The Wagon to Queef Tower

The masquerade began before Queef Tower came into view. A black-lacquered wagon bearing the Queef crest collected My Alchemical Romance and the Pink Pony Girls, turning the road to the estate into the first crowded room of the evening. The formal party was still ahead, but the social pressure had already started. There were too many histories, too many personalities, and too many people pretending they were only on their way to a party. Sinclair drove. That should have been simple. It was not. The servant's presence carried the unsettling polish of the Von Queef household: helpful, composed, and just strange enough to suggest he was never only one man doing one job. Inside the wagon, the crossover cast began to collide. Geargoggle sulked over Astrid, carrying the wounded dignity of someone who wanted his feelings to be noticed without having to admit how much they mattered. I.J. tested the air between Nick and Havyk, pulling romantic tension and competitive awkwardness into the same cramped space. Nick had come back from the Void Realm with fire, grief, a polar bear cub, and very little room left for subtlety. Rice Hands drank rice wine and made the ride worse in the specific way only he could, spitting on Kaya and forcing Geargoggle into the role of magical cleanup crew. It was comic, unpleasant, and useful as a reminder that the wagon was not carrying a polished diplomatic delegation. It was carrying adventurers. Ash arrived late by jumping onto the wagon, adding one more disruption to a ride already full of them. Maine was there too, carrying the quiet weight of Virgil's grimoire and whatever it might become. By the time the road carried them toward Queef Tower, the masquerade had already done part of its work. It gathered people who should not fit neatly together and placed them in motion toward Baron's stage. The estate would provide the spectacle. The wagon provided the first sparks.