“How do I look?” Spion asked. He adjusted a white mask that covered everything but his mouth. The frame had been 3D-printed by Mika to mimic Hector’s exact bone structure. To complete the transformation, Spion had donned a straight, short-haired wig that hid his natural curls.
“I still think we should have shaved your head,” Trevor joked, leaning against the doorframe. “You know, for the sake of the mission. Can’t risk the hair popping out.”
“Absolutely not,” Spion countered, checking his profile in the mirror. “I need these curls to charm those two girls from our table.”
“Two?” Trevor raised an eyebrow.
“It’s hard to pick just one.” Spion winked, his signature crooked grin visible beneath the mask.
“Just remember: no talking. Your voice is a dead giveaway,” Trevor reminded him, his tone turning serious.
“Fine. But you owe me. You’re getting their numbers for me since I’m playing the ‘silent, brooding boyfriend role.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Trevor sighed, pulling a black domino mask over his eyes and adjusting it in the looking glass. “I’m heading down. Remember: twenty minutes, then make your entrance in the room.”
“Roger that,” Spion said, watching Trevor out.
When Trevor stepped back into the party, the transformation was total. The place had been reborn as a sci-fi wonderland, drenched in pulsing neon lights and electronic rock. Masked guests moved like shadows through the haze, wine glasses glinting under the strobes.
On the dance floor, Camila was laughing, imitating a series of delightfully “nerdy” and unorthodox dance moves performed by Goblinez. Trevor had to hand it to the man—Goblinez knew exactly how to use his eccentric charm to keep a woman’s attention.
Trevor snagged a piece of chocolate flan from a passing nutcracker soldier and navigated his way to the bar.
“Evening, Trevor. What can I get for you?” Bob asked, barely looking up from his shaker. “We have a limited-edition chocolate cocktail tonight.”
Trevor blinked. “How did you know it was me, Bob?”
“You didn’t cover your jawline, Mr. Detective,” Bob smiled, sliding a napkin across the counter. “Eye masks only work in the comic books. In the real world, I know a regular when I see one.”
“Fair point,” Trevor conceded. “I’ll take a long drink. Something that pairs well with this flan.”
Bob eyed the dessert. “A Chocolate Rum Fizz. Coming right up.”
While Bob worked, Lilian Lettuce approached the bar. She was wearing the same spring-green satin gown from earlier, but had added a champagne lace mask that perfectly complemented her heels.
“A Cocoa À Trois, please,” she said to Daniel, the second bartender. As she stood waiting for her cocktail, Trevor gave her a polite smile, wondering if she still remembered their last encounter.
“Hey, Trevor. Fancy seeing you here,” Lilian said with a warm smile.
“Small world, isn’t it?” Trevor offered a hand. “I saw you earlier with your boss and Goblinez. Are they close?”
“I think so. They’re both big kids at heart—they love their toys,” Lilian laughed. She leaned in closer. “Are you here alone?”
“No, I’m with a friend,” Trevor whispered conspiratorially. “I’m actually on a mission.”
Lilian giggled. “I hope it’s not ghosts or werewolves this time. You’ll be happy to know we’ve updated the Trap. The new version can hold a werewolf’s strength now… at least for a little while.”
“Glad to hear that. I’d prefer not to have a repeat of that night. It still haunts me.”
Their drinks arrived simultaneously. “I’ve got to go find the boss for a quick chat,” Lilian said, taking her glass. “See you later, Trevor.”
Trevor settled onto a stool, sipping his drink and savoring the dessert while he surveyed the room. The evening’s signature cocktail had drawn a massive crowd, leaving the two bartenders in a blur of motion. Not far from the bar, Goblinez stood at a dessert table, holding court as he introduced a group to his latest chocolate creations. Across the dance floor, Camila moved in rhythm with another woman, while the two ladies Spion was so enamored with danced together nearby. Well, helping Spion get their numbers was not tonight’s prime mission, so after he finished his drink and dessert, he headed to the dessert table.
As he approached, he overheard Goblinez finishing a joke: “…and I can promise you, our chocolate factories never hire any little orange people!”
The group burst into laughter. Trevor joined in, seizing the moment to introduce himself. “Mr. Goblinez, what a spectacular party. I’m Trevor. I was lucky enough to snag a ticket.”
“A pleasure,” Goblinez replied, his voice soft and disarmingly friendly. “I saw you chatting with Camila earlier. Do you two know each other?”
“We met at a charity gala,” Trevor said, playing the part. “I’d heard the rumors about her boyfriend and wanted to express my concern.”
“It’s a tragedy,” Goblinez nodded solemnly. “But she’s a resilient woman. She’ll handle it.”
“You’re quite the philanthropist, Mr. Goblinez. When I visited the Temple of Ares recently, there was a fundraiser for the families of the fallen. Your company was a major sponsor. It’s a pity I didn’t run into you there.”
“Ah, I was in Angel City that day,” Goblinez said. “But having served in the military myself, supporting the families of soldiers is a cause very close to my heart.”
“That’s incredibly kind of you, Mr. Goblinez,” Trevor replied. Around them, the other guests nodded in silent approval.
Goblinez looked almost bashful under the praise. “Well, enough about me. Let’s look at some toys. Please, follow me this way.” With a graceful wave of his hand, he led the group toward the game zone.
Trevor had intended to follow the group, hoping to squeeze more information out of Goblinez, but his plans changed the moment he spotted Spion. His partner was a few minutes early, but he looked the part perfectly.
Trevor shadowed him toward the dance floor, keeping a strategic distance. Camila noticed the masked figure immediately. She drifted toward him, her movements hesitant yet magnetic. They came to a halt just a step apart, locked in a silent gaze before they began to sway in time with the music. Trevor didn’t waste a second; he snapped a sharp, high-angle photo and leaked it instantly to Gossip News.
Just as he hit send, a heavy hand dropped onto Trevor’s shoulder. He spun around and froze. Standing right behind him was a man in an identical white mask.
“Who is that?” the man asked. The voice was a perfect, haunting match for Spion’s.
Trevor’s heart nearly stopped. He looked back at the dance floor, where Camila was now clutching the other white-masked man.
“Hector?” she cried out, her voice piercing through the music. “Is it really you?”
The music didn’t stop, but the room went cold as the dance floor fell into an uneasy silence. Trevor and Spion stood frozen, the world blurring around them. Nearby guests began fumbling for their phones, the flashes of their cameras strobing against the neon lights. The quiet was soon shattered by a chorus of notifications as phones lit up across the room like a field of fireflies. The headline was already trending, spreading through the gala like wildfire. Everyone now knew: Hector had returned—the real one.