I heard a loud, insistent knock from a distance. Someone was hammering on my door and wouldn't give up. I stirred in my sleep.

​"Go away," I mumbled, turning and burying my head in the pillow.

​But the knocking wouldn't stop. The person was persistent, clearly ignoring the time of day.

​I slowly got off the bed and went to the door, stark naked and furious. The knocking continued, rapid and demanding.

​"I said I'm fucking coming!!!" I snapped, wrenching the door open.

​I unlocked the door, and it flew open violently, hitting me squarely on the forehead.

​For a moment, stars swam in my vision, and I thought I was being raided or that Big Mom had sent an executioner after all. Then I heard his familiar, loud voice.

​"Good morning, motherfucker!" Two-bit said, ignoring my pain completely. "Goddamn, you got a train cock."

​I stumbled back, clutching my head. "That's gay, bro, and fuck you!!"

​"What you say 'fuck me' for?" Two-bit said, stepping inside and taking in my state.

​"You hit me with a fucking door!" I yelled, trying to block my nudity with my hands.

​"Come on, man, stop whining," he dismissed, waving his hand. "What are you doing still sleeping this time of the day?" Two-bit said. "I have been waiting for you in the car for two hours straight. I thought something had happened to you, so I came here to check on you."

​He glanced around my room, then back at my physique. "Seriously though, Druski, you looking swole. Big Mom got you on the right diet."

​"She almost got me on a toe tag," I grumbled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist. "What the hell are you doing here? Abigail said you had the day off."

​"That was yesterday. You high or something?" Two-bit asked, looking genuinely confused.

​"Why are you here?" I said, ignoring his question.

​"Time for work. I pick you up everyday, remember?" he said, his face hardening slightly.

​"You must have not heard? Big Mom took all my capital. I got no money to pay my models." I said, dramatically retreating back into the sheets, pulling the covers over my head.

​"Abigail told me to come and pick you up and take you to the studio," Two-bit stated, pulling the covers off me. "Whatever Big Mom did to you got nothing to do with me, motherfucker. Now take a shower..."

​"I don't want to, there's nothing left in this business. Your boss crushed my spirit," I whined, playing the victim.

​"Well, she's gonna crush your skull next if you don't come with me now," Two-bit said, his voice dropping into a serious, threatening register.

​"Nuh," I scoffed, not believing he'd actually use violence.

​Two minutes later, I was in the shower, the cold water hitting my face, nursing a sharp pain on my stomach from Two-bit's surprisingly fast and focused fist. The guy could get violent if he wanted, and Big Mom had clearly given him authorization. My life was no longer my own.

Dressed and functional, I started to reach for the door, intending to move the frame I had used as a motivation piece. I stopped halfway. I went back to the small table beside my bed and picked up the same picture frame I had picked when I had reincarnated: the old Druski and his ex-girlfriend, Chloe. The girl who had dumped him and blocked him, and who had now suddenly messaged me—my DMs.

​Why now? What the fuck did she want?

​She was a beautiful girl, with beautiful dark skin, curly hair, and piercing brown eyes.

​I hadn't replied to her, but somehow I felt that soon I would need to do so. She represented a loose end from Druski's past, and a potential distraction—or a potential asset.

​I placed the picture back on the table and went out. I couldn't find Two-bit's massive black Raptor truck.

​A bright green Mustang GT, gleaming with aftermarket polish, honked aggressively at me. Two-bit was behind the wheel.

​"No fucking way. A big man in such a small car," I mocked, approaching the low-slung vehicle.

​I got in on the passenger side, folding myself awkwardly into the seat.

​"Beats me how you fit inside," I said, a grin touching my lips despite the pain in my stomach.

​He looked at me with warning eyes, his expression daring me.

​"What? You gonna whine about body shaming?" I said, challenging him.

​"I better drive otherwise there's gonna be a homicide in my new car," Two-bit grinned back. But I could tell he was joking; the excitement of the new mission and the new ride had lifted his spirits.

When we got into the BangHouse, the temporary warehouse was unrecognizable. The parking lot was filled with different cars I had never seen before—vans plastered with corporate logos, luxury SUVs, and a couple of utility trucks. There were people everywhere: men and women running around, carrying equipment, and talking into headsets.

​"What the fuck's going on here?" I said to Two-bit, stopping dead just inside the bay door. "Who are these people?"

​"I don't fucking know, man," Two-bit admitted, looking equally stunned. "This wasn't on the schedule."

​We cautiously walked into the building.

​A girl in glasses and a crisp business suit immediately greeted me, cutting through the chaos with purpose.

​"Mr. Druski, how are you?" she said, extending her hand with a professional smile. "I'm Jennifer Houston."

​"Do we know each other?" I asked, shaking her hand automatically.

​"I'm one of Monet's lawyers," she said.

​"Who the fuck's Monet?" I asked, completely confused.

​"Monet is Big Mom," Two-bit whispered urgently in my ear.

​I could see camera crews running around setting up high-end digital cameras, lights, and sound equipment. There were other workers fixing up the place: professional staging furniture was being carried inside, and there was a graffiti artist painting a massive, highly stylized naked woman with pronounced curves and titties in the room that was supposed to be the meeting room.

​"So you are here to take over my business?" I asked, my voice rising.

​Jennifer stepped closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Actually, I understand that you are in a partnership with Monet? She's not taking over your business, Mr. Hart. But she's keeping up her end of the partnership by fully funding this whole operation now. She's willing to provide whatever you need: money, shooting venues, girls... You name it. This is your 'Big Plan' activation."

​I looked around at the frantic activity: the lighting rigs being assembled, the sound technicians testing mics, the professional furniture moving in.

​"All these people here, Mr. Hart," Jennifer said, catching my gaze. "They work for you now."

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