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Nico crumpled up the flyer for Dante's Abyss and threw the rubbish back across the bar at the Alexei, resident bartender of Luci's Dive. The paper bounced harmlessly off the devil's head.
"No."
Alexei merely stared back, polishing his mug. Nico sneered. This went on for longer than necessary, some might say.
"Fine," sighed Alexei.
"Fine?" asked Nico.
"Sure. Don't go."
The boy thought he felt a twitch in his eye. "You're serious?"
"No," the demon replied.
"They gave us fake money last time!" the unwilling participant moaned.
"The money is not fake, you just have not figured out how to spend it," Alexei said, bending over to pick up the ball of propaganda. "We would like to have more, anyhow. Your showings have been comparably average in recent years. Perhaps you have learned enough to go even farther in this iteration. Repetition is the core of mastering...well, anything, I would suppose. Violent bloodsport is no exception. I expected more of a bloodthirst out of you, young Nico, if I am to be honest." Nico stuck his tongue out and made a stupid face at the stone faced demon.
"Blowing people up gets boring about as fast as getting blown up does," the young punk said.
A rare chuckle escaped from Alexei, but the laughter doesn't quite blossom into a smile. "Empathy? From you? No, surely not. Maybe some twisted version of it."
Nico tried to hold back a wince, but wasn't sure if he managed. Damn demons and their cutting tongues. Alexei can shove it, though. He wasn't going, not this year. He'll find an even easier way to get Alexei even more money. To hell with Dante's Abyss.
---
And to hell with Nico, for the registration line was before him. He was over it. By the time he got to to the front of the line, he was ready for a nap. The Syntech employee handling him had a similarly exhausted expression. Their nametag read "Pots".
"Name?" asked Pots.
"Nico Cinder."
A flicker across the registrar's face. "Welcome back, Mr. Cinder. What are you bringing to the competition this year?"
"Ah..." Nico scratched the back of his head. "Couldn't tell you. Death and destruction? I guess?"
Pots didn't seem very convinced by the magical finger waggles Nico added to the end of that declaration. Nico sighed, swinging around the Red Chord over his shoulder. He played an overly chirpy, dipped in dressing, dancing lightning kind of riff. He finished up the lick with a hanging twang. Then, he smashed the instrument on the ground, as if he were making to chop the world down with his guitar right then and there, in one fluid motion. Nico stood there breathing rocks, surrounded by shards of crimson wood. A curled guitar string dug into his forearm, through the fabric of his hoodie.
It was Pots' turn to sigh. "On your way to the teleporter then, Mr. Cinder."
"No."
Alexei merely stared back, polishing his mug. Nico sneered. This went on for longer than necessary, some might say.
"Fine," sighed Alexei.
"Fine?" asked Nico.
"Sure. Don't go."
The boy thought he felt a twitch in his eye. "You're serious?"
"No," the demon replied.
"They gave us fake money last time!" the unwilling participant moaned.
"The money is not fake, you just have not figured out how to spend it," Alexei said, bending over to pick up the ball of propaganda. "We would like to have more, anyhow. Your showings have been comparably average in recent years. Perhaps you have learned enough to go even farther in this iteration. Repetition is the core of mastering...well, anything, I would suppose. Violent bloodsport is no exception. I expected more of a bloodthirst out of you, young Nico, if I am to be honest." Nico stuck his tongue out and made a stupid face at the stone faced demon.
"Blowing people up gets boring about as fast as getting blown up does," the young punk said.
A rare chuckle escaped from Alexei, but the laughter doesn't quite blossom into a smile. "Empathy? From you? No, surely not. Maybe some twisted version of it."
Nico tried to hold back a wince, but wasn't sure if he managed. Damn demons and their cutting tongues. Alexei can shove it, though. He wasn't going, not this year. He'll find an even easier way to get Alexei even more money. To hell with Dante's Abyss.
---
And to hell with Nico, for the registration line was before him. He was over it. By the time he got to to the front of the line, he was ready for a nap. The Syntech employee handling him had a similarly exhausted expression. Their nametag read "Pots".
"Name?" asked Pots.
"Nico Cinder."
A flicker across the registrar's face. "Welcome back, Mr. Cinder. What are you bringing to the competition this year?"
"Ah..." Nico scratched the back of his head. "Couldn't tell you. Death and destruction? I guess?"
Pots didn't seem very convinced by the magical finger waggles Nico added to the end of that declaration. Nico sighed, swinging around the Red Chord over his shoulder. He played an overly chirpy, dipped in dressing, dancing lightning kind of riff. He finished up the lick with a hanging twang. Then, he smashed the instrument on the ground, as if he were making to chop the world down with his guitar right then and there, in one fluid motion. Nico stood there breathing rocks, surrounded by shards of crimson wood. A curled guitar string dug into his forearm, through the fabric of his hoodie.
It was Pots' turn to sigh. "On your way to the teleporter then, Mr. Cinder."