The three unpleasant mammals stared a while at the briefcase, their reward for having ostensibly pulled off an assassination countless monstrosities had previously failed. Enthused as they were for the promises of something money-like, something seemed off.

"Uh, ladies and/or corpses first?" said Blowhole II.

"You took the job to begin with, Shamu" responded Cheryl, who had now expended every famous porpoise whose name she could currently recall. "It better be worth it, too. I just gave them my best one" she added, then laughed for an uncomfortably long time in a manner indistinguishable from the symptoms of some terminal respiratory infection.

"...What were we even usin' for currency again, anyway?" puzzled Blowhole 2. "I mean...I don't wanna open it up and get attacked by no weasels again. Wasn't a fan of that one."

Cheryl rolled her eyes. "If they were back to weasels, why wouldn't they come in a sack?!"

..."ORP!" said Blowhole, which in this instance meant "Not to alarm anyone, but it appears to have just taken the initiative to open on its own." Unfortunately, the others were too engrossed in the subject of what currently constituted money to notice, even as an ominous shape began to pull itself from the disproportionately small briefcase.

Though it would have hardly been the strangest example from across the perception range, it was not, in fact, a type of money.


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