Cashwood Grove's twisted forest gives way to a clearing dominated by the massive Pear Tower. Its sleek, sterile exterior reflects the garish holographic advertisements glowing against the evening sky. Lincoln squints as another billboard lights up, showcasing a Pear Phone with a flashy slogan:

Billboard Voice: "The Pear Phone XX Ultra Pro Max: Now with LESS battery life, but MORE colors! Only $2,499.99!"

Lincoln: (mutters) Less battery life, more colors. Yeah, that checks out.

As Lincoln approaches the entrance, the automated voice greets him again from the speaker system.

Speaker: "Welcome to Pear Tower, the headquarters of Pear Industries. Please enjoy your visit—but only if you have an appointment. And if you don't… well… good luck!"

Lincoln: (rolling his eyes) Oh, trust me, I wasn't expecting a warm welcome.

The glass doors slide open, revealing the grandiose lobby of Pear Tower. It's a shrine to wealth and ego, with every surface polished to an obnoxious shine. The central piece of the room is a massive golden statue of a man in a perfectly tailored suit, one hand holding a Pear Phone aloft like the Holy Grail.

Statue Inscription: "Super Colossal Mega Fat Mammoth Cosmic Lord Business: The Visionary of Progress and Perfection."

Lincoln: (staring at the statue, deadpan) Super Colossal Mega… whatever the hell. Couldn't just call yourself Steve and be done with it, huh?

Before Lincoln can process the absurdity, a booming voice echoes through the lobby.

Lord Business: (dramatic) So, you've arrived at my masterpiece! Welcome…to Pear Tower!

From a grand staircase descending from the second floor, the man himself strides into view. Super Colossal Mega Fat Mammoth Cosmic Lord Business is every bit as over-the-top as his name suggests: a tailored black suit with diamond-studded lapels, a gold tie, and shoes so polished they practically blind Lincoln. His perfectly groomed mustache twitches with exaggerated smugness.

Lord Business: (grinning) I am Super Colossal Mega Fat Mammoth Cosmic Lord Business! The genius behind the greatest company the world has ever known! The architect of innovation! The destroyer of mediocrity!

Lincoln: (crossing his arms) Destroyer of mediocrity? More like destroyer of anything halfway decent.

Lord Business: (pretending to be offended) Destroyer? How dare you! I don't destroy—I refine, reinvent, and monetize. Every idea I touch turns into gold!

Lincoln: (snorts) You mean every idea you touch turns into a bloated mess no one asked for. What's the slogan? "Make it worse, but charge double?"

Lord Business: (narrowing his eyes) Insolent child! Do you have any idea who you're speaking to? I have single-handedly redefined the future! Every brilliant innovation, every groundbreaking concept—they're all mine! I've taken good ideas, made them better—

Lincoln: (cutting him off) —by milking them to death. Yeah, I've seen your work. You slap your name on everything until it's unrecognizable. You probably ruined hoverboards and flying cars before they even got off the ground.

Lord Business: (laughing maniacally) Ruined? No, no, no. I optimized them! Nobody needs a functional hoverboard when they can have one that lights up and plays TikToks while you fall on your face!

Before Lincoln can retort, another figure saunters into the lobby. It's Lord Business's son—a teenage boy dripping in designer gear. His gold chains glint under the lights, his diamond-studded sunglasses sit atop his perfectly styled hair, and his custom sneakers squeak with each step. He lazily blows a bubble of gum as he joins his father.

Son of Lord Business: (chewing gum) Yo, Pops, what's all the noise? Who's this kid?

Lord Business: (dramatic) Son! Meet the intruder who dares to insult the brilliance of Pear Industries.

Son: (grinning) For real? This scrawny little dude? What's he gonna do, write a bad Yelp review?

Lincoln: (glaring) Oh, don't worry. I'll do more than that.

Son: (mocking) Sure you will, lil' guy. But, uh, you're in the wrong place. You're not exactly "VIP material," if you know what I'm sayin'.

Lincoln: (smirking) Yeah, because being a wannabe influencer with too much money totally makes you special.

Son: (snapping his gum) Jealousy's not a good look, bro.

Lord Business claps his hands, cutting off the banter.

Lord Business: Enough! Let's not waste time on this…child. Son, escort our uninvited guest to the top floor. Let's give him a view he won't forget.

With a snap of his fingers, robotic arms descend from the ceiling and grab Lincoln by the shoulders. He struggles, swinging his frying pan, but the arms lift him effortlessly onto a hovering platform.

Lincoln: (yelling) Hey! Put me down, you egomaniacal nutjob!

Lord Business: (grinning) Oh, don't worry, my boy. You'll be going down soon enough…straight from the 12th floor!

The platform shoots upward, carrying Lincoln through a massive glass elevator shaft. The walls are lined with holographic displays showcasing Pear's "accomplishments"—failed products, cancelled projects, and the garish Pear Phone lineup.

Lincoln: (mutters) Great. A monument to mediocrity.

At the top floor, the platform dumps Lincoln onto the roof. The wind howls as he stumbles to his feet, glaring at the ridiculous, oversized Pear logo towering over him. Lord Business's son steps onto the roof, his sneakers squeaking against the polished tiles.

Son: (grinning) Alright, lil' dude. Time to bounce. Literally.

Lincoln glares at him, gripping his frying pan tightly.

Lincoln: (growling) You think this is funny?

Son: (laughing) Oh, I know it's funny.

The robotic arms descend again, grabbing Lincoln and carrying him toward the edge of the roof. The son leans casually against a railing, chewing his gum as he watches.

Son: (mocking) Later, loser. Hope you packed a parachute!

The arms swing Lincoln back and hurl him off the roof. He screams as he plummets, the wind rushing past him. Just before hitting the ground, he lands with a loud boing in a Pear-branded bounce house conveniently placed below.

Lincoln: (sprawled out, groaning) A Pear bounce house. Of course. Because why wouldn't they monetize falling to your death?

He sits up, glaring at the tower as the son waves mockingly from above. Lincoln clenches his fists, his anger boiling over.

Lincoln: (to himself) Alright, Lord Business. You want to play dirty? Fine. But when I'm done, your little empire's gonna wish it never met me.

With renewed determination, Lincoln storms out of the bounce house, frying pan in hand, ready to face whatever absurdity comes next.