It wasn't a smooth, programmed movement. It was a sharp, mechanical twitch that echoed through the empty hall.
I sat in the security booth, watching the monitors flicker. The main floor was a graveyard of empty glasses and glitter. On Stage A, Roxanne stood frozen in a mid-performance pose, her synthetic fur shimmering under the purple emergency lights. She looked like a goddess of the eighties, still and silent. Then, her head tilted. Night Shift at Fazclaire’s Nightclub
On Camera 04, the VIP lounge was dark, but a pair of glowing eyes cut through the shadows. Loona wasn't supposed to be in the lounge. She was supposed to be in her charging station behind the bar. I checked the lock status on my tablet. Station 02: Vacant. A heavy thud sounded from the air vents above my head. It wasn't a smooth, programmed movement