“Where are you from?” Sara asked.

“I’m from Mister Wizard’s Untimely Demise,” Muffin sighed, her green skin paling slightly at the memory. “That’s how they got me.”

Sara continued trotting on her horse, scanning the chaotic inventory papers on her clipboard in silence. She came to the last page, and without looking up, she responded. “That’s too recent a name. It’s not in my historical tabletop index. Mark didn’t make it.”

Muffin raised an amber eyebrow. “MWUD has been there for generations.”

Sara finally looked up, her managerial eyes narrowing with cold realization. “Mark wouldn't make that joke because it’s not a joke. He loved Mister Wizard.”

“It’s in Betwinma Ahscheex,” Muffin offered quietly, shivering at the name. “It’s a district just east of Beachwatch.”

Sara pulled her horse up to the freshly built wooden hitching post and dismissed the magical mount, dropping lightly to her feet, still staring intensely at the clipboard. “Care to show me exactly where it is on the map after this opening?”

Muffin dismissed her own horse and looked out at the endless sea of people lined up on both sides of the Suckin’ Vapes Highway Wesley Wyndham Price Memorial Bridge. She hadn’t seen this many people gathered in one place outside of Sunnydale’s Kentucky Fried Christmas celebration every December 25th. “How did you come up with the name for the bridge, anyway?”

“Come on.” Sara pressed through the thick, eager crowd, heading to the back of the newly built, near-exact replica of the original Suckin’ Vapes store. “Talk while we walk.”

“This looks like Earth stuff,” Muffin ran her hand over the smooth, painted drywall as they passed by the exterior. “I’m so embarrassed that I fell for that societal bullshit about the Shafted. They have all been so incredibly nice, and… this construction is amazing.”

“No one was willing to give them a fair chance,” Sara reminded her, pushing through the employee-only entrance. “But I was. And we’re all infinitely happier and richer for it. That’s all that matters. You can put your head on now.”

Sara led her through the back hallway into the pristine break room. Muffin pulled the oversized, yellow chicken mask out of her bag to go with her feathered suit. Everything in the building smelled so new and fresh—sawdust and fresh paint—but at the same time, it looked exactly like the shop she had just recently come to call home.

“I’m nervous,” Muffin bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited behind Sara at the swinging doors leading to the sales floor.

Sara turned. She reached out, grabbing Muffin's feathered shoulders gently with her free hand, the clipboard tucked securely under her arm. “Muffin Top. You got this. You’re going to be amazing.”

A slow, genuine smile spread across Muffin's lips. The validation from her new boss was exactly the spark she needed. “Thank you, Sara.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sara gave a final, searching look into her amber eyes. “You can always say no. Mascot work is grueling.”

“I’m sure.” Muffin jittered, her Monk agility translating into pure, unadulterated hype. “I want to do this. I need to be around people right now. It’s so fun.”

Sara smiled, a rare expression of pure warmth, and gave her a brief hug. She reached into a box and pulled out the first two vape mod kits, fully manufactured by the Shafted and emblazoned with a cartoon picture of Muffin in her full chicken suit. They were the shop's exclusive, grand-opening models: The Honored brand Muffin Top XL.

Muffin had her corporate script memorized flawlessly, and the massive tanks were already loaded with her absolute favorite Dreamy Dong Dew melon-flavored juice. It was a sweet, potent house blend, complete with an overexaggerated, bootleg-style label of King Dong’s dong literally dripping mountain dew.

“Ok,” Sara said, checking her wrist. She was wearing a bAnAnAwAtch Pro—a piece of wearable tech the Shafted had miraculously reverse-engineered as an interdimensional competitor to that Earth company named after the most disappointing filler fruit in every fruit salad. “You go out there and hype up the crowd. See Courtney Glory-Hole behind the front counter for your swag bag. Empty it. I want every single sample in their hands before noon.”

Muffin nodded eagerly, slipping the heavy mask over her head. “You got it!”

“Go, mascot!” Sara cheered, pushing the swinging doors open to the main floor.

The roar of the crowd outside the still-locked glass doors burst to life the second they saw the giant yellow chicken. To Sara, the noise was likely a deafening corporate liability. But to Muffin? The roar wasn’t noise; it was pure electricity. She felt the vibration of their cheering seep through the glass and directly into her chest, instantly charging her social battery to maximum capacity.

People were pressing against the glass, holding up large, handmade posters of her and dolls stitched together by the Shafted. They were cheering wildly, blowing thick clouds of vapor from their outdated VMMF models.

Courtney Glory-Hole rushed up to her, hauling a giant, heavy canvas crossbody bag filled to the brim with holographic stickers and sample juices of the new flavor line. “Hey, sweetie! Lookin’ good! You’re gonna absolutely kill this!”

Courtney hustled over to the glass doors, looked back to make sure the other Shafted employees were ready at the registers, confirmed Muffin’s hulking Orc bodyguards were in position at the choke points, and checked the line. She turned the deadbolt.

The doors flew open, and the store flooded with a wave of eager, chaotic customers.

Muffin came to life. The energy of the room became her energy.

She practically floated across the sales floor, dancing to the heavy bass of the store's playlist. She blew massive, sweet-smelling clouds of Dong Dew into the air, mingling effortlessly with the crush of people. Every smile she received, every high-five she slapped, fueled her fire higher.

“Don’t forget!” Muffin projected her voice over the crowd, her tone dripping with ecstatic carnival-barker hype. “The Honored brand Muffin Top XL now comes with a massive sixteen-milliliter tank! And today only, you get a free blow job from your favorite mascot!”

She took a massive, deep drag of her Dong Dew, leaned over the glass counter, and blew a thick, perfect smoke ring directly into the face of a cheering dwarven customer holding the very first Muffin Top XL.

“Bathe in my bronchial frosting, today only!” she cheered. The dwarf laughed uproariously, waving his hands in the sweet vapor, and Muffin fed off the sheer joy of the interaction.

She spun around smoothly, her feathered suit swishing, and dropped to one knee to greet a customer who was either an incredibly grizzled six-year-old human girl or a remarkably soft forty-seven-year-old Halfling man.

“Oh, how are you, my love?” Muffin cooed, tilting her head playfully. “What sweet treats are you here for today?”

“Ooh! I want a sticker!” the ambiguously-aged customer rasped, their voice sounding like they had smoked two packs of unfiltered cigarettes before breakfast.

“You got it!” Muffin reached deep into her canvas swag bag, pulled out a massive handful of glossy, holographic stickers, and fanned them out like a deck of playing cards. “Take your pick!”

In seconds, the entire fan of stickers was gone, aggressively picked through by the ravenous crowd pressing in around her. The sheer volume of people wanting her attention was intoxicating. She stood up, ready to announce the next giveaway, when the vibe instantly shattered.

“Hey!”

A rough, sweaty hand clamped down hard on her feathered arm, violently spinning her around. The stench hit her immediately—a foul, unwashed odor of stale sweat and old cheese.

A hulking, greasy troglodyte of a man stood before her, casually adjusting the brim of a stained fedora on his head. “I’ve come for you, m’lady.”

“Eww.” Muffin got the instant, undeniable ick. Her hyped-up social energy flatlined into cold disgust. “No, thanks. Please let go of my arm.”

The lizard-man sneered and lunged forward, trying to wrap his arms around her waist before her Orc bodyguards could even react across the crowded floor.

He was fast, but Muffin was a Level 12 Githzerai Monk.

She didn't panic; she flowed. Muffin took a fluid half-step backward, pivoted perfectly on her left ankle to anchor her weight, and delivered a blindingly fast, devastating snap-back spin kick directly to the center of the troglodyte’s chest.

The sheer force of the ki-infused strike lifted the heavy man clean off his feet, launching him backward until he crashed hard into a display rack of clearance coils.

“Uh-uh.” Muffin stood tall, wagging her Muffin Top XL mod at him like a scolding finger. “This Muffin Top is for big cock only!”

The Orc bodyguards were there in a flash, hauling the groaning, breathless creep up by the collar of his trench coat and dragging him forcefully out the front doors before another word could be spoken.

Muffin turned around. A small group of fans nearby looked wide-eyed and terrified by the sudden burst of violence. Muffin didn't miss a beat. She immediately snapped back into mascot mode, tapping the metal casing of her vape mod and wagging it at them playfully.

“Don't worry, folks! The Honored brand Muffin Top XL is made from recycled, impact-resistant steel!”

The tension broke instantly. The customers smiled, and the entire section of the crowd cheered loudly for her flawless handling of the creep. The hit of their applause washed over her, completely erasing the grossness of the encounter, and her battery surged right back to one hundred percent.

The rest of the day was a beautiful, chaotic blur of people, laughter, and endless clouds of sweet vapor.

Hours later, as the shop finally began to wind down and the last few straggling customers made their final purchases, Sara emerged from the back office and walked onto the floor. “How are you holding up out here, Muffin?”

Muffin took a final, massive drag of Dong Dew, blew a perfect cloud onto the last exiting customer of the day with a cheerful wave, and turned to look at her manager. Sara’s eyes were sunken and lined with profound, introverted exhaustion.

“I’m… soooooo happy!” Muffin practically vibrated on the spot, the residual energy of a thousand interactions humming in her veins. “I like, want to go out and party now or something. Let's hit the tavern!”

Sara chuckled weakly, leaning heavily against the glass display case. “I genuinely wish I had your energy. I want to sleep for a week.”

“Did you see the guy I kicked earlier?” Muffin asked, finally pulling her sweaty, chicken mask off as the heavy metal security shutters began rolling down over the windows.

“Unfortunately, yeah. Sir Cumference gave me the incident report.” Sara sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. “That’s Lord Nipples Gruyenhamer. He's one of King Dong’s personal condom washers. He officially demanded that you marry him, or he threatened to tell the King about our unauthorized toll bridge.”

Muffin’s heart skipped a beat, her Monk calmness faltering at the sheer political weight of the threat. “Oh my god. What did you say to him?”

Sara pulled the final daily sales sheet from Courtney, slid it methodically under the metal clip of her board, and stared down at the astronomical profit numbers.

Sara looked up, her expression turning to absolute, unwavering ice. “I told him I’m not afraid.”