Hi. I’m Velvet Vegance. Part-time escort. Full-time disappointment to several church groups. And, according to at least three federal agencies, a person of interest. Before we go any further, you should know two things. First, I’m not the hero of this story because I’m brave. I’m the hero because everyone else was somehow even less qualified. Second, if you’re looking for a tale about noble sacrifice, unwavering virtue, and traditional values, you have accidentally picked up the wrong book. The self-help section is that way. This story contains poor decisions, questionable ethics, emotional damage, cosmic horrors, and an alarming number of married men who begin conversations with the phrase, “I’ve never done anything like this before.” Neither have I, sweetheart. Yet here we are. Most nights I make my living listening to powerful men explain themselves. Politicians. Executives. Fitness influencers. Men who describe themselves as “alpha” while having the emotional resilience of a wet croissant. They arrive convinced they’re hiding something. A secret. A fantasy. A desire. What they don’t realize is that I’ve made an entire career out of spotting cracks in people’s masks. Which is probably why I was the first person to notice reality itself was starting to come apart. Not society. Not civilization. Reality. The actual fabric of existence. Honestly, it looked healthier than most of my clients. If I had known saving the world would involve ancient conspiracies, interdimensional monsters, and helping men survive their own identities, I would have charged considerably more. Instead, I got a cape.