Chaos At The Club

by The Diplomat

A Chance Meeting

Author's Note:

Hello there, reader! Thanks for giving this story a shot!

Just a heads up: I'm writing this in the hospital, so there might be some errors here and there even though I go over the chapters from time to time, so feel free to point out any faults

"I'm gonna need another pint over here, barkeep."

"Sure thing Vinyl, although I've never seen you drink this much before."

"Yeah well that's my business, isn't it?"

The barkeep stopped moving around behind the counter to look at her for a moment, wiping clean the glass with a deadpan stare and an eyebrow raised. Vinyl Scratch covered her face with her hands, sighed in frustration, then set her hands down on the counter and looked at the barman with a tired expression.

"Sorry about that, Quick Service, that was totally uncalled for. Dick move on my part. Can I still have that pint, please?"

He looked at her for two seconds, then nodded in satisfaction and pulled down the lever so that the cider could pour smoothly down the glass he had simultaneously stuck at an angle against the tap. Once he reached the correct amount - with just a tiny bit over the limit out of pity on the tired girl - he set the glass in front of her and slapped his towel over his left shoulder. He didn't comment on her aggressive comment and chalked it up to personal problems, since she was usually a good customer. Payed on time, was always polite, and never caused trouble in the bar, which made her good in his books.

"That's three bits, please."

She wordlessly reached in her jean pockets for the required amount, and dropped two more in the tip jar on her left. He clicked his tongue with a smile and a wink, while she raised her glassed in salute with a smile, before turning to attend to his other tasks as she took the first sip of yet another pint.

Vinyl Scratch sat at the counter of her favorite bar, wearing a dark blue hoodie with black jeans and white sneakers, cradling her glass as music played in the background unheard by most of the customers. It was located between an old apartment building and a bike shop, a solitary red door with a black sign that read The Fringe above it in red letters being the only distinctive feature. Once opened, you just had to walk down a couple of metal stairs to reach a relatively small bar, with dry stone walls reminiscent of a wine cellar surrounding red couches and low black tables. There, customers from all backgrounds - geeks, goths, regular looking people as well as those with nicer shirts and shoes - mingled and laughed, the atmosphere always relaxed and cheerful and the prices fair.

But tonight, Vinyl Scratch was not feeling the good vibes. She wasn't feeling much, really, just the cold from the glass and the feel of the smooth wooden counted beneath her elbows. She loved this place, she really did, but tonight she was only there for the drinks. Normally she would have stayed in her apartment to deal with what she had learned - which she did, for about an hour and a half before going to the bar - but with her roommate gone to visit her parents until the end of the week she couldn't handle the emptiness of her home.

She was a young woman of twenty four years old, standing at five 5.3 feet tall with electric blue hair, pale skin and blood red eyes. She was quite proud of her body, especially her legs and hips, with just a bit more curves than many women thanks to the swimming she did, and she was not unhappy with the lean muscle of her arms and her flat stomach. She didn't consider herself a model or a really hot chick but according to many men, women and her reflection in the mirror, she was worth a second look in the street and a damn! She ate right, she exercised, didn't smoke or do hard drugs and she only drank occasionally. Overall, she was in good shape.

And yet that didn't count much anymore, because she had learned just a few hours ago that her heart was starting to weaken considerably.

It had all started a couple of weeks ago, with some bouts of quickened heartbeats and a shortness of breath. Since she wasn't fooling around with anybody when it happened, she chalked it up to a bad reaction to the cold Autumn weather - which sucked, because it was her favorite season - or strain from too much effort after or during her exercise. And then, as the days went by, these occurrences were more frequent, and stronger, until she collapsed in the kitchen just a day after her roommate had gone to visit her parents, feeling very warm and shaky. She had gone to the doctor's office within the hour so that he could arrange to have an X-Ray photo of her chest area the next day.

And so it was that on a fresh Thursday night, just a few hours after she left the doctor's office, that Vinyl Scratch was trying to stop feeling so raw when she learned that her heart was very much not okay. From the storm of thoughts that swirled in her mind, she could remember some explanations about how stress might have worsened her condition, how rare it was that young people were affected by this plight, and how the use of magic affected hearts that were weak from birth. She didn't really want to remember at the moment, she just wanted to take a break from life for a bit after the sucker punch it had thrown her.

Now one thing to understand is that Vinyl was a reasonable person, even though she was easily stressed out. She had seen enough different things in her short lifetime to know that life in general was unpredictable, above concepts of justice and injustice, and unstoppable. She knew one could scream and shout and kick at the cruelty of life and the world only to get nothing in reply. There was no explanation, no fixed reasons, and that the whole shebang ran on impossible odds and absolute certainties happening. So she knew that when life had thrown this news to her face that them's the brakes, and that she had to roll with the punches and deal with it, and move on.

But she couldn't. Not at that moment, and not for a while if things didn't get better.

She had planned to open up her own private mechanic practice - since she absolutely loved cars - and maybe make it big if her music got noticed. She wanted to be a mechanic, no doubt about it, but if push came to shove she would drop the cars and get on stage. She had worked hard for the past four years to get enough money to pay the rent, eat right, get some decent equipment to make good music, keeping some on the side to help bump up her savings for her store and get a nice car of her own.

But nope, said life, your weak heart has to start acting up now. Sure the doctors can slow down the process, but you're pretty much done now am I right? Four years of work; boom, gone, because you've got to pay so your heart doesn't shrivel up and die as fast. Plus if you're sick you can't work or study right, so yeah, there goes that. The treatment cost should take a chunk out of your savings, and I wonder what everyone else will think? Yes, let's wonder how mom and dad will react...oh, Goddesses, just...why?!

She gently put her forehead against the counter and pressed hard on it, gripping her hands into a fist and fighting to hold back the tears as much as possible, or at least enough so that the rest of the bar wouldn't pick up on it and star asking how she was doing and giving her shallow tips and generic words of support. She didn't need any of them and yet so couldn't stand being alone. She had to roll with the punches and stuff, but that was proving to be extremely hard at the moment.

"Life got you down, huh?"

She looked to her right to find a rather exotic looking guy sitting next to her. He seemed to be really, really tall - roughly 6.3 feet tall, if she had to guess - and he was dressed rather strangely. His skin looked like it was very lightly tanned, his jet black hair was a spiky mess and a long thin nose set the frontier between his bright red eyes. He had a five o'clock shadow on that strong jawline, which shifted with his small smile, and she decided to quickly check him out.

He didn't seem too thick, but by his large shoulders and his exposed arm she guessed he had the build of a climber, or maybe a swimmer. She looked at his exposed left arm, the lean muscle showing thanks to his rolled up sleeve. He wore a black long sleeved shirt except his right sleeve was red and let loose, and his baggy pants were the color of sand. His shoes were dirty white sneakers, and she decided she should definitely get to know him.

"Something like that, yeah. What's your name, tall, pasty and handsome?"

"This handsome 'pasty' devil, as you say, is called Deep Chord. I got here just a few moments ago and when I saw you there all by your lonesome I thought to myself 'I need a drink, might as well chat her up while I'm at it'," he said, sipping from the dark green beverage in his pint.

She laughed a bit at his strange approach, slightly confused as to how he got that drink without her noticing. It occurred to her that she might have had a pint or two too many.

"Anyway, I just thought I could rescue you from the seat you seemed to have been glued to and invite you to join me on my couch over there," he said, pointing to one of the larger couches in the bar that was completely free with his pinkie, still holding his pint.

Usually, she would politely say no and either talk to him from the safety of her seat and make him stay next to the counter or get him to let it go and leave. But he was strange in an exotic fashion, charming, and quite frankly rather attractive, plus she already had a few drinks in her, so why not? She felt strangely drawn to him, and she didn't really care why.

"Sure thing, smooth talker," she replied, getting up to walk ahead with just a tiny bit of extra swing in her hips. He joined her, grinning, and somehow no one bothered them during the few hours they conversed, the drinks coming surprisingly fast but hey, she wasn't complaining. Looking back at that night, Vinyl didn't remember much of what they talked about, and it took her a long time to decide whether it was a great or horrible decision to make his acquaintance.

************

Around two AM they climbed up the steps in an alcohol-induced euphoria, making her attention span and memories - as she later realized - very hazy. She did definitely feel the fresh air as they stepped out on the street, heard the roar of an engine and the sound of a party blower, and felt her whole body shudder violently before she passed out.

************

When Vinyl Scratch regained consciousness, she formulated one thought before opening her eyes.

Vinyl Scratch vs Hangover: still eluded, still undefeated.

She wanted to revel in the feeling of having escaped nursing a hangover once again in her whole life, but the sounds and sensations that reached her made her train of thought go way off the rails. She slowly opened her eyes to find herself in the passenger seat of a large car, with a large brown hoodie zipped down to form a blanket that covered her from her neck to her knees. She looked outside through the windshield to find that she was speeding down a damaged concrete road, illuminated by the headlights and the occasional flash of lightning on the horizon and above her. What appeared to be purple sand blew around and past the car, the only sounds to be heard were the purr of the engine and the wind whooshing by, as well as the sound of sand rushing across the vehicle.

"Oh good, you're finally awake!"

She looked to her left and choked on her own saliva, that being the only thing stopping her from shouting in surprise and terror as she saw what was for all intents and purposes a demon driving the car. He was watching her with large yellow and red eyes, grinning widely while letting what appeared to be his right arm - a lion's paw - rest on the steering wheel, his body ridiculously large and grotesque.

"Sorry about bumping into you like that, I guess I got a little carried away. Welcome to my machine."

Comments

[Endlessshadow]

Good start man. Also thats actually a pretty good way to burn time at the hospital