Chapter Text
Inside the Black Throne Room...
The room was gold and black with thrones in height of rank; each of the people was in Venetian Masquerade attire of black, gold, white, and red.
The room was only illuminated by the chandelier of green fire.
The Fool, The Magician, and The High Priestess, The Empress, The Emperor, and The Hierophant, The Lovers, The Chariot, and The Strength, The Hermit, The Wheel of Fortune, and The Justice, The Hanged Man, The Death, and The Temperance, The Tower, The Star, The Sun, and The Moon, The Judgement, The World, and The Devil were gathered once again as they peered into the world before them. Reagan Riddley had been the topic of many of their conversations and meetings of late; she was the center of their focus.
What reason, no one knows.
“It would seem that the damage done has been chipped away.” The Chariot informed.
“The bonds of others are reconnecting her.” The Moon voiced.
“The Hermit is doing his role well, like the others before.” The Hermit nodded.
“But now comes the next step, her ability to connect...” The Temperance spoke.
“She must taste the passions of life, to know the joys of being adored, admired in a way very few get to enjoy.” The Lovers swooned at the thought.
“Has JR completed the task?” The Devil asked the Tower.
“Yes, the matchmaking application is acquired, and soon our dearest Tenebrosity Eve will seek out others, searching... searching very soon.” The Tower answered.
The World’s eyes glowed with fire as everything was falling into place.
At Cognito’s Conference Room...
“Behold, the next advancement in technology... the drone throne!” Brett introduced the flying chair, which was a swivel chair with military drones taped together.
Reagan groaned while the others admired it.
Sheesh, even after trying to convince her mother that she didn’t need a man in her life, when she tried to hook her up with that oiled-up man slut who cleaned the pool, she still can’t help but feel less than appreciated. Reagan was still firm on making it on her own, and she didn’t need a boyfriend to make her whole or anything.
“Ugh, it’s too early for this,” Reagan grumbled while JR entered the room
“Good news, Gang! We just bought out Tinder!” JR declared proudly, “We now have access to everyone’s dating accounts.”
JR then showed all the accounts in DC, even in Cognito.
“Hey, is that Myc?” Brett pointed out the photo of the mushroom, “Mold-diggers swipe left?”
“Yep, we even got the staff members of Cognito.” JR proudly proclaimed while seeing the profiles of others.
“Whoa, Andre is always sexual.” Brett read while a picture with Andre showed him with a group of people while partying.
“Huh, what a surprise, Gigi’s Tinder said she’s attracted to power.” Reagan deadpanned on Gigi’s account.
“Honey, Power is attracted to me.” Gigi corrected with a conceited attitude.
“With this data, we can blackmail the two branches of government we don’t have power over. Reagan, since you have a fully functioning staff with doctrines and licenses in psychological warfare, it will be up to you to sort through all these dicks and report back to me.” JR ordered, “Also, if you happen to fancy a certain someone, you could-.”
“No way! Now way!”
“Come on, it will be perfect to see what kind of man you could get. Think about it, they say you can tell a lot about a man by the size of his sausage and eggs, the breakfast theory.” He advised.
“Jr- oh my god!”
“Dad, my dear, I keep asking to be referred to me as your dad now.”
“What? I thought Rand was-?” Brett voiced.
“Now, Reagan, the breakfast theory, it is important for you to understand this if you are going on the dating scene. For compatibility with a being like yourself, you don’t want to go for the micro; they are insecure, violent, and attempt to hide their inferiority by displays of wealth and power. Too hung means they're imbecilic and are dumber than the shit you scoop out of the porta-potty. You also need to take account of the girth, ball size, and sperm-.”
“Dad, seriously!!!”
“Yes, got you to call me Dad. Alright, I’ll leave a book on the breakfast theory.” JR offered before leaving, “We’re counting on you.”
“Oh, God.” Reagan groaned.
“Twenty bucks says this is the first penis she’s seen in months,” Myc suggested, while ponying up some money.
“Fifty for three years.” Gigi countered.
“A hundred it been a full decade.” Andre offered.
“Wait, are you guys betting on my love life?” Reagan scoffed with agitation.
“Honey, we got bets for all kinds of things, people’s relationships included. So far, the strongest bet is that you die alone.” Gigi informed her before Brett guiltily tossed some money into the pile.
“Sorry, Reagan.” Brett apologized.
“Reag, you are the most socially awkward and terrifying woman we have ever met; you are intimidating beyond belief. The only way you could reproduce is through a test tube, a 5 to 1 odd on that.” Myc added.
“...You know what? That’s it.” Reagan declared before setting down her own stack of bills, “A hundred grand says not only do I score a date, but I get a boyfriend, too.”
“You know if you wish for a man, I would be happy-.”
“Not you, Stem Cell Steve, not into that!” Reagan countered the interruption from the bet.
Reagan then began to write out her newest operation, before taking a picture of herself and starting her own account, “Operation: Boyfriend starts now.”
Everyone cringed at the pic, not very flattering.
“My offer still stands.”
“Not you, STEVE!”
“Subtle.” Myc voiced.
At the rumpus room...
Everyone was pouring in with bets from all manner of things: love, security, death, illness, conspiracy, games, all manner of things.
The latest one... the charm scale.
Everyone cheered as Brett was 10/10, as Brett earned a lot of cash.
“Wow, who knew I would do so well?” Brett smiled while Glenn looked sullen and depressed.
“What am I? Tell me.” Glenn ordered as the dating app scanned his face.
0/10.
“WHAT!?!? A GODDAMN ZERO?!? THIS THING ONLY GOES 1 TO 10!!! HOW IS THAT GOD DAMN POSSIBLE!!! GOD DAMN IT!!!” Glenn bellowed.
“Shouldn’t you be damning the doctor in charge of your gene splicing?” Pinocchio suggested while he and the other Acolytes were looking for a place to eat for lunch.
“He did seem to fail in the endeavor of your mutation, my friend.” Lamb Chop added.
“Hey, hey, looks don’t matter-.” Brett tried to comfort him.
“IT ALL THAT FUCKING MATTERS!!! Ever since I gave my genes to the great USA, I have been cursed with this mug! My wife left me, people are repulsed, and every time I try to activate my phone, it sends out an amber alert!” Glenn ranted with rage!
“Come on, Glenn. People would like you better for your personality, what’s on the inside.” Brett offered, but Glenn rejected.
“BULLSHIT! THE ONLY GOD DAMN THE REASON YOU ARE SO GOD DAMN ADDORED IS BECAUSE OF YOUR GOD DAMN LOOKS!!”
“That’s not true! Gigi, people don’t just like me for my looks, right?” Brett asked.
“Brett, Ken Doll, Sweetie, don’t frown too much, it wrinkles the best part of you.” Gigi joked, but Brett didn’t take it as a joke.
“Well, I like to believe that all that matters is the heart.” Brett decided.
“You wouldn’t be saying that God Damn bullshit with my mug.” Glenn sneered.
“If I had your face, I would do so with grace and poise, even make bonds.” Brett declared.
“Oh yeah, I bet you wouldn’t last three days with this mug.”
“I bet I would.”
Myc and Gigi jumped on it.
“We’ll take that action!”