Be Bold. Be Bullish. Build on Base. The future is calling—will you answer?

Across the room, Sheriff Monicale grimaced behind his minimalist mask, barely tolerating his cover as a wine-swilling noble.
He spotted him. “Velvet. Mustache. Smug as ever.”

As the duke droned about the crown’s “cultural significance,” Mischief rolled his eyes and pressed a button. A fleet of delivery robots in tuxedos burst in, juggling trays and shooting glitter.
The room exploded in chaos.
Mischief dove through the confusion, snatching the crown.
“Captain!” Monicale shouted.
“Sheriff! Burgundy suits you!” Mischief called, jet-jumping onto a chandelier, which promptly broke and crashed into the punch fountain.

The Nebula Gem in his pocket hummed. The Chrono-Crown in his hand pulsed.
Time hiccupped.
Waiters glitched in place. Monicale found himself briefly holding a mop in a janitor’s closet.
“Oops,” Mischief grinned. “Guess they’re not supposed to touch.”
With a dramatic bow and a wink, he activated stealth escape mode and vanished through a side hatch as time flickered around him.

Back aboard The Winged Wrench, Mischief lounged, crown tilted on his head, the gem“What could go wrong?”
“Relax,” Mischief said, sipping stolen champagne. “Worst case? We’re fashionably late to everything. Forever.”
Somewhere on the moon, Monicale screamed.

“I swear on the stars, next time I will catch him.”