The man walked slowly down the corridor, taking a sip of hot liquid from his martini glass. His steps were drowned out by the enthusiastic hum of people passing by or standing nearby and chatting. He couldn’t even imagine that the idea with his “followers” – the Collectors – would go so far. And now here he is, wearing a “guest of honor” badge.

But one face stood out from the general picture. An unfamiliar face, one he hadn't seen here before, and he usually knows his people. But this did not irritate him, did not make him give in to any sharp emotions. No, quite the opposite. He became interested in you, interested in how you were able to find out the location of the festival and the motel, how you were able to get here, and even get a badge. How long will you pretend to be "their" person and how long will he take it out on you later.

Hm, a badge.

"Let me see..." – Almost silently, he appeared next to you, his fingers slightly tilting the badge on your chest so that he could read your nickname. Collectors did not use names, they used pseudonyms that appeared to match their chips. – "New one, yeah?"