Laughter ebbed and flowed with the musical comedy unfolding on stage. The play told the story of a little girl’s adventure in the jungle to find her teddy bear; naturally, all cast of characters were plucked straight from the JackToy catalog. As the play reached its heartwarming finale, the main course drew to a close, and servers moved with practiced silence to replace the dinner plates with artisan salads and cheese.
When the dessert course began, Goblinez reclaimed the stage. “Evening, my dear friends. I hope the feast met your expectations. Now, for the finale.” He gestured to the decadent spread. “Every dessert tonight is crafted from our signature chocolate—rich, sweet, and utterly addictive. For those of you counting calories, don’t bother. After tonight, no other brand will satisfy you. Our chocolate will become an irreplaceable, sweet memory in your hearts.” The room erupted in applause. Goblinez flashed a predatory, charismatic grin. “But tonight isn’t just about indulgence; it’s about play. Each table has a music box. When the melody ends, it will dispense several cards. These are your golden tickets to the games around the hall. Win big, and don’t forget: the masquerade ball begins at nine. Enjoy the Sweet Night.”
A hauntingly beautiful melody drifted through the air as Trevor worked through a chocolate marquise, his attention split between his dessert and a text thread with Alisa. Spion, meanwhile, was at maximum efficiency. His eyes darted between Camila, Goblinez, and the rest of the room, scanning for any shadow that didn’t fit. Of course, he still found time to send a few flirtatious glances toward the two ladies at their table. He was, as always, a man of many talents.
As the melody faded, the two ladies let out a collective “wow” when the music box suddenly erupted with a shower of gold confetti, revealing four sleek cards. They each snatched one, leaving the remaining two for Spion. He swept them up and slid one across the table to Trevor. Each card listed five different games, with one entry permitted per guest.
“Shall we play?” Spion asked, watching the women head toward the gaming zone.
“Let’s check in with Camila first,” Trevor said, his eyes narrowing.
Camila and Goblinez were deep in conversation with a trio of distinguished guests. Trevor immediately recognized two of them: Sam Manchester, the CEO of Manchesters, and Lilian Lettuce, their VP of Product.
Catching Trevor’s eye as they approached, Camila gracefully excused herself from the circle to greet them. “How’s your night going?” she asked, her voice steady despite the tension.
“Wonderful,” Trevor replied. “But let’s find somewhere more private.”
Once they reached a secluded corner near the booths—mostly deserted as guests drifted toward the game zone—Trevor leaned in. “What’s the word on Goblinez? Has he pressed you about Hector’s return?”
“He asked,” Camila murmured, her eyes scanning the room. “But I’m not flagging him as a suspect yet. I fed him the story: that Hector is meeting me here tonight under FBI escort to name his abductors. He didn’t dig for details. He just said he knows some veterans working as bodyguards now and told us to ask if we need protection.”
“Regardless, the bait worked. Ten minutes ago, I got a hit on the apartment feed,” Trevor said, pulling up a high-resolution still on his phone. The image showed a dark, hooded figure silhouetted against her bedroom window. “He used the fire escape. He didn’t take anything—just tossed the men’s jackets and shoes we planted to confirm Hector was actually staying there. Once he found what he was looking for, he vanished.”
Camila’s breath hitched as she stared at the screen. “And you’re certain he’ll show up here?”
“We’ll put on a good show,” Trevor said, his voice grounded and calm. “There are also many influencers here that Goblinez invited to livestream the event. It’s a golden opportunity for us to corner him.”
“Don’t worry too much,” Spion added with a confident grin. “For now, I think we should have fun—dancing, gaming, and waiting until later.”
Once they returned to the crowd, Camila was immediately swept away by a high-powered producer she knew. Trevor and Spion, now on their own, headed for the game zone.
Their first stop was the basketball challenge. The rules were straightforward: scan the card to start the clock, and sink every shot within sixty seconds to claim a box of black truffle chocolates. Trevor’s aim was off, he missed three, but Spion played with surgical precision, becoming the first of the night to win. They cracked open the prize immediately, sharing the rich chocolates as they scouted the room.
Their next stop was Whack-a-Mole. The challenge was simple: clear every mole within sixty seconds to claim a plush prize. Both men won with ease. Spion ended up with a lanky monkey, while Trevor claimed a dolphin. He snapped a quick photo of the toy and sent it to Alisa; when she replied that it was “the cutest thing ever,” Trevor tucked it away, deciding he’d gift it to her tomorrow.
The third game was more high-tech: VR Boxing. Trevor scanned his card, pulled on the headset, and found himself transported into a neon-lit space arena. Facing off against a hulking, tiger-headed gladiator, Trevor fought until his lungs burned. It felt like an hour had passed, though in reality, he was defeated in less than two minutes. Spion, however, was a blur of motion. He dismantled his digital opponent in a single minute, winning a pair of professional-grade boxing gloves.
“We may actually need these tonight,” Spion said, a predatory grin playing on his lips.
The fourth game proved to be the most challenging: a drone-piloted stacking contest. Players had sixty seconds to use a remote-controlled drone to pile blocks of various shapes and colors. To win, the tower had to exceed half a meter without toppling. This was Trevor’s element. While Spion’s stack came crashing down in a heap of plastic during the final ten seconds, Trevor’s tower remained perfectly centered. He walked away with the grand prize: JackToy’s latest programmable robot kit.
Trevor tucked the kit under his arm. “Finally, a game that rewards a high IQ,” he joked, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction.
They reached the final station: a mechanical bull challenge. Unlike the aggressive, bucking machines they had seen before, this one was a marvel of JackToy engineering. The bull’s metallic hide pulsed with color-changing LEDs that shifted in time with the music, and its movement was fluid and rhythmic rather than violent. A woman was currently riding it, her body swaying so gracefully it looked more like a choreographed dance than a struggle for balance. It was the woman with the multiple braids from their table.
“She’s hot,” Spion beamed, leaning toward Trevor and his eyes fixing on her effortless rhythm.
The woman and her friend both clearly dominated the game, stepping off the platform to claim their prizes—a pair of stylish, high-end cowboy hats. Trevor and Spion followed suit, clearing the one-minute mark with ease and earning hats of their own.
Trevor adjusted the brim of his new headwear. “Alright, let’s head back. We need to stow these prizes and get our makeup ready for the ball. Our real mission starts at nine.”
The mission was simple. Under the cover of the masquerade, Spion would don a mask and play the role of the resurrected Hector, whisking Camila across the dance floor for all to see. Trevor would capture the perfect, blurry shot to leak to Gossip News—though with the room full of influencers, the internet would likely do the work for them. As the rumor that Hector was heading to a private room to meet the FBI caught fire, they would simply wait.
All the pieces were on the board. Now, they just had to wait for the shark to bite.