The heavy metal door opened and in stepped the third and final guest of the last party of the year. This year was ending with a bang, and with the next year being an election year, Wolnil Cristoph was positive he was to replace his niece, Vee. He was favored among many of the cities, most of all the capitol, Belaham. They said his aged face and mix of grey and black hair showed age and wisdom, but he still had a youthful spirit about him. “Hey, Rey,” Wolnil said burping, “what can I getcha?” Maybe Wolnil was a bit more than just tipsy. “Thanks,” his guests said to him one after another. — — —