Somewhere in the corner, phones were recording.
Anogo didn't care. Gogo just winked at the cameras like they were old friends.
Tonight wasn't about survival.
It wasn't about missions, or codes of morality.
Tonight was about one thing:
Being gods—just for a few hours.
And no one did that better than Anogo and Gogo.
---
Time passed. The music faded into memory, and the lights of the club blurred into the dark horizon.
The three of them were wasted.
Stumbling, laughing, nearly tripping over their own shadows, they made their way out of the club and headed back to the beach from earlier.
Their walk was slow and erratic—zigzagging like a broken compass.
Their balance got worse with every step.
"Man… my head hurts," Anon muttered, barely able to keep one eye open.
"Hold it… we're pretty close now…" Gogo slurred.
His right arm was wrapped around Anogo's neck, doing his best to keep him steady.
