There is a rule in every genre, from High Fantasy to Cyberpunk, that states: Before the Final Battle, there must be a Formal Event.
Elara Vance stood in the center of the garage, wearing grease-stained coveralls. She was holding a wrench.
"Absolutely not," Elara said.
"It is mandatory," Jen said, blocking the exit with the golden clipboard. "The Racers' Gala. Attendance is required for all finalists. If we don't go, we forfeit our grid position."
"I don't have a dress," Elara argued. "I have a pizza vest and a gi. My fashion sense is 'tactical comfort'."
"We anticipated this," Vex said, stepping out from behind a stack of tires. The Succubus was holding a garment bag that glowed with a faint, magical aura. "I have prepared a makeover montage."
"I hate montages," Elara groaned.
"Too bad!" Vex snapped her fingers. Techno music began to play from nowhere.
The Makeover
