Verosika pulled out her phone and dialed her limo driver, her tone all business. "We need a pick-up immediately. Crimson's casino in the Greed Ring. Make it quick." She hung up without waiting for a response, sliding her phone back into her pocket before turning to address her crew.

"Alright, listen up!" Verosika clapped her hands, gathering everyone's attention. "When we get to the casino, our job is simple: keep everyone distracted. That means flirting, flaunting, drinking, singing—whatever it takes to keep the crowd's eyes on us and off Spawn."

Kiki raised her hand, smirking. "So, basically, just a regular Tuesday?"

Josh snorted. "More like a Friday night, Kiki."

Verosika rolled her eyes but smirked. "Exactly. You're all good at causing trouble, so lean into it. I don't care what you have to do—just make sure no one notices Spawn sneaking around."

Milky adjusted her outfit, giving her hair a flip. "Don't worry, V. We've got this. They won't even remember what day it is by the time we're done with them."

Ace, still looking uneasy after the earlier ribbing, muttered, "As long as we don't push it too far and get ourselves thrown out…"

Verosika shot him a sharp look. "You're not getting thrown out. You're doing your job, which is being just annoying enough to keep everyone on edge without crossing the line. Got it?"

Ace nodded, though he still looked nervous.

The sound of a honking horn outside signaled the limo's arrival. Verosika gestured toward the door. "Alright, time to move. Remember, we're here to put on a show—and nothing else. Let's make it count."

As they filed out to the limo, Spawn hung back, observing the group with his usual silent intensity. Verosika caught his eye as she passed, giving him a quick nod. "We'll handle the distraction. You just make sure to find Moxxie and get him out of there."

"Don't worry," Spawn replied. "I'll handle it."

Verosika smirked. "I don't doubt it. Now, let's go raise some hell."


As the limo cruised through the chaotic streets of the Greed Ring, Verosika leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs with practiced poise. She adjusted her sunglasses, the reflective lenses catching the gaudy neon lights outside. Her crew was buzzing with a mix of excitement and nerves, the kind of energy that always came before pulling off something big.

Kiki was busy reapplying her lipstick in a compact mirror, grinning at her reflection. "So, how big of a scene are we talking here? Like, do we just turn it up to eleven, or do we nuke the place?"

"Turn it up," Verosika replied smoothly. "No nukes. We're not trying to burn this bridge—just make it unstable enough to wobble a little. Got it?"

Josh leaned forward, cracking his knuckles. "Got it. But if someone asks for an autograph, I'm charging double."

"Focus, Josh," Verosika snapped. "This isn't about boosting your ego. This is about making sure Spawn can do his thing without anyone catching on."

Ace, seated in the corner, adjusted his collar nervously. "You think Crimson's security is gonna buy this?"

"They'll buy it," Verosika said confidently, waving him off. "Rich assholes like Crimson are suckers for a spectacle. Trust me, all we need to do is play the part, and they'll eat it up."

Coco, seated across from her, gave a sly smile. "So, basically, just do what we always do?"

"Exactly," Verosika said, smirking. "But this time, there's more on the line than just making a scene. This is about helping someone who actually deserves it."

There was a rare seriousness in her tone, and it silenced the chatter for a moment. Even Kiki put down her compact, nodding in agreement.

The limo slowed as they approached the massive, opulent casino. Verosika adjusted her sunglasses one last time and checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror. "Alright, everyone. Showtime. Stick to the plan, and we'll be fine. Let's make sure Crimson remembers this night—and that Spawn has all the time he needs."

With that, the limo came to a stop, and the door opened to the flashing lights of the casino entrance. One by one, they stepped out, each of them slipping effortlessly into their roles as the center of attention. Verosika led the way, her head held high and her smirk firmly in place.

The stage was set. Now it was time to perform.

The security guards at the entrance, dressed in polished but garish uniforms, practically froze as Verosika strutted up to them with her crew in tow. Their jaws dropped slightly, clearly recognizing her.

"Holy shit, that's Verosika Mayday!" one whispered to the other, fumbling for the radio at his belt.

Verosika smirked, removing her sunglasses in a fluid motion and glancing at the guards with a practiced look that was equal parts seductive and dismissive. "Are you boys going to open the door, or do I have to wait all night?" she purred.

The guard on the radio stammered into it. "Uh, boss? Verosika Mayday is here. With her crew. She, uh... she wants to come in."

Crimson's voice crackled over the radio almost immediately, a mix of irritation and disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about? Verosika Mayday? At my casino?"

"Yes, boss! She's standing right here."

There was a brief pause before Crimson barked, "Then stop wasting her time and let her in, you idiot! Do you have any idea how good this is for business? Damn it, just do your job!"

The guards snapped to attention, fumbling over themselves to open the doors. "Right this way, Miss Mayday," one said, his voice tinged with awe.

Verosika stepped forward, her crew trailing behind her like a glittering entourage. She flashed the guards a sly smile as she passed. "Good boys," she teased, her tone dripping with mock approval.

Behind her, Kiki leaned over to Milky, whispering with a grin, "I love it when they get all flustered."

Milky chuckled softly. "Let's hope they don't wise up anytime soon."

As the doors to the casino swung open, the chaos and opulence of one of the Greed Ring's most notorious establishment greeted them. Crimson's domain was a den of excess, packed with sinners throwing away their fortunes and souls in a cacophony of spinning wheels and clinking glasses.

Verosika led her crew through the gilded chaos with a confidence that turned every head in the room. She could already feel the crowd's attention shifting toward them, exactly as planned. Now, it was time to turn the distraction up to eleven.

Crimson strode into the casino floor with an air of calculated authority, his finely tailored suit gleaming under the gaudy neon lights. His grin was as oily as ever, but now there was a hint of excitement. Verosika Mayday in his casino was an opportunity too good to pass up, and he was already envisioning the profits her presence could bring.

"Miss Mayday!" he called out, his voice slick with feigned charm. "What an unexpected pleasure. To what do I owe the honor of hosting such a radiant star in my humble establishment?"

Verosika turned her head slightly, just enough to acknowledge him without fully facing him. Behind her sunglasses, her eyes scanned the casino with a disinterested air. She didn't slow her stride as she responded, her voice smooth but laced with cool detachment.

"Nice place," she said simply, brushing off his flattery. "Though I was expecting a little more... class."

Crimson's grin faltered for a split second before he recovered, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Ah, well, you know how it is. The Greed Ring loves its excess, but I assure you, my VIP area offers nothing but the finest luxury for someone of your stature."

Finally, Verosika stopped walking and turned to face him, tilting her sunglasses down just enough to reveal her piercing gaze. "Good. Then take me there," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Crimson blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her bluntness, but he quickly nodded, gesturing grandly toward a velvet-roped staircase. "Of course, of course! Right this way, Miss Mayday. Anything for Hell's brightest star."

As they ascended the stairs, Verosika's crew spread out on the casino floor, seamlessly blending into the crowd. They began their distraction in earnest—Josh and Kiki drawing attention with flirtatious antics, while Ace and Milky subtly stirred up chaos at the gaming tables.

Verosika glanced back briefly, noting her crew's efforts with a barely perceptible smirk. Crimson, oblivious to the growing commotion below, continued his sycophantic chatter as he led her toward the VIP lounge.

"Whatever you need, it's yours," Crimson assured her. "Drinks, entertainment, privacy—you name it, and I'll make it happen."

Verosika's smile widened just enough to hide her true intentions. "Oh, I'll let you know," she said smoothly, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.


Spawn slipped through the entrance when Verosika and her crew went in, his cape shimmering as it cloaked him in an aura of invisibility. Inside, the casino buzzed with activity, its garish lights and cacophony of laughter, shouts, and slot machines creating a perfect backdrop for chaos. Spawn moved silently through the corridors, keeping his senses sharp for any signs of Crimson's goons or surveillance.

As he edged closer to the main floor, he spotted Verosika's crew already in action. Coco, Apple, and Kat were seated at one of the more prominent bars, drawing attention with their lively antics.

"Another round!" Kat shouted, slamming an empty shot glass on the counter with a wide grin. His enthusiasm earned cheers from the crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle.

Apple leaned back in her chair, swirling her drink lazily. "Kat, you sure you can handle this? That's, what, your fifth shot in under a minute?"

"Seventh," Kat corrected smugly, grabbing the next glass and downing it effortlessly.

Coco clapped him on the back, laughing. "You're gonna regret that in the morning, dude!"

"Morning's a problem for Future Kat," he replied with a wink, raising another shot to the crowd, who roared in approval.

Spawn, from his concealed position, shook his head at the display but grudgingly acknowledged the effectiveness of their distraction. The group had successfully drawn a significant portion of the casino's patrons—and staff—into their orbit, leaving other areas less guarded.

He moved swiftly through the shadows, taking advantage of the diversion. His focus remained on finding the path to security office, where he knew .

As he continued through the casino, Spawn made a mental note: At least these lunatics are good at what they do.

Meanwhile, on the casino floor, Milky stood atop a blackjack table, her striking presence commanding the attention of everyone in the vicinity. With a microphone in hand—conveniently "borrowed" from the nearby stage—she belted out an impromptu rendition of a sultry jazz tune.

Her voice, rich and captivating, drowned out the din of the casino. Dealers paused mid-hand, patrons abandoned their games, and even the security guards couldn't help but watch in awe.

Ace, leaning casually against the edge of the table with a drink in hand, whooped and clapped loudly, acting as her personal hype man. "That's right! Give it up for the one and only Milky!" he hollered, encouraging the crowd to cheer even louder.

Milky winked at him mid-verse, her charisma drawing more people toward the spectacle. A few guests started swaying to the rhythm, while others scrambled to take out their phones and record.

"You know," Ace said loudly to the nearest gawker, "she doesn't just sing—she wins. Big time. I'd stick around if I were you. You never know what you'll see next."

Milky stepped off the table in one fluid motion, landing gracefully as she continued her performance. She sauntered through the crowd, her voice effortlessly holding everyone's attention. She locked eyes with a few high rollers, giving them teasing smiles, ensuring they were hooked.

Ace followed her with a sly grin, glancing over his shoulder to ensure that the distraction was working as intended. More and more eyes were glued to Milky, leaving key parts of the casino floor sparsely monitored.

Perfect, he thought, raising his glass in silent approval.


Verosika lounged in a luxurious VIP booth, her legs crossed and her signature shades shielding her from the gaudy lights of the casino. Crimson sat across from her, practically oozing arrogance as he prattled on about his business acumen, his success, and how he had "always admired a woman of power."

She barely listened, sipping on a martini and throwing out the occasional noncommittal "Mhm" or "Really?" to keep him going.

Crimson leaned in closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "You know, Verosika, with someone like you on my side, we could own this ring. Imagine: the most famous succubus and the most powerful businessman. A match made in—"

"—Hell?" Verosika cut him off with a sweet but sharp smile, the faintest edge of mockery in her tone.

Crimson chuckled awkwardly, clearly not catching on to her disinterest.

As she pretended to adjust her sunglasses, Verosika's sharp eyes caught a faint shimmer in the air near the far wall of the VIP lounge. It was subtle—something only someone who knew what to look for might notice. But she knew.

Spawn was already inside.

Satisfied that the plan was underway, Verosika leaned back, her smile turning coy. She gestured lazily to Crimson's glass. "Another drink? You might need one if you plan on keeping up with me tonight."

Crimson smirked, waving for a waiter, entirely unaware that the shimmering presence was quietly slipping deeper into his domain. Verosika tilted her glass slightly, as if toasting to the chaos yet to come.


Spawn moved with precision, his footsteps silent as he slipped into the security office. The dim room hummed with the glow of monitors, each displaying different angles of the casino. Amid the cacophony of Verosika's crew causing chaos on the screens, the lone guard sat transfixed, his gaze glued to the feed of Verosika in the VIP lounge.

Spawn's cape slithered out like living shadows, wrapping around the guard's neck in an instant. Before the man could react, a sharp constriction rendered him unconscious. Spawn gently lowered the limp body to the floor, ensuring no noise would alert others.

He turned to the monitors, scanning each feed until his eyes locked onto Moxxie. The imp was tied to a chair in a dimly lit back room, his head slumped forward. Bruises marked his face, and his usual sharp suit was disheveled, showing the signs of Crimson's cruelty.

Spawn's jaw tightened. He didn't need to hear Moxxie's cries to know the hell the imp must have endured in the past few hours.

He studied the feed, noting every detail: the layout of the room, the position of the door, and the lack of visible guards. Crimson had underestimated him. That was his first mistake.

With one last glance at Moxxie's location on the monitor, he stepped back into the shadows, his mind already formulating the next step of his plan.

Tonight, Crimson's second mistake would be underestimating how far Spawn was willing to go.

As Spawn slipped out of the security office, still cloaked in his shroud of invisibility, he couldn't help but catch sight of two familiar figures amidst the bustling chaos of the casino floor.

KiKi and Josh had clearly taken their roles in Verosika's distraction plan to heart. KiKi was leaning against the bar, twirling a strand of her hair and flashing a dazzling smile at one of the cocktail waitresses, who seemed equal parts flustered and amused by the attention.

Nearby, Josh was even more overt, his arm draped casually over another waitress's shoulder as he leaned in to whisper something undoubtedly inappropriate, judging by the exaggerated laugh that followed. The waitresses were clearly entertained, but also momentarily distracted from their duties, their trays of drinks ignored.

Spawn paused briefly, shaking his head in exasperation. "Flirting with the staff now? These two are going to get themselves kicked out." He muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl that only he could hear.

Still, the scene served its purpose. The more eyes KiKi and Josh kept off the rest of the room, the better. Spawn moved on, disappearing into the shadows once more, his focus narrowing on Moxxie's location.

While Verosika's crew might be chaotic, there was no denying they were effective at keeping Crimson's operation thoroughly distracted.

Making his was to a door at the very back of the casino, Spawn quickly opens it, slipping inside unnoticed.

Spawn moved silently down the dimly lit corridor, his boots making no sound against the polished marble floor. The cold, sterile atmosphere of the hallway was a stark contrast to the gaudy excess of the casino above. Here, everything was functional, devoid of charm or personality.

Each door he passed bore a heavy steel frame, some marked with scuffs or faint stains that hinted at the darker purposes of this space. He knew exactly what kind of "hospitality" Crimson extended to his "guests," and the thought only fueled the fire of his resolve.

Reaching a door at the far end, Spawn paused. The faint sound of muffled grumbling and struggling came from within. He recognized Moxxie's voice immediately—strained but unmistakably defiant. Spawn's lip curled in grim approval.

He tested the handle, unsurprised to find it locked. Spawn raised his hand, his necroplasm crackling faintly around his fingers as he concentrated. With a faint pop and a sizzle of burning metal, the lock disintegrated, the door swinging open with an ominous creak.

Inside, Moxxie was tied to a chair in the center of the room, his suit disheveled and his cheek sporting a fresh bruise. His head snapped up at the sound of the door opening.

"About damn time," Moxxie muttered, though there was clear relief in his tone.

Spawn stepped inside, his green eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "Stay quiet. We're getting you out of here."

Moxxie nodded, though his usual sarcasm bubbled to the surface. "I'd say I owe you one, but let's just call it even for trying to strangle me that one time."

Spawn allowed himself a faint smirk as he knelt to undo the ropes binding Moxxie. "Don't push your luck, imp."

Moxxie snorted but stayed still, letting Spawn work. The quicker they got out of here, the better.

Spawn froze, the faint echo of footsteps drawing closer. He immediately activated his invisibility, his cape shrouding him in shadow and blending him seamlessly into the room. The glow of his eyes dimmed to nothing, leaving only the faint, oppressive hum of tension in the air.

Moxxie stiffened in his chair, his ears twitching as he caught the sound. His eyes darted toward Spawn's general direction, though he couldn't see him anymore.

The footsteps stopped just outside the door. A low voice murmured something indistinct—likely a guard or one of Crimson's goons. The door creaked open.

A tall, burly imp with a scaly complexion stepped into the room, a baton hanging from his belt. He squinted at Moxxie, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

"Looks like Daddy's little disappointment is still sittin' pretty," the guard sneered. "Enjoyin' your stay?"

Moxxie, to his credit, didn't flinch. Instead, he forced a tired smirk. "Oh, the hospitality's top-notch. Though I wouldn't recommend the company."

The guard chuckled, stepping further into the room. "Funny. Let's see how mouthy you are after I—"

He didn't finish the sentence. Spawn's cape lashed out from the shadows, wrapping around the imp's throat like a coiled snake. The guard's eyes bulged in shock as he was yanked backward into the darkness.

There was a muffled crack, and the imp slumped to the floor.

Moxxie blinked, his smirk fading. "Well, that's... efficient."

Spawn reappeared, crouching over the fallen guard. He checked the corridor outside before turning back to Moxxie. "No more delays. Let's move."

He made quick work of the last restraint, pulling Moxxie to his feet. The two slipped out of the room and into the hallway, Spawn's cape coiling protectively around them both as they moved.