A pair of blue feathers with a pulsing golden glow were slapped down onto a silk bed sheet. Frida Dynamo stretched out her arms in a yawn, as Miss Robot popped open a bottle of champagne. Frida took the filled champagne glass from her stand, and flipped through the pay-per-view movie channel on the suite's 50-inch flat screen TV. A movie that Frida hadn't yet seen caught her eye – the dream-bending blockbuster Inception, hot off its theater release only nine months prior.

Frida selected the movie. Booming strings and images of waves washed over the TV screen. As Frida engrossed herself in the movie, a tingle began to run up her neck, and she could have sworn she heard a voice.

“Frida... Frida Dynamo...”

With one smooth motion, Frida muted the movie and whipped her head around. There was nothing behind her. No enemy, no enemy stand. Frida squinted, darting her eyes around. Her gaze turned to the feathers, pulsing and vibrating next to her. Frida sighed and turned back to the TV.

Leonardo DiCaprio's character hurriedly leafed through an envelope of confidential documents as the building collapsed around him. Frida took another sip of champagne, and let her left hand rest on the lightly vibrating pair of Secret Steps. A slimy sensation enveloped her hand. Frida's eyes shot downward, but again there was nothing to be seen. Frida shot to her feet and turned off the TV, before snatching the feathers off the bed.

“Ok... I must be imagining things,” thought Frida. “Clearly I'm not able to relax if I've got those feathers flashing out of the corner of my eye.”

Frida's eyes turned to see a safe built into a nearby closet. She opened the safe, and placed the feathers inside. She stepped away from the closet. Suddenly, Miss Robot's fingers stabbed Frida through the arm, spraying blood into the safe. As the blood splashed into the area, it turned into copper wiring. Soon, the safe was filled with a thick mass of copper. Miss Robot sealed up the hole in Frida's arm, before slamming the safe door.

“There,” thought Frida. “It's all one lump of metal in there, so a high-power stand wouldn't be able to break the feathers out without risking damage to them. And the copper is fused to the Secret Steps, so even a stand like Yellow Submarine would have to throw in the towel! The only stand that can extract those feathers is Miss Robot!”

Frida shot her arm into a pink shopping bag, and pulled out a neatly-folded piece of fabric.

“Now that I don't have to worry about those feathers...” thought Frida, “I'm gonna have a relaxing time in this hotel if it kills me!”

Frida stepped out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She marched into the bathroom as a blue goo slowly crept from under the bedroom door.

Heads turned as a tall, pale woman with pink & blue hair stepped into the hotel spa. Her swimsuit consisted of two pieces of fabric crossing over her body, one pink and one blue. The fabric was held together with a diamond-studded clasp across her navel. She gave a small wave to a pair of women sitting on floating recliners in the pool, and they nervously waved back. Across the way, Frida spotted an open spot at the massage stations, where a shirtless man was opening a bottle of lotion. Frida stepped into the booth, pushing aside a curtain of pearls.

“Ah, good afternoon, madame,” said the masseuse. The man was thin, but toned, and he had wavy silver hair with a thick beard. “Just lie down on the table and relax, and we can get started!”

“Lead the way, my good man,” said Frida, as she lay face down on the massage table.

The masseuse started rubbing a cold gel into Frida's exposed back. “Just take deep breaths,” said the man. “Inhale for four seconds, hold for two seconds, exhale for six seconds.”

Frida closed her eyes, and took a few deep breaths, feeling the gel soak into her back.

“You know,” said the masseuse, “The lungs are the only organs in the human body that are less dense than water. A distinction the lungs share with only one planet in the solar system – Saturn. I think that's beautiful... it's like we all have two little Saturns inside of us...”

“Mm hmm...”

“And if your lungs were torn from your chest and opened flat,” continued the man. “They would cover an area the size of a regulation tennis court.”

Frida's eyes creaked open. She saw the legs of the masseuse, as he paced around the table in front of her.

“Of course, you need your lungs for breathing, so it's probably bad to try the tennis court thing for yourself,” said the masseuse. “Then again, you could live the rest of your life without taking a single breath...”

Frida's eyes shot open.

“Wait... if the masseuse is standing in front of me...” thought Frida. “Who's the one talking and massaging my back from behind?!”

Frida's head swiveled around. She caught a glimpse of a blue gel stand, with body parts made of solid gold floating in its goo. A set of golden fingers was gently massaging Frida’s shoulder blades. The stand had dissolved through the skin on Frida's back, and was beginning to eat through her flesh.

“Re...lax... Fri...da...” said the golden mouth inside the blue gel stand. “We told you to... re...lax...”

“Your hours on this Earth will soon be cut short, Frida Dynamo,” said the shirtless man. “Alone. Time.”

“Motherffff--- why does every stand want to eat me?!?! Miss Robot!”