The neon lights of Las Vegas were electric, pulsing with energy as the group — Sam, Mike, Jessica, Emily, Chris, Josh, Matt, Ashley, Laura, Max, Kaitlyn, Nick, Emma, Ryan, Dylan, Abigail, and Jacob — descended upon yet another nightclub. They had been through enough already — Michael Han's obsessive drama, his constant interruptions, and, of course, the infamous Hoover Dam plunge courtesy of Mike. But now? Now they were ready for a good time, and as they entered the packed nightclub, the thumping bass of house music surrounded them, shaking away any lingering thoughts of Michael Han.
For a brief moment, it seemed like the reunion was back on track.
"I can't believe we're actually going to make it through the night without Michael ruining everything," Jessica said, clinking glasses with Kaitlyn as they sipped their cocktails at the bar. "Cheers to that."
Jacob, who was leaning casually against a nearby booth, smirked. "Don't jinx it. That guy's got a habit of showing up at the worst possible moments."
"Relax," Dylan said, stretching his arms out lazily. "There's no way he's coming back. Not after we pushed him into the dam. He's probably holed up somewhere crying into his gelled hair."
"Fingers crossed," Emma added, rolling her eyes. "I just want one night without him being… him."
The group laughed, finally feeling like they could unwind. The dance floor was alive with lights, and the DJ was hyping the crowd up. It felt like the perfect Vegas night—at least, until the inevitable happened.
Just as the group was getting comfortable, a loud voice cut through the noise. Michael Han, looking disheveled, furious, and determined, stormed into the club with a face full of rage, his eyes locked on one target: Jacob.
"YOU!" Michael's voice boomed, pointing an accusatory finger at Jacob, who looked up from his drink, visibly annoyed.
"Are you serious right now?" Jacob groaned. "I thought we were done with this."
The group collectively groaned, their good vibes shattered as Michael made his dramatic entrance.
Michael stormed right up to Jacob, his fists clenched. "You think you can just humiliate me and get away with it? I'm not done with you, Custos. You and your pathetic little werewolf crew—"
Jacob's eyebrow shot up. "Werewolf crew?"
Michael sneered at the group. "Yeah, that's right. All of you are like those freaks from your little backwoods horror stories. Werewolves, Wendigos, whatever! You're all just a bunch of monsters, and I'm here to take you down."
The group collectively blinked, and then laughed. Hard.
"Oh my god," Jessica wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. "Did he just call us werewolves and Wendigos? This guy seriously has lost it."
"I think he's been watching too many supernatural shows," Ryan added, shaking his head.
"Michael," Jacob said, stepping closer, his tone deadly calm, "you're the one ruining everything. You've been the ruiner of this reunion since day one. You can't let us enjoy even a single night."
But before Michael could respond, two hulking security guards approached, clearly having seen enough of his antics. They stood beside Michael, arms crossed, towering over him.
"Let's go, buddy," one of the guards said, motioning for Michael to leave.
Michael turned to them, smug as ever. "Ah, perfect! My security's here. Tell them to throw these—"
But the guards didn't move.
"We're not here for them, man," the other guard interrupted, glancing at the group with a small nod. "We're here to make sure you don't cause any more trouble."
Michael's face fell, and for a brief moment, he looked utterly shocked. "Wait, what?"
"Yeah," Jacob said with a smirk. "Looks like even your security thinks you're a mess."
The group chuckled as Michael stood there, blinking in disbelief. Jacob, not missing the opportunity, threw one last jab. "You're such a ruiner, man. Everywhere you go, you ruin everything. Go ahead and gaslight me all you want, but we all know the truth."
Michael's face twisted with anger as he fired back. "You think you're some kind of hero, don't you? You're just a jealous—"
Before he could finish, Ashley stepped forward, standing beside Jacob. "Back off, Michael. We're all sick of your crap. Just leave."
Michael stood there, floundering for a moment before deciding to storm off to lick his wounds, but it wasn't long before he came back again, this time dragging the entire club into his personal drama.
Sofi Tukker and the Cringe Rap Battle...
As the music continued to blare, the DJ cut the track, and the crowd began to cheer as Sofi Tukker, the dynamic musical duo, stepped up on stage. The group cheered along with the crowd, ready for some great music to distract them from Michael's antics.
"Vegas! How's everyone doing tonight?" Sophie's voice boomed over the speakers, followed by a roaring cheer from the crowd. "We've got a special night for you. It's someone's birthday tonight—"
Everyone in the group groaned. They knew what was coming next.
"Happy birthday to Michael Han!" Tucker shouted, clearly unaware of the backstory.
The group collectively rolled their eyes, muttering under their breath as Michael strutted back into the spotlight, clearly thrilled with the attention. He grabbed the microphone like he'd been waiting his entire life for this moment.
"Yo, yo, yo, check it out!" Michael said, puffing out his chest. "I'm gonna drop some bars for you tonight. You didn't know I was a rapper, huh?"
Jacob stared at him, dumbfounded. "He's a what now?"
Michael started his "rap," an embarrassing mix of cringe-worthy rhymes and insults aimed directly at Jacob. "Custos thinks he's tough, but he's just a pup, I'm the real deal, making y'all shut up."
The group collectively cringed.
Jessica put her hands over her ears. "Please make it stop."
Ryan, grimacing, leaned over to Nick. "Is this actually happening?"
Jacob, whose patience had been stretched far beyond its limit, couldn't take it anymore. He marched up to the stage, grabbed the microphone out of Michael's hand, and began rapping his own verse over Michael's horrified expression.
"Yo, you think you're cool, but you're just a fool, we've been laughing at you since you dropped in the pool. Your rhymes are weak, your attitude's trash, Michael Han, you're nothing but a crash!"
The crowd erupted into cheers, and Michael stood there, fuming, as Jacob continued to steal the show. Just as things were about to get even more heated, Sophie stepped between them, laughing as she playfully pulled the mic away.
"Alright, alright!" she said, raising her hands. "Let's not turn this into a full-blown rap battle. We're here to party!"
She turned to Michael, who looked like he was about to burst into flames from sheer embarrassment. "Michael, I think it's time you let it go, man. Drama's not the vibe tonight."
Michael glared at the group, clearly seething but knowing he was outnumbered and outmatched.
The Haters' Revenge...
Just as Michael was slinking off the stage, still dripping in humiliation, a group of onlookers, clearly fans of neither him nor his attitude, took matters into their own hands. Without warning, they began tossing their drinks in Michael's direction, showering him in a rain of beer and cocktails.
The group burst into uncontrollable laughter as Michael, now dripping in various alcoholic beverages, looked utterly shocked.
"You bullies!" Michael screeched, wiping liquor from his eyes. "You're all bullies!"
Matt, barely able to contain his laughter, crossed his arms. "You're calling us bullies? You've been harassing us all week!"
Jacob, grinning ear to ear, raised his drink. "You're just mad because you're Mic-Crazy Ass."
The nickname stuck like glue. As if on cue, the DJ grabbed the mic and shouted into it, "Let's hear it for Mic-Crazy Ass! Happy birthday, man!"
The crowd roared with laughter, chanting the new nickname as Michael, now completely livid, stormed toward the bar, flipping over a chair in a fit of rage. The chair flew across the room, hitting an innocent onlooker, who looked more confused than injured.
"Let's go!" Jacob shouted, leading the group away as Michael's tantrum continued in the background.
Sofi Tukker to the Rescue...
As the group left the chaos behind, Sofi Tukker, clearly amused by the turn of events, caught up with them on the dance floor.
"That was insane," Tucker said, laughing as they joined the group. "Can we hang with you guys tonight? You seem like a lot more fun than Mic-Crazy Ass."
"Absolutely," Sam said, grinning. "We could use some normal energy after all that."
As the group danced and partied with Sofi Tukker, Michael Han, soaking wet and humiliated, shot one last glare in their direction before finally taking off, disappearing into the night.
"You know," Emily said thoughtfully, watching Michael stomp away, "maybe I am a Wendigo after all."
Jacob chuckled, raising his eyebrows. "And I guess that makes me the werewolf."
The group burst into laughter again, the stress of the past few days finally melting away as they danced, joked, and celebrated with Sofi Tukker. They had survived Michael Han, his ridiculous rap battle, and his endless drama.
And as they raised their drinks and laughed together, one thing was certain: no matter what Vegas threw their way — no matter how many Mic-Crazy Asses they had to deal with — they'd handle it together, with humor, shade, and a whole lot of fun.
Because if anyone knew how to turn chaos into comedy, it was them.
And Vegas? Vegas would never be the same.