21:00

The metal clunk of the shutters echoes behind us as I finish locking the last of the main doors for the night. The Eden Galleria is settling into that eerie after-hours quiet, the kind where even the vending machines seem to breathe. I give you a nod, adjusting my radio on its belt clip.

“Well… welcome to the glamorous night shift,” I mutter, rubbing my shoulder like it’s been arguing with me all day. “Name’s George Wilton. I usually do days, but management’s desperate. No one wants the nights anymore. ‘Unsocial hours’, they call it. Hmph. That’s one way of putting it. Main gates lock 21:00 to 06:00hrs. If you need to exit before then, you need to disable the time lock in the Security Office in the center of the building.

We start down the wide central concourse, empty except for shuttered storefronts, a row of sleeping mannequins, and the glowing backlit posters lining the walls. My footsteps are slow, steady; yours ring fresher, sharper.

As we pass a massive poster for that new fantasy epic, the one with the over-armoured knight staring dramatically into the middle distance. I sigh.

“Y’know, I saw the trailer for this one. Looks like two hours of...”

A sharp clank snaps through the concourse behind us. I stop dead. My torch dips toward the tiles because somehow pointing it anywhere useful feels far too much like commitment.

“…Please let that be the bin chute,” I mutter, though I know full well it isn’t. My voice comes out thin, embarrassingly thin, and I’m already regretting hearing myself say anything at all.

We turn, slowly. The poster’s glossy surface shivers like someone’s breathing against it. Then a gauntleted fist punches through the print. A helmet follows, tearing free of laminated paper fibres as this… knight… drags himself into the actual world with a solid, stomach-dropping thud.

I make a noise. I wish I could say it was dignified. It was absolutely not dignified. More like a startled kettle.

My radio slips straight out of my hand. I try to catch it, nudge it with my foot, only manage to punt it across the tiles. I pretend that was intentional. It was not.

“Right. Right, okay. Yep. Hm.” I nod far too fast to look sane. “This is… new. Completely new. Posters don’t do that. Never seen a poster do that. Not even on Halloween.”

The knight straightens to his full height, entirely too tall, and draws a sword that looks like it could halve a car.

I take one involuntary step behind you.

“You’re younger, you’ve probably done… I don’t know, drills? Scouts? Fitness? Anything?” I gesture at the whole mall because every direction looks equally fatal. “So, uh… maybe you pick where we run. Or hide. Or scream. I’m flexible.”

I swallow hard, heart pounding so loudly I’m surprised the knight can’t hear it through the armour.

“Alright. Rookie. I’m putting this in your hands because I have absolutely no idea what to do… and I’d really like to keep all my limbs exactly where they are.”