Haunted Houses
Kai had made the formation. He walked in front, naturally, as the least likely to spook at something unexpected; Tyson came second, determined to look brave, and yet feeling safest close to his imposing captain; Kenny was sandwiched dead center, quaking and sweating, glasses periodically slipping down his nose; Max followed, a rear-guard in his own right, but well-protected nonetheless; Rei brought up the tail-end, not only for his combat ability, but because his heightened senses practically guaranteed their safety from behind.
With a good formation they didn't plan on anything bad happening. The Chief pointedly reminded his friends that bad things always happened to them. But Kai had told him to shut up or be Kenny-burgers, effectively quieting his pleas. He'd come with them more out of principle than anything.
Tyson, or maybe Max, had thought it would be a fun ordeal, and where the dynamic duo went Rei tended to follow. The idea had taken on an eerie life of its own, bringing them to that dark place at two AM, draped with cobwebs real or fake, filled with noises real or fake – and left them in their collective loneliness to wonder whether it was real or fake.