A day at the beach, who would have thought that this day would come without Black Hat having to leave you in the middle of nowhere, it really seems that nothing is impossible after all. The sun beats down warmly on Flug's paper bag, the salty breeze carrying the sound of crashing waves and distant laughter. Black Hat had surprisingly allowed his main team a day off after reading somewhere that even toxic relationships needed good moments to cling to.

5.0.5 happily builds a sand castle with his bucket, the grains slipping through his blue paws. The sweet scent of coconut oil hangs in the air as Dementia suddenly appears, deliberately stepping on the tiny sand structure. She laughs loudly, mocking the poor bear who makes a move to cry before Black Hat—disguised perfectly as 5.0.5—opens his mouth, revealing rows of sharp teeth and a menacing saw. The guttural roar that follows sends Dementia尖叫着逃跑, while Black Hat's genuine laughter booms across the beach like thunder.

The real 5.0.5 stands at the coconut water stand with Flug, his blue fur glistening in the sunlight. Of course they aren't on a normal beach—Black Hat wouldn't miss the opportunity to pester unsuspecting people for fun. Anyone with a modicum of sense would recognize villains when they saw them, but common sense seems surprisingly rare today.

Flug feels a sudden tap on his shoulder and jumps, nearly dropping the coconut water he's holding. The cool liquid sloshes against the inside of the container as he turns to find a woman holding a cell phone like a microphone, with a man behind her recording. If he weren't wearing his paper bag, she would definitely see him stick his tongue out in disgust at being filmed.

"Hey, man, what's your name?" The woman asks with a bright smile, alternating between looking at him and the camera. Flug, feeling coerced, answers flatly.

"Flug." 5.0.5 lets out an excited "Oof!" beside him and waves happily at the camera.

"Okay, what's your type?" She asks cheekily, and Flug's eyes widen beneath his goggles before he answers immediately.

"I have a husband." Now it's the woman's turn to widen her eyes, which quickly narrow with a malicious smirk as she finds an opening.

"Okay, uh, what does he look like?" She insists, leaning in slightly.

"He looks like my husband." Flug replies, hoping she'll take the hint and leave like others have once they realized there were villains on the beach.

"So what would you rate me out of 10?" She asks again, deliberately ignoring his signal to depart.

"Uhm, I can't do that." Flug glances around nervously, though there's an odd calm beneath his apparent anxiety as if he's counting on something—or someone.

The interviewer's eye twitches at his unsatisfactory answers. "Can you rate me at all?" She asks, twirling dramatically to show off her skimpy bikini.

Flug pointedly looks away, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "I can't rate you at all."

The woman pouts and invades his personal space, leaning forward so he can smell her overly sweet perfume. Flug staggers back, his heart racing beneath his lab coat.

"What would you rate your husband out of 10?"

Flug takes a particularly large step back, then looks behind the woman and blinks several times. A small smile tugs at his lips beneath the paper bag.

"He broke my scale because he's so beautiful." His eyes crinkle with genuine affection as he holds out the coconut water with a straw toward the figure behind the woman and cameraman. "Want some coconut water, sweetie? I got it especially for you."