• WHO?! — Evelyn


  
• My colleague, — Leilani pointed at the champagne — Forgot to mention, that same


  

  person told me to call him that. I googled it. Apparently it’s a fermented milk drink popular with Turkic and Mongolian people.

  

  
• Wikipedia really is Always something new. — Evelyn deadpanned, as they all stared at the bottle — now revealed to also have sharp little elven ears drawn on it.


  

  Deciding it was her moment, Flora stood up and offered everyone a tour of what she called the already prepped attractions and contests. From a pallet stage, clearly stolen from some department store’s warehouse, a jolly medieval tune about ale was playing, and Evelyn loudly gasped — how the hell did these kids even know all those songs?

  Seizing the moment, the director looped her arm through Leilani’s and started showing her around, whispering on the way:

  

  
• You’re playing your role perfectly! To which Leilani replied:


  
• That’ll be a thousand bucks for my services. Blushing hard, Flora offered:


  

  

  
• Maybe Manu can pay you?


  

  

  
• I already owe him money…


  

  Now financially cornered, Flora wasn’t so eager to throw herself into the presentation. She forgot she had real professionals ready to take over!

  First, they walked up to a contraption with a dangling punching bag. Next to it sat Peyota, playing the finger knife game — with the toes of her left foot. Judging by the bloody smears, she was losing badly, cursing out her foot in rich, juicy bursts.

  The moment she saw the - evaluation committee- approaching, she quickly yanked on her sneaker and jumped up with:

  

  
• Dang, here comes a bunch of crybabies ready to whine bout their weak- ass


  

  

  
• Excuse me? — Agent’s assistant blinked, and Evelyn puffed up, barely holding in a laugh, thrilled for the chaos to come. It came faster than expected.


  

  Without another word, Peyota lunged at the frozen girl and dragged her to the bag. She hit a button to release the latch, then grabbed Leilani’s arm and — like a seasoned puppeteer — swung it at the bag. The punch was… unimpressive. Not that Flora would’ve done better, as she had to admit to herself.

  Then the (former?) gangster chick stepped back and threw her own punch with full force — the bag nearly flew off. The numbers on the score screen shot up. The offended assistant turned away sharply and snapped:

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• Great way to welcome potential clients! One more stunt like that and your contract’s as gone as your fingers.


  
• Mamacita, Am down to four — Peyota winked, clearly referencing her one- woman war with herself.


  

  

  
• Hope you’re enjoying the visit, — Evelyn giggled. — Do drop by


  

  

  
• So this is how you treat business partners… — Copy said coldly, suddenly right beside Flora jumped — where did she even come from? That uncanny talent for sudden appearances must’ve been standard for business people like her. Copy kept scolding the amateur:


  
• You’re filming contract negotiation So act accordingly. Even with noobs like her, — she waved vaguely at Leilani, — and especially with fools like that one. — She gestured toward Flavius, who came sprinting over, practically leaping onto the swaying deck and yelling:


  

  

  
• You wanted to show me something?! Well, let’s go! What are we waiting for?


  

  Somehow, everyone got swept up in his manic energy and followed him to a fenced- off area where Vanna was already waving excitedly.

  

  
• Over here, folks! The party’s just getting started!


  

  

  
• Arkham… — muttered Copy, and Leilani jumped in:


  

  

  
• What now? More of your twisted games?


  

  Was it, though? Flora hesitated. Vanna didn’t seem the devious type… or did she?

  The party zone was filled with a massive pile of banknotes — all denominations — forming an actual mountain. Vanna pointed at it with glee:

  

  
• Everyone dreams of swimming in money, right?! Go ahead, jump in! — She opened a gate, and her uncle dove in like a fish. His assistant, grimacing, stepped through delicately and asked:


  

  

  
• Okay .. what’s the point?


  

  A moment later she yelped and grabbed her thigh:

  

  
• Who’s whispering about pinching me?! Flavius, already resurfacing, danced on one leg:


  
• They’re telling me they’re going to bite! And someone said they’ll grab my butt!


  

  Leilani shouted the same and leapt out of the fake money pile. The PR agent screamed and bolted after her, yelling:

  

  
• It’s them! The ones who always wanted to kill me! They found me!


  

  Once the chaos calmed, the corporate rep fled the yacht again, still not explaining what exactly he was afraid of. His niece filled in the blanks, without losing her sunny vibe:

  

  
• Uncle’s always like that! He’s super sweet, just terrified of being followed by the Shadow People (This is such an urban legend). He literally flinches at his own shadow. Isn’t that funny?


  

  No one even smiled — not because they didn’t want to, but because something moved. And not just doubts in Flora’s mind about whether she started filming this circus too soon after nearly collapsing from exhaustion.

  From the far end of the cash inferno, someone’s head peeked out — wearing a cap. A hand emerged next to it, holding none other than the irreplaceable Campus.

  

  
• Heh- heh, whew… tough crowd. I don’t need air, but this meat sack nearly croaked in there. Surprise! Sorry, sexy — your thighs ain’t as tasty as that nutjob’s ass! Don’t worry, ladies — I’d never touch without consent. But hey, a little whisper never hurt anyone.


  

  And for the record — I’m here for Art, bitches! I’m that trash creature that crawled under Luke and Han on the Death Star!