Spun Out of Control

Chapter 4: Unplanned Gala Duty

"Understood, Boss. I will be the most majestic blue bear this city has ever seen. Fr fr," Gavin muttered, his voice muffled by the thick, synthetic fur of the mascot head he was already clutching under his arm.

Rose offered him a tight, elegant smile, though her eyes betrayed a glimmer of genuine worry. "Just stay in character, Gavin. The donors are high-profile, and if you start doing your weird 'desk-sliding' maneuvers, you’re fired. No cap."

"Bet. I’ll be the most chill mascot you’ve ever seen. Pure professional vibes," Gavin promised, turning toward the cramped dressing room tucked behind the grand ballroom stage.

He shimmied into the suit. It was a nightmare of polyester and foam, smelling faintly of stale dryer sheets and previous years of corporate neglect. The head was heavy, featuring a giant, toothy squirrel grin that made it impossible to see anything but a narrow, foggy sliver of the ballroom floor.

"Bruh," he whispered to himself, struggling to adjust his vision. "I look like an absolute unit of a rodent. This is peak comedy."

Ten minutes later, the charity gala was in full swing. Gavin stood near the velvet-curtained stage, swaying awkwardly. His sticky, mutated palms were itching inside the oversized squirrel mitts, and the bioluminescent blue static in his veins felt like it was humming in time with the string quartet.

Suddenly, the music died. A harsh, metallic clack echoed through the room.

"Everyone on the floor! Nobody move, or things get spicy!" a gravelly voice roared.

Gavin peered through the squirrel’s giant, glassy eyes. Three men in tactical vests and ski masks were storming the center of the room, brandishing submachine guns at the terrified crowd of donors.

"Oh, rip. This is not a drill. This is a literal nightmare," Gavin hissed. He looked toward the front row. Rose was there, frozen in terror, her eyes locked on the leader who had just grabbed her arm to force her toward the stage.

"Hey! Let her go, you absolute clowns!" Gavin shouted, his voice distorted by the mascot head.

The robbers turned, staring at the six-foot-tall squirrel waddling toward them.

"What is this, a prank? Waste the squirrel!" the leader shouted.

Gavin didn't hesitate. He didn't even think—the spider-bite electricity surged, and he launched himself into the air. He soared over the heads of the guests, his sticky feet catching a decorative molding on the ballroom wall. He swung upward, grabbing onto a massive, dangling crystal chandelier.

"Wheeee! Look at me, I’m an apex predator now!" Gavin yelled, hanging one-handed from the chandelier while the crystals chimed like bells around him.

"What in the actual—" one of the robbers gasped, leveling his weapon.

Gavin kicked out, his furry foot snagging a heavy silk tapestry. He pulled with his superhuman grip, tearing the fabric down and sending a cascade of heavy gold curtain rods and drapery crashing onto the masked men.

"Take that, you NPCs!" Gavin cackled, dropping from the ceiling and landing in a perfect, superhero-pose crouch.

Rose watched from the corner, her hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and awe. "Gavin?" she whispered, barely audible.

"Stay down, boss! I’m speedrunning this boss fight!" Gavin shouted, sliding across the polished floor on his knees.

The second robber lunged, but Gavin caught his wrist with a sticky palm, the sound of the contact like a suction cup hitting glass. With a casual flick of his wrist, Gavin tossed the man across the room like a stray plush toy. He bounced off a catering table, sending champagne glasses flying.

"Stop him! He’s a freak!" the leader shrieked, firing a burst of bullets into the ceiling.

Sparks rained down as the chandelier began to sway violently. Gavin saw his moment. He leapt again, his body twisting in mid-air, but the bulky squirrel suit caught on a high-voltage lighting rig.

ZAP.

Blue arcs of electricity jumped from the rig, dancing across the squirrel costume.

"Oh, this is not it! I am literally becoming a human—er, squirrel—battery!" Gavin screamed as his head became firmly fused to the glowing electrical components.

The room plunged into chaos. The leader was blinded by the flash, stumbling toward the stage. Gavin, struggling to pull his mascot head free, snatched a silver catering tray from the air as it fell. He flung it with pinpoint accuracy.

CLANG.

The tray slammed into the leader’s head, and he crumpled into a heap of tactical gear and expensive suit fabric.

Silence descended on the ballroom, broken only by the crackle of the damaged light fixture. The squirrel mascot hung suspended in the air, his head stuck to the rig, his body dangling helplessly as wisps of blue smoke began to curl from the faux-fur shoulders.

Rose stepped forward, her face pale but her eyes luminous. She walked past the unconscious robbers and stood directly beneath the dangling squirrel, looking up into those lifeless, glassy squirrel eyes.

"Gavin?" she asked, her voice soft, trembling with a strange, newfound intensity.

"Uh, hey, Boss," Gavin squeaked, his voice muffled. "So, like, about that mascot performance... do I get a raise for the overtime?"

"Gavin, you're literally on fire," she whispered, pointing to a small, glowing ember starting to catch on the squirrel’s polyester tail.

Gavin looked back, his heart racing. "Oh, rip. The simulation is really trying to delete me today."