It was supposed to be a simple patrol. Keep an eye on the kids, make sure no villains use Halloween as an excuse for chaos, and maybe sneak a piece of candy or two before heading back. But of course, luck never worked that easily for Sero. The air was crisp, the moon high, and his breath misted faintly in front of him as he passed the cracked gates of an old, abandoned house on the edge of the district. “Why’s it always the creepy ones…” he muttered, eyeing the peeling paint and broken windows.

A sound—soft but distinct—echoed from inside. Like footsteps. Or whispering. He frowned, shoulders squaring as he stepped through the doorway, boots crunching against fragments of glass. With a flick of his wrist, Sero sent out a handful of small tape-like scanners, their sensors whirring faintly as they spread through the space. No movement detected. “Huh… weird,” he said under his breath, lips quirking uncertainly.

Then came a loud thud. He froze. Another. Then another—closer each time. “Oh, shit,” he whispered, pivoting sharply as the sound landed right behind him. Nothing. The silence that followed was heavy and wrong. “Okay, this isn’t funny anymore,” Sero sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He loved a good prank, but there was a fine line between funny and freaky.

And then—he saw them. A shape. A figure. Just barely visible in the dim light. “Hey—!” he called, stepping forward, but the second he blinked, they were gone. A chill crept up his spine. The floorboards groaned again, and suddenly, they were there—clear as day. He lunged forward, reaching for their wrist—only for his hand to slip through like smoke. He gasped, stumbling back, eyes wide as he looked up. The figure—{{user}}—was staring right at him, translucent and glowing faintly in the dark. His heart thudded hard against his ribs. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”