The hours passed in a blur of color, laughter, and flashing lights.

  Hank was deep in his element now… camera raised, fingers moving in sync with the rhythm of his cosplayers, capturing shot after shot. His notebook was half-filled with photo IDs and social tags, his mind cataloging poses, expressions, light angles, backgrounds. Every few minutes, another face came before him, another costume, another hopeful heart asking for just one perfect photo to make their moment unforgettable.

  And many of them… most of them, were women. Beautiful, enthusiastic, flirty. It was flattering, more than he'd ever imagined this life would be.

  He wasn’t a model. He wasn’t a movie star.

  But behind the lens… he was someone they wanted.

  And he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t getting to him a little.

  Still, nothing could have prepared him for the moment when they arrived.

  He didn’t see them at first… just a ripple in the crowd, a sudden hush followed by a flurry of excited whispers. Heads turned. Conversations paused. Even nearby photographers dropped their cameras slightly to take a second glance.

  And then… there they were.

  Ashley and Maria.

  Twin icons of the LA cosplay and modeling scene. Blonde. Blue-eyed. And so impossibly stunning they barely looked real. They were both tall, with legs that seemed to go on forever, toned bodies sculpted with dancer’s grace, and features that belonged on the cover of high-fashion magazines… because they were on the covers of high-fashion magazines.

  Their presence was commanding. Electric. Like walking, breathing fantasy.

  Today, they were dressed as a duo that perfectly matched their chemistry… Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy.

  Ashley… he thought it was Ashley, wore the Harley Quinn look with a devilish twist: short, tattered red and blue shorts hugging her hips, black fishnets trailing down long, flawless legs, and a glittered cropped tee that read “Daddy’s Lil Angel” in a stylized spray-paint font. Her blonde hair was split into twin pigtails, dyed with streaks of blue and pink, and her eyes were lined with chaotic smudges of red and navy.

  Maria… if he wasn’t getting them reversed, played the more seductive contrast. Her Poison Ivy costume was a rich, dark green bodysuit lined with fake ivy vines, plunging just enough to be daring while still elegant. Her skin shimmered with subtle golden glitter, and tiny leaf-shaped appliqués adorned her shoulders and collarbone. Her lips were the color of ripe cherries, and her eyes practically glowed under emerald-tinted contacts.

  They moved together like a synchronized performance… graceful, confident, and undeniably magnetic.

  “Hey. You’re that Hank guy, right?” Harley said with a playful smirk, her voice laced with amusement. “The one who’s blowing up Instagram with those wild green screen edits?”

  Hank blinked, then nodded, managing to keep his voice even. “That’s me.”

  Poison Ivy stepped in beside her, tilting her head slightly as she studied him. “Word is… you work magic with a camera.”

  Hank gave a half-smile, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “I do alright.”

  They exchanged a quick glance, then turned their full attention on him… two pairs of piercing eyes, two identical smirks. “So what do you charge, camera guy?” they asked… in perfect unison.

  The effect was… unsettling. Sexy, yes. But like a mirrored illusion made real.

  Hank took a slow breath and kept his focus. “Normally, it’s fifteen a shoot. But for both of you… together and individual shots… I’ll say twenty.”

  “Deal,” Harley purred, pulling a crisp bill from her belt pouch and handing it over. “We’ll give you something worth framing.”

  Poison Ivy gave him a wink, stepping forward in slow, deliberate strides. “And you’ll make us look like we stepped out of a comic panel, won’t you?”

  Hank’s camera was already in his hands.

  “You’ve already stepped out of something,” he said with a smirk. “Let’s show the world where you landed.”

  The twins laughed… mischievous and melodic, as they stepped in front of the green screen. They began to pose, effortlessly switching between sultry, powerful, playful, and fierce. They didn’t need instruction. They were professionals… but more than that, they were artists, and Hank had just become their collaborator.

  And as the shutter clicked and the flashes captured each moment, Hank knew:

  This shoot would be remembered.

  The shutter clicked in rapid bursts as Ashley and Maria flowed from pose to pose, shifting their weight, tossing their hair, trading glances that danced between playful and predatory. Every angle they struck felt choreographed… yet entirely natural, as if the characters of Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy weren’t being portrayed but inhabited.

  Hank moved around them, crouching low, angling high, capturing the attitude, the dynamic, the chemistry between them. His lens tracked every movement… Harley cocking an invisible bat over her shoulder, grinning with that wild, chaotic glint in her eye; Ivy arching a brow, hand extended like she was summoning vines from the earth, smirking with calculated seduction.

  They were captivating. Not just because of their beauty, but because of the control they had over their space. Hank had worked with hundreds of cosplayers, but this? This was different. This was performance.

  Art.

  After their first few paired shots, he lowered the camera slightly and cleared his throat.

  “Okay. Let’s get a few individual shots. Harley, you’re up.”

  Ashley stepped forward without hesitation, spinning into a wide-legged stance and pointing finger guns at the lens. Her grin was dangerous and glittering.

  “Hit me with your best shot, photoboy,” she said with a wink.

  Hank obliged, his camera snapping to life once again.

  The backdrop would be Gotham, he thought immediately. Maybe an alleyway streaked in neon. Smoke curling at her boots. The silhouette of Batman in the distant skyline. He already saw it.

  She gave him wild, exaggerated moves… tongue between her teeth, one eye squinting, fists on her hips… then slowed it down. Tilted her head. Walked two steps closer and leaned toward the lens, close enough for her breath to fog the glass.

  Hank kept shooting.

  Then it was Maria’s turn.

  She stepped into the spotlight with regal grace, her eyes narrowing as if she were about to enchant the viewer themselves. She brought her fingers to her lips, blew a slow kiss, then turned and looked over her shoulder, letting her vine-draped costume trail behind like growing ivy.

  “Can you give me something... Eden? Enchanted garden, maybe? Moonlight, bioluminescent plants?” she asked.

  Hank nodded. “I’m already building it in my head.”

  She smiled. “Good boy.”

  More flashes.

  More poses.

  It was flawless.

  When they finished, Hank lowered the camera and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “That… was legendary,” he said with a smile.

  Ashley stepped forward, brushing imaginary dust from her fishnets. “We aim to impress.”

  Maria joined her, looping her arm through her sister’s. “And you didn’t disappoint. You actually looked at us… didn’t just stare. That’s rare.”

  Hank shrugged modestly, already scribbling down the photo IDs in his notebook. “I try to make people feel seen. That’s the job.”

  “And what’s your tag again?” Ashley asked, pulling out her phone.

  “@HankShootsReal,” he said. “I’ll be editing these tonight… want me to text you previews before I post anything?”

  They both nodded.

  Maria handed him a sleek, matte black business card, the edges trimmed in silver foil. “Our contact’s on the back,” she said, her voice a sultry purr. “Message us when the magic’s ready.”

  Ashley leaned in closer, close enough for Hank to catch the faint scent of vanilla and something wild… maybe patchouli. She placed a soft kiss on his right cheek, a playful glint in her eye.

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  Maria followed suit, brushing her lips lightly against his left cheek, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder. “Thanks for making us look like goddesses,” she whispered.

  Then, as if choreographed, they turned in perfect sync and sauntered off, hips swaying in time, boots clicking against the convention floor. The crowd parted as they passed, eyes following them like waves chasing the tide.

  Hank stood frozen for a moment, the warmth of their kisses lingering on his skin, his camera still heavy in his hands, its body faintly warm from the rapid-fire shooting.

  He looked down at his screen.

  The last frame captured everything… Maria as Poison Ivy, glancing back over her shoulder with sly, bewitching grace, while Ashley as Harley Quinn stood beside her, smirking like she held the world’s best secret. They were lit just right… framed in golden edge light, their costumes crisp, their expressions electric.

  Icons.

  “Damn,” Hank murmured under his breath. “That’s portfolio gold.”

  And yet… even with their memory fresh on his cheeks, something inside him stirred.

  Like the real moment he’d been waiting for was still on its way.

  And then he felt it.

  Eyes. Watching.

  He turned… and saw her.

  Maerisa.

  Half-shrouded by the booth’s far corner, she wasn’t in line, nor was she calling for attention. But she stood there… tall, poised, regal. Her violet eyes fixed on him. Her gown today was something darker, sleeker. A high-slit black corset-dress trimmed in crimson, with fingerless gloves and a cloak that seemed to shift like smoke.

  She didn’t move.

  She didn’t smile.

  She simply watched.

  And in that moment, Hank forgot about every girl who’d come before her.

  He swallowed.

  Because something in her gaze said:

  It’s almost time.

  ---

  The afternoon had settled into a rhythm… flash after flash, smile after smile. Hank’s booth was a revolving door of color, creativity, and charisma. His camera was beginning to feel like an extension of his arm, and his notebook had grown thick with photo IDs, Instagram handles, and more phone numbers than he’d ever expected to collect in a single weekend.

  He had been invited on no fewer than four dates since noon. All sweet, all gorgeous, all glowing with that post-shoot excitement. But Hank had politely declined them all.

  Not because he wasn’t tempted.

  Not because they weren’t beautiful.

  But the last two nights… with Yuna and then Lena… both incredible, both unforgettable, had been complicated. Each one left a weight behind, something more than just heat and skin. Something he hadn’t fully processed yet. Something that told him not to jump again just yet.

  So for now, his focus was the work.

  He looked down at his camera, checking the last shot… a young girl dressed as Sailor Moon, the fifth one today. She couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve, but her eyes sparkled like she was standing on stage at the Tokyo Dome. Her costume was homemade, but the detail was charming, and her grin after seeing the first photo on Hank’s screen had made his day.

  “You look like a superhero,” he told her with a smile.

  She beamed, clutching her Sailor wand with both hands. Her mother gave him a grateful nod as they walked away.

  He took a breath, sipping from a bottle of water and stretching his back, already feeling the hours pressing into his shoulders.

  That’s when he heard it.

  A ripple of noise from across the floor… gasps, excited murmurs, the unmistakable rush of movement and phones being raised. It came from the direction of the Marvel booth, and it was growing fast.

  Hank instinctively looked up.

  And then he saw her.

  Scarlett Johansson.

  She stood near the Marvel display, framed by sharp lights and surrounded by a loose semi-circle of curious onlookers. Even in the chaos, she had an aura of calm, her signature poise radiant under the convention center lights. Her blonde hair was loosely curled, and she wore a fitted black blazer over a silk blouse, casual yet unmistakably elegant. She wasn’t cosplaying.

  She was just being herself.

  Which somehow made her presence even more powerful.

  Next to her stood Mel… little @youngmel4 herself… in her Black Widow cosplay, eyes wide and mouth moving quickly as she gestured toward Hank’s booth. Scarlett bent slightly to listen, then smiled. A real smile. Genuine.

  Then they both turned.

  And started walking toward him.

  Directly toward him.

  Behind them trailed two large men in black suits and sunglasses… bodyguards, clearly, but they hung back a pace, letting Scarlett lead the way.

  Hank froze.

  His brain scrambled for logic, for reason. He replayed the photo he had edited… Mel standing proudly beside a digitally rendered Scarlett, the lighting perfect, the composition bold. He had tagged both of them. But never in a million years had he expected it to reach her.

  And yet, here she was.

  Scarlett Johansson. Coming to his booth. With Mel.

  The crowd parted like the sea.

  As they reached him, Mel rushed forward and practically bounced on her heels, her words spilling out in a rush:

  “Hank! Oh my god! I told her! I showed her the photo! And she loved it! She actually DM’ed me, and she came to see me and then wanted to meet you!”

  Hank chuckled, kneeling slightly to her level. “You’re the star of that shot, Mel. I just made the lighting look cool.”

  Mel grinned, cheeks flushed. “She wants to sign it. The photo. The one you edited.”

  Then Scarlett stepped closer, her voice calm and warm. “You must be Hank.”

  He stood, slightly stunned. “Yes, ma’am. I mean… yes. I’m Hank.”

  She extended her hand with a small, amused smile. “Scarlett. But I think you know that already.”

  They shook hands. Her grip was firm, confident. Professional.

  “That photo you made of Mel and me? It’s incredible. The lighting, the composition… you really brought something magical to it.”

  Hank blinked. “Thank you. That… means more than you know.”

  She reached into her bag and pulled out a high-quality print of the image. It was mounted on a foam board, the colors rich and vivid… clearly a custom print, not something done at a hotel kiosk. She handed it to him.

  “I signed this one for you.” She smiled. “But I’d love to sign one for Mel, too, if you have a spare.”

  Hank quickly rummaged in his bag and pulled out another copy… he always brought backups. Scarlett took a silver Sharpie from her assistant, crouched beside Mel, and wrote something along the bottom edge of the image.

  Then she handed it to the girl.

  “To my favorite mini me. Keep saving the world. Love, Scarlett.”

  Mel stared at it like it was the crown jewels.

  Tears formed in her eyes.

  Scarlett gently hugged her and whispered something in her ear, and Mel just nodded rapidly, overcome.

  Then Scarlett turned back to Hank. “You're very good at what you do. If you’re ever in L.A., look up my publicist. I think a few of my colleagues would be very interested in your work.”

  Hank swallowed. “I’d be honored. Truly.”

  With a final smile, she nodded to her security, who gave small nods of approval. Then she and her team moved off again… leaving behind a stunned circle of onlookers, a tearful but ecstatic Mel, and one photographer who could barely remember how to breathe.

  Hank sat down on the stool behind his booth, exhaling hard.

  He looked at the signed photo in his hands.

  And smiled.

  Then… like the wind shifting directions, he felt it again.

  Eyes on him.

  Soft.

  Unrelenting.

  Old.

  He turned slowly… and found her.

  Maerisa.

  No longer just watching.

  Now walking toward him.

  Hank barely registered the noise around his booth. The crowd had blurred into color and static the moment he locked eyes with Maerisa.

  She walked toward him with the grace of a shadow at twilight… elegant, self-assured, a presence that parted the air around her without needing permission. Her long white hair, streaked with crimson, shimmered under the con lights like silk in moonlight. Her cloak trailed behind her, swirling with hints of purple mist that no one else seemed to notice.

  When she reached him, she leaned in close, her voice a whisper, but her words sharp and deliberate.

  "Hank, we need to talk."

  He nodded, without question. “Twenty-minute break,” he called to the assistant nearby, then followed Maerisa as she guided him toward the back corridors of the convention hall.

  She opened a plain, unmarked door and slipped inside.

  It was a small, private lounge… meant for VIP guests or panelists. Dim lighting. A worn but plush sofa along one wall. A single armchair in the corner. Nothing flashy, just quiet.

  Maerisa took a seat on the sofa and tapped the cushion beside her.

  Hank sat, tension lining his shoulders. His pulse was steady, but the air felt heavier in here. Denser. Charged.

  She turned to him, her tone gentle but unwavering.

  "Hank... I feel it’s time you knew the truth."

  He looked at her, brows knit in curiosity. “About what?”

  “Everything.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Have you noticed that... women are more drawn to you lately? That they approach you without hesitation? That they open up easily, even compete for your attention?”

  He blinked. Slowly nodded. “Yeah... I mean, it’s kind of hard to miss.”

  She smiled faintly. “It’s not just charm, Hank. It’s not luck. It’s... magic.”

  Hank gave a short laugh. “Come on. What, a spell? A potion?”

  “Something like that.” Her eyes glowed faintly violet as she leaned forward. “I gave you a blessing. A passive aura. It amplifies your energy. Your truth. It draws people to you… especially those your heart leans toward.”

  He hesitated. “You’re serious?”

  “Next you are going to tell me you are a real elf.”

  Without a word, she reached for his hand and guided it up to her ear. “Pull.”

  He did.

  No glue. No prosthetic. The pointed tip was real. Warm. Alive.

  He jerked his hand back. “Holy hell... you’re…”

  “A true elf. One of the last.” She raised her hand and traced a slow circle in the air. Purple smoke curled around them, shifting in graceful spirals. “And I don’t lie, Hank. Especially not to you.”

  He stared at her, searching for words. None came.

  “You’ve felt the shift inside you, haven’t you? These past few days... you’ve been changing. Feeling stronger. More connected.”

  He nodded, slowly.

  “That’s the beginning of your transformation. Not into something else… but into what you’ve always been meant to become. You have power inside you, Hank. I’m just helping you unlock it.”

  “But... why me?” he asked, voice soft, wary.

  Her violet eyes shimmered as she spoke. “Because you’re special. More than you know. And because I’ve been watching you. Waiting. And now... the time is almost right.”

  She leaned in closer, her fingers brushing the back of his hand.

  “But first... you have to be open to the experience. To sensation. To connection. You’ve begun, but your heart is still guarded. And that blocks the final part of the magic.”

  She studied him, searching his face. “I had something planned for tonight… something that would mark your next step, but only if you're willing. Only if you trust me.”

  He nodded slowly, the unspoken thoughts circling closer to the surface. “The last couple of nights...” he began, unsure how to even phrase it.

  Maerisa tilted her head, the faintest smile playing on her lips. “Yuna and Lena,” she said softly.

  Hank blinked. “How did you…?”

  Her smile deepened, not smug, but knowing. “Because I’m connected to you, Hank. I can feel your emotions... and, when I focus, I can hear your thoughts.”

  He stared at her, not quite disbelieving, but not ready to fully accept it either. “You can... hear me? Feel what I feel?”

  She nodded, her voice still gentle. “Not all the time. Not unless I choose to. But you and I… we’re already bound by something deeper. That’s why you’ve felt so much... change. So quickly.”

  Hank exhaled, sitting back slightly. His mind buzzed with fragments… memories of Yuna’s kiss, Lena’s voice in the dark, the magnetic pull toward Maerisa he couldn’t explain.

  “I had something special planned for you tonight,” she continued, her tone shaded with hesitation. “A step forward. Something that would bring you even closer to the truth of who you are. But now...”

  She paused.

  “Now I sense hesitation. Not fear. Not doubt. Just... walls. Still standing. If you can’t open yourself fully to this, I can’t complete what’s begun inside you.”

  He looked at her, eyes searching hers.

  “My transformation? Into what, exactly?”

  Her answer was immediate… and calm.

  “Not into something else. Into yourself. Your true self. The part of you that’s been asleep your entire life. You were always meant to awaken, Hank. I’m just the one who was sent to help you do it.”

  He swallowed. “What do I have to do?”

  She gave him a sly smile. Mysterious. Playful.

  “Just keep being yourself. Keep connecting. And when you’re ready, the moment will come to you. Naturally. You’ll know.”

  Then she stood, her cloak flowing like liquid shadow behind her. She walked to the door, but before she opened it, she turned and looked over her shoulder.

  “Oh, and Hank? The twins... Ashley and Maria? They’ll be coming back soon. For you.”

  She smiled.

  “Let your heart lead. And remember... I’m always watching.”

  Then she slipped out, the door closing silently behind her.

  Hank sat in the quiet room, heart pounding… not from fear, but from the deep, bone-deep feeling that his life was no longer moving in the same direction.

  And he wasn’t sure he wanted it to.