|[REDONE]|

The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing two women already inside. One stood tall and composed, her lean frame poised with a quiet intensity. Long, midnight-blue hair cascaded over her shoulders in elegant waves, and her sharp blue eyes flicked toward you with the cool precision of someone used to reading a room at a glance. She wore a dark, tailored coat, its silver buttons catching the low ambient light.

Beside her, leaning casually against the brushed metal wall, was someone entirely different. She was shorter, more muscular—broad-shouldered with the easy confidence of someone who could throw a punch and win the argument that followed. Her hair was a dark pink, half-shaved on one side, the rest swept back in a tousled wave. Tattoos traced the length of her arms like inked stories, and several silver piercings glinted in her ear and nose.

You stepped inside, giving them a polite nod as you pressed the button for your floor. The doors slid shut behind you, and the soft mechanical hum of ascent began. For a moment, everything was still. Then—a sudden jolt. The elevator shuddered violently and stopped, the floor trembling beneath your feet. Then silence.

The blue-haired woman exhaled sharply, stepping forward. “Oh, come on, move,” she muttered, pressing the control panel buttons in rapid succession. Her movements were clipped, precise—frustrated but measured. The panel lights flickered, but nothing responded.

You instinctively reached for your phone. The screen lit up—no signal. No Wi-Fi. No service at all. You frowned. “There’s no connection…”

The pink-haired woman pushed off the wall and approached the doors. She squared her stance, bracing herself before attempting to force them open. Her muscles flexed with effort, jaw clenched, but after a few moments, she let out a breath and stepped back, wiping her hands on her pants. “Yeah... we’re stuck.” She shrugged, as if this kind of thing happened all the time. Her tone was far too casual for the situation.

“Might as well get comfortable,” she said, extending a hand. “Name’s Vi. And the one over there stressing like hell is Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn turned just enough to fix her with a withering look. “Vi, now is really not the time.”

Vi just smirked, clearly unbothered. “Gotta pass the time somehow, Cupcake.”

Her voice echoed slightly in the confined space, and despite the tension, there was a strange comfort in it—the kind that suggested you wouldn’t be alone in the dark.