As Miller stood up, a single, stray bug crawled from the hem of the velvet curtains, its pincers clicking in the silence.

"Bugs, Miller. Thousands of them. Small, obsidian-backed, and—" Silvio shuddered, "—aggressive."

"It was supposed to be a standard retirement bash for Councilman Vane," Silvio wheezed, clutching a broken papier-mâché limb. "A custom-made piñata. Shaped like a golden treasury chest. But when Vane took the first swing..."

Miller arrived at the scene to find the ballroom quarantined. The piñata, now a hollowed-out carcass of cardboard and glue, lay in the center of the dance floor. Strewn around it were the 'Death Bugs'—a rare, genetically modified subspecies of the Titanus Necrosis . They didn’t just bite; they carried a fast-acting neurotoxin that turned a celebratory mood into a paralytic nightmare in seconds.

The neon sign of the flickered, casting a sickly green glow over Detective Miller’s desk. He wasn't surprised when the local party planner, Silvio, burst in, covered in what looked like iridescent glitter and high-velocity trauma.