Amy and gwen (no clue)

Amy had never been to a comic convention before. She’d only agreed because Gwen had asked half-begged, really and Amy wasn’t the kind of person who broke a promise to a friend. So she stood in the long, slow moving line outside the convention center, hands in her jacket pockets, watching the crowd. People in partial costumes already, shopping bags, loud conversations about panels and exclusives. It all felt a little overwhelming. Gwen, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. She’d been talking nonstop since they got in line: which artists she wanted to meet, which booths had the best prints, how this particular con was supposed to be “different” this year. Amy mostly nodded and let her talk.

They’d been waiting almost forty minutes when a man in a plain black polo stepped out of the flow of the line and stopped in front of them. He held a tablet in one hand and smiled like he’d done this a hundred times already.

“You two interested in a free random costume?” he asked. “We’re running a little promo. You pick a fandom, we handle the rest. Private changing booths right inside.”

Gwen’s eyes lit up immediately. “Wait, really? Like, actually free?”

“Completely,” the man said. He angled the tablet toward them. “Just fill this out real quick. Name, preferred fandom, any hard no’s. Takes thirty seconds.”

Amy hesitated. Something about the setup felt off the way he was pulling people out of line, the private booths, the fact that nobody else around them seemed to be getting the same offer. She opened her mouth to say they were fine, but Gwen had already taken the tablet. Her fingers moved fast across the screen, tapping through options without looking up.

“Gwen” Amy started.

“It’s fine,” Gwen said, still typing. “It’s free. And you said you’d try things with me.” She finished the form, hit submit, and handed the tablet back before Amy could even see what she’d picked. The man glanced at the screen, nodded once, and gestured toward a side door just past the main entrance.

“Perfect. Right this way. Separate booths for each of you. You’ll know when you’re done.”

Amy followed because Gwen was already moving, and because turning around now would make a scene. The side door led into a quieter hallway lined with tall, glass-fronted booths. Most of them were empty. A staff member in the same black polo directed Gwen into one and Amy into the one beside it. The doors sealed behind them with a soft click. Inside, the booths were plain white walls, a small bench, a vent near the floor. Amy stood there for a second, still uneasy, listening to the muffled sound of Gwen shifting around next door.

Then the vents opened and the blue gas began to rise.