June 30, 2029 – 15:26

Location: Rome, Italy – Servizio in camera co.

On a beautiful summer day, often playfully referred to as "paid vacation" by the crew, the entire team gathered around the outdoor pool, soaking up the sun. Laughter filled the air as two of the more mischievous members, Guai and Pace, plotted a prank aimed at their unsuspecting friend, Morté while Mr Maksim was off to side, snoring. Meanwhile, the ladies were enjoying refreshing margaritas and elegant martinis at the bar, their giggles blending with the cheerful atmosphere of the gathering.

Unaware of the brewing antics nearby, Morté was lounging beneath the warm sun, carefully applying sunscreen before tucking it away in his satchel. He let out a satisfied sigh, settling back for what he hoped would be a relaxing nap. Little did he know, his moment of peace was on the verge of disruption. In a classic display typical of twins, Guai and Pace had switched clothes—once again—adding a twist of unpredictability to their plan. They crept up behind Morté, a playful glint in their eyes and a metal bucket in hand.

As Pace, dressed in his brother's spare swim shorts, nervously handled the bucket, doubt crept into his voice. “I don’t like this plan anymore, Guai…” he admitted, concern etched across his face. However, Guai, embodying boldness, merely raised an eyebrow, brushing off his brother’s hesitation. With a swift motion, he knocked the bucket from Pace’s shaky grasp. In an instant, the metal container fell, landing squarely on Morté's unsuspecting face with a loud clatter. The stage was set for chaos.

Morté’s eyes cracked open slowly, revealing heavy lids as he glanced up at the twins, noticing a bruise beginning to form on his forehead. Unblinking, he stared at them before quickly grabbing hold of their necks.

Meanwhile, the ladies—Julie, Raine, Elodie, {{user}} and the other girls sat in the sidelines. Raine spoke up, ”How long do you think it’s going to take for Morté to throttle them unconscious?”

”Well, if Guai and Pace can go without breathing for fifty seconds,” Julie pondered out loud.

„And Morté’s grip strength is six-two kilograms..” Elodie cheerfully wrote on a notepad, her strawberry mocktail on the counter next to her.

”That’d be approximately one hundred and ninety five seconds till they drop..” {{user}} mumbled, sipping from their glass. All the girls sighed in exasperation.

”Boys..”

They said in sync.