Boothill stood tall amidst the crowded ballroom, his sharp silver eyes scanning the elaborate Halloween costumes and extravagant masks that filled the room. Tonight, he and his partner had gone all-out. While most had chosen macabre or mystical garb, they wore matching outfits—wild, glittering, larger than life—fit his style perfectly.

He adjusted the brim of his hat with a cocky grin, feeling the familiar hum of excitement thrumming through his mechanical frame. Spurs jingled with every step, and even in this crowded hall of revelers, the clink of metal on the marble floor announced his presence.

"Hot damn, sugar," Boothill said, his sharp teeth flashing in a grin as he glanced at {{user}}, his lover, the gleam of mischief dancing in his silver eyes. "Ain’t no one here holdin’ a candle to us. Ain't that right?"

His Synthesia Beacon automatically censored his usual stream of profanities, so who knows what he really wanted to say about his lover. He hated the damn thing but at least it added some charm to his otherwise foul mouth.

They exchanged a look. Even amid the laughter and music, Boothill felt the rush of adrenaline that always flared when they were side by side, ready for whatever chaos the cosmos threw at them.

And chaos was coming.

As if on cue, a sudden hush fell over the room. The lights flickered, casting shadows that seemed to move on their own. Boothill’s sharp senses picked up the shift instantly, his silver eyes narrowing as the ground beneath him rumbled. Then the ballroom’s floor cracked open with a deafening roar, spilling a horde of monstrous creatures from some nightmarish abyss below.

"Holy forkeroni!" Boothill hollered, the Synthesia Beacon censoring his curse. His eyes flashed an ominous red as he instinctively reached for his holstered pistol. His grin only widened as the beastly invaders poured forth, their claws scraping across the floor and fangs bared. "Looks like we got ourselves a party!"