It was a Saturday night, which meant the same as all other nights – Haley was having fun. She was at a small pregame party at her friend’s apartment, crowded around a small kitchen island that was stacked with various alcohols, chasers and little red plastic cups. A total waste of plastic resources, but she bit her tongue on this one. She had gotten in that argument too many times before.

She arrived with a small group of her friends – the hipster Desiree Davis, the likely alcoholic Michael Whitmore, and the southern Ricky Cunningham. The group was far less a group of her closest friends, and more of friendly acquaintances that she liked to spend her evenings with. Particularly Ricky, who she felt was usually good for a night of fun, even if she constantly found herself arguing each time they tried to engage in regular conversation. Of the foursome, the only one she could truly stand to talk with was Desiree, but she often considered conversation to be ‘too mainstream’; and Michael’s words were always too slurred to understand.

Haley eyeballed a shot’s worth of gin into her cup, then filled the rest of her glass with a select choice of lemon-lime cola, taking small sips as she carried on conversation with the group.

“Ugh, Coors,” Desiree groaned, disappointed in the lack of PBR. Ricky simply rolled his eyes with much exaggeration.

“Bring your own booze then,” Michael chimed in, wiggling his half-empty fifth of whiskey.

“You ain’t suppose ta bring your own booze to a party,” Ricky added. “That ain’t right.”

Haley watched as the three of them argued, for once not taking part in the argument of a party. Eventually, however, she grew bored and wandered over to the windowsill with her drink, enjoying the view from the apartment. The view was rather unpleasant, simply looking into the street and the other building across from it – which was worn down and out of shape. But it was nice still, its own form of urban beauty.

“Woman,” a southern accent cried. It was how Ricky often referred to her, knowing very well how much it irritated her. He was standing by the counter surrounded by Michael and Desiree, each with a shot glass in their hands. “Come and take a shot with us.”

Haley shrugged and moved over to the counter where her friend handed her a shot glass of vodka. Her nose cringed at the scent, but rose the glass anyways. The four glasses clinked as they were tapped together and brought to each one’s lips.

CRINK.

The sound of glass shattered as Ricky’s glass fell to the floor.

He was gone. Just like that, he had disappeared.

“What the ********?” Desiree cried. Haley simply stared at the spot where her friend had stood just moments before. The entire party had gone quiet; the only sounds to be heard were gasps and questioning whispers. Haley didn’t know what had happened anymore than anyone else, but she knew that something was up. She had a sneaking suspicion that Ricky wasn’t the only one who disappeared, and she had a feeling the Negaverse had something to do with whatever was going down.

“I gotta go,” Haley said, putting down the shot glass as she rushed toward the door. She grabbed her hemp shoulder bag and tossed it over her shoulder as Desiree chased after her.

“Wait, where the hell are you going?” Desiree cried. “You can’t just leave! We need to call for help!”

Haley didn’t need to respond. The crowd of underage drinkers had already started to surround the loud hipster with threatening glances if she dared to call the police. The long-haired brunette snuck out of the party while the others were distracted, shoving one hand into her bag and grasped onto her henshin pen tightly.

“Stay safe Ricky,” Haley muttered as she pulled out the pen. “Sailor Aster is looking for you.”