The Fox pulled into the parking lot and immediately knew this wasn't going to be a normal serve-and-go situation. The building looked like every other upscale gym he'd seen in the wealthy districts - all gss and steel, minimalist design, valet parking. A sign out front read: **"There Is Always Room"** in elegant script, with smaller text underneath: *Premium Wellness & Cardio Experience.*

  He'd been doing this job long enough to know that "premium" and "wellness" usually meant "ridiculous and expensive."

  The lobby didn't disappoint. Marble floors, mood lighting, the faint smell of eucalyptus and money. But it was the receptionist that made him pause. She sat behind a sleek white desk wearing what could generously be called a bikini - more strings than fabric - and looked like she'd walked off the cover of a magazine. Perfect everything. Hair, makeup, body. The works.

  She looked up as he approached, her smile professionally pleasant but her eyes assessing. He knew that look. *You don't belong here.*

  "Hi there," she said, her voice smooth as honey. "Do you have an appointment?"

  The Fox pulled out his badge - not police, but government enforcement carried enough weight. "I'm here to see Eugene Gingersnap. I was told he works out here."

  Her smile didn't falter, but something flickered behind her eyes. Recognition. "Oh, Genji. Yes, he's here. He's in the back doing his... session."

  "His session."

  "Cardio resistance training." She said it like it was a real thing.

  The Fox nodded slowly. "Right. Can you point me in that direction?"

  She gestured toward a hallway. "Through there, st door on the left. But he's in the middle of his workout, so—"

  "I'll wait." The Fox was already walking.

  As he moved through the facility, he passed what should have been a normal gym - weights, machines, treadmills - but everything felt off. Wealthy men and women stood around in designer workout gear that clearly had never seen actual sweat, sipping drinks that looked more like cocktails than protein shakes. Servers moved between them - women in bikinis, men in Speedos - offering towels, beverages, whatever the clientele wanted.

  *Of course,* the Fox thought. *This is what rich people think exercise is.*

  He reached the st door on the left and pushed it open.

  The smell hit him first - artificial strawberry and something vaguely chemical. Then he saw it.

  A rge, shallow pool filled with what had to be several hundred gallons of red Jell-O. And in the middle of it, the Gingerbread Man himself - Eugene "Genji" Gingersnap - grappling with three women in bikinis, all of them glistening with oil and getin.

  The Fox just stood there for a second, taking it in.

  Genji had one woman in some kind of headlock - pyful, ughing - while another tried to tackle him from behind. The third was cheering from the edge of the pool. All of them looked like they'd been cast for a music video. A trainer - another impossibly attractive woman in athletic wear - stood nearby with a clipboard, calling out encouragement.

  "Good form, Genji! Remember to engage your core! Thirty more seconds!"

  The Fox cleared his throat.

  The trainer looked over, startled. "Oh! Sorry, sir, this is a private session—"

  Genji's head snapped up. His eyes locked on the Fox. More specifically, on the mani envelope in the Fox's hand.

  "Shit," Genji said.

  "Mr. Gingersnap," the Fox said, stepping forward. "I need to have a word with you."

  Genji released the woman he'd been holding and started moving toward the edge of the pool. "Yeah, man, I'm in the middle of something right now, so—"

  "This won't take long. Just need you to accept these papers."

  Genji climbed out of the Jell-O, dripping red getin everywhere. He grabbed a towel, but his eyes never left the envelope. "What papers?"

  "Paternity test and child support hearing. You've been avoiding—"

  Genji bolted.

  One second he was standing there, the next he was running - slipping slightly in his Jell-O-covered feet but moving fast toward a side exit. The Fox didn't hesitate. He'd chased down bigger guys, faster guys. He moved.

  "Stop! Mr. Gingersnap—"

  The Fox rounded the edge of the pool, closing the distance, when one of the bikini women - trying to get out of his way - stumbled directly into his path. They collided. Hard.

  The Fox felt himself tipping, tried to catch his bance, failed spectacurly.

  He hit the Jell-O with a wet *SPLAT*.

  It was cold. Sticky. And somehow both solid and liquid at the same time. He tried to stand, but his feet slid out from under him. One of the women, trying to help, grabbed his arm and ended up pulling him sideways. Another woman, ughing nervously, reached down and somehow made things worse.

  "I'm so sorry!" one of them said.

  "Sir, are you okay?" another asked.

  The Fox filed, trying to find purchase, his nice shoes completely useless in the getin. He finally got to his knees, covered head to toe in red Jell-O, just in time to see the side exit door swing shut.

  Genji was gone.

  The trainer stood at the edge of the pool, clipboard still in hand, looking mortified. "Should I... call someone?"

  The Fox slowly stood, getin sliding off his jacket in thick globs. He looked down at himself - his suit ruined, his dignity somewhere at the bottom of the pool - and then at the door where Genji had escaped.

  "Tell Mr. Gingersnap he can't run forever," he said, his voice perfectly calm.

  Then he turned and squelched his way out of There Is Always Room, leaving a trail of strawberry Jell-O in his wake.