Nothing could top Victor’s fight. That had been so super awesome, she still couldn’t believe it. The aftermath had been crazy, too. People had come over and congratulated him and asked him if they could fight him next, and for a short moment, she’d almost been jealous. But it was okay. This moment belonged to Victor, and she was sure that he’d let her have her own in the future, too.
So she cheered with everyone else and helped clean up the arena (the Crow had been really bitchy about the floor until a lesser treant had fixed it in exchange for free sap-gria for the night). She also finally, finally, finally had her first Wolfsbane brew and found out it was 100%, hands-down, absolutely, definitely disgusting, and that she actually kinda hated it.
Still, Waverly was happy for the rest of the night. She talked, she laughed, she fought, and all was well in Hell.
Okay, actually, she fought three times, and each match was kinda awesome in its own right, especially the one against the Orc that had left her nose bloody and her shirt ruined, but that was okay, because she knew a Witch down the road that could get any stain out of anything for cheap. She enjoyed wrestling with that Golem, too, and of course, the rematch against the Arachnid who’d totally stumped her the last time. Turns out the trick was to never let up on the pressure and weave her webs.
The cherry on top of the evening was that she was now rich. Or, well, as rich as she’d ever been. She’d known Victor had terrible odds as a first-timer, and with the way he looked and everything, but she hadn’t known just how bad those odds were until she came back to the gambling table after all the matches of the day had been concluded and, under some pretty envious stares, had been given two Platinum Denars. They felt heavy as they clinked into her palm, one after the other, and while they wouldn’t be even nearly enough to cover her student debt, they would make the next couple of weeks far, far easier. She’d already decided to buy a new laptop, because her old one (a first-generation Groanbook she received from a student grant) was already on its last legs. With the rest of the 500 guilders she might do something else, but she didn’t know what, yet. Perhaps treat her little brothers and sisters to some icescream. The older ones could pay for themselves, though. They had jobs and everything.
She was still sitting at the bar, dreaming about all the cool stuff she could afford now when Victor pulled back a stool and sat down next to her. His hoodie was still kind of crumpled, and his unrulier-than-normal hair as well as some dried blood on his mouth still told of his previous fight, but he’d stashed the sword somewhere and was back to his usual smile when he said “Yo.”
Waverly wagged her tail at him, but then she smirked and mimed wiping at the corner of her own mouth. Victor groaned, licked the back of his wrist, and rubbed it at the bloodstain.
“Thanks,” he said when he was done, and Waverly nodded, and for a while, they just enjoyed the last glow of FightNight dying down. The last matches had already been concluded, and the tables and chairs reset, and it looked like nothing had happened, really. Except for some scuff marks that they left visible because it was tradition and everything.
The patrons started to trickle out, stopping for a quick chat with Waverly as they paid their tab, congratulating her on her fights, and Victor on his. One person who surprised her had been Ssseth, who’d leaned against the counter next to her before he left, and asked for her number. She’d laughed and given it to him, because she’d promised all that time ago that she would once he fought his first fight.
Victor had bumped fists with him as he left, and Waverly had this gut feeling…
“Did you, like, plan this?” she asked. “Not the fight, obviously, but him asking me after?”
Victor smiled that quiet smile and took another sip of his crystal water before he answered.
“I went to talk to him. After things had settled down, you know? Felt kinda bad for splitting him in half and all that. He took it like a champ and asked for a rematch, but then he got all shy. When I asked why, he wanted to know if we were dating. Way past the fifth sentence, if I may add…”
Waverly snorted a laugh. “Sure… You’re still not getting that coin back.”
Victor grinned at that. “Worth a shot. Anyway. He asked and I said no. You should have seen how relieved he was. That guy’s obviously a keeper, Waves.”
Waverly shrugged and grinned. “Yeah, he seems nice. And now that I know he can fight there’s totally nothing standing in the way of us dating, except for like, my parents, who want grandkids. They’re going to flip out when they hear I’m going on a date with someone who isn’t even a mammal.”
“Oh, Going on a date already?” Victor asked, pursing his lips in amusement. “I thought he just asked for your number.”
“Oh yeah, obviously. He’s, like, super nice, knows how to treat people right and I kinda wanna know what he’s like when he’s not itching for a fight. Or perhaps I should duel him, too, at some point! But I don’t think it would be fair, because I totally saw him lose against a first-timer just 2 hours ago…”
Victor’s grin widened. “Prime teasing material.”
“Totally,” Waverly agreed.
“Caw!” said The Host, wings fluttering as he landed on the bar beside them, and that meant: “Alrighty, lovebirds, bar’s closing. Last call and all that.”
Waverly inclined her head at that. “Didn’t you mention you guys would listen to—“
“CAW!” The crow said, insistently. “Yes, I may have, but I sure as tar and plumage wouldn’t want to scream it all over my bar, Waverly, dear.” It scowled at her, in that way that only crows could scowl.
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“Sorry,” she said, lowering her head.
“Caw!” “Don’t mope. And also don’t give me those puppy eyes, you know they don’t work on me. Just be a little… circumspect.”
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If Victor’s hunch was right, then he understood the need for secrecy. He’d never heard of The Old Music, but there was no way around hearing about Metal, the music genre that had just kind of vanished back in 2006. Especially not when you were regularly forced to sit through boring dinner parties, and were as nosy as he was. Metal was mentioned quite frequently when you knew what to listen for, and how to hide under tablecloths. With [Stealth] in the mix, it was really hard to miss.
Even so, Victor had always just disregarded it as Doomer music, stuff that had been popular the year before he was born, and it hadn’t really interested him enough to ask his Dad about it. Also, no matter how chill he was, Dad probably wouldn’t have answered that particular question, either. When Waverly mentioned it in class, there hadn’t been enough information to piece it together, but if the two were the same, then The Host and the other patrons of the bar were right in trying to keep their interest on the down low.
Because Metal, while not being technically illegal, was heavily frowned upon these days. Frowned upon to the level that it could cost you your career. There was a reason why mention of Metal had been struck from all archives, and nobody played it anymore. According to one Dragon, some people even went as far as calling for a summary ban on electric guitars, but the Country Council of Hell had intervened against that, or so a Demon King had claimed at one party or another.
One thing everyone agreed on was that nobody wanted to remind Satan of “The Incident,” even though Victor didn’t quite know what The Incident was, or what it had to do with music. He’d just never cared to ask, especially after he’d discovered an XP trigger for napping in public places. Now, however, with trace amounts of adrenaline still running through his system, and his pulse thrumming wide and awake, Victor found out that he wanted to know. The taboo, the risk of it just made it more interesting somehow, and curiosities were where his [Vampire] and [Catboy] instincts definitely overlapped.
So he just looked at Waverly, nodded towards Jim, who was cleaning tables and decorating them with candles, and the two of them went to help set things up.
By the time they were done, the FightNight crowd had roughly halved, and Victor had noticed a few longing glances from some of the older patrons as they left, talking about their wives and kids at home. Those who stayed looked either young, daring, or a bit gruffer than most denizens of Hell, even down here in the Dregs. They all found themselves a place to sit. Popular places were around the back entrance and, for those who could fly, the second-story mezzanine, where Waverly had helped him decide on [Vampiric Hunger]. The ones who stayed closer to the middle of the room either looked like they didn’t have to, want to, or aspire to work. There were a few who obviously were good at sneaking about. A few Catfolk like him, some Ghosts, Revenants, and Spirits, but also at least one Doppelgänger and two Mimics.
The amount of paranoia made Victor’s ears flick and his nose itch.
He and Waverly were sitting at the bar again, and Victor was resting his elbows on the counter. Waverly sat cross-legged and had her hands on her knees. The crow perched between them, while Jim had gone back into the kitchen.
“Are you guys expecting trouble?” Victor asked The Host, but the crow shook his head.
“Nah, but better safe than sorry.”
“What sort of trouble?” Waverly asked, and Victor explained to her what he had heard.
The crow nodded along, and eventually added: “Caw.” “It’s not that bad, most of the time. You just don’t want your pics taken, so keep those phones in your pants. However, if you’re angling for a higher-paying job than outdoor elite, and they catch you here, you are probably going to have issues. Looking at you especially, Waverly. You’re a smart one and got a bright future ahead of you. Are you sure you want to stay? This stuff will change your life, and if you like it, there is no going back.”
Waverly thought about that for a while longer than usual. Her tail swished pensively, like a metronome that swung between staying and going. Eventually, though, she nodded. “Yeah, I wanna stay. How about you, Victor?”
“Yeh,” he said, without hesitation.
“Caw.” Said the Crow, to express that he liked the enthusiasm, but wanted to ask if Victor was sure, because he seemed like the posh sort, and getting out if he got caught would be hard even if his daddy was a raid boss.
Victor’s smile grew a little at that. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Because he just had to find out. In some ways, this evening was terrifying, because it had given him not just a taste, but a full meal of new experiences. Now, scarier even than the unknown and the risk, was the fact that he had grown to like how he felt when he took risks. Alive, somehow, even more so than when he sat in the rafters at home and watched people come and go, and think about what they might do.
The Crow just looked at him for a second longer, then he took wing and landed on an old-style stereo that was sitting on a table in the center of the room. It was all black and had several cables plugged into it, as well as two speakers. Large enough to be imposing, but not too large to move them away,
“Caw!” “Alright! You know the deal, draw the curtains… yeah, thank you, Genevive.” A pause as a Genie with more piercings in her face than a cenobite closed her eyes and pulled the heavy, thick curtains over the windows. At the same time, the chandeliers dimmed, and Victor assumed there was some fire magic involved. Possibly even from the same Genie.
“Caw...” “Okay, people, this is it. Anyone brought new stuff?”
For the first time since Victor met him, the Crow sounded anything but calm, collected, and slightly condescending. There was an edge to his caw now, and Victor recognized that as the same, hungry curiosity that had nested inside his own heart that very night.
There was no more pomp than that, just a bird asking an innocent question. Victor didn’t quite know what he had expected, perhaps a live band, or some sort of ceremony, but it actually made sense. This wasn’t about spectacle, it was about enjoyment.
“Actually, I do,” said someone close to the center of the room, and Victor smiled when he recognized Ssseth, his opponent from earlier. The Lizardkin got up, all eager fluid motion, and dug around in his backpack.
The crowd shifted. There was leaning, forward, backward, arms crossing, wide open, resting quietly, drumming fingernails, and general apprehensive relaxation. Victor had been to the Dungeon Bowl matches when he was a kid. His mom had gotten them tickets to the VIP Box, and even though she had spent the entire time they were there making deals, he had enjoyed watching the teams having at each other. The atmosphere in that stadium, just before the ref blew the whistle, had felt the same.
Finally, Ssseth pulled out a CD case, opened it, and pulled out the disk. He handed off the case to someone in the crowd, who looked at it and passed it on.
“I really like it,” Ssseth said, “jussst came out thisss year. They’re called Sssleep Token.”
“What’s the album called?” someone asked from the crowd.
No one asked where or how he got it, though.
“Take me back to Eden,” Ssseth said with a grin.
Laughter rippled through the room, and Victor found himself smiling along. Waverly’s tail bumped against the back of the bar rhythmically, interrupting the almost reverent silence, until she grabbed it to hold it still.
Ssseth put the CD into the stereo, and the laughter quieted, even though the smiles remained. The lizardkin pressed a few buttons on the player, it swallowed the disc, and then Victor’s life changed forever.