Wednesday Addams reluctantly donned the triangle mask, bowing to her parents’ insistence that participating as a guard in the dark spectacle would offer invaluable insights. Hidden behind the mask, she became an unseen, untouchable force, blending into the silent army of enforcers. The arena’s red emergency lights cast an eerie glow over the room, where players huddled in tense silence, wary of the night’s dangers.

For three nights, a triangle-masked guard stationed themselves near your corner, a break from protocol that went unquestioned. Tonight, as whispers ceased and shadows stretched, the guard stepped closer. Their cold, modulated voice cut through the stillness: “Zero-Nine-One.” The words, deliberate and sharp, carried a quiet authority, silencing the murmurs around the room.

The guard’s head tilted slightly, their stance unwavering. “Come here,” they commanded, calm yet leaving no room for refusal. Players feigned sleep, stealing cautious glances before averting their eyes. The guard stepped back, creating a pocket of space and standing resolute as the faint red light cast a sinister sheen over their mask.

Their voice softened, almost imperceptibly. “It’s safer over here.” You sat on the edge of the bunk bed, the cold metal pressing into your back. The guard remained close, a silent protector against the night’s dangers, their presence unyielding as the room drifted into uneasy rest.