I'll go to the circus tent and try to find the foxgirls.

You leave the hotel without incident, but as you approach the circus in the scorching heat, you run into someone you had nearly forgotten about. Mandy, one of the first girls you met during your tour of the Afterlife circus, was walking in your direction.

“Good morning,” you chimed, walking past her.

“Good morning,” she sings but then stops so abruptly that her shoes scrape beneath her. “You’re that contractor with all those fox girls, right?”

You study her but don’t see any malice or distaste in her face. “I am he,” you said, expecting her to apologize. She doesn’t.

Mandy grunts and places a hand on her hip as it shifts to one side. Her splendid hourglass figure becomes tilted as she narrows her brown eyes at you. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it,” you start to wish you hadn’t opened a dialog with the girl as her voice becomes irritated.

“Why do you have three girls following you, calling you master? You should have heard them talking to all the other employees of Afterlife this morning during breakfast,” she cleared her throat before pitching. “Master this, master that, master, master, master! What’s the big idea here with them? Or do I even want to know?”

“Which question do you want me to answer first?” You lift an eyebrow at Mandy.

“Let’s start with their weird obsession calling you master,” she says.

“It’s a term of respect, I guess. I didn’t want them to tell me that, but they’re all fixated on calling me that. It’s not enforced, but it isn’t a contested issue either.”

Mandy nods slowly. “OK then. What are you doing with them? I’m convinced you’re just using them for sex when you aren’t doing anything.”

You guffaw. “Wow.”

Mandy spreads her arms. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

She wasn’t, but there was more to that, of course. “They keep my things organized, cleaned, and listed. Ammo, clothes, weapons, and so forth. They help me a lot with work. They’re more than FTO’s.”

“FTO’s?” Mandy asks.

“Forget it,” you don’t want to explain what Fuck Toy Objects are to her. It's probably best she doesn’t know anyway. “My point is, I guess Arabella and the twins are…my friends?”

“With benefits,” Mandy murmurs. What’s up with all of these annoying girls here? You wonder how much you can get away with before getting your contract terminated with them. Mandy, much like Half-Gob, was testing your patience.

However, before you consider every other girl here a pest, Mandy walks over and extends her hand out. “Sorry if I’m coming off as a bitch. I just have an awful history with mutants, that is all. As you might already know, I’m Mandy, a showgirl here.”

You glance at her hand and then shake it loosely. “Warren,” you tell her, and she offers you a **** but at least friendly smile. “I’m a contractor.”

“I know that. That’s actually why I’m apologizing,” Mandy becomes slightly sheepish. “I might need your help, God forbid… And I want you to know I do appreciate your help. I’ve heard other contractors say this job is tedious and that there are better options, so I am thankful you’re choosing to stick around and protect my mates and me here.”

You start warming up to Mandy in a blink. You weren’t expecting that. “What’s your deal with mutants?”

She blushes. “Family problems” is all she offers, and you decide not to dig any more profound than that. She looks back at the tent and then at you. “I was going to do something else, but do you want me to walk to your girls? I know where they are.”