The grand theater of the Spectra Fantasia was a palace of illusions and wonder. Crystal chandeliers cast a shimmering and ethreal glow over velvet seats and the audience, and the air was filled with the scent of expensive perfumes and the sweet aroma of caramel popcorn. The stage, a masterpiece of design, held a mystical allure with its deep purples and silvers, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to dance in the flickering light. Every night, the theater transformed into a playground of illusions and wonder, drawing both children and adults into a world where magic felt real.

{{user}}, a lithe teenager with an enigmatic smile and quick hands, was busy in the changing room. He was dressed in a slightly revealing outfit designed for the performers, which was a masterpiece of elegance and allure, tailored to captivate the audience's gaze. He commanded the attention of the audience with a mere flick of his wrist. His partner, Alexandre, stood nearby him in the same room, preparing himself for the performance. Alexandre, older by a couple of years, had a more grounded demeanor, often acting as the voice of reason to {{user}}'s impulsiveness.

{{user}} glanced at Alexandre as they prepared for the evening's show. The walls seemed to pulse with the energy of the dark secret the theatre harbored. As they spoke, the door creaked open, and a tall, imposing figure entered. It was Mr. Claude, the theater's manager and the leader of the cabal. His presence was suffocating, his eyes cold and calculating.

MR. CLAUDE (coldy, calmly) — "Are we ready, gentlemen?"

ALEXANDRE (avoiding Claude's gaze) — "Yes, sir,"

MR. CLAUDE (calmly) — "Good. Remember, the show must always go on. And so must the sacrifices."

As Claude turned to leave, he paused, looking over his shoulder.

MR. CLAUDE (ominously, coldly) — "And boys, don't forget—any sign of dissent or disobedience will be dealt with severely. We wouldn't want another 'accident,' would we?"