Jessica remembers when she was happy. Like, psycho happy, the kind of happy that just wasn't . . . natural. She would laugh at nothing, finding joy in situations that clearly weren't appropriate for laughter. She was happier than that one guy at the company who always had a bit of white powder on his chin. She remembers it well, a time where she could relax, and know that Tiffany was safe. Then he stepped in, claiming Tiffany as his own, and starting a world-wide panic. Rumors spread, cameramen swarmed the dorms. It was annoying, really. To any sane person, a simple dilemma, Psh, what's the problem? We still have millions of dollars, and people swoon at just the thought of our chewed gum, why should I care about some gossip on a discredited newspaper? Jessica wasn't blind. She knew that Tiffany was anything but sane. She was over reactive, a drama queen, they would call her, back in Cali. Nonetheless, Tiffany was glum, always blue every time some stupid comedian with hipster glasses would comment on her new found love. To hell with them all. She wasn't going to let a few middle-aged men living with their mothers snatch away Tiffany's bubbles. 

"So," A fist slammed onto a table, prepubescent girls cowered behind their cameras, quaking in fear and that awkward almost-puberty-but-not phase. 

"All of you are going to help me stop the paparazzi." A tall brunette, hair mussed in a way that was charming yet slightly off-putting, raised her hand, fixing her crooked glasses as she did. 

"Exactly why would we do that? Don't get me wrong, I love Tiffany, but paparazzi are just trying to make a living, jut like you . . . and me, I guess."

"Those people make their living off of embarrassing others, and exploiting crotches. That should be made a crime."

"It wouldn't be such a problem if people would learn how to get out of a car correctly." Jessica tramped over to her, flicking her in the forehead and pointing to the door. 

"If you're siding with the enemy, then there's no need for you." The girl smiled, tossing her camera to the floor and leaving. 

"Sounds fantastic." 

Jessica barely glanced as she heard the sound of the door closing. 

"Anyone else?" Soon, Jessica was left alone, hundreds of cameras strewn across the floor. 

"Damn, shouldn't have asked."

Jessica paced around her room, pushing and pulling open drawers, trying to think of just anything to help.

"No, no . . .  this wouldn't help anything." The names of every employee for all the magazines in Korea laid in her hands. 

"I can't take them all down. I need to kill the Queen Bee, the rest will be easy after that." She grinned at the folder she held.

"Nice . . . Lee Soonkyu. Sounds like some grandma. This'll be way too easy." 

"So, Sunny, how have your papers been doing?" A woman with way too much pink smiled, her eyes crinkling just enough to stop traffic. The shorter woman standing next to her pulled out a powerpoint. 

"Fany, this is insane! I can't even begin to understand why so many people care about who you're with, but it's working." Sunny fiddled with her laptop, pushing is aside a moment later to get a better look at the pink monstrosity in front of her. 

"You know, someone hacked into our database yesterday, and today, Taeyeon lost one of her pea collectables. Something big is about to happen, I'm not sure it's going to be good . . ." 

"Oh please, Tae is always losing her stuff. Remember last week when she dropped your vase out of the window?" 

"WHAT? She did that? She told me it was Yul!" 

" . . .  No. Of course she wouldn't do that." The woman smiled crookedly, her eyes squinting. 

"I'm so going to stab all of her peas . . ." 

" . . . Okay, I gotta . . . go." She ran out of the shop, leaving a trail of pink feathers. A note slipped out of her pocket, flying in the wind. 

I'm going to fix this. 

Jessica