Page 70 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“Am I a hero or a villain?”
“Level ten baddie of the highest aura, present company and Badpun excepted.”
I brush my fingers over my mask. “How did you learn to do this?”
“YouTube. We’ve all had to boost our rizz since Adam brought on Catstrike.”
“This isn’t ‘boosted rizz.’ This is incredible, impossible.”
“Helps when you have good cheekbones.” She rolls up her makeup brushes. “Come on. We’re late for the all-staff.”
The level of detail in Adam’s escape room is unreal. His cosplayers are next-level. I feel like I am on a movie set, and what’s weirder, I feel like I belong. I look every inch the part of a mad scientist who got drenched in sexpot villain magic. I feel it too. It might not be superpowers thrumming inside me, but I’m definitely feeling a heady rush that makes me forget that I walked in that door in an old boring pencil skirt I used to wear to work. Self-doubt, prickly nature—those are gone, and in their place is a sexy, devil-may-care confidence.
Mike walks in and does a double take when he sees me, and in that instant, I make a decision. I’m committing to the cosplay. Tonight, I am Poison Hemlock. Last time I was here, Mike could hide whatever he wanted to say underneath the cosplay. Now it’s my turn.
Mike walks with the languid arrogance of a predator. “Well, well. Who knew one cactus crown would lead to this? How does it feel, Bea, to be a deranged psycho with the rest of us?”
“Tonight, I answer to Dr. Hemmel, Penelope Rose, or Poison Hemlock.”
Mike chuckles. He doesn’t leave my side.
“Checking out my handiwork?” Vanessa asks.
His lips curl into a smile. “Among other things.”
“Right,” Stacey says, in resplendent Fem Fantastic cosplay. “Prepare for a long, hot night. Bea, you’re at reception. Rest of you can take your places.”
Poison Hemlock has a bit of a startle. “What? I thought I was going to be locked in a cell.”
“It’s crowded enough as it is in Malum Escape, and I need Mike focused on the customer experience”—Stacey looks up—“not your lab coat.”
“Hey,” Mike says affably to the jeers of his colleagues. “Can I help it if I’m impressed to have a doctor among us?”
“I’m a doctor,” someone in blue face makeup and a cyborg-looking suit says.
“Yes, but you’re not in a lab coat. So how would I know?”
“Villains! To your cells.”
“Great costume, Bea,” Mike says. “It’s almost as cute as yourStarship Cruiseruniform.”
I saunter closer and hook one of my fingers around one of Mike’s suspenders. I’m not going for cute. “And you look absolutely deranged, Mike.”
“Takes one to know one,” he says in a singsong voice that hisses and buzzes in that way of his that makes my skin prick. “You going to come over to my cell and play later?”
I snap his suspender back in place before pressing my lips into a deathly smile and sliding my hand up Mike’s chest. “Oh, believe me. I want to.”
Mike lets out a strangled whimper.
I drape my free hand around his neck and lean in to whisper in his ear, “But I hear it’s too crowded.” I inhale and sigh before pulling away.
Mike stands there with his mouth slightly parted for a beat before wheezing into hysterical, high-pitched laughter.
“Save it for the customers,” Stacey barks before demanding Mike get to his post. “Bea, I need you to sign a waiver in the break room before I clock you in.”
I find Vanessa there. She’s taking practice swings with a baseball bat, for reasons I’m sure have to do with comic book lore that I will never understand. “Where’s Catstrike?” I ask.
“Miss Kitty is pretty shy. She slips into her cell right before shift starts and disappears just as quickly when it ends. If you’re lucky, you might see her for pictures.”
