katmar1994 – Yes, the producer isn't a nice guy. Thank you for reviewing the last chapter. Please keep 'em coming! They motivate me. (I had uploading issues, and just now realized it had deleted this section.)

Velvet growled. "You mean those pesky little woodland creatures that live in the forest? What about 'em? They're myths. They don't exist."

"And what about you?" he asked Veneer, catching the boy off guard at being acknowledged. "Do you believe in them?"

Veneer thought about it. "It's hard to believe in something you've never seen before."

"Understandable," he hummed aloud.

He snapped his fingers, summoning the lady who called Velvet and Veneer's names in the lobby.

"Yes, sir?" she asked politely, bowing in respect as per company policy.

Velvet spun so fast in her chair that Veneer was surprised she didn't get whiplash.

"You!" she sneered, pointing at the lady.

Veneer groaned.

This was the last thing they needed to happen, especially in front of the big boss man.

"Sis," he begged, grabbing her arm, "chill." Velvet yanked her arm free from her brother's grasp, giving him the signature death glare that Veneer had been used to receiving from her since they were children. It was how she always got her way, but Veneer wasn't backing down this time because it was different. They had an audience.

He stared back. "Please," he whispered pleadingly.

She listened, sitting down slowly, but Veneer considered it progress.

"If you'd please," Mr. Smith instructed her, "retrieve our special guest from her…quarters."

"Of course, sir, right away," she immediately answered, bowing once more before exiting, making herself scarce.

Velvet relaxed once she left and Veneer sighed in relief, slouching in his seat.

"Now," Mr. Smith said, leaning forward on his elbows. "I've got a proposition for you two. This experiment of mine isn't for the faint of heart. It requires risk, but your dream of fame will be within arm's reach if performed successfully. What do you say?"

"You said there are risks involved," Veneer pointed out tentatively. "What type of risks exactly are we talking about here?"

"Veneer," Velvet hissed through clenched teeth, a fake smile plastered on her lips, "knock it off with the questions."

"But–"

"You two are too much," Mr. Smith said, chuckling at the twins as he found their amusing antics endearing, "and it's quite all right Velvet. It's a valid question. Veneer has every right to voice his concerns. And, Veneer, while there are potential risks, you and your sister won't be affected, provided our special guest plays her role as expected."

"Who is it?" Veneer asked, on the edge of his seat from anxiety.

The sound of a knock made Veneer slouch and cross his arms. He was annoyed by the interruption and grumbled under his breath.

"As requested, sir," the lady from before entered, holding something in her hands.

"Ah, yes, here she is," he announced enthusiastically. "Our special guest has arrived."

The lady handed Mr. Smith something shiny as the twins eyed the exchange.

"Velvet, Veneer," he said, placing the object on the desk. "I'd like you two to meet Bloom."

"Uh, it's a Troll," Veneer muttered, not believing his eyes, eyeing the trapped creature inside the diamond perfume bottle.

He got as close as possible to see it better by kneeling next to the desk, his nose almost touching it.

Velvet drummed her long nail on the perfume bottle, clearly disinterested, before leaning back in her chair. "And how exactly is a Troll supposed to help us achieve my dream of fame?"

"I'm glad you asked, Velvet," Mr. Smith said, flicking the perfume bottle.

The Troll inside flinched.

"Trolls are talented creatures, wouldn't you agree?" he asked rhetorically, smirking at the trapped Troll. "Well, most of them."

The Troll glared at the man, which didn't escape the twins.

"Do you two know each other?"

"You could say that," Mr. Smith hinted vaguely but didn't elaborate, leaning back in his chair. "And it's exactly that talent that we intend to harness."

"'Harness?' How?"

Velvet was asking the questions now, Veneer noticed with an eye roll.

"Let me clarify," he explained. "Trolls have magical properties that, if extracted correctly with the right enchanted object—like a perfume bottle made of diamond—can either enhance or dramatically alter the abilities of the person who performs the extraction."

Veneer blinked dumbly up at the man from where he knelt. "You can do that?"

"Yes, I can, Veneer," Mr. Smith guaranteed. "All it takes are willing participants for it to work. Velvet, why don't you give it a spritz?"

She eyed the supposed enchanted object. "It won't cost anything?"

"Not a thing. Think of it as a free sample."

The prospect of free samples led Velvet to snatch the perfume bottle without a second thought for the Troll trapped within.

Veneer stood, watching helplessly from the sidelines as his sister spritzed herself, cringing when he noticed how the bottle ominously glowed.

What happened next, Veneer could only describe as magic. Velvet sang like an angel, and Veneer's eyes widened in disbelief. His sister was tone-deaf, and so was he. It wasn't possible. Yet, she had the pipes of a professional singer.

"That's not possible," Veneer gawked.

"Oh, it's quite possible, Veneer," Mr. Smith smiled. "Eventually, however, we will require additional Trolls."

"Why?" Veneer questioned him, suspicious of the man's intentions.

"When harnessed collectively," he clarified, "the greater the talent becomes, and the more famous you'll become. I'm sure you and your sister want to be at the top of the charts and expect nothing less than you deserve. I will get you there. Because of this, I expect you to cooperate without hesitation. Hesitation leads to doubt, and there's no room for that here, so do we have a deal?"

He extended his hand.

"You read my mind, Mr. Smith," Velvet purred, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "You got yourself a deal."

"Sis, shouldn't we talk about this?"

"What's there to talk about?" she challenged. "Veneer, you gotta try this."

"But–"

Except it was too late; Velvet had snatched Veneer's hand before he realized her intentions and placed the perfume bottle in his palm. The Troll inside looked worse for wear, which made Veneer feel guilty for allowing this to happen. Something inside Veneer changed, however, as soon as he felt the magic seep into his veins. Following his sister's lead, he sang. Was that his voice? It didn't sound like it, but who was he to judge? He could get used to this.

"So, Veneer," Mr. Smith said, extending his hand, "what do you say?"

"What she said," was his intelligible response, shaking the man's hand, no longer suspicious of his intentions, too drunk on power to care.

"Excellent! That's what I like to hear!" Mr. Smith clapped, standing. "Now, if you follow Rachel to her office, she will assist you with all the necessary paperwork to get started. In the meantime, Crimp!"

"What's a Crimp?"

Veneer shrugged carelessly. "How should I know?"

A strange creature covered in orange crimped hair jumped on the desk.

"Yes, sir?" she inquired politely.

"Crimp, this is Velvet and Veneer," Mr. Smith introduced, as Crimp waved; her hands were purple. "Velvet, Veneer, this is Crimp."

"And we should care because…?" Velvet trailed off as she cringed, whereas Veneer was more curious than disgusted, poking the creature from where he found himself, once again, knelt beside the table in curiosity. Crimp chuckled at being poked, swatting his hand away halfheartedly.

"Crimp here will gladly assist you with all your needs business or otherwise," he explained. "She'll take care of everything while you are employed with us, so all you have to concern yourselves with is climbing the charts, isn't that right, Crimp?"

"Yes, sir," she added, looking up at Mr. Smith before turning her attention to the twins. "You can consider me your assistant while employed with Mr. Smith."

"Sound good?"

"Perfect."

Veneer stood, sensing the meeting was coming to an end.

"I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, you two," Mr. Smith commented, leading them toward the door by the shoulders. "If you have any questions, ask Crimp. That's her job, after all."

He handed Crimp off to Veneer, much to his sister's relief.

"Now," he said, practically pushing them out of his office, "if you'll excuse me." He closed the door behind them.

They stood in the hallway, sharing dumbstruck looks before whooping loudly, not caring if anyone heard.

Meanwhile, Mr. Smith walked back to his desk.

"Sir?" Rachel inquired, waiting for him to sit down and get comfortable before bombarding him with questions. "You didn't mention the side effects."

"They only asked about the risks, Rachel," he reiterated. "Risks and side effects are the same thing, don't you agree?"

No, she didn't, but she wasn't about to argue on someone else's behalf, scared of losing her job or worse. Mr. Smith wasn't a man to be trifled with.

"Yes, sir," she answered, changing her tune easily if it meant she stayed on his good side.

"Good," he commended. "If I recall correctly, we have a new client who could use your assistance."

She took the hint, bowing. "Yes, sir, of course."

He waited until he was alone to speak, "And here I thought she'd never leave. Oh, don't look at me like that," he sneered, shifting personalities, "You, my dear, should've seen this coming."