Fresh off completing the most brutal half-ironman known to humankind, Nova and her crew touched down in the beautiful Las Vegas, the neon capital of chaos. Their plan? Celebrate the insane physical feat with just “a calm night out.” Las Vegas, the center of relaxation and mindfulness.

Earlier that day, the group had pushed mind, body, and maybe even their sanity to the limit. They swam open waters at sunrise, biked a never-ending desert highway, and sprinted the final stretch like futuristic warriors across an arid oasis under a merciless desert sun. By the time they crossed the finish line, it felt like they had transcended reality. Obviously, they needed to party. Because if you’ve just beaten your body into next-level shape, what better place to test your resilience than a city that never sleeps? LFG!

They found a neon-lit lounge right off the Strip and perfectly on-brand for The Radical Orion’s vibe. Nova, perpetually clad in something that glowed under blacklight, led the charge with triumphant toasts. Everyone felt invincible, legs still shaky from the race but hearts pumping with adrenaline. The first cocktails went down smoothly. The second round? Even smoother. And that’s when reality took a sharp left turn off the sanity highway.

A loud crash rang out from somewhere in the back. The group turned to see a bachelorette party spontaneously re-enacting a medieval sword fight using oversized novelty straws. Nova, ever the chaos magnet, decided to join in “to keep things under control.” Because sword-fighting bridesmaids obviously needed another wild card. Next thing they knew, the lounge’s security guard stormed in, followed quickly by two Las Vegas police officers. Cue the strobe lights, everyone scattering like cockroaches to avoid a confrontation.

Nova flashed her best “I’m definitely not part of this fiasco” grin, explaining they’d just run 70+ miles in the desert and were “definitely too tired to cause trouble.” The officers, unimpressed by sweaty spandex or neon-anything, let them off with a “move along.” So they did…straight back into the neon night.

Regrouping outside, they realized someone was missing: Bryce, the quiet one who seldom drank and definitely didn’t do dramatic sword-fight reenactments. He’d been right next to them for hours, beaming at the post-race euphoria. Now? Vanished. Dammit Bryce!

Panic set in. They fanned out across the Strip like frantic marathoners who’d accidentally run an extra mile. One buddy ducked into a wedding chapel. Another scanned the crowded casino floor. Nova hopped from one bar to the next, slamming shots, and weaving through bachelorettes still swinging their giant straws.

Suddenly, Nova spotted Bryce, a golden light shining on him and standing center-stage at a late-night karaoke bar. Bryce belting out an 80s power ballad in front of a hammered, glitter-drenched crowd. A star was born. The cops from earlier were there too, looking both amused and exasperated. Turned out Bryce had slipped away to find a bathroom and somehow ended up roped into a karaoke challenge, which he apparently won by a landslide (sober mind, golden pipes).

The officers recognized Nova immediately. They strolled over, clearly bracing for more shenanigans, and said, “Alright folks, put your straw swords away and time to call it a night.” Nova looked them in the eye, adrenaline from the half-ironman still coursing through her veins, and said, “Officer, we just conquered 70 miles in the desert and this was supposed to be our wind-down.”

The cop sighed, half-smiling. “Cool Down? In Vegas? Good luck.”

Then, out of nowhere, Bryce launched into an unsolicited encore. “Just a small-town girl, living in a lonely world!” The entire bar erupted in laughter and applause. Nova gave the officer a shrug that screamed, Told you so. The group joined in, singing off-key while phones lit up in a thousand neon colors.

As the police finally escorted them out (in the friendliest way possible), Nova turned to her crew and quipped, “Guess next time we need a night out after some chaos, we should try another 70-mile race in the desert without the cops!”

And that’s how Nova and friends discovered that after a half-ironman, the real endurance test is surviving a night in Vegas. This became a tradition. Accomplish something hard, then top it off with an extraordinary good time! The next morning, they all woke up miraculously in one piece with their legs sore, minds frazzled, but hearts full, because in the neon-streaked universe of The Radical Orion, chaos is just another finish line to cross.