The library basement wasn't supposed to be this cold.
Juno pulled her hoodie tighter around her shoulders as she descended the last creaking step. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she didn't check it. She already knew who it was.
Lucas.
He'd sent her a message less than ten minutes ago:
"Don't trust the vending machine in the library basement. It's not… real."
Which, obviously, meant she had to go see it for herself.
Because Juno had a problem. A very specific, very stupid problem. She didn't believe in ghosts or curses or haunted vending machines. But she also didn't believe in ignoring cryptic warnings from glitchy boys who appeared in her dreams.
So here she was. In the dark. Alone. Investigating a soda machine.
The hallway stretched out in front of her like a throat, narrow and humming. The fluorescent lights above flickered in a rhythm that felt almost intentional — like Morse code, or a heartbeat.
She turned the corner and saw it.
The vending machine stood at the end of the hall, humming softly. It was old. The kind of old that made you wonder if it had ever been new. Its glass was fogged, its buttons yellowed, and its metal frame was dented like it had been punched — or bitten.
Juno approached slowly, her boots echoing on the concrete floor. The machine's screen was dark. No lights. No signs of life.
She reached out and tapped the glass.
Nothing.
Then, with a mechanical whir, the screen lit up.
The keypad blinked once. Twice. Then began to flash in a pattern.
H-E-L-P
Juno froze.
"Nope," she whispered. "Absolutely not."
She turned to leave.
The machine clunked.
A can dropped into the tray with a hollow thud.
Juno stared at it. Her heart thudded in her chest.
She crouched, hesitated, then reached in and pulled it out.
The can was matte black. Cold. No brand name. Just two words in glitchy silver font:
VOID COLA
She turned it over. No barcode. No ingredients. Just a faint static buzz when she held it too long.
Her phone buzzed again.
[Group Chat: The Offline Ones ☠️📴]
you: THE VENDING MACHINE GAVE ME A DRINK
🧃ava.exe: what flavor
you: THAT'S NOT THE POINT
🕹️milesAFK: was it cold tho
you: IT SAID HELP
👻riley_irl: okay but like. was it aesthetic
🧊lucas: what did it give you
you: some soda called "VOID COLA"
🧃ava.exe: oh.
🕹️milesAFK: oh.
👻riley_irl: oh.
you: STOP DOING THAT
🧊lucas: don't drink it. whatever you do.
you: why
🧊lucas: because that's how i got stuck here.
---
Juno stared at the can in her hand.
She didn't open it. She didn't throw it away either.
Instead, she shoved it into her backpack and left the basement without looking back.
---
That night, she dreamed in static.
She was in her dorm room, but it wasn't her dorm room. The walls were too smooth. The shadows too sharp. Her phone buzzed on the desk, vibrating in slow motion.
She turned toward her bed.
Lucas was standing there.
Same hoodie. Same unreadable expression. His eyes glitched — flickering between colors like a corrupted screen.
"You're not supposed to be here," he said.
"You keep saying that," she replied.
"Because it's true."
He stepped closer.
Juno tried to move, but her limbs felt heavy. Like she was underwater. Or buffering.
Lucas reached out and touched her forehead.
The world shattered.
---
She woke up gasping.
Her phone buzzed again.
New message from: lucas
> "Check your camera roll."
Juno's hands trembled as she opened the app.
There was a new photo.
It was her. Sleeping.
And behind her… Lucas.
Smiling.
---
She didn't go to class the next day.
Instead, she sat on her bed, hoodie up, blinds drawn, staring at the can of VOID COLA on her desk.
It hadn't moved. It hadn't done anything weird. But it felt… wrong. Like it was watching her.
She opened the group chat again.
you: what happens if i drink it
🧊lucas: you won't.
you: how do you know
🧊lucas: because i remember what it felt like.
🧃ava.exe: it's not a drink. it's a key.
🕹️milesAFK: a key to what
👻riley_irl: to the Offline, duh
🧃ava.exe: no. to the Admin.
you: who's the Admin
🧊lucas: don't ask that.
🧃ava.exe: too late. she's already marked.
👻riley_irl: welp. guess we're doing this now.
---
Juno stared at the screen.
Marked?
She looked down at her arm.
There. Just below her wrist. A faint symbol, like a QR code burned into her skin. It hadn't been there yesterday.
She touched it.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: [incoming call]
She didn't answer.
The screen glitched.
Then went black.
---
When it came back on, the group chat was gone.
Replaced by a single message:
> "Welcome to the Offline, Juno."
---