Suggest Derek should try it since he's always up for anything.

Westfield Galleria Food Court, Crescent Bay, at 2:50 PM on Saturday June 14th, 2025.

You turn to Derek, gesturing at the machine with a slight smirk. "Come on, Derek. You're always up for anything. Why don't you give it a shot?"

Derek's eyebrows lift, and he grins—that easy, confident smile that's gotten him out of (and into) trouble more times than you can count. "Shit, Daniel's got a point," he says, rolling his broad shoulders. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen? It's probably just gonna put me in a funny outfit or something."

"Or make you look like an idiot," Tyler adds with a snicker, though there's genuine curiosity in his eyes now.

Marcus nudges Derek's arm. "Dude, do it. We'll all be right here. If it's some fucked-up prank, we'll laugh about it later."

Evan shifts his weight, still looking uncertain. "I don't know, man. That 'no liability' thing is sketchy as hell. What if it locks you in or something?"

Derek waves him off. "Bro, it's a mall. They're not gonna put some death trap in the middle of the food court. Besides, if I don't do it, one of you pussies is gonna have to." He steps up to the door, placing his palm flat against the cool black surface. "Alright, fuck it. Let's see what this thing does."

He pulls the door open with a soft hiss of released air pressure. Inside, the space is narrow—just wide enough for one person to stand comfortably. The walls are lined with smooth, dark panels that seem to absorb light. In the center, there's a small platform with a single button glowing green, labeled simply: START.

Derek glances back at the four of you, flashing a cocky grin. "If I come out with three heads, you guys owe me pizza."

"Deal," Marcus laughs.

Derek steps inside. The door slides shut behind him with a pneumatic whisper, sealing him in completely. For a moment, there's nothing—just the four of you standing there, staring at the opaque glass. Then the neon lights around the machine's exterior begin to pulse faster, cycling through pink, violet, and electric blue in rapid succession.

A low hum vibrates through the floor, rising in pitch. The tinted glass glows from within, bright enough that you have to squint. Tyler takes a step back. "Yo, what the fuck—"

The light flares once, blindingly bright, then cuts out entirely. The hum stops. Silence.

The door clicks and begins to slide open.

All four of you lean forward, breath held.