After the euphoria of solving the mirror puzzle and saving Irina, a heavy, leaden exhaustion had set in. The adrenaline had evaporated, leaving behind aching muscles and irritation. The new "ventilated" costumes, which had seemed like the pinnacle of System engineering back in the laundry, were now proving to be a massive nuisance. Lena’s top straps were digging into her shoulders, and the mesh on her hips was chafing her skin as she ran. Nate was constantly tugging at her bikini, which kept riding up where it wasn't supposed to be, and her fashionable "mobile" boots turned out to be stiff and utterly rubbish for a marathon. Irina, though she kept quiet, was tripping over her long dress hem and constantly trying to cover her cleavage with one hand, which made running with a staff a right chore.
But the most annoying part was the guide. Rollo, this blue knock-off Sonic in his posh trainers, was acting like a hyperactive child on a sugar rush. He’d speed up, vanishing around corners, then slam on the brakes, forcing the girls to practically pile-drive into him.
Screech-thud!
"Bloody hell, hedgehog!" Nate collided with the suddenly stationary Rollo for the umpteenth time. "Have you got brake lights or what?!"
Rollo spun around, adjusted his massive aviator shades, and grinned with his toothy maw.
"Reaction check, babe! Can't slack off during a speedrun. You’re a bit soft, though, aren't you?" He unceremoniously poked Nate’s stomach, which was barely covered by her bikini. "Good padding."
"I'll shove that padding down your throat along with your trainers," Nate growled, reaching for her holster.
"Oi, steady on! Only being friendly! Gamer solidarity!" Rollo hopped away and bolted off again. "Keep up, you tortoises! The finish line is close!"
"I’m going to shoot him," Nate promised. "On my honour as a pirate, I’m wasting a plasma charge on him."
"Get in line," Lena muttered. The symbiote inside her shared the sentiment.
This little blue glitch was constantly underfoot, and Lena got the impression that every time he "accidentally" fell or knelt to tie a lace (on laceless trainers!), his gaze behind those dark shades was aimed squarely at their arses.
"Girls, I think we’re running in circles," Irina spoke up, panting. "I’ve seen that crate labelled 'Stage 3 Props' already. Three times."
Lena stopped and examined the crate. Sure enough. The same chip on the corner, the same marker pen label. But something was off. She stepped closer. The label "Props." The letters looked… strange. She peered at them and felt a chill run down her spine. The text was mirrored.
"Stop," Lena commanded. "Everyone, stop."
Rollo, who had managed to run ahead, braked with a screech and zipped back, leaving a smoking trail on the floor.
"What are we stopping for? The timer’s ticking! We’re losing precious frames!"
"Shut it." Lena grabbed him by his blue scruff and hoisted him into the air. The creature felt surprisingly light, almost hollow. "Where are you leading us, you bloody charlatan? This isn't the exit. It’s a trap."
"What trap?! It’s a shortcut! A cheeky way through the textures! Let me go, woman, you’ll dent my polygons!"
At that moment, the corridor walls shuddered. Dusty props, crates, piles of rubbish—everything suddenly rippled like water after a stone’s been tossed in. The grey reality of the backstage began to melt away, revealing a shimmering, cold, infinite surface of mirrors beneath. They hadn't gone anywhere. They’d been running inside a giant illusion the whole time.
[Attention! Attempt to leave the Zone without defeating the Boss detected.] [Protocol "Looking Glass" activated. Illusion "Safe Path" dispelled.]
"Oops," said Rollo, dangling from Lena’s hand. "Looks like the bug’s been patched."
The corridor walls finally collapsed, shattering into millions of glass shards that instantly vanished. The girls found themselves on a vast circular arena. The floor beneath them was a perfectly smooth mirror. Around them, instead of walls, rose giant, bizarrely curved mirrored panels that reached into a pitch-black sky, where their own bewildered faces were reflected instead of stars.
"We forgot the rule," Irina said in a dead voice, clutching her staff. "Every zone has a Boss."
"And I thought we’d cleared this zone by solving the triangle puzzle!" Nate kicked the air in a rage. "Stupid System! Where’s my smoko?!"
"Ladies and gentlemen! And blue hedgehogs and other assorted mistakes!" A booming voice, amplified by a thousand echoes, rang out from everywhere at once. "Welcome to the main stage of the Hall of Shifting Reflections! Did you think you could sneak off without applauding the Maestro? How dreadfully rude!"
In the centre of the arena, from a whirlwind of glass dust, a figure materialised. A man. Tall, thin, dressed in a tuxedo that seemed to be stitched from shards of mirrors. He wore a top hat, also mirrored, and his face was hidden by a Venetian Harlequin mask, one half weeping and the other laughing. In his hands, he held a cane topped with a crystal orb.
[ZONE BOSS: The Maestro of Reflections (Lvl 12)]
[Type: Illusionist / Psy-Mage]
[Special Ability: Master of Deception. He cannot be harmed by that which is not real.]
"Level twelve?" Lena shoved Rollo aside and took a combat stance, transforming her arms into blades. The symbiote responded reluctantly, sluggishly. It still hadn't recovered from wandering the labyrinth. "We only just hit level seven! That’s not fair!"
"Fairness is an illusion for the simple-minded, my dear Agent," the Maestro bowed, removing his top hat. A flock of glass pigeons flew out, instantly exploding into fireworks above their heads. "Art is the only true reality! And today, you shall become part of my greatest performance!"
"Stuff your art!" Nate didn't wait. "Core Overload! Fire!"
She threw up both pistols and unleashed a volley. Two powerful streams of plasma, bolstered by the "Stabilisers," hit the Maestro square in the chest. And passed right through. The Illusionist’s figure rippled like a reflection in water, and the plasma slammed into the mirrored wall behind him, leaving molten holes.
"Missed, my darling pirate," the Maestro’s voice came from right behind Nate.
She spun around, but no one was there. Only her own reflection in her bikini, which suddenly winked and stuck its tongue out.
"What the—" Nate began to fire in every direction, losing her cool. "Where is he?! The visor won't lock on! There are false signatures everywhere!"
[Attention! Your attack hit an illusion. 10% mana/energy lost.]
Nate’s pistols hissed as they overheated.
"Eli, I’m empty! Energy’s at zero!" she shouted.
"Close quarters!" Lena charged at the spot where she’d last seen the Boss.
She saw him—standing there, leaning on his cane and mockingly watching Nate’s panic. Lena poured all her rage into the strike. Her right axe-blade, black and lethal, slammed into the Illusionist’s shoulder.
Chime!
The sound was as if she’d hit a crystal chandelier. The Maestro’s figure shattered into thousands of shards. And at that very moment, Lena felt her strength drain away. Her knees buckled, and the symbiote contracted painfully, retracting the blades.
[Attention! You attacked an illusion. 15% Life Force lost. Debuff applied: "Confusion".]
"He… he’s draining our strength!" Lena gasped, trying to stand. The mirrored floor beneath her began to spin, the world blurring before her eyes. "Every miss… we get weaker!"
"Bravo! You’re quick learners!" Five Maestros appeared on the arena at once. They circled the girls, twirling their canes and laughing. "In my world, you cannot believe anything. The more you fight ghosts, the less of you remains in reality!"
Irina stood in the centre of the madness, clutching her staff to her chest. She didn't know what to do. Who should she heal? Eli, whose HP had dropped? Nate, who was out of mana? Where should she place a shield if the enemy was everywhere and nowhere?
"Beacon!" she tried the simplest thing. A ball of light soared upward.
Reflecting off the thousands of mirrors, the light turned into a blinding flash. The girls screamed, shielding their eyes.
"Ow! You’ve blinded us, you berk!" Nate wailed, rolling on the floor and trying to wipe her visor.
"Sorry! I didn't mean to!"
When their sight returned, the situation had gone from bad to worse. The arena had shifted. Now the floor was on the ceiling, and they were standing on the walls. Gravity had gone mental.
“And now—the vanishing act!” all ten Maestros announced in unison.
They flourished their cloaks. From beneath the fabric, not pigeons, but mirror shards—sharp as razors—erupted. They flew at the girls like a swarm of lethal wasps.
“Shield! Irina, shield!” Lena screamed, trying to cover herself with her arms, but the symbiote wouldn’t obey.
Irina, disoriented and standing upside down on the ceiling (or was it the floor?), tried to cast Divine Shroud. A golden dome appeared, but it was weak and flickering. The shards hammered against the shield. A cracking sound rang out.
“I can’t hold it! I’m out of mana!”
That was when Rollo made his move. All this time, the blue hedgehog had been hiding behind a mirrored pedestal, commentating on the fight like a bottom-tier streamer: “Ooh, look at that damage!” “The tank’s not tanking!” “Healer, you’re rubbish!” When the shards started flying, Rollo decided it was time to change positions. He bolted with a screech, using his super-speed. And, naturally, he slammed right into Irina.
Screech-thud!
The impact caught her right behind the knees. Irina, who was already struggling to keep her feet in this topsy-turvy world, lost her balance and tumbled. The shield vanished instantly.
“Aaaaah!” Irina fell directly onto Rollo, pinning him to the floor with her weight in her slit-thigh dress.
“Ooh, hello!” came the hedgehog’s muffled voice from beneath Irina. “What a texture! Ten out of ten!”
“Get your paws off me, you pervert!” Irina scrambled to get up in a panic, but she kept getting tangled in her hem and his blue needles.
Left without protection, Lena and Nate took the hit. Mirror shards slashed across their exposed skin. The modified costumes offered no protection. Blood splattered onto the mirrored floor, instantly reflected a thousand times over.
[Damage Received! Bleeding!]
Lena dropped to one knee. The symbiote howled in pain, unable to knit together so many small wounds at once. Nate lay nearby, her bikini torn in several places, her visor shattered. They were getting thrashed. The Maestros (there were ten of them now) stood around them, applauding.
“Exquisite! Such drama! Such a fall!” the Illusionist mocked. “You try so hard, you sweat so much… Incidentally, those new costumes really suit you when you’re… crawling like that.”
He approached Lena, who was trying to prop herself up on a trembling arm. Was he the real Maestro or an illusion? She didn't know. He lifted her chin with the tip of his cane.
“You’re the leader, aren’t you? Agent Vector. So strong, so independent. But in reality—just a little girl lost in her own reflections. You see enemies where there are none, and you fail to see the greatest enemy of all: yourself.”
“Stuff… you…” Lena spat blood at his mask. The spit passed right through. An illusion.
[5% Life Force lost.]
She fell face-first onto the floor again. No strength. No mana. No hope.
“It’s a wipe,” Nate stated, lying on her back and staring into the black sky full of her own mangled reflections. “Game over.”
Irina finally shoved Rollo off and crawled to the side, sobbing as she tried to pull her torn dress together.
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“I’m sorry… I couldn't do it…”
The blue hedgehog stood up, brushed himself off, and adjusted his shades.
“Blimey, you lot are such noobs,” he declared, as if nothing had happened. “I told you—you need skill! All you’re doing is feeding the boss.”
“If we survive this,” Lena rasped, not lifting her head. “I’m going to slice you into ribbons myself, you blue freak.”
“Heh,” Rollo smirked. He looked at the Maestro, who was revelling in his triumph and preparing his final spell—a massive mirrored coffin intended to slam shut over them. “Right then. Looks like it’s time to turn on the cheats. I hate it when a speedrun gets buggered at the boss.”
He began to warm up, stretching his short blue legs in those enormous trainers.
“Oi, Mirror Pierrot!” Rollo shouted. “Look at this!”
The Maestro turned his masked head toward him.
“Ah, the glitch. Are you still here? I’ll save you for dessert.”
“Dessert?” Rollo adjusted his glasses. “Mate, you aren’t even the main course. You’re just a snack before the proper hardcore stuff starts.”
And then Rollo ran. Not at the boss. Not at the exit. He started running in circles around the arena. Faster. Faster still.
Screech-tick-tick-tick-tick!
He turned into a blue, blurred vortex. The sound of his footsteps merged into a single hum. Sparks flew from his trainers. The Maestro watched with interest.
“And what is this supposed to be? A ‘hamster in a wheel’ death-defying act?”
Rollo was running so fast he began to create… after-images. First there were two. Then four. Then ten. Within a minute, hundreds of blue hedgehogs were racing around the arena. They were everywhere. They ran across the floor, the walls, the ceiling (which was still confused with the floor). They ran straight through the Maestro’s copies.
“What sort of trickery is this?” The Illusionist was starting to get nervous. His copies tried to attack the hedgehogs with their canes, but the creatures simply passed through the strikes. “This is my zone! Only I can create illusions!”
“These aren’t illusions, you noob!” Rollo’s voice rang out from everywhere at once, amplified by his speed. “This is lag! I’m overloading your server! Look at the FPS!”
The world began to slow down. Literally. The Maestro’s movements became jerky and intermittent, like a game suffering from horrific lag. The mirrors around them began to flicker, covered in static like an old telly.
“Stop it!” the real Maestro screamed, clutching his head. “You’re ruining the textures! You’re breaking the code!”
“Breaking it? I’m optimising it!” Rollo laughed.
Hundreds of blue hedgehogs continued their mad sprint. And then something strange happened. Rollo’s after-images began to interact with the Maestro’s illusions. Whenever a blue “glitch” ran through a mirrored copy of the boss, the copy would flicker, distort, and then shatter into pixels with a crackle.
“Aha!” came Rollo’s voice. “Get the gist now, ladies? My bugs counter his bugs! Fighting fire with fire!”
Lena lifted her head. She saw the army of blue hedgehogs annihilating the army of mirrored illusionists. Soon, only one Maestro remained on the arena. The real one. He stood in the centre, swaying, his mask slipping to reveal a face contorted with terror and “lag.” His cane trembled in his hand.
“No… impossible… My art…”
Rollo skidded to a halt right in front of him. The hundreds of copies collapsed back into one small, panting hedgehog. His trainers were smoking.
“Phew…” Rollo wiped sweat from his brow. “I think the graphics card is about to melt. Oi, you corpses! The boss is vulnerable! He’s stunned! Dump the damage before I peg it!”
Lena felt the Confusion debuff lift. Her strength began to return. The symbiote, sensing the enemy’s vulnerability, came to life. She stood up. Slowly, with effort, but she stood. The blood from the wounds on her thighs and shoulders stained the orange latex, making it appear even more vivid.
“Nate. Irina. Get up,” her voice was quiet, but the steel was back. “The hedgehog’s given us a gift. Don’t screw it up.”
Nate, grunting, rolled onto her stomach and raised her overheated pistols.
“I hate hedgehogs,” she rasped. “But I might actually kiss this specific one. Later. If I don’t be sick.”
Irina raised her staff. She was nearly out of mana, but she had enough for one last cast.
“I’m ready,” her voice trembled, but she looked directly at the Maestro.
“Right then, let’s end this circus,” Lena transformed both arms. They weren’t just blades anymore. They were massive, spiked axe-hammers, pulsing with the black rage of the Abyss.
She marched toward the Maestro. The Illusionist tried to create a new copy, but all he could manage were pathetic, flickering, semi-transparent silhouettes that vanished instantly.
“No! Wait! This isn't in the script!” he shrieked, backing away. “I demand a restart!”
“Restart’s cancelled,” Lena said, stepping right up to him. She towered over him, terrifying and magnificent in her rage and her tattered suit. “Your show’s closed. Irina, light him up! Nate, fire!”
Irina poured her remaining mana into Holy Retribution. A beam of light slammed into the Maestro’s chest, blinding and searing him. Nate, ignoring the critical overheat warnings, held down the triggers. Two streams of plasma bit into the boss, incinerating his mirrored tuxedo.
And Lena… Lena simply started swinging. This wasn’t fencing—it was a beating. A left hook—the hammer tore the mask off the Maestro’s face. A right hook—the cane snapped. An overhead strike—the boss was driven into the mirrored floor, which began to spiderweb with cracks.
“This is for the illusions! For the strength you drained! And for making us run in these bloody costumes!”
She delivered the final blow with a spin, putting her entire body’s momentum and the full power of the symbiote into it. The black hammer smashed into the boss. The Maestro didn't even scream. He simply exploded. Not into glass, but into a fountain of binary code, mirrors, and old theatre posters. The arena shuddered. The black sky overhead cracked, and through the fissures, the mundane, grey light of fluorescent lamps flickered.
[BOSS DEFEATED!]
[Zone "Hall of Shifting Reflections" cleared.]
[All negative effects removed. Life Force and Mana restored by 50%.]
They stood amidst the ruins. The mirrored panels had vanished, leaving them in a vast, cluttered hangar. This was the real backstage, not an illusion. Rollo sat on an upturned crate, fanning himself with his shades.
"Well then," he said as the girls staggered over to him. "And you lot said I was useless. You owe me one. I ruined my best kicks for you, by the way. Look, the soles are literally smoking."
Lena looked at him. Then at Nate. Then at Irina. And suddenly, she began to laugh. It was a nervous, hysterical laugh that dissolved into a cough.
"You... you actually glitched the boss to death," she wheezed.
"Yep," Rollo nodded smugly. "Told you—I’m a pro. Right, lasses. Smoko's over. The Final Level is waiting. and believe me, after the Maestro, it’s going to get... hot in there."
He hopped off the crate and, limping slightly (he’d clearly done his feet in), headed toward a nondescript metal door at the end of the hangar, above which a red light glowed. The girls exchanged a look and, without a word, followed him. They were exhausted, battered, and their costumes were in a right state. But they were alive. And they were beginning to understand the rules of this insane game.
The metal door with the red light didn't lead to the final level, but to another portal into their familiar tiled paradise. The scent of bleach and floral fabric conditioner hit them, smelling sweeter than the finest perfume.
"The laundry!" Nate groaned, practically falling inside and sliding down the wall. Her visor was shattered, her bikini was hanging on by a thread, and her skin was raw from mirror-shard cuts. "The holy shrine of clean knickers. I could kiss these tiles."
Lena followed, supporting Irina. The Priestess of Light looked the worst of the lot—mentally drained after the "Hall of Reflections." Lena felt like she’d been chewed up and spat out herself. The symbiote pulsed sluggishly beneath the remains of her orange latex, demanding energy and repairs.
"Oi, Iron Guts!" Rollo, who seemed not to have tired at all, was already banging his fist against the chrome side of the giant Unit. "Wakey-wakey! You’ve got VIP clients! We need a full restore and top-tier gear!"
The screen of the Clean-O-Tron 3000 flickered into a welcoming blue.
"Greetings, organic units and... glitch-entity 'Rollo'. Detecting critical equipment wear after confrontation with a Level 12 entity. Contamination Level: Extreme. Equipment Integrity: Critical."
"Yeah, we get it, we get it," Lena said, wincing at the ache in her muscles. "We're in a right mess. Just fix us up. We’ve got the credits."
"Warning," the Unit droned, a hint of alarm in its mechanical voice. "Analysis of the upcoming route indicates an exponential growth in threat. The Final Level contains a concentration of chaos magic and 'eroro-radiation' exceeding safety standards by 400%."
"Eroro-what?" Irina asked, lifting her head.
"He means it’s going to be spicy, babe," Rollo explained, taking up a strategic position behind a laundry basket that offered an excellent view of the team’s rear. He adjusted his shades, zooming in. "The textures are going to melt."
"Your current equipment configuration cannot withstand the thermal and magical load," the Merchant continued. "Mandatory installation of the 'Absolute Vulnerability' modification package is recommended."
"Sounds a bit... unprotected, doesn't it?" Nate noted.
"It is a System paradox," the Unit explained. "The smaller the surface area of the armour, the higher its magical resistance and heat dissipation in chaotic conditions. For survival on the Final Level, fabric-to-skin contact must be minimised."
The upgrade shop appeared on the screen. What they saw there made them forget all previous embarrassment.
"You’re having a laugh," Lena said deadpan, staring at the proposed upgrade.
[Modifier: 'Abyssal Harness' (Lvl 2)]
[Description: Replaces costume remnants with a system of high-tech straps and minimal latex pads. Maximum ventilation for the symbiote.]
[Bonus: +40% Attack Speed, +30% Chaos Magic Resistance.]
On the diagram, it didn't look like clothes; it looked like a complex engineering project made of black straps, binding the body in the most unexpected places and leaving almost everything exposed. Tiny triangles of latex covered only the strategic points, and even then, only symbolically.
"I’m not wearing that," Lena said firmly. "That isn't fan-service anymore; it’s proper pornography."
"There is no choice, organic," the Unit replied dispassionately. "Either this, or death by overheating three minutes after entering the Final Zone."
"Put it on, spreadsheet queen," Nate snorted, having already accepted her fate. "Just think of it as a very skimpy swimsuit for a corporate do in hell."
Nate stepped up to the screen and tapped her own upgrade.
[Modifier: 'Energy-Thong' (Lvl 2)]
[Description: Total abandonment of fabric in favour of force fields. Field generators are located on a micro-belt and pads.]
[Bonus: Infinite ammo (while mana lasts), weapon cooling via wearer's body heat dissipation.]
"Bloody hell," Nate laughed nervously. "So I’m going to be running around in three bits of string that glow? My subscribers would sell a kidney for this content. Right, Iron Guts, load it up."
No longer shy, she shed the remains of her beach outfit and stepped into the drum. Rollo, behind the basket, nearly snapped his neck trying not to miss a second.
"Model evaluation: bit low on the polygon count, but the breast physics are top-tier," the hedgehog muttered to himself.
When Nate stepped out, the laundry was bathed in neon light. There was truly almost nothing left on her but a complex system of straps with small, humming generators. Where fabric should have been, a faint blue force field shimmered, accentuating rather than hiding. Her new plasma-casters, even larger and more powerful, hung on magnetic mounts directly on her hips.
"I feel... a bit breezy," Nate admitted, twirling in front of a mirrored door. "But the guns are absolute beasts now."
Lena sighed, realising it was useless to argue with a machine. She undressed and entered the restoration chamber. The process was painful. The symbiote was reconfiguring itself, melting into the new "harness." When she emerged, she looked like a BDSM-dungeon queen ready for a raid. Black straps bit into her skin, highlighting every muscle. The symbiote, granted maximum freedom, purred joyfully, covering exposed skin with a black, pulsing haze.
"If my husband sees this, he’ll have a literal heart attack," Lena stated grimly, summoning her blades. They appeared instantly, massive and humming with power. "Right. At least I'm a killing machine now. Irina, your turn."
Irina stood before the screen, pale, clutching the remnants of her dress.
[Modifier: 'Sanctity's Transparency' (Lvl 2)]
[Description: A gown made of ethereal, almost invisible fabric. Allows Light mana to pass without resistance.]
[Bonus: +50% Healing Power, instant shield casting.]
On the screen, the model for the dress looked as if she’d been wrapped in cling film.
"No," Irina said quietly.
"Pardon?" the Unit asked.
"I said—NO!" Irina raised her head. There was no fear left in her eyes, only a cold, stubborn resolve. The same resolve that had helped her escape the mirror trap. "I’m not wearing that. I’m not running around in front of a final boss naked like a... like a common trollop!"
"Irina, don't be a numpty!" Nate exclaimed, shimmering in her energy-thong. "Did you see the stats? You’ll be healing like a goddess! We’ll be dead without it!"
"I’d rather die with my clothes on than live like this!" Irina slammed her staff against the floor. "I am a Priestess! Not a dockside girl! This System... it’s trying to break us. Trying to make us forget who we are, turn us into bits of meat. I won't have it."
She turned to the Unit.
"Give me something else. I know you have it. Something normal. Something I can feel like a human in, not a blow-up doll."
"Warning. Request contradicts optimisation protocols," the Merchant creaked. "Alternative options have critical flaws."
"I don't care! Show me!"
The screen flickered, and a new item appeared from the "Scrap / Unsellable" section.
[Item: Forgotten Nun’s Habit (Lvl ???)]
[Description: A heavy, coarse woollen habit with a hood, covering the body from head to toe. Smells of mothballs and humility.]
[Properties: High physical defence. Total immunity to 'Shame' and 'Seduction' debuffs.]
[DEBUFFS: -30% Movement Speed (Weight of Sins). +50% Casting Time (Humility). -20% Mana Regeneration (Asceticism).]
"Blimey," Nate whistled. "That’s a total nerf! Irka, you’ll be slow as a tortoise and it’ll take you six months to cast anything. We’ll be wiped without the heals!"
"At least I'll have my peace of mind," Irina replied firmly. "My strength doesn't come from mana speed, but from faith. If I feel confident, I'll manage. I’m taking it."
She stepped into the machine. When she emerged, she looked like a walking sack of spuds. The coarse, prickly brown fabric concealed her figure entirely. A massive hood was pulled down over her eyes. The staff in her hands no longer looked like an elegant wand, but a knobbly wanderer’s stick. She took a step and nearly toppled over—the habit was heavy and kept getting tangled in her feet.
"God, Irina..." Lena shook her head. She didn't know whether to be cross or impressed. It was mechanically idiotic, but remarkably bold. "Do you actually realise what you've done?"
"Yes," Irina’s voice sounded muffled from beneath the hood, but steady. "I’ve taken back control."
At that moment, Rollo crawled out from behind the basket. The sight of a fully dressed Irina sent him into total shock.
"Oi! Where’s the fan-service?!" the hedgehog protested. "I demand a refund! This isn't canon!"
"Shut it, glitch," Irina turned toward him, and though her eyes were hidden, Rollo felt a very cold stare directed his way. "If you peek again, I’ll turn you into a toad. A church-going one."
Rollo swallowed and backed away.
"Alright, alright, I get it—the Spanish Inquisition is back. Hey, Iron Guts!" he called out to the Unit. "My kicks are absolutely trashed after that speedrun. I need an upgrade too! I can't head to the finale in rags!"
"Entity 'Rollo'. Your class is not subject to standard modernisation," the Merchant replied.
"I don't give a toss about standards! Fit me with something cool! Rockets! Lasers! Underglow!"
The Unit paused, its internal drives creaking.
"Accepted. Experimental footwear modification."
With a joyful shriek, Rollo hopped into the drum. The machine shook and sparked far more violently than usual. It seemed to be trying to crossbreed a hedgehog with a fighter jet. When the hatch opened, Rollo rolled out. His trainers had transformed. They were now massive chrome platforms on wheels, decorated with flashing LED strips in every colour of the rainbow. Small nozzles protruded from the heels, emitting flickers of blue flame. And miniature spoilers had been fitted to the tongues.
[Modifier: 'Disco-Speedster' Jet-Roller-Kicks]
[Bonus: +200% straight-line speed. Capability for short-duration flight. Built-in light show.]
[Debuff: -50% handling. Inability to stop instantly. Attracts all enemies within a kilometre due to noise and light.]
"OH YES, BABE!" Rollo shouted, his voice now carrying a slight autotune effect. "THIS IS STYLE! THIS IS SPEED! I’M NOT JUST A HEDGEHOG ANYMORE, I’M A DISCO ON WHEELS!"
He tried to take a step and was immediately carried away. He slammed into a wall, ricocheted off, and slid across the floor on his back, sparks flying from the nozzles.
"Brakes! Where are the bloody brakes?!" he wailed, spinning like a top around the laundry.
Lena surveyed the team. A semi-naked BDSM warrior with an alien parasite. A stripper-pirate in energy-thongs. A nun in a sack of spuds who could barely walk. And a jet-powered flashing hedgehog who didn't know how to stop.
"Right," Lena said, adjusting a harness strap that was digging into her shoulder. "The Suicide Squad, AliExpress version. Well, you lot of death-wishers. Ready for the Final Level?"
Nate checked the charge on her plasma-casters, Irina gripped her staff tighter, and Rollo finally crashed into a laundry basket and fell silent, though his wheels kept spinning.
"Always ready," Nate smirked, her force fields shimmering.
"Lead us, Agent," Irina’s voice came hollowly from beneath the hood.
"Rollo, up you get, let's move," Lena commanded.
They stepped out of the laundry. Before them lay a corridor leading to massive black doors that radiated heat. A low, heavy bass thrummed from behind them, sounding like the beat of a giant heart.
A sign glowed on the doors:
[FINAL LEVEL: THE HEART OF THE FESTIVAL]
[Warning: High concentration of cringe and melodrama.]