The morning sun filtered through the windows of the suite at the MGM Grand, and despite the wild events of the previous night, the group was up earlier than usual—mostly because their phones were blowing up. Notifications from social media platforms were pinging relentlessly, and as they scrolled through their feeds, they realized that the internet had done its thing.

Jacob, leaning over the breakfast bar, wiped the sleep from his eyes and opened his Instagram feed. "You guys… I think we broke the internet."

Kaitlyn, sipping her coffee, peeked over his shoulder. "Let me guess—something about Michael Han?"

"Try everything about Michael Han," Jacob said, holding up his phone. There, plastered across the screens of TMZ, Us Weekly, and E! News, was the headline they never expected to see: "Mic-Crazy Ass Meltdown: Michael Han Feuds With Party Bitch Jacob Custos in Wild Vegas Showdown!"

Jessica burst out laughing, her phone in hand as she scrolled through the same headlines. "Oh my god, 'Mic-Crazy Ass' is trending! That nickname stuck faster than glue!"

Max snorted, nearly spilling his coffee. "Of course it did. It's perfect."

"Apparently, his PR team is trying to do damage control," Emma said, scrolling through a Us Weekly post. "They're claiming it was all a misunderstanding, and Michael's 'antics' were just a performance gone wrong."

Josh raised an eyebrow. "A performance gone wrong? He threw a bar chair at someone!"

Dylan let out a chuckle. "Yeah, that's one hell of a 'performance.'"

Ryan, still scrolling through his phone, shook his head in disbelief. "This guy's like a reality show that never ends. It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion, but it's hilarious because it's not happening to us."

Kaitlyn grinned. "Correction: it is happening to us. But it's funnier because it's Jacob kicking his ass."

Jacob, who had been quietly basking in his newfound fame, finally set his phone down. "Okay, enough about him. We've got one more day in Vegas, and I'm not letting Mic-Crazy Ass ruin it."

"Agreed," Sam chimed in, stretching her arms above her head. "Let's hit the Strip and enjoy ourselves. I think we deserve it after everything."

The Vegas Strip: Party Bitch Meets the People

The group headed out to the iconic Vegas Strip, ready to take on the city with newfound energy. As they strolled down the boulevard, the towering hotels and flashing neon signs surrounded them, and it wasn't long before they realized something strange: people were staring at them. A lot.

A group of tourists, clearly tipsy from bottomless mimosas, pointed at Jacob and burst into applause. "That's him! That's Jacob, the Party Bitch who took down Mic-Crazy Ass!"

"Wait, what?" Jacob blinked in confusion as the group of strangers rushed over to him.

One girl, holding up her phone, screamed, "Can I get a selfie with the Party Bitch? You're, like, famous now!"

Before Jacob could answer, more people began approaching, pointing and whispering. Some were even chanting, "Party Bitch! Party Bitch!" as if Jacob had become some sort of Las Vegas folk hero.

Jessica clutched her stomach from laughing so hard. "Jacob, you've officially gone viral."

"I don't know how to feel about this," Jacob said, slightly dazed as a few more people crowded around for pictures.

"It's Vegas, man," Dylan said, clapping him on the back. "You're the most loved party bitch in town now."

As they continued walking down the Strip, people waved, called out Jacob's name, and even handed him free drinks. It was like he had become the unofficial king of Vegas for the day.

But, because their luck never lasted for long, Michael Han—Mic-Crazy Ass himself—appeared, strutting down the Strip as if he hadn't been humiliated in front of the entire city. With sunglasses perched on his head, a self-satisfied grin on his face, and a leather jacket that seemed wildly inappropriate for the Vegas heat, he clearly hadn't gotten the memo that no one wanted him there.

"There he is," Emma groaned, spotting him in the distance. "Why can't he just go away?"

Michael swaggered toward them, clearly basking in the fact that the cameras from paparazzi were following his every move. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the wannabe werewolves and Wendigos."

Jacob's patience snapped, and before anyone could stop him, he glared at Michael and shouted, "You're a lunatic, cunt! Why don't you get lost already?"

Michael, ever the drama queen, gasped and placed a hand on his chest like he was some kind of Victorian lady being scandalized. "Excuse me? Lunatic cunt? That's rich coming from someone as ugly as you, Custos."

The group collectively groaned, rolling their eyes at Michael's childish insult.

"Ugly? Really, dude?" Josh said, shaking his head. "That's the best you've got?"

But before the argument could escalate any further, the crowd around them began to murmur with excitement, and the group turned to see why.

Walking toward them with a calm, casual grace was none other than Taylor Swift. Dressed in a chic, effortless outfit and wearing a bright red lipstick that could stop traffic, she looked like she was on her way to shoot a music video—but instead, she was walking right toward the brewing argument between Jacob and Michael.

"Is that... Taylor Swift?" Laura whispered, eyes wide.

"Yep. It's happening," Max said, barely able to believe his eyes.

Taylor approached with a warm smile, looking between Jacob and Michael, clearly having overheard part of the confrontation.

"Hey, I don't mean to interrupt," she said sweetly, her voice like silk, "but Michael, I've been hearing a lot about you. And if you don't cut it out, I'm going to have to write some songs about you."

Michael's face paled. "You wouldn't."

Taylor smiled wider. "Oh, I would. And trust me, it won't be flattering."

The group struggled to suppress their laughter as Michael, who looked as if he'd been slapped in the face, tried to recover.

"Fine," Michael said, glaring at Jacob one last time. "But this isn't over, Custos."

Jacob, still riding the high of his newfound status, crossed his arms. "It's over when I say it's over."

Taylor Swift and the Swift-tacular Vegas Adventure

With Michael temporarily defeated, the group continued exploring the Vegas Strip, now joined by the one and only Taylor Swift, who seemed more than happy to tag along for their shenanigans.

"I've got to admit," Taylor said as they passed by the Bellagio fountains, "I didn't expect my Vegas trip to include fending off a wannabe reality star."

"Welcome to our world," Emma said with a grin. "It's been nonstop since we got here."

As they laughed and joked, Michael reappeared yet again—this time, looking even more desperate for attention. He stormed up to the group, clearly not ready to let things go.

"You thought you could just walk away from me?" Michael shouted, arms flailing in a dramatic fit. "I'm not done with you, Jacob!"

Taylor, barely fazed, turned to the group and said, "Looks like I'm definitely writing that song now."

The group laughed, but Michael kept ranting, his insults becoming more nonsensical by the second.

"Emma, you're nothing but a Wendigo!" Michael shrieked. "And Jacob? You're a werewolf!"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Yep, still a Wendigo. Thanks for pointing that out."

Jacob smirked. "And I guess that makes me a badass werewolf. I can live with that."

As Michael continued his tirade, Taylor Swift turned to the group and raised an eyebrow. "Does he ever stop?"

"Nope," Kaitlyn said with a sigh. "He's like the Energizer Bunny of drama."

The Final Showdown and Michael's Ultimate Defeat

Just when it seemed like the confrontation might go on forever, Michael's reputation took another nosedive. As he stood there, ranting and raving like a madman, a group of club-goers who had apparently been keeping tabs on the whole Mic-Crazy Ass saga decided to take action.

Out of nowhere, several drinks were hurled in Michael's direction, drenching him in a mix of beer, cocktails, and who-knows-what else.

The group burst into laughter as Michael, now completely soaked and looking more like a drowned rat than a reality star, stood there sputtering.

"You… you BULLIES!" Michael shouted, looking furious and humiliated. "You're all just a bunch of BULLIES!"

Matt crossed his arms, shaking his head. "You've been bullying us since we got here. This is just karma, man."

Jacob grinned, unable to resist one last jab. "Looks like Mic-Crazy Ass strikes again."

The DJ, clearly loving the drama, grabbed the mic and shouted, "Let's hear it for Mic-Crazy Ass! Vegas, give him a round of applause!"

The crowd roared with laughter as Michael, now fully defeated, stormed off into the night, flipping over a bar chair in a final act of petty rage.

The group, now laughing so hard they could barely stand, high-fived each other as they watched Michael's dramatic exit.

"That," Taylor said, wiping a tear from her eye, "was the best thing I've seen in a long time."

The Swift Conclusion

As the night came to a close, the group—now joined by Taylor Swift—continued to party and explore the Vegas Strip, free from the drama of Mic-Crazy Ass.

"I'm definitely writing that song," Taylor said, raising her drink in a toast. "It's going to be called 'Mic-Crazy Ass,' and I think it's going to be a hit."

Jacob grinned. "Can I get a shoutout in the liner notes?"

"Done," Taylor said with a wink.

And as the group danced the night away, knowing that their bizarre Vegas reunion would be talked about for years to come, one thing was certain: this was the most epic, ridiculous, and hilarious trip of their lives.

Because when you're in Vegas, and you've got Taylor Swift, Jacob the Party Bitch, and Mic-Crazy Ass in the same city, you know you're in for an unforgettable ride.

And somewhere in a hotel room, Michael Han was probably still plotting his next move—if he hadn't drowned in a sea of drinks and bar chairs first.